Phew. My very first Back to the Future fic... I can't tell you how much troubles this fic has given me, and it isn't even finished yet! At first, I refused to write it, even when the ideas literally bounced around in my head, singing "Write me! Write me!", but of course, resisting didn't give me anything, except around a week of almost sleepless nights.

Now, when I've babbled about that, I'll take the time to warn you for a couple of things.

One, I've only seen Back to the future, and not the two sequels, so it might not follow what happened after the first movie.

Two, It doesn't really follow the end of BttF movie, either. Doc did not go to the future in the end, according to this fic, so yes: I guess it's slightly AU.

Three, English is not my first language. So, please don't poke at my horrid grammar.

Four, As I said: It's my first BttF fic, and I'm not really sure how to write Doc and Marty. So if you think they're Out of Character, please tell me what I can do to improve!

And lastly, Five, I'm not a big fan of swearing. So, I usually just censure them out from the text when I write. No, I didn't do so this time, because that would be heavily changing their characters. But just so you know...

Ah, and enjoy!

Cherry

Back to the Past

"What the hell is this?" Marty stared at the breakfast table and the people around it.

Linda cocked an eyebrow before answering, somewhat sarcastically, "Breakfast."

"What did you sleep in your clothes again last night?"

"Yeah, yeah." Marty replied, not taking away his gaze from Dave's suit. "What are you wearing, Dave?"

Dave frowned, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Calvin, I always wear a suit to the office."

Marty's eyes widened. "What did you call me?"

"Your name. Is every thing alright, Calvin?"

Marty dashed off into his room, completely ignoring his brother's last question. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit." He quickly rummaged through the clothes he had worn the day before, discarding the garments as he found them empty. "Where is it?" The worlds came out jumbled, panicked. He straightened, quickly starting to search through his jeans' pockets. "Aha!" He shoved his hand down his pocked and jerked out his wallet a second later.

Marty jerked his wallet open and stared at his drivers license. There, at the top three little words glared him at him. Calvin Seamus McFly. Everything else seemed to be the same... except for that one little word. Calvin.

"Holy shit." Marty plopped down into his bed in disbelieve. "This can't be... Talk about screwing time continuum... I need to see Doc!" He threw his wardrobe open and groaned. Even his clothes was different! He rummaged through a bit before finding a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he thought looked okay. He changed quickly before dashing out from his room, grabbing his denim jacket and wallet from the floor as we went.

He dashed outside before drawing to a halt. "My skateboard! Where the heck is it? I'm sure I left it here yesterday..." He paused. "Oh, shit. Don't tell me I don't have a skateboard." He muttered, gritting his teeth in frustration. Giving up on his fruitless attempt to find he skateboard, he started running again.

"Doc, you better be home..." he panted as he passed Burger King, spurting to Doc's front door. "Hey, Doc!" He banged loudly on the door. "Are you in there?" Marty pulled down the handle, pushing the door open in the same motion, completely ignoring how rude his behavior really was. "Doc?" He called loudly.

Doc looked up from under the DeLorean. "Ah, Calvin. What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Jesus, not you too, Doc! It's me! Marty!"

Doc stared at him for half a second. "You always hated it when I called you Marty." Doc mumbled.

"Yeah, well... I must have screwed up time continuum or something. I'm supposed to be named Martin – not Calvin. Doc, you've got to help me here. Every thing's screwed up!" Marty took a frustrated breath. "These were the most normal clothes I could find in my wardrobe, I don't recognize my room and I don't have my skateboard! Heck, Doc, the only thing I've got is a name I shouldn't even have!"

"Great Scott! You must have done to many changes in 1955, Cal– Marty."

"I figured as much, Doc."

Doc grunted. "No need to be sarcastic. Now, tranquil yourself and tell me the exact problem."

Marty took a deep breath before he opened his mouth. "I've changed. After my time travel yesterday, I mean. My room has changed, I apparently don't use the same type of clothes as I did before... Oh, and did I mention that I've got a brand new name that I'm not supposed to have?"

"Respiration, Marty. Respiration."

"C'mon, Doc. I need your help! You've got to help me!"

Doc nodded. "Of course. But I need to know the exact complications before I know the best solution."

Marty stared at him. "Right." He paused for half a second as he realized something. "Hey, what was all that about 'What do I owe the pleasure'? You made it sound as I never come and visit."

"It's because you never do."

"You've got to be kidding me... I visit you almost everyday!"

Doc furrowed his eyebrows for a short second before replying. "How did we meet, Marty?"

"What has that to do with any-"

"How did we meet?"

"Geese, Doc... Uh, I was twelve and I'd followed Dave to Burger King because no one else could babysit me and mom didn't want me to be home alone... and then you showed up and we started talking. That's basically it." His eyes widened suddenly. "Burger King! Oh, shit! Dave never worked at Burger King in this reality, did he?"

"Not that I know of. In my reality we met because I was selling my amplifier..."

"You sold me your enormous amplifier?"

"Enormous? I don't have an 'Enormous amplifier'. It was a rather small one I used for an experiment, and I didn't need it anymore. Anyway, you bought it from me, and we continued being acquaintances."

"Only acquaintances? Not more?"

Doc shrugged. "Were we more than acquaintances?"

"We were best friends, Doc." Marty said, softly. "Didn't you notice back at 1955?"

"I didn't know if we were that close under normal circumstances, Marty. It might have been the stress on your side or... I assumed it was suppose to be this way."

"Jesus, Doc! Of course it wasn't supposed to be this way! I have to go back and fix this!"

"Remember what I said about time continuum? I can't let you do it!"

"Doc, Doc! Please... Just please. It's all wrong."

Doc sighed as he saw the desperate look in Marty's eyes. Throwing all caution out the window, he nodded. "Oh, fine." He started digging through his shelves, before – very triumphantly - holding up an old, weathered, little book. "Aha!" he exclaimed, skimming through the pages quickly. "No... no. Not that week either... Eureka! That week is perfect. No calls... no shopping. Perfect."

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Checking for a week when I had no distractions. You're going to need my help, obviously. And the less people you can come in contact with, the risk of you disheveling anything else lessens."

"Thanks, Doc. I love you too." Marty muttered sarcastically. "Why can't you just send me back to that week in 1955?"

"There's already one of you there! Do you know how enormous the paradox would be if you met up with yourself?"

"Oh, I dunno... Can't I just lock myself inside a closet, or something?"

Doc simply stared at him. "So many things can go wrong with that type of reasoning I'm not even going to start."

Marty shrugged, grinning slightly despite himself. "I was just giving suggestions."

Doc ignored the last comment, showing the memo filled calender to Marty instead. "See this week? It's exactly one year after your last visit. It's perfect. I have no calls, no visitors... you're not too young to pass for – what was that alias? - Calvin Klein again and the clothes I bought you during 1955 will still match." He paused. "Listen Marty. This is very important! I'm guessing you're going to try to fix our friendship. - Remember it's never good to know too much about your own future. Only tell me if it's utmost necessary!"

"I'm always going to hear those words, aren't I?"

"Naturally." Doc scanned him from top to bottom. "You clothes will have to do... At least they aren't as bad as that red jacked you had the last time."

Marty snorted. "Yeah, everyone thought I was wearing a life jacket. But, hey Doc, don't you still have those clothes I wore last time?"

He shook his head. "I did try to maintain them but, unfortunately, they got burned to ashes when my house burned down."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Doc."

"No matter." He shook his head as if to clear it before turning back to the DeLorean. "Let me just finish repairing the start motor..." he trailed off, forcing all of his attention back to the time-machine.

"Sure thing, Doc. Do you need any help?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Just let me tighten this and... Voila! Good as new." He straightened himself. "You're going to need these..." He placed the bag with plutonium in the passenger seat "and the radiation suit, naturally..." He stuffed it into the car together with the plutonium. "The car is already loaded... So all you need is a nice open space and you're off."

"Well, one thing is for sure – I'm not going back to Peabody's farm!"

"No, but I think there might be a nice open field right next to Peabody's farm you might be able to use."

"You've got to be kidding me! Last time I landed on his property he shot me, thinking I was some kind of alien!"

"Just drive of quickly... and try not to wake them."

"Right. Easy." Marty shook his head. "No way I'm going back to Peabody's farm!"

---

"I can't believe I'm going back to Peabody's farm!" Marty exclaimed, perplexed.

"It's the only empty space I can remember. Just do as I told you, and you'll be fine."

"Drive of quickly and not wake them? Right."

Doc clapped him on the shoulder. "Remember – be discreet! Anything you do can change the course of the future. In the wrong way."

Marty nodded. "Got it." He grinned wearily. "I'll see you, later... earlier. Whatever."

"Exactly. Good luck, Marty." He gave Marty's shoulder a last squeeze before closing the DeLorean. He backed away quickly, signing a quick thumbs up when he felt likehe was on a safe distance.

Marty waved a bit awkwardly before taking off, quickly speeding up to the magical 88 miles per hour. Marty gulped, casting a las, fleeting glance at the Doc.

Doc shielded his eyes as a bright light engulfed the DeLorean. And then, as suddenly as the light had appeared – it was gone. Gone together with the DeLorean.

...Gone together with the young teen.