#mcflyjuly

And we are done! Only took me a week into August to finish rather than almost the whole month like last year. Which considering how much more I wrote this year, big improvement there.

Thank you all for your wonderful support!

i came up with the idea for this the day before i crashed and got so mad when i realized i couldn't write anymore and couldn't do the prompt

Nearly tripping over her own feet, Lizzy skidded around the corner and collided with the wall of the saloon. Breathless, she ducked through the back door and felt her heart drop at the noticeable lack of either Marty or Dad.

"Where- are they?" she gasped, leaning against the bar. "Ma- Clint and- and my dad? Where-"

None of the men would meet her eyes. Charles, who was standing behind the bar wiping a shot glass, coughed. "They're, uh...they're havin' breakfast with the Buford gang."

Oh, god. But it's- she glanced at the clock to make sure- it's not even 8 yet! Wh- no, that doesn't- I have to get out there! Through the swinging saloon doors she bolted, only to be stopped by an outstretched arm catching her in the chest.

"Stay back, Miss Elizabeth," Seamus ordered, pulling her close to him. "Sure, an' you'll only make things worse if ye get involved."

Lizzy's mouth opened and closed as she momentarily forgot how to form words. "But- that's- they're-"

"Lass, if I know Tannen, he would'nae hesitate t' threaten ye t' get back at your father." His grip was gentle but unyielding. "I'll no' have ye gettin' mixed up in all this, not when I could've stopped ye. I know your father would say the same."

It was a sweet sentiment, but Lizzy's heart was thundering so loudly she could hardly hear him. Her dad was being held hostage in the middle of the road and Buford Tannen was right there and furious and Marty was nowhere and she was genuinely terrified that she was going to see her dad get shot for the second time-

"Time's up, runt," Buford growled, tossing a pocket watch at Dad and pulling out his pistol. "Prepare to meet your maker, blacksmith."

Seamus had to wrap an arm around her torso and haul her backwards. He put a hand over her mouth for good measure, but he needn't have bothered. Her throat was so constricted that even if she'd tried to scream, nothing would've come out.

"Right here, Tannen!"

Heads swiveled as Marty stepped into the square. Seamus stepped forward in shock but didn't loosen his grip, and Buford turned all the way around. His men grabbed Doc and dragged him out of the way as the duelists squared off.

Lizzy was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

"Draw!" Buford barked.

A beat. Then-

"No!"

Everyone gasped as Marty dropped his gun, still in its holster, and raised his fists. "I thought we could settle this like men!"

Buford's eyes narrowed. "You thought wrong, dude." With one swift move, he drew his pistol and fired.

Marty flew backward, hitting the ground with a heart-stopping thud.

Get up, Lizzy urged silently. You have to have some kind of plan, get back up-

But he didn't. Laughing arrogantly, Buford strolled forward and fired off another shot into the- into-

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dad break free and charge towards the victorious Tannen. Lizzy's strangled scream mixed with Seamus' cry of "Emmett, don't be a fool!" She tried to lunge forward, to stop him, but the farmer's hold was too strong.

Before Dad even got close, Buford spun and-

"Lizzy!"

He crumpled to the ground and Seamus still wouldn't let go of her arms-

"Liz, c'mon, look at me-"

"Dad-"

"He's fine, Liz, but you gotta breathe."

Seamus' face swam in front of her, warping and- "M-marty?"

"Yeah, it's me. Everything's okay."

Through blurry vision, she took in the scenery around her. Asphalt, not wooden boards. Cars rushing past, not useless, motionless spectators. Marty, who was still alive, not Seamus.

"What- Great Scott. I-" Unable to form an intelligible sentence, she settled for flinging her arms around her friend. "You're okay."

"Y-yeah, Liz. Everyone's fine."

Still shaking, she felt her breathing slow to the same rate as Marty's. "What happened? I don't-"

"A truck backfired," he explained. "Freaked me out, and I saw it. You- you were talking to Jen, and-"

"Thought it was a gunshot. Or, I mean...it's happened before. When I heard actual gunshots." Running a hand over her face, she let Marty pull her to her feet. "Hasn't for a while, though."

"Are you okay?" Jennifer pulled her into a cautious hug.

"I'll be fine. I just..." He's fine. He's fine. That didn't even happen-

"D'you wanna call Doc?"

She knew the only reason he could tell was because the same thing had happened to him, but it was still annoying that he could see right through her.

Finally, the return of "The New Blacksmith" after the prompt was swapped with "Binoculars" at the beginning of the fic!

guess who can write again!!!! hopefully i shall finish within the next few days. thanks to everyone for being patient while i healed!

The DeLorean shuddered and dipped mid-air as Dad fought the turbulent winds for control. Even on their brightest setting, the headlights barely made a dent in the stormy blackness, forcing them to rely on the streetlights below and the occasional burst of lightning.

Lizzy glued her face to the window, watching intently to make sure Marty was still hanging onto the pendants. "I hope he doesn't slip," she muttered, mostly to herself. "It's really coming down out there."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Dad reassured, though he sounded anxious himself. "The amount of times that kid has skateboarded to my place in the rain- even though I've told him not to..."

She hummed noncommittally, not taking her eyes off her friend.

"Besides, the billboard is just ahead. We can land there and-" he jerked the wheel violently, struggling to keep on course. "Get back to 1985 and out of this damn storm."

Marty, who was closer to the ground, landed before they did and got straight to work burning the almanac. "THE NEWSPAPER CHANGED!" he yelled into the walkie-talkie. "DOC, MY FATHER'S ALIVE! THAT MEANS EVERYTHING'S BACK TO NORMAL, RIGHT?"

Heart racing, Lizzy grabbed the other paper and shared a relieved grin with her dad as the headline changed to EMMETT BROWN COMMENDED.

"Mission accomplished," Dad sighed, tension draining out of his shoulders. "The ripple effect should take care of everything, so there's no more danger of anyone getting erased from existence."

"For now," she grumbled, tossing the newspaper into the backseat. "We'll see how long that lasts-WHOA!"

Lizzy's seatbelt contracted as her father swerved to avoid a bolt of lightning, swearing as he did so.

*khhk* "Are you guys okay!?"

Fishing the walkie-talkie out from the floorboard of the DeLorean, Lizzy replied, "We're fine! Dad's gonna circle 'round so we'll have a better shot at landing safely."

"Or landing at all," Dad muttered, keeping a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. "Damn this storm!"

"Well, be careful! You don't wanna get struck by-"

Before Marty could finish, the DeLorean leapt forward of its own accord, the impact from something sending it into a tailspin. Lizzy shrieked and recoiled from the window which was suddenly red-hot and blindingly white. The smell of burning rubber and crackling ozone filled the car as it began, in short bursts, to plummet towards the ground.

Still screaming, Lizzy clutched to her equally-terrified father's arm. No matter what he did, the DeLorean continued to drop faster and faster as the engine lights flickered off and-

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Dad yelled, wrapping himself around her as best he could. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hung on to his torso for dear life, every muscle tensed, waiting-

CRUNCH!

Despite the new safety precautions, the force of the collision and the subsequent barrel rolls sent the pair rattling around the car like beads in a jar. Everything was a haze of noise and light and pain until finally- finally- the DeLorean skidded to a halt.

"Urgh," Lizzy groaned, peeling herself off the dashboard. "What the hell was- Dad?!"

He was sprawled across the drivers seat with his head resting on the (broken) window and he was bleeding and not moving-

The passenger door wouldn't open so she crawled through the shattered windshield and wrenched his door open, thanking someone that it still worked. "Great Scott," she hissed, unbuckling his seatbelt and dragging Dad out of the car as gently as she could. "Come on Dad, wake up...I don't know what to do here, you gotta wake up..."

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Lizzy felt herself deflate with relief. "God, Dad," she scolded half-heartedly, helping him sit up. "You can't keep doing this to me; you're gonna give me a heart attack."

"What happened?" he rasped, wincing.

"We crashed." She shrugged. "Apart from that, I was hoping you could tell me."

"Great Scott," he murmured, staring at the still-smoking DeLorean. "...if I had to take a guess, I'd say the lightning-" As he turned to her, he did a double-take. "You're bleeding!"

She felt her own face and was startled at the copious amount of blood streaming from her nose. Now that the adrenaline had started to wear off, she began to notice several areas that hurt- notably, her face, her left knee, and her ribs. "Yeah, well, so are you," she protested. "Considering how bad that crash was, it's a miracle we're even alive."

Dad began to struggle to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his wrist. "Our first priority needs to be seeking out medical attention. Where- I mean, whenever the hell we are, I hope there's at least some sort of civilization." Helping Lizzy up, he frowned at the crisscrossing cuts on her palms. "The time circuits must have activated when the lightning struck us, but when did it send us?"

Leaning against him (her knee really hurt), she surveyed the rocky, red plains dotted with scrub brush. "Well, at a guess, probably not 1985," she joked. Dad huffed out a laugh, prompting a victorious smile and a sudden idea. "Weren't the time circuits glitching? It kept switching between the date you put in and-"

"January 1st, 1885," he filled in, running a hand over his face.

"You think that's when we are?"