It seems that the past is a lonely road to stumble down. It shows everything that ever happened and sits in eager anticipation of what might come next. Although Marty had never been a history buff, he knew what lay in store for this little town. The Wall Street Crash was coming. An event that would ravish businesses and gut Hill Valley back to a town that depended on its fellow citizens. A community brought back together just in time for World War Two. The war memorial would not be built for fifteen years and the names that would adorn it were still wandering around in its past. Time waiting patiently for them to reach its end.

Marty realised he was being incredibly cynical, but he supposed that's what time did to someone. It made people consider themselves and the people they knew in the context of what had been and what was to come. His parents weren't even born yet. Their lives were still to come. He would turn up in 1955, screw everything up and have to fix everything with help from the man in the cells. Urgh! Time. More bother than it was worth sometimes….sometimes. He disliked dipping his nose into business that did not concern him, but knew that he would inevitably stumble into the path of something that would.

No sooner had he thought of stumbling and bumping and tripping into something not meant for him did he spot something that attached itself to his curiosity. Something that was headed straight for him.

A weasely man was heading in his direction. Head bowed, hidden under a panama hat, and a certain course planned out in his mind. That was until he lifted his head and saw Marty. The small man looked at the time traveller as though a good friend had just come into view. There was something about this guy. Something that Marty knew his thoughts on chosen paths and opportune meetings summed up perfectly. He looked so familiar, but he couldn't be sure from this distance.

'Don't suppose you could give me the time?' The man asked, sheepishly. Ha! If only I had any of it. Marty thought. 'It's just, I'm…err…late for a meeting. At least, I think I am.' He inclined his head slightly, timidly highlighting the watch on Marty's wrist. The time traveller bought the watch, which his dad had given him, into sight and read the eager little man the time. 'Thanks, sir.' He doffed his panama hat at Marty, walked past him and made his way in the direction of the town square.

'Hey!' Marty called after the man just before he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. 'What's your name?' There was a small hesitation.

'Arthur…Arthur McFly.' Perfect. Marty ran to catch up with Arthur and placed an arm around his grandfather's shoulder. 'Why?'

'Don't s'pose I could hitch a ride to the..err…'

'Stationers?' Artie enquired.

'Yeah. Can I hitch a ride to the Stationers with you? I need to get some…..stationary.' His grandfather's face spoke volumes. There was a question hidden under the man's brow. Possibly one that he was trying to answer himself.

'Yeah…alright…Mister…?' The twinge in Arthur's voice was self-evident. Marty was encroaching. But staying in the shadows or arriving to school on time never got anything interesting done.

'Corleone…Michael Corleone' Arthur shook his grandson's hand. They walked along the empty streets. Arthur hardly spoke. He looked nervous. Something was floating through his quiet mind.

Concerning noise, Marty suddenly realised there was an abrupt lack of it. He wondered why the streets were so empty. It was a lovely day and the sun was beating down on Hill Valley. But it was still. There wasn't even a bemused dog walker or a tramp lining the streets. Their walk towards Artie's destiny was to be silent.

They reached the town square within minutes. Marty could still see Doc lingering in his cell. He was like an ever present watchman. Somebody who looked over you and judged everything that you tried to do. And time was running out.

The Stationers was the next shop along from the remains of the speakeasy. There were scorch marks along the side of any building within range. It must have been one hell of a blaze. Typical of Doc to get caught up in something like that. But what had Doc been doing in 1931? A question to save until later. If there was a later…

Marty and his grandfather reached the little building. A red and white striped shop awning hung over a little shoeshine booth just outside the door. The glass window had the words 'Hill Valley Stationers' proudly printed on its gleaming surface. It was a quaint little place. A quintessential part of Hill Valley, but soon this little shop would have a cloud hanging over it.

The door swung open with an almighty crash and out stepped a man, flanked by two others who looked equally loathsome. They were all wearing dark striped suits with fedora hats placed smartly on their heads, just so that the shadow covered most of their faces. The first of the three men to leave the shop came and sat in one of the chairs of the shoeshine booth. A small boy suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, and started to polish his shoes. The main man looked up and acknowledged Marty and Artie's existence. His two stooges stood slightly to the side, but hung around him like vultures.

'Ah…Mcfly….sit.' The gruff tone ordered the weasely man to comply. He did so, leaving Marty standing in the middle of the sidewalk, on his own. 'Hey, kid…what's up with you?' He was addressing Marty. Eyes fixed on to his prey; his vultures circling.

'Tannen?' Marty asked, both surprised and not.

'What's it to you kid?' There was silence. 'Now why don't you make like a tree and get outta here.' Again, Tannen's muscle men seemed to get closer. Artie looked at him as though he should get the hint, but Marty stayed still.

'I think I'm gonna stay. I'm here with Artie. Got a few loose ends to tie up.' A frank answer to a frank question. Tannen's fist seemed to tighten before relaxing to clasp the chair arms and crossing his legs. The shoeshine boy was trying to keep up with his customer's movements. His little face crumpled in frustration, knowing that if he said a word, he would have his ear clipped.

'Alright smart ass. I'm not gonna make a scene on such an harmo…quiet day. But you'd better keep your trap shut!' Tannen warned. Marty nodded and leant on the arm of the chair on which his grandfather sat. Tannen turned swiftly to Artie. 'Right, McFly. You know why you're here…'

'Y…Yes, Kid. I know.' His weedy voice cracking slightly. Just like Emmett's.

'In an…err…institution such as mine, book keepin' is the most important method of keeping secrets close. And you ain't been doin' that recently, have you McFly?' Artie shook his head. His grandfather was stuck in business with a Tannen? Their families went a long way back, deeper than Marty could have ever imagined when he was a small boy and Biff would be around draining the fridge of food.

'And I can't be having that in my business, McFly. Now, you need to make up for this mistake and right your wrong.' Kid pointed right to the bridge of Artie's nose. Symbolising the fate that Artie knew all too well would meet him if he failed.

'But what am I to do Kid, sir?' Marty looked at his grandfather. The nervous look that his dad would inherit was plastered all over Artie's face. The knowledge of what to do already secreted in the back of the mind, but not the willingness to accept it.

'You're gonna go and have a nice little chat with Judge Brown and ask him for a….favour.' Tannen broke his eye contact with Artie, shifting it to Marty. A sly grin was plastered along his face, as though nothing had been said or should be. Kid leaned in to Artie and whispered something in his ear. It was only faint, but Tannen's bully boys kept their eyes on Marty, just to make sure.

'I understand, sir.' Tannen withdrew.

'You'd better or you know what'll happen to you, don't you McFly?' Artie nodded once more, keeping his eyes on the small boy who had finished his work on his client's shoes. Tannen threw a coin at the boy, who promptly ran back inside the shop. The tinkle of the shop bell mocking a light atmosphere that the boy had escaped to.

'When, Kid?'

'No time like right now.' Kid raised his eyebrows and his two goons brought out two slim guns from their breast pockets. Artie's eyes lit up through fear. He leapt from his seat, almost falling in to Marty, who promptly caught his grandfather.

'Al…Alright Mr Tannen, sir.' Artie brushed himself off, straightened his panama and turned to Marty. 'I think you'd better go, son.'

'No. The kid's coming with us.' Tannen barked. 'He'll go with you to see Judge Brown. And we'll follow behind you. Got that?' Kid hinted towards the shining law firm that stood just a few metres up the street. His two bodyguards gestured their guns towards the door before placing the weapons back in the breast pockets. Artie and Marty made their way towards the door. The latter following the former on a path that was set out for just one. A path that Marty knew would lead to no good.

-x-x-x-

What lies in store for Marty and Artie? Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. xxx