Disclaimer: "This can't be happening! Not owning Back to the Future oh no please no this can't be happening. This can't be happening!" "I'm afraid it is happening, EmmettMcFly55, all of it."

Author's Note: Now if you're done wincing at that lame disclaimer I put up there, you can rejoice/wince at the fact that you have a new chapter to read! Hope you liked the last one as well. This chapter features Marty waking up and being stubborn, a character trait that essentially defines him in the SmartMarty-verse, and Emmett coming to some interesting realizations. Anyway, that's basically it for the Author's Note. Do I have funny or interesting things to say? Not unless you're interested in the fact that I'm turning 19 soon, or at least I plan to. Anyway, this is EmmettMcFly55, writing at 10:25 PM, GMT+1, Thursday, June 6th (D-Day!) 2013.

8: Chapter Eight

The first thing Marty McFly noticed as he woke up the next morning was that he had an incredible headache. The second thing was that he was on a couch, from what he could see in the Brown mansion living room. And the third and final thing he noticed was that he had absolutely no idea how he had gotten here.

The teen blinked. He remembered what had happened last night… or at least, he believed he did. Hadn't he gone off to the town festivities at the Square? Yes, he still knew about that. But what had happened to get him back here, and why did his head hurt so much?

As he tried to sit up, hoping it would clear his mind, it soon became apparent to Marty that he was hurt on more places than just his head. As he moved up, his arm bumped against the edge of the couch, something that should have been no problem normally. Now, however, it caused a jolt of pain to shoot through him. "Ouch!"

The sound was enough to wake Emmett, who was apparently just a short distance away in a chair. He blinked for a moment before identifying Marty close to him. "Marty!" he exclaimed, rushing to his feet. "You're awake! I – I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep! How are you feeling?"

Marty wondered whether that phrasing was the preferred grammatical way of saying the words, but he could care less at the moment. "Horrible" he honestly answered, grimacing. "What happened, Emmett? My head hurts, my arm hurts, I've got bruises everywhere, and I've got no idea how I got here!"

"Don't you remember?" Emmett said. "It was at the town party. You went off, and when you didn't come back, we went looking for you. We found you in an alleyway like this, and after bringing you home, I called a doctor. Oh, and you told us you were beaten up by Biff Tannen and someone named Needles."

As Marty listened, he could indeed remember those events happening, albeit vaguely. "I know" he said, sighing. "Looks like they wanted revenge."

"I suppose so" Emmett said, shaking his head. "I'm going to have a word with those two. I can't believe this… when we found you, you were bleeding! I can't believe they actually did something like this!"

"They must have hated me a lot" Marty muttered, then frowning. "Emmett, why did you use the word 'we'…oh, wait, don't tell me." He grimaced. "Great Scott Emmett, you just had to involve my parents in this, didn't you?"

"I believe that is not the most important of your con…concerns right now" Emmett said. "You're badly hurt, and the doctor said you nearly broke your arm." He tried to recall what the physician had told him. "You also had some sort of concussion, and well, you've got bruises everywhere. I don't think they will take long to heal, but your arm and your head…" He sighed. "Well, that's something to worry about."

"I suppose so" Marty muttered. "It will be a major nuisance when we'll work on repairing the temporal field warping and displacement machine."

"Work on the time machine?" Emmett repeated. "Marty, you can't mean that! You have to understand that right now, it's absolutely out of the question that you work on the machine!"

Marty frowned. "I don't use my head while working" he quipped, before cringing as he touched the sore spot. "Well, not in active work, and I don't think any of my brain capacities have been damaged. And as for my arm, there's not even a bandage around it."

"The doctor wanted to wait with it until you woke up" Emmett recalled. "Now that you mention it, he asked me to call him when you were awake, which is now. I'd better call him right away." He began heading over to the phone.

"Now, wait, Emmett" Marty protested, sitting up. "You can't just force me to be confined to the bed for who knows how long! There's work to do, your future self is dead in the Old West, I…"

"I thought you said it wouldn't matter how long it took us to fix the time machine, you could always come back to the day after he – I – wrote the letter" Emmett said, calmly. "And you said your brain wasn't damaged?"

For a moment, Marty didn't know how to respond to that. "You can't call the doctor now" he protested.

"Why not?" Emmett wanted to know.

"Well, for one thing, it's not even dawn yet!"

Emmett frowned and looked over towards the clock, which chose that moment to chime six. "You're right" he agreed. "All right, I'll wait an hour. But after that, it'll be time the doctor is informed. You're wounded, Marty, whether you like it or not, and you can't work. Not on something like a time machine."

Marty tried to fold his arms, then remembered the wounded arm and decided to put them down instead. "But I have to" he almost pleaded. "It's important. Every moment I'm here, I'm causing damage to history."

Emmett sighed. "Marty, every moment you're working, you're damaging your health. I'm sure you can't even walk well enough to make it to the time machine, let alone work on it."

As Marty took a moment to think about that, he had to admit that he felt quite dizzy in his head. If he went up, he would probably not last more than a few steps before collapsing. "Right" he muttered, nowhere near entirely in agreement but unable to do anything about it. "That Tannen descendant one generation removed descended from a male and female human engaged in an illegitimate relationship."

"I know, I know" Emmett said. "Do you want me to call the police and inform them?"

Marty shook his head determinedly. "You can't. It will alter history."

Emmett sighed again. "Yes, but not doing it will leave them thinking they can get away with something like this. For goodness sake Marty, you were almost killed!"

Marty shrugged. "I've been through worse" he simply said, somehow keeping up an almost chilling calm posture. "They hurt me and did damage to important body parts, but I'll get out all right. I can… I could, theoretically, tolerate something like not working on the temporal field warping and displacement machine for a few days, but actually prosecuting Tannen and Needles!" He shuddered. "That could have more effect than I can imagine now and could alter future history to an extent that we can not oversee. The smallest change can have the biggest results, Emmett, and this is no small change."

The thirty-five-year-old understood his logic, though he didn't like it. "Okay" Emmett said. "I won't call the police. But you'd better stay here. You should rest if you want to heal quicker, not get all agitated because of these arguments."

Sulking, Marty accepted Emmett's points, and crawled back in bed. "Fine" he muttered. "But I won't stay asleep forever, not even after the doctor's been here. I can't just lay here permanently, Emmett. I'd feel too… useless."

"I suppose that I could bring you something to do later in the day" Emmett said. "But not now. Now, you have to rest."

Sighing, Marty put his head on the pillow as Emmett walked off to the kitchen, probably to prepare himself some kind of breakfast. His friend was right – he really did need rest to recover from his wounds. He got into a comfortable position, careful not to bump his arm or head against anything, and within minutes, he was asleep once more.

oooooooo

"Left arm… all right. Right arm…"

Dr. Pentinson looked at Marty. "Well, that one is harder. There are some sore spots, but you know how close you came to breaking it."

Marty sighed, as he stared at the physician who had come over. Until now, his statements had not been overly negative, with the exception of his head. But this one…

"How long until I can enjoy proper usage of my arm again?" he asked.

Dr. Pentinson frowned. "It depends" he said. "If you remain resisting stubbornly like this, you might take two weeks to heal. If you rest and let everything else do it's job, your arm should be fine in a week, although it might still give you some trouble."

While it wasn't as bad as it could have been, Marty was still appalled at the statement. "A week? You can't seriously consider that as an option!"

"I certainly do" Dr. Pentinson said. "And as for your head, well, I think that it will need a little rest, too. It is not damaged as extensively as I thought at first, but you're going to have an ache for a month. It might decrease over time… but on the other hand, I have no way right now to clarify how much brain damage was done." He frowned. "Don't you think we should take you to the hospital?"

Marty shook his head. "Not me, and not right now" he said. "I have an important project going on, and I can't be delayed by something like a hospital stay. I will make a visitation to a hospital as soon as possible when I go back home, I promise." In 2030 or beyond, so I can be repaired to fully working order within hours, without any scars…

"All right" Dr. Pentinson replied. "I suppose that I can accept that, if you go as soon as you can. It doesn't seem to be life threatening anyway, and, well, it's your own choice." He stood up and took his hat and coat. "Goodbye, Mr. Eastwood."

"Bye" Marty said, leaning back again. He rested his head in the pillow, as his mind raced with possibilities for him to do something constructively, despite the doctor's orders. He simply could not wait a week and do nothing in the meantime. He couldn't. There had to be something he could do…

As Emmett and Dr. Pentinson headed off, Marty continued to think, think of how he could somehow put his internal functions to it in this situation. Because there had to be a way. There just had to be one.

oooooooo

That entire day, Emmett continued to watch Marty as well as he could. He made breakfast, lunch and dinner (not that Marty had much of an appetite for either of them, but he did eat some food) and took care of Marty's pillow when it needed refreshing. He looked up whatever television programs Marty might like, and was willing to concede whatever TV interests he might have had in order to please his young friend. Even when George and Lorraine came over in the afternoon after school, and he could see Lorraine felt tempted to take care of Marty like she'd just taken care of George when he had been hit by her father's car, Emmett still felt responsible for the teen and insisted on doing whatever Marty requested mostly by himself, without 'taking advantage' of their assistance.

Ordinarily, Marty might have been pleased by the attention. Despite his intense focus on science, he was still a kid like others who liked someone taking care of him as much as the next person. He did appreciate friendship, and could see that Emmett was a genuine friend to him, not simply trying to get him healthy as soon as he could so he could kick the teen out of the house and resume his life.

In this situation, however, the seventeen-year-old was not very happy with his friend's constant caring. He wanted to be active, to do something to make the time machine work. And while he had remained quiet all day, he knew that Emmett was taking too large a burden for him to carry. He would eventually give up and surrender to exhaustion. The question was when.

Conforming scientific theories about sleep processes, Emmett giving in to the need to rest happened at the moment he finally had nothing to do anymore. Shortly after dinner, when George and Lorraine had left, Emmett sat down in his chair, intending to lean back and keep an eye on Marty from there – but within moments, he was out for the count.

This was what Marty had waited for all day. All the time, he had wished to look at the time vehicle. Not work on it – he could see that was probably not an option right now, even if part of him remained stubborn. But he could at least have a look, couldn't he? That would help him in giving Emmett instructions on how to repair the machine. He couldn't do nothing all week, after all.

Carefully, Marty sat up. While he was planning to tell Emmett about his visit to the car eventually so the horse dealer-to-be could get instructions from him on fixing the machine, he wasn't about to take that chance now. Without a doubt, Emmett would send him straight back to bed if he woke up – and that was the last thing the teen wanted.

As he straightened, Marty noticed that he did not feel very well. Standing upright brought severe aches in some areas. He dismissed them as being simply the consequence of staying in bed all day, which they probably were. Trying to get used to walking again, he carefully made his way along the table, somehow managing not to fall.

Satisfied, he went over to the door that led to the hallway. For a moment, he considered taking a coat to put on. Then, he dismissed it as being silly. His arm was hurt and in the process of ruffling the jacket on and avoiding the pained limb, he might just make enough noise to wake Emmett. Also, it would take too long. The garage, on the other hand, was relatively warm and comfortable and the walk there was not very long.

As Marty stepped outside, he began to wonder whether this was really the best choice he could have made. It was already getting darker, and he couldn't see much. Perhaps he should just abandon the effort, and go back in.

But Marty McFly was not the person to abandon his quest halfway for such petty things. Stubborn as ever, he began heading down the stairs, carefully holding onto the edges. He made it down in one piece, and smiled. He half wished Emmett could have been there so he could have said 'I told you so'. All of his friend's worries appeared to be negligible.

In movies, when arrived at the moment where everything appeared to be going well, disaster would strike. Marty was not much of a movie-watcher and didn't believe what they said anyway, because he thought it was ridiculous and had no scientific basis. However, even in Marty's case, truth was stranger than fiction.

Just a few steps after Marty had entered the grass field in front of the mansion, his foot came in contact with a root of a plant Emmett had failed to remove. The teen stumbled and fell to the ground. Because his head was already hurt, it only took the relatively soft hit against the grass and sand for him to once again lose consciousness.

oooooooo

"Marty, what on earth possessed you!"

The teenager flinched under Emmett's stern look, and for a moment, the older man felt sorry for his friend. But he really had a reason to be angry. When he woke up a quarter ago to find Marty missing, he had panicked so much that he'd nearly had a heart attack. It had taken him up to ten minutes to think rationally again and realize where the seventeen-year-old had gone, and with the assistance of a flashlight, he had tracked the kid down. By then, it had been 11 PM, and Marty had been out in the cold and darkness for three full hours. Emmett had immediately brought the teen in, but after Marty had been warmed up, which he was now, he got a lecture unlike any he heard before from his friend.

Nevertheless, Marty McFly was not shaken easily. He simply shrugged, winced at the pain it caused, and then simply said: "I needed to take a look at the temporal field warping and displacement vehicle."

"You needed?" Emmett repeated. "Marty, right now you don't need to do anything but to rest. You got hurt in the accident, at several places, and you will have to relax for a while if you want to ever do anything again." He folded his arms. "This isn't some kind of joke, Marty."

"I am glad you comprehend this, because I think the same thing – which, from your actions, I was led to conclude that you apparently do not" Marty snapped back, irritated at his friend's behavior. "Temporal travelling is no game, Emmett. We have to take this as serious as we can, and having me unable to work on the machine is not serious. Your work pattern will be different from the one the original you had for days. Have you any idea how much damage this could cause to the space-time continuum?"

"That's the key word you've got there, Marty" Emmett responded. "Could. Not will. I suppose it could create major disasters, but I also know that chance isn't that big. I may be inexperienced in time travel, but if what you told me about the old and the new 1985 is really true, which I have no reason to doubt, then there were only small changes, changes that could easily be traced, like how your father becoming confident pretty much had to change the way your family was like, simply because he was fandament… fondamunt… because he was different. Because his entire life had changed and this naturally flowed from it. Changes that did not have to happen, did not happen. There are so many things that could have been altered because your parents met in a totally different manner, but they didn't. You were still born, your siblings were still born, you still got into science, and from what you told me, the future me and you still met. There were lots of ways that could have been prevented, like if the new you didn't like me, or had no reason to find a place for his experiments because the new George and Lorraine allowed it. They couldn't have known that was important, since you didn't tell them, but things still went the way they went originally… right?"

Marty had risen during Emmett's speech and now blinked, surprised at his friend's uncharacteristic behavior and knowledge about time travel. "They did, more or less" he admitted. "Great Scott, Emmett, you did raise some points I hadn't thought of, yet. I wouldn't have expected your 1985 self to make that speech, and especially not you. I guess that you really changed from how you were just two weeks ago…"

Emmett nodded with relief. It had been hard, but finally, he had now managed to talk some common sense into his friend…

"…which means I must have altered your personal history more than I thought. This is absolutely appalling. To think I could change you like that in just two weeks! I have to leave, right away. An extended stay would surely alter history too much for the space-time continuum to handle."

Emmett's eyes went wide, as Marty began to stand up again. "Marty, why do you have to be the most stubborn person I have ever met!" he called out. "You're simply taking the facts and twisting them your way, and if there's no way to twist them at all, you just pretend there is!"

Marty frowned. "You happen to be stubborn as well" he pointed out. "Remember how you didn't allow me to convince you to read that letter? It took an entire week and my parents' intervention to convince you in the original world, and a joint plea in this world. I doubt you could call yourself open-minded and flexible on that issue."

Emmett sighed. "I know, I know" he said. "But it's a completely different matter. I saw that I was wrong. Way too late, I admit it, but I saw it. You haven't yet. Can't you see that you're trying to exhaust yourself for no good reason?"

"No" Marty replied, determined. "No matter what happens, I will get back to work as soon as possible. History is at stake here."

Emmett sat back in his chair for a moment, leaning back, and then he stood up. "All right" he said. "I won't try to convince you anymore. But if you think I'm letting you off so easy, you're wrong."

Marty frowned, as the horse dealer went off. "What do you mean?"

Emmett turned around. "I mean that I'm going to call your parents for assistance. Not right now, because they're likely to be in bed, but I am going to call them tomorrow. If they want to cooperate – of which I have no doubt – and if it's necessary, we'll guard twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, just to ensure you rest. And," he added, as Marty opened his mouth to protest, "don't try to protest, because you're bringing this on yourself. If you were nice and cooperated, I wouldn't need to do this."

Marty didn't know anything to say to that. Sulking, he lay back down and tried to fall back asleep. Emmett went off to prepare a cup of coffee, and after a few minutes, when he returned, he could see that his patient was sleeping soundly.

Once more, Emmett sighed, as he stared at his young friend. Why did Marty have to be so stubborn? Sure, he was pretty much the same, but as he'd just said, he had come to his senses when Marty confronted him with the repercussions. Perhaps something like that had to occur to Marty too, but if him being hurt now didn't prove that he should stop his attempts to get away, nothing would.

And yet, as Emmett leaned back and stared at his sleeping friend, he couldn't entirely dislike the situation. Marty was stubborn, yes, and a hard patient to take care of, but taking care of him was a relatively nice experience. Having had no brothers or sisters, neither younger or older, Emmett had never had to take care of anyone. Now he had, and he felt that he liked it – not the responsibility, but the rewards that came with it, the satisfaction as Marty showed signs of improvement – not that he had, not much, but when he did, Emmett couldn't help but liking it. He didn't really understand what he was feeling, but it did give him a nice feeling, one of warmth. It was like being…

Like being a father.

Emmett frowned. Ever since the second and last girl he ever dated broke up with him, he had never thought of being a father again. He would never get to date somebody, and marrying was totally out of the question. And even if he ever found someone who liked him and got to marry her, Emmett was sure that having kids was no option. What good would it be, raising children while he would probably not have enough money to take care of just himself? Sure, Emmett knew his family fortune was quite sizeable, but it was likely going to run out eventually. He didn't want any potential kids to end up on the street because he wasn't able to afford living in this house anymore.

And yet… taking care of Marty had stirred feelings that might have remained hidden otherwise. While sometimes, he had felt like he was the kid and Marty the lecturing father, he had eventually come to see that Marty was too stubborn for his own good as well and needed someone to keep his schemes in check. Combined with the friendship that had developed over the past week or so, Emmett felt responsible for Marty. Like a father would.

As the thirty-five-year-old then thought back of the story Marty had told him, about their first meeting… well, there were some paternal undertones in that one too. Perhaps he had taken the natural role of a father-figure to Marty, sometime after their first meeting. Perhaps his future self did like being a father… well, sort of.

Emmett leaned back and pondered that. Marty's visit had changed things entirely. If he could manage taking care of Marty in the future, if he still lived in this mansion in the future (and from what he had seen of Emmett '85 in the video, he was still relatively wealthy), and if he was going to start an even moderately successful ranch business…

…then perhaps, if he met a girl and married her, why shouldn't he have kids?

After all, if you put your internal functions to it, you could accomplish anything. Marty had told him that many times. So why wouldn't it be the case in this situation?

Why not?

oooooooo

The next morning, Emmett made true to his word when he had said that he would call George and Lorraine to assist him. Both teenagers immediately complied, and from then on, they helped the horse dealer-to-be take care of his young friend. And after a few days, Emmett considered that Marty's health was improving enough for his assistants to be sent off on another task, the one Marty and he were planning to go off on the night the teen had been beat up – retrieving information about what had happened in 1885, to see what could be found about Buford Tannen and Emmett Brown.

Friday afternoon, George and Lorraine headed to the Hill Valley Library together. They got in easily, pretending to be researching for school, and soon sneaked off to the basement where they started looking through the archive.

It was George who first found something. After going through several books, he suddenly saw a photograph with a very familiar face on it… for more reasons than one. "Lorraine!" he called out.

The girl hurried over. "What?" she asked.

George pointed at the picture, smiling. "Take a look at this" he said. "William McFly and family. Dated 1911."

Lorraine gasped. The man in the photograph was probably nearing thirty, but one could still not deny that he looked almost exactly like an older version of Marty. "Family?" she asked.

George nodded. "It's my grandfather" he said, shaking his head. "Funny, I hadn't thought that he would be in the library."

Lorraine frowned. "But if you knew him, why didn't you see the resemblance between Marty and him right away?" she asked. "I mean, I know he's probably a lot older now, but I think you'd be able to see how much they look alike, especially if you've seen old photographs of him."

Her boyfriend shrugged. "I don't know" he admitted. "I saw that they looked like each other, vaguely, but I didn't really realize it, and I certainly didn't take it as a hint that he was from the future. You know how much we initially doubted him when he did tell us."

Lorraine had to agree to that. "Good point" she said. "It's remarkable, though, how they can look so much alike."

George nodded, and returned to the archives. Almost immediately, he made a face. "Well, this is one resemblance you can't miss."

His girlfriend had to agree with him. The picture was in black-and-white, but despite that one could easily see the resemblance with Biff. It was almost unnecessary to read the caption, but it did confirm her suspicions: this was indeed Buford Tannen.

"Buford Tannen was a notorious gunman whose short temper and a tendency to drool earned him the nickname of 'Mad Dog'" George read. "He was quick on the trigger and bragged that he had killed 12 men, not including Indians or Chinamen."

Lorraine shuddered. "Too bad I never looked this up before last week" she muttered. "If I had known what Buford Tannen was capable of, I wouldn't have been surprised at Biff trying to rape me and beating Marty up. Looks like evil is in the Tannen genes."

"Probably" George agreed. "It says here that claims could not be substantiated since precise records were not kept after Tannen shot a newspaper editor after printing an unfavourable story about him in 1884." He frowned. "Well, that would keep anyone from publishing more."

"Yeah" Lorraine agreed. "Is there anything else about this Buford fellow that Marty should now?" She shuddered. "I still can't believe he's actually going back there to face that guy. As if Biff wasn't bad enough."

"Well, he might not actually face him" George reminded her. "He could just be able to walk in, take the older version of Mr. Brown – Emmett – with him, and leave again."

"True" Lorraine conceded. "It still sounds bad, though. From what Marty has told us, almost all of his other time trips ended in disaster, so I wouldn't be surprised if this one did, too."

George nodded. "No offence, but shall we go back to work again?" he said. "We still have some things to do beyond helping Marty, after all."

Lorraine nodded, and sat down next to him as they looked through the papers. Fortunately, they didn't have to look long. Within moments, Lorraine found a photograph of a man they easily recognized. "It's Mr. Brown!" she exclaimed.

On the picture, an older Emmett Brown stood in front of the clock both of them recognized as the one that had just been struck by lightning. The caption read: 'The new clock, September 5th, 1885.'

George looked at it, as startled as Lorraine was. "Well, that proves that he was there" he said. "Shall we take it along?"

Lorraine shrugged. "We probably should" she said. "Marty says that anything being somewhere it shouldn't be could alter time, and I don't think a picture of Mr. Brown, uh, Emmett's older self really belongs here."

"You're right" George agreed, taking the photograph. "I guess that's everything, then." He sighed. "We did what we could – let's hope Marty is capable of doing the rest."

oooooooo

When George and Lorraine went back to the Brown mansion that afternoon, Marty agreed with them on the picture issue – it really did not belong in 1955. It was put in the truck and remained there for the next few days, as Marty continued to heal. It was on Monday that Marty finally raised the argument of leaving 1955 again, something he hadn't talked much about anymore once he finally found out that his friends were not going to listen to his arguments.

This time, however, he got a lot closer to convincing them. Marty's arm was in a better state now and it had been a full week since the accident. Despite the fact that George, Emmett and Lorraine opposed the idea, Marty continued to protest and pointed out that he had shown excellent progress in healing, and that he was now capable of walking again without too much trouble. His head wound was also showing signs of progress.

Eventually, Marty caved in, but when he raised the argument again the next day, his stubbornness was tougher to overcome. Finally, Emmett realized that they could not go on like this and permitted Marty to lend some limited assistance on the time machine repairs.

Despite Marty's hurry, it would eventually be another few days before he left. That was partly because he was still recovering from his wounds, partly because he still needed to fetch some 1880s era clothing, and partly because Marty made some stubborn attempts to repair the hover conversion as well as the time circuits. Eventually, he had to concede that it just was no possibility, not unless he wanted to spend another month in 1955. And thus, on Friday, November 25th, 1955, Marty announced his attention to depart that night.

George and Lorraine insisted on attending his departure, something which Marty didn't protest too much against as he knew they, or at least Lorraine, would not be persuaded out of their decision easily. And eventually, his parents turned out to be a help rather than a burden on one issue: Emmett's choice of Wild West clothing.

While Emmett insisted that the clothes he picked were genuine western clothes, even Marty, who had not seen much movies of the era, could tell they were wrong, and George and Lorraine supported him in it. Emmett eventually lost the argument and more research was done, which caused Marty to end up with period-accurate clothes. It did slightly delay his departure, which ended up happening in the early morning hours of Saturday, November 26th...