Disclaimer: Liberties with the character of Doc's father were taken. The only canon we all know is that Doc's father had the original name of Von Braun. That is, until the first World War when he changed it to Brown. As we all know from the third movie, Emmett read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne and decided to dedicate his life to science. In 2008, I wrote an episode for the animated series that worked off the draft script idea that Doc became excited by science from sticking his finger in an electric socket. In this story, he is mentioned of reading said Jules Verne book. Although, he had already dedicated his life through the finger-in-socket idea. That is all (this goes for the collection too).

Vignette Twelve: Chemistry Set

"Well, go in."

The maid's voice only held slight sympathy as she gave him a pat on the shoulder. Dust particles jumped off his once starched white shirt. They danced in the air, still a tan-orange from the town park. His shoes too, were caked with the stuff. The white rubber lining of the shoe wasn't white but tan. The black canvas held up but only because of its sneaky color. He picked up his foot and scratched his calf. Anna brushed the excess dirt off her apron, then pushed him out of his stalling.

Dens came in all kinds. He could name two out of all those. A writer's den would have a big wooden desk and dozens upon dozens of books. Papers would be scattered everywhere, named working titles. In the middle of said desk would be a typewriter. A second would be an every-man den. The Fatherly Quarters. A radio for Big Man news, books for Damn Straight I Read minds, and maybe a belt or two. These weren't at all like the den his father kept.

"Father?"

In the midst of this oak and maple furnished room, sat the original Doctor Brown. Silver spectacles drooped down his nose as he focused on his book. When reading, he sat funny in his chair. Emmett had noticed this since his little years. Dr. Brown's back would sink in his chair, his spinal cord relaxed and slightly bent. One leg would cross over the other, patent leather shoe in the air. A bowed, dark-haired head focused on whatever tome graced the thick hands. Emmett stared at the hands. The hands that had delivered him eleven years ago. A memory came back.

One of his mother and her friends having a Ladies Club meeting in the living room. This one stuck out particular because his father was actually home all day. He had walked in on them, painting their signs for the the Hill Valley Historical Society's Picnic. Emmett had been waiting near the scene, waiting for his mother to stop talking so he could ask if he could go to the library. His father had said something and his wife made him hold the art tools. One of the women noted that he had "artist's hands."

His father had said, "No, dear lady, I have fat man's hands." To which, Emmett had to stiffle a laugh.

"No, no." She said. "Your hands are that of a starved man. You may deliver babies, fix wounds, and cure the sick, but there's something in you that's vying for a way out. Something you're suppressing, a talent or a wish."

Emmett remembered his father's reaction was a muttered "Excuse me" and an exit.

A talent or a wish. Emmett still wanted to know. Painting? Writing? Sports? Teaching? Juggling? What! What was "vying for a way out"?

"Father?"

Middle-aged eyes removed themselves from the novel. They looked tired. Tired of not Emmett, but of something different. The vying?

"Emmett," Dr. Brown said, putting the novel aside. He sat up in a more adequate, more polite, position. "Come in."

Emmett still stood in the doorway. The atmosphere thickened to the equivalence of jam.

"Emmett, you can come in." Dr. Brown said again. This time, Emmett did. He walked over to the vacant reading chair and sat. Its crushed leather felt warm from the summer sun. Deep too, from all the literature scenes that showcased in Emmett's imagination this summer. A confrontation with a whale, a personality chemical experiment gone awry, a party in the Jazz Age, and the incredible Nautilus expedition. Emmett's mind wavered with thoughts of Nemo.

"It's beautiful outside."

Emmett blinked. Outside the window was a view of sun, blue sky, and bright grass. A perfect California day. One that had been perfect for learning about foliage. Trampling around the park, getting on his knees for close observing, crouching in dry mud for note taking, and the fall down the hill…

"What happened to your clothes?"

"Huh?" Emmett said.

"Your clothes." Dr. Brown said. He pointed at Emmett with a fountain pen. A drop of ink escaped and hit the desktop. "They're filthy. Were you rough-housing with your friends?"

"No," Emmett said. He began to pick at a tear in the leather. "I was by myself in the park. Did you know there are three angiosperms that aren't indigenous to California, in our park?"

Dr. Brown opened his mouth, then closed it. "No I didn't know that. I never was quite the student you are in science."

"But you're a doctor," Emmett said.

"Yes, but a doctor in the traditional medical sense." Dr. Brown said. He pushed his glasses up his nose, just by habit. He had a long nose, a german trait. Emmett had it too. Subconsciously, Emmett reached up and scratched the bridge of his dirty nose. "My doctorates were strictly in medicine. One was in biology, though."

"Can you get doctorates in different sciences?" Emmett asked. "Not just for helping people with diseases or babies?"

"Well, yes." Dr. Brown said, his eyes focused anywhere but on Emmett. "There's biology, earth sciences, chemistry, astronomy, and physics."

Emmett eyes widened. So many sciences… and he was sure that those were just the titles of groups. Maybe he should think this over. How could he learn all those sciences? Biology, earth sciences, chemistry, astronomy, and physics? And their inside studies, all of them? At age eleven, a feat like that would take two lifetimes! Did Nemo have two lifetimes? Did Professor Annorax have two lifetimes?

No and Emmett knew he had just one. One life that was dedicated to science, since April. And since April, all he had learned were constallations and a little botany. If it took a whole month to learn that little, how was he supposed to learn the rest of science? Emmett remembered why he came in here.

"Father?" Emmett succeeded in getting back his father's attention. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes you may," Dr. Brown said. He leaned forward in his chair, as if he was a business man awaiting a proposal. Emmett squinched down tighter in his seat.

"Actually, I'm asking for something." Emmett corrected. He readied himself. "There was an advertisement in one of my Popular Science magazines. It was a fully stocked chemistry set. It was used, but is in good condition. I saved up for half of it, but the limit of availability is almost up. I was wondering if, well, you could help me with the other… um, monetary half?"

"Monetary half?" Dr. Brown repeated. Emmett couldn't tell if he was mocking him or not. "Monetary half…"

Emmett couldn't help but bite his lower lip. His father was a decision-maker in the house and always thought those decisions out. It was brutal when those decisions centered around Emmett. The wait alone, was brutal.

"Let me talk it over with your mother," Dr. Brown finally said. Emmett nodded, thrilled but reserved. "A chemistry set involves responsibility. You're eleven. I need to weigh this out with another responsible adult. Now, go enjoy the rest of the day."

Emmett got up from the leather chair. He ran out of the room, still feeling like his insides would burst from the excitement. Dr. Brown watched him go, enjoying the small smile that was on the boy's face.

He wasn't used to seeing that smile. At least, not a smile caused by him. He would walk in the house to find Emmett reading. Reading like he had never seen any eleven-year-old read before. The boy would be in his room, going over papers in his little desk space. Sarah found that desk space so adorable. The papers scattered everywhere, soil samples, books open or dog-earred beyond belief, and makeshift tools. In a way, it was cute. "A cute little phase," she had said. She had predicted it would last until Emmett hit those adolescent years. Then, everything would change. Dr. Brown wasn't so sure.

His son just seemed so enthralled with science. Not that he himself disapproved. An eleven-year-old reading, documenting, and learning all he could about his environment was incredible. Most boys around now would just want to wrestle. They possessed very little curiosity because it had burned out by age six. Emmett's kept burning bright. He could see it in the boy's eyes if he looked close enough.

Dr. Brown glanced at his bookshelf. He had long lost track of how many books were in his possesion. Most were his, but some were Sarah's. Emmett preferred the library and thus had no books of his own. Children books were never the result of the boy's library trips. It was encyclopedias or Verne or tomes as thick as law books. Once Dr. Brown happened upon Emmett absorbed in three books at once. All while other volumes lay stacked around his thin body. The concentration…

Maybe a chemistry set wasn't a bad request. A possibility came forward that his son was only concentrated when it came to reading. Or when it came to alienating himself.

Dr. Brown leaned back in his chair with a sigh. The way he handled this situation, Emmett coming into his den, was pathetic. Pathetic. Why must they be like this? The answer ceased to hit him. It ceased to form a clearness in his head.

How could a father not be able to relate to his son?

An answer never came.