Author's Note: New chapter. Michael J. Fox appears in this chapter, because I know Bttf 4444, the person who reviews my stories the most, likes him. From here, I hope you like the in-jokes, Bttf 4444. Everyone please review.

Chapter Four

Saturday, October 26, 1985
03:12 PM
Hill Valley Mental Asylum
Hill Valley, California

Doc sighed, as he looked at the clock. It was three-twelve now already, while he'd instructed for Marty to come and see him between three and four. It was obvious, even for him, the letter hadn't reached the teenager. Or worse, the kid wasn't even there.

The ex-inventor looked up at the clock, and watched it tick to 3:13. Surely he could've expected this. There was simply a too slight chance that the kid had escaped the ripple effect. The DeLorean had been erased somewhere on it's route. The Marty he had met in '55 didn't exist anymore, was faded somehow by the merciless powers of the space-time continuum. Sitting down, he closed his eyes. This sure was one hell of a day, hell being the proper description. After all, they were in Hell Valley… even the sign of the town's entry read so, sarcastically. Doc sighed – it was the unfortunate truth, after all. Hill Valley was Hell Valley since the seventies, when Biff started to go on his killing spree.

Sitting down, he sighed. Better go to sleep now… there was no other manner to waste an ordinary day. Closing his eyes, he failed to hear the door squeaking as someone entered through it. A shadow fell over his back, and a voice asked, as soft as possible: "Doc?"

Doc immediately turned around, and looked at his friend in disbelief. "Marty!" he exclaimed, hugging the teenager. "Marty, I'm so glad you're here – I am…" He had a loss of words what to say now. "Marty, it's so good to see you! I can't believe you're actually here. I had expected you to be vanished of some sort, since the ripple effect…"

"Calm down, Doc" Marty said, firmly, partly because he didn't understand a thing from what the inventor was saying. "I did manage to get inside, since I'm apparently Biff's stepchild here," he made a face at saying that, and Doc couldn't blame him, "and therefore they accepted me getting in. I did have to make up some story up about getting orders from my father," another disgusted look, "to examine you. The attendant believed that… but didn't let me go after she said up a dozen bad words about you." He sat down, concerned. "Do they do that more often?"

"All the time is the correct interpretation, Marty" Doc said, sadly. "They abuse me. Make me feel like a complete nobody who everyone hates… they just know how to make me sad. And the worst thing is, they actually pretend to believe it's good for me. And then I'm not talking about all the speeches I've heard about how much beautiful things Biff did to the town, and the rising economy that his casino has caused…" He snorted. "The only thing that the casino caused was druggies, alcoholics, and gang wars. Hill Valley has become the breeding ground for all kind of corruption, from gangs shooting innocents to alcoholics robbing the houses. Every week there are a few persons murdered… but don't think the police does anything about it. They just side with Biff, they disgusting creatures."

"What did you just say?" Marty asked, coming up with an idea.

"I said the police just side with Biff" Doc said, a little uncertain. What was his friend up to? "Marty, you can't beat the police…"

"I'm not talking about that" Marty corrected. "If Hill Valley is really this much crime-ridden, I guess the police might be shot sometime theirselves… right?"

"Yeah" Doc said, nervously. "So? That's not our business." He wondered why Marty cared for that particular fact. It wasn't like it meant something major that could help them get out of this horrifying world.

"It is our business" Marty said. "If we can somehow get the uniform off a dead police officer, I could pretend to have orders from Biff to take you somewhere else. They'd go for that, especially if I could pretend to have some kind of ID… we might be able to pull that off, right?"

"I suppose so" Doc said. "It'd have to be on a quiet night… how about this Thursday? It's Halloween then, and some of the other locked-ups have talked about a grand re-opening of a part of Biff's casino, that night. Everyone is going there. There won't be many people in here who we have to lie to about your true identity. Do you think you could manage to get preparations for such a stunt within five days?"

"Yeah" Marty nodded, now smiling. "Don't worry Doc – I'll get you out of here somehow!" As something else occurred to him, he added: "Say, Doc, how did Hill Valley come to be like this? It's not what I'm used to where I come from. Back there, Biff is poor and you are free and Dad's…" He felt like he was going to cry. "Dad is alive. He's not shot, not killed, but alive. Alive." He sobbed loudly, so loud that Doc feared that the hospital's inhabitants were going to complain about the noise any time soon, and that his friend was going to be taken out before the inventor got the chance to complain anything.

"It's okay, Marty" Doc said, patting him. "We'll get me out of here and fix this. You've got the time machine, right? All we have to do is find out how Biff got the almanac and find it, maybe even go back to the day he first used it."

"Almanac?" Marty sniffed. "What almanac?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know yet" Doc said, smiling with understanding. "Well, after your father was murdered…" another loud sob from Marty "… I tried to find out what had gone wrong. It took me quite a few months, though, since I was busy with the flux capacitor. Then, on the morning after your mother married Biff, it was a Saturday if I remember well, I finally found what I was looking for."

"What was it then?" Marty said, now stopping to be sad for a moment. "What was this 'almanac'?" He felt suddenly really curious what this 'almanac' might be. It did sound like something that make Biff rich, though, since it would naturally contain sports.

"I was looking at the newspaper about Biff's first win," Doc continued, "as I spotted something in Biff's back pocket. I picked my magnifying glass, and found out that it was a book, which said: 'Gray's Sports Almanac, 1950-2000'. Immediately, I realized that had to be it."

"Two-thousand?" Marty exclaimed, shocked. "But how can that be? I mean, I and the DeLorean came from 1985, right?" He felt really confused, and didn't know what to decide, now. How could Doc… the Doc from his reality, that was… have packed this 'almanac' while it did never get printed at all? Looking up at Doc, he repeated, feeling clueless about the whole matter, once again: "How could that be?"

"You're right about the DeLorean coming from 1985," Doc nodded, "and that was when I realized that the winnings Biff made were not caused by you at all, they were caused by somebody, most likely Biff Tannen himself from some point after the year 2000 either building a time machine – which I doubt he's smart enough for – or stealing the machine away from our future selves."

"Heavy" Marty groaned. "I don't really understand it all, Doc. Maybe you can explain? In English, I mean, not science talk?"

"I'm sorry, Marty" Doc said, apologizing. "But I just don't have anything on hand, and it'll be easier to explain once we're free. Just remind that the almanac probably came from the future version of Biff Tannen, from after 2000. And we have to go back to the fifties in order to get the sports almanac away from Biff. Once we're done with that, we'd better burn it, by the way – it's not worth the risk to keep it."

"Too bad," Marty said, "since I would've liked to use it myself. But on the other hand, seeing how much harm Biff has done to the world since he had the sports book – it might as well be better that way. We really have to burn the almanac once we go back to … whenever Biff got that book… or our future isn't restored, right?" He didn't understand all what Doc said, but this made some sense to him.

"Correct" Doc said. "Actually, I think that taking the almanac to the present will qualify in the original timeline to be back, or better, a slightly modified version of the timeline you created by heading back to 1955, by messing up your parents' courtship. Once we return back to the present, we'll finally know what that timeline is like." He then got a thought. "Wait – we can't do that. There is a chance that we would stop to exist when we replace the timeline, or at least within a certain limit as we've reached the normal '85… I should really check this out. It's interesting. Too bad I don't have enough experience on time travel yet. It would really be interesting."

"Doc, quit the 'interesting' part" Marty complained. "This is not just a frigging experiment… it's our lives! Dad's life! This is making Hill Valley back the way it was instead of this hellhole we're living in right now!" He sighed. "This world is absolutely terrifying, Doc. I just wanna go home… are you sure we can't restore the timeline and stay intact?"

"I'm not certain, I told you" Doc said, sighing. "I don't have that much experience with time travel, except for building the parts and getting a look at the interior of your version of the time vehicle. For all we know, your time machine might erase due the ripple effect, since it's not supposed to exist in this timeline. We just have no way of knowing when it'll catch up with it… or you, for that matter."

"What do you mean, Doc?" Marty said, gulping. This did not sound good… but what could he expect in a world like this?

"You are not supposed to be here" Doc explained. "You're supposed to be in Switzerland, at some boarding school Biff sent you to last year… if I remember correctly what I heard some other patients tell me. The other, local you is the one who grew up in this reality, was born to this George and Lorraine, and had his father being killed at age five, therefore causing him to spend the rest of his life at schools Biff, his stepfather, selected for him to go to. Marty, your other self never met me again since he first went to a Swiss school… which was over eleven years ago. But, if he didn't meet me, and I didn't build a time machine, how could he go back in time? He couldn't. So he's still here." Doc paused, obviously tired from talking so much. "But if he's here, how can you be? That's what I call the ripple effect, the same thing that would let us fade eventually if we'd move into the non-Biff-ruled reality. I don't know if it catches up with human beings faster or not as fast as with objects like the DeLorean, but the thing I do know that, slow effect or fast effect, we have to get the time machine to be built fast. Even if you wouldn't get erased, and somehow could co-exist with your other self, we don't want to spend time in this version of the world any more than necessary, right?"

"Yeah, you're the Doc, Doc" Marty said, making the older scientist chuckle. Looking at the clock, he added: "It's three-fifty-five… I better get going, or these idiots will be throwing me out." He shivered. "I guess I'll be back here tomorrow at the same time, right?"

"I'd like you to, yes" Doc nodded. "There should be some money in my safe… the combination is 11-12-55 by the way… that should be able to provide you to buy lunch at the Biff's Chicken Paradise next to the garage. It's pretty judgemental against me and is owned by BiffCo, but at least it serves food, even if the quality isn't that good… but you won't find much better in the rest of town. See you tomorrow then… Future Boy." He snickered.

"See you tomorrow, alternate scientist" Marty quipped back. He chuckled, exiting Doc's room. "See you tomorrow." Doc listened on as the teen's footsteps faded and he had apparently left the floor.

The inventor sighed afterwards. It had been pretty good to see Marty again, after thirty… or was it eleven… years. The teenager had been a nice companion for those forty minutes, and he was looking forward to tomorrow again. And then the twenty-eight, the twenty-ninth, the thirtieth, and finally Halloween, the day he was finally going to get out of this mental asylum… he smiled with faint hope at the thought of it.

See you in the future, Marty, Doc thought, happily. See you tomorrow.

Lying on his bed, he then dozed off, happily thinking of what the next day might bring. Hopefully, Marty would visit again, and talk to him, and then Thursday they would finally bust him out. Doc started to think about what they would do. Collect his stuff from the garage, that was the obvious, and then flee Hill Valley. It was too dangerous here. Maybe a few miles out of town would be good… somewhere between Hill and Grass Valley. The last time he was there, a hiding place was around which would be perfect to plan a return to the past from. Smiling, Doc closed his eyes to go to sleep.

While dozing off, there was one thing the inventor wondered about, though… what would've happened to Marty's local counterpart? Where would he be… around October 26th, 1985A?

oooooooo

"Oh no! Oh no oh no oh no! Tell me this letter's a fake!"

The teacher sighed, glancing at his student. "I'm sorry, Marty" he said, sadly. "It's not a fake. It was signed by Biff himself, and everything indicates that it's come directly from the U.S. I'm afraid this letter is the truth, Marty…"

"It can't be" Marty McFly groaned, staring at the letter Biff sent him from Hill Valley, America, telling him to come back to Hill Valley. "Just as I'm getting used to my life in Switzerland again, Biff sends me a letter and tells me to come back to town! Maybe he knew, on the same way that he knew the winners of those sports, that I was just being happy and wanted to prevent it… that's how evil he is, y'know."

"I know Biff, Marty" the teacher sighed. "And I know he wouldn't care if you'd get unhappy… he hates you with a passion, right?" Marty nodded. "And that all because you happen to resemble someone who stood up to him during High School." He sympathetically patted the teenager on the back. "I know… life is hard. Even when living in Switzerland, where it's safer than in America, let alone Hill Valley."

"Right" Marty said, sighing and getting up. "If you'll excuse me now… I gotta tell the band."

Marty McFly was the founder of a band which contained members from the boarding school in Bern, Switzerland, and enjoyed playing with them. It distracted him from Biff and from other things that bothered him in his daily life. At least he didn't come home too often, so he could continue to practice very much. But now, Biff had invited him to the grand re-opening of the first floor of the Pleasure Paradise… and knowing his stepfather, Marty could sense Biff wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

Sighing, he walked up the stairs that led towards the room he and his band had been practicing up until the moment he'd walked away for a minute to go to the bathroom, and when he had come out had been presented with the horrifying letter. Being in thoughts, he didn't notice where he was going until it was too late, and he'd bumped into somebody hurrying the other way. Somebody who looked exactly like him.

"Michael" Marty said, smiling. "Nice to see you again. What are you going to do, still hoping to get a role in a Swiss movie? You've been trying that for a few years, now, but it hasn't worked. Why don't you give up?"

"Hey, I'm not asking you why you don't give up your dreams of being a rock and roll star, with Biff having all that power and the easy ability to prevent that from every happening" Michael chuckled. "That's why I'm not giving up my dream either. Because there's still hope, hope for a better future." He smiled, looking into the air dreamy. "And then I'll be the biggest actor in America's history. One who'll act in a famous movie, one good enough to make two sequels from, to become a famous blockbuster… something about… travelling through time…"

"You expect me to believe that?" Marty laughed. "You're just like your adoptive father, Mr. Lloyd. He's always talking about being an actor too, however he's more shy than you are about it. That reminds me… tell him I said hi, okay?" As Michael nodded, Marty continued to make his way towards the band, watching as his look-alike walked further into the other direction.

As he was walking on the stairs, he started to think of his life, and of the opening Biff wanted him to attend. Now he'd probably have to buy a ticket from his own money – Biff never sent him something, figuring the teen 'would sort it out himself, and I'm not wasting perfectly good dough on that', and try to get an airplane for the morning of October 31st. At least the clocks ran behind nine hours in California… that was a positive side, since it saved some time and could even cause him to leave on the 31st, but arrive on the thirtieth. He really hoped he wouldn't be late, since Biff would really abuse him if he was.

Telling himself to just 'shut up', he walked on. But the thoughts remained nagging. Going back to Hill Valley always reminded him of his childhood, before his father had been shot. Granted, he didn't remember that much since he'd been four, going on five at the time his father had been shot, or like Dr. Brown would've said: four years, nine months and six days.

Dr. Brown…

Marty remembered that face from his childhood with small clarity – he could barely remember the man's face, except for the fact that he was looking wild and eccentric – but he was one of his father's closest friends and allies in the fight they put against Biff in the early seventies. Doctor Brown had been an inventor in his early-fifties at the time, which meant that he had to be in his mid-sixties now if he was still alive. Which he was most likely – Marty now remembered having read an article about the man being committed just two-and-a-half years ago. And Biff talked about him sometimes, going on that the scientist was a 'crazy, wild-eyed nutcase'. Marty snorted; if there was anyone who deserved that description, it was Biff Tannen himself, judging from the way the billionaire had changed Hill Valley to a living hell in the past two decades.

Shrugging the thoughts away from him, he walked into the door that gave entry to the so-called 'music-room'. Inside were the members of the 'Freedoms': his band, named after what they all stood for: freedom, hope for a non-Biff-controlled world in which everyone wouldn't be limited to do what they wanted to because of Biff's power over the world. A world in which Nixon didn't rule anymore, and Biff's Pleasure Paradise would be destructed again. Marty smiled, realizing the thing they actually most wanted was no control from Biff in the first place. George McFly still being alive, as well as all the other persons that most likely were killed by either Biff's hand or by his lackeys and other people working for him. But that was unfortunately impossible, Marty smirked. After all, time travel only existed in books and movies, like the 'trilogy' Mike desperately wanted to star in, or as in his Dad's sci-fi stories he'd written before his dead. Marty would have to face this world as it was.

"Marty, where have you been!" one of the gang members, Carlo, said. "Were you caught by Biff?" He was an Italian who'd fled to Switzerland in 1982, and spoke with a rather obvious accent. He was soon afraid, and had often terrifying nightmares about Biff jailing them one day and killing them on the most violent manner he could think of. Marty and the others always accused his dreams of being nonsense, but still, they were friends.

"If I was caught by Biff, I wouldn't be here now, would I?" Marty stated back, smiling. As his smile darkened, he added: "But there was a good reason for me to stay away… or actually, a bad reason, if you take 'good' and 'bad' literally. Biff wants me to come over to Europe for the re-opening of the Pleasure Paradise."

For a few minutes, the others were dumbfounded. Then, the leader – John, from England – shook his head. "Don't go" he spoke softly. "You really shouldn't go. If you'd go – well, Biff certainly invites you since he's got something bad out for you. You're safer in Switzerland. And besides, the band can't miss you."

"But what if Biff sends somebody after Marty?" Carlo said, scared. "What if he sends a spy here, who manages to kidnap Marty? He could get killed!" The Italian stared at his friend, obviously already imagining the musician's death by Biff's hand.

"He could get killed if he goes as well" a third band member, William from the Netherlands, said. "I'm not sure what he should do. But one thing is for certain – Marty will really anger Biff if he doesn't go back."

"You got a point there, Will" Marty nodded. "Maybe I should go after all. If everything works out, I'll be back the next day." He smiled. "Well, I guess we should go on, shouldn't we?"

The others all grinned, as the band went back to their music. Marty really enjoyed the sound of it, and hoped that the days that would pass until they reached the fateful day he was going back home to Hill Valley would go as slow as possible. Life wasn't that bad sometimes… but that was only when he wasn't under the power and control of one Biff H. Tannen. And that was what he was going to be real soon. Sighing, Marty concentrated on his playing. Biff would come later… first, he had a song to make.