Title: How To Live Another Man's Life

Fandom: Back to the Future

Disclaimer: I do not own Back to the Future.

AN: This takes place after the ending of the video game series, after the final chapter. Spoilers ahead if you haven't played/watched all of the games yet.

...

Was he crazy? Okay, scratch that, he was definitely crazy. He was absolutely out of his mind. But, that was to be expected, life of a time traveler and all. Things get scrambled up there when you're battling multiple planes of existence and alternate timelines and the like. After a while, it really took a toll on you.

He let his mind consider just what he would be giving up were he to do this; his dreams, his joy, the only thing that he felt made his existence worthwhile. Music to Marty was not simply a form of entertainment. It was creativity, essence, energy; it was blood, sweat and tears. When he played the guitar, he poured his very being into it. He lost himself in the melody, whatever song he was playing, he lost himself to it, surrendering his soul to the music itself.

Could he really live his life, knowing that he would never again grasp an electric guitar in his hands? Could he survive an entire lifetime without ever again hearing the rocking hard music of Van Halen or the sweet tunes of Huey Lewis & The News?

Marty didn't know. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gripping the sides of his comforter with both hands. He needed to think about this more, didn't he? He couldn't really make a decision like this lightly.

He leaned over towards the night stand by his bed and retrieved the Walkman that lay there. Slipping on the headphones and hitting 'play', he relished the sound of "The Power of Love" that filled his ears. Hearing the sweet rocking melody was just as comforting as it always was. Was he really willing to give that up?

He couldn't bring any of the music to the past with him. Not one cassette tape. It was way too risky. It was way too dangerous. He wouldn't dare mess up the timeline any more than he would by simply going back. In fact, his very existence in 1931 would cause problems, that much was certain. There was no need to exacerbate things by bringing along any of his possessions. Things were just things, right? Just meaningless stuff and clutter.

Here he was, talking about everything as if he had made up his mind to actually go back. Ridiculous. He couldn't. He wouldn't dare, would he?

Laying back on his bed, he let his eyes drift closed as the music filtered through his ears. He suddenly came to the aching realization that he was truly alone here.

This family... they were strangers to him, people he barely knew. Sure, he knew all of the 'facts', the important stuff but none of the real emotional qualities that make up a person's true nature. These people were too different. He missed his old family. He felt like an outsider here.

He had Jennifer, but then again, she wasn't really Jennifer. She wasn't the Jenn he remembered, back before all of this started. She too had changed in too many ways to mention.

Marty shoved the headphones off of his ears in frustration, letting his gaze drink in the ceiling above him. He blinked a few times, and chewed on his bottom lip wearily.

He didn't belong here, that's why everything felt so weird. That's why he couldn't make sense of anything. Of course, he didn't belong here. This was a completely different time to him, a different place entirely. He wasn't the guy everyone thought he was, and he certainly wasn't the Marty that he was supposed to be.

Doc was different now, a lot different. Everyone was. Everyone, except for him. He was still the same, somehow. And that was the problem right there.

He missed Emmett. He'd actually enjoyed his time with him, for once forgetting about all of the differences in his life, forgetting about all of the changes that had taken place from his time traveling adventures. He'd had fun hanging out with the man despite the strange time in history he had found himself in. He missed it.

Marty sat up in astonishment as suddenly everything became clear.

He'd made his decision. He was going back to 1931, for good this time.