Disclaimer: I've been away from this site for a while. My life has presumably changed in some minor ways. However, I still don't own BTTF.

Author's Note: At last, at last I am settling down for a somewhat regular continuation of this fic, by which I mean that I'm going to try to update much more often from now on. Not sure how well I'll keep that promise because I do tend to be scatterbrained, but I'll try. I wanted to upload this chapter in the time of year it takes place, so depending on your time zone, it is either June 5th or June 6th when this story is updated. It continues on from the shocker that ended the last chapter, and provides some insights into Alternate Marty. Everyone who likes seeing Doc and Marty interact should like this chapter. I hope. Anyway, please read and review!

Chapter Five

Monday, June 6, 2016
10:30 AM PDT
Tannen Valley, California

In one moment, Doc felt like he'd been slapped in the face, kicked in the groin, and hit over the head all at the same time. He couldn't speak for a few moments, and simply stared at Marty. When he finally spoke, it was in a near-whisper: "Uh, uh, biological son?"

Marty frowned. "Yes, naturally" he replied. "My parents met in 1955, and I was born thirteen years later. I have no reason to believe I'm not their biological child." His eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"

Doc felt tempted to say 'because the last time you were Biff's son, you were adopted after he had shot your father in 1973', but at the last moment, he decided not to. It was obvious this Marty had never heard of time travel. If Marty was a Tannen in this new world, then he had probably never even met the inventor in the first place. Although, as he now recalled, Marty had said something to the guard about him bearing a resemblance to someone…

"Never mind" he finally replied. "I was wondering… do you know me?"

Marty shrugged. "No" he said. "In fact, that was part of a series of questions I was going to ask you. What is your name?"

Doc was startled despite himself and wondered what he could tell his friend's counterpart, but eventually figured he had nothing to lose by being honest – and this Marty was his only hope after all, even if he was part-Tannen. "I'm Emmett Brown, uh, sir."

Marty smirked. "Emmett Brown?" he asked. "He died a long time ago, and he didn't look anything like you. I should know, I dated his granddaughter for a while."

"Granddaughter?" Doc repeated, stunned. "I don't have… what's her name?"

"Anna Brown" Marty replied. "She's two years younger than I am. Daughter of Erhardt Brown, granddaughter of Emmett Brown." He smirked. "You know, if anything, I was thinking you looked like an other Emmett – my granduncle."

"You have a granduncle named Emmett?" Doc whispered. "On your father's side, I presume."

"That's correct" Marty replied. "Emmett Tannen. He looked just like you, but he died several years ago. I believe it was in 2006."

Doc leaned against the wall, groaning. No matter which Emmett was him, he was now truly dead in this timeline. At least 2006 was still in his future. "Um… would you mind telling me why you came here?" he asked.

Marty stared at him, then started pacing up and down the room. "I came here because I heard my brother, Cliff, had sent out several of his goons to arrest a stranger in the square. Not only was that my responsibility, he also didn't give me a clear answer on just why you were arrested. But the guard tells me you don't know either, do you?"

Doc nodded. "I was just entering a phone booth when those… those officers arrested me. I didn't do anything wrong."

"That's a new one" Marty muttered, sitting down again. "Usually prisoners will just agree that they were at fault right away. You present us with a challenge. All right then, let me try to find out why you were arrested. What were you doing in that phone booth?"

"I, uh, was trying to look someone up" Doc said, nervously. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk about that with this version of Marty…

"Who?"

Well, that hadn't worked. Perhaps it would be better to be honest – it wasn't like things could get any worse. "I was looking for you" he said.

"Me?" Marty's blue eyes blinked. Though that aspect had stayed the same, Doc could now see there were some differences with his young friend – for one, he was taller, looking more like five foot six or seven instead of five foot four. His face reminded Doc also slightly more of a Tannen, although it was still clearly and recognizably Marty. Despite the changes that had occurred, Doc found himself being amazed at the power the self-preservation effect possessed, making Marty's father change and different life give his appearances only the slightest of possible adjustments.

"Yes, you" he replied. "Marty, er, Mister Tannen… I needed your help."

"Why?" Marty asked. "Were you victim of a crime?"

Emmett shook his head. "No… it's much more complicated than that." He looked at Marty. "This is going to be impossible to believe and I wish I had proof on me to show you, but here goes. I am Doctor Emmett L. Brown. I'm from an alternate timeline, a world where the Tannen family never came to power in Hill Valley. You were my friend in that world, and you were the son of George McFly, not Biff Tannen. I'm from the year 1985, or actually from 1895 now but that would be a little complicated to explain, and when I travelled with my family to 2016, the time machine was stolen and they were kidnapped. Shortly thereafter, the world changed into this reality, and I got arrested by your brother's goons when I tried to look for you."

Marty looked at him, and smirked. "You're right – it is impossible to believe. But it is one of the most original tales any prisoner I've met has come up with. Congratulations on that."

Emmett sighed, deeply. "What can I say to make you believe me?" he asked. "I know it's hard, but I've always taught you – the other you – to keep an open mind."

"I have an open mind" Marty replied. "Open to reasonable suggestions, at least. Not to time travelling nonsense." He frowned. "I suppose I was wrong about you. I thought you were a sane, rational person my brother had accidentally arrested. I now think that was a mistake – or at least, the sane, rational part was."

"Marty, please" Emmett said. "If you'll just listen…"

"You start by calling me 'Mister Tannen'" Marty said. "Is that so hard to do?"

"Considering the fact that I know you as my friend and assistant, yes" Emmett replied. "All right, mister Tannen, let me ask you a question… do I really look like I'm insane?"

Marty frowned. "I don't think I should answer that question."

Emmett grimaced. "Fine, maybe I'm not exactly a regular person" he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I am crazy. And I meant to say…" He sighed. "I wish there was any other way than talking to you, but there is none, and I'm tied up so I can't show you any proof."

"Proof?" Marty smirked. "Then what proof were you going to show me?"

"Well, there should be some evidence" Emmett replied. "After all, I've lived in the Nineteenth Century for ten years. There ought to be some leftovers from that, even despite my care to avoid messing with history." He looked up at Marty. "Unless history got changed before that, of course."

"Of course" Marty said. It was clear he was humoring the inventor.

Emmett looked at his non-friend. "Look, why don't you start telling me something about this world, first? I know there's a lot different, but I'm still not sure what exactly happened to cause it. Besides it having something to do with Old Biff Tannen."

"My father?" Marty blinked. "He's not old. Well, I suppose he is seventy-eight now, but that gives you no right to call him old. Certainly not since you're a mere prisoner." His eyes narrowed. "One piece of advice for you – don't ever show disrespect for a Tannen family member again. Or we might have to take you to a more… intense prison."

Emmett stared at Marty. "Sorry" he replied, softly.

"What was that?"

"Sorry" Emmett repeated, louder. "Now, mister Tannen, could you please tell me about your family history?"

Marty smirked. "You're a quick learner" he said. "Most miscreants don't learn to behave until they have gotten some serious whipping." He looked at Emmett. "Our family started in the Old West, with Buford Tannen. He came to what was then Hill Valley in 1878, and almost immediately started his reputation as the fastest gun in the west. He was beaten by that no-good rioter Clint Eastwood in an unfair fight, though, and as a result, the police force was able to imprison him."

"I know" Emmett said, not able to keep himself from smiling. "I was there. As a matter of fact, Clint Eastwood was the other you."

Marty grinned. "You've got a big imagination" he informed him. "Does that tie in with that stuff about how you lived in the Old West for a decade?"

"Yes, it does" Emmett replied, before telling in detail the story of how he had gotten trapped in 1885 and had married Clara Clayton and fathered Jules and Verne with her. As he was speaking, he noticed that Marty was not an inch closer to believing him, but he seemed to be amused by the story and keeping him friendly counted for a lot as well. It took a while before he got Marty back on the story about his own family.

Apparently Buford's son, his great-grandfather, was Driff Tannen. He had "managed to outsmart the Prohibition laws of the 1920s" as Marty said it and had two sons: Marty's grandfather, Miff, and later the intriguing look-alike – Emmett Tannen.

Emmett frowned when his non-friend reached that part. "Interesting" he replied. "When was your granduncle born?"

"How should I know?" Marty said. "I don't know when my entire family was born. I believe it was around 1920, though. And we used to celebrate his birthday in the spring. Early spring, in fact, because it often snowed."

"March twenty-third, perhaps?" Doc guessed. Marty nodded. "That's my birthday. But what was going on with the snow?"

Marty shrugged. "Must have been another overload of our toxic waste plants" he replied. "I guess I'm a little more traditional than Cliff on that point – I prefer the old-fashioned sunsets and bright sky over the orange streaks in it he tolerates due to the dumping of toxic waste. He's right that I'm too sensitive for my own good, but whenever Mom tells me of the sunrises in her youth that weren't spoiled by pollution…" He looked at Doc. "I shouldn't be discussing this with you. Why am I doing this, anyway?"

"Beats me" Doc responded. "Perhaps you feel that we're supposed to be friends?"

The forty-seven-year-old grinned. "That's just silly" he said. "Your story about our supposed friendship doesn't consist of anything but fantasy." He sighed, and looked at the inventor with something that resembled sympathy. "I know it's hard to remember the truth, but we're here to help you, right? I'll talk to my brother, and see if he can get you a place on the medical ward."

Doc gasped, horrified. "You…" he began. "You seriously think there is something mentally wrong with me?"

Marty nodded. "I do, because there is" he replied. "I understand it's hard for you to acknowledge it, but just take a deep breath and relax." He smiled. "You will be cured. I will plead by my brother for it. We cannot put a mentally ill prisoner in an ordinary cell like this." He stood up, and walked towards the door.

Doc's eyes went wide. "Now, wait" he said. "Can you…"

"Never mind" Marty replied. "I've heard what I wanted to hear. Perhaps you'll have the honor of seeing me again, but until then, I suppose you'll just have to be content with your memories. Guard!"

Marty opened the door just as the guard rushed into the scene. "Make sure that Mr. Whatever his name is is treated well. Don't chain his arms again, but make sure he won't get a chance to get away. He's mentally ill."

The guard frowned. "But sir, shouldn't we…"

"NO BUTS!" Marty shouted. "I've only seen you a couple of times thus far, but I think I'm beginning to dislike you. Haven't you been learned to do as you're told?"

The guard shivered. "Uh, yes sir, but your orders tend to go against those of the leader."

"I know my brother's in charge of this town," Marty replied, "but I'm in charge of the police force. Disobey me once more and you're fired. Now get to your work."

The guard saluted. "Yes sir!"

"That's more like it" Marty said, smiling. "See? You lowly non-Tannens can behave if you want to."

Doc sighed, as the door was shut behind him. A few seconds later, he could hear Marty walking back up on the stairs, his footsteps dimming until they were just a hollow, faint noise. He grimaced. This interview had not exactly been what he had expected of it. Sure, he hadn't counted on Marty believing much of his story, but to call him crazy?

He sighed. Getting called crazy stung, especially if it was by a version of his best friend. And though he knew Marty hadn't meant it derogatorily, that might make it even worse. If his friend really thought that he was insane… well, that didn't promise much good for the future. Emmett shook his head as he leaned back into the pillow, and tried to fall asleep again. It wasn't like there was anything better to do.