Chapter 10

November 11th

Hill Valley

11:51 P.M.

"So, Emmett," Clara purred, leaning over him, "what do you think the best part of being a fairy is?"

"I couldn't imagine," Doc replied, smiling.

"Well, let me tell you. We can–

THUNK!

Doc jolted awake, blinking rapidly as his mind tried to make sense out of what was reality and what was not. He scowled as he realized Clara was part of the latter category. "Damn it. . .Einstein, was that you?" he called, rolling over.

Loud barking answered him. Doc sighed deeply. Much as he loved his dog, sometimes Einy could be a real –

Einstein abruptly yelped and whined in pain. Doc's mood instantly went from annoyed to concerned – and a little bit frightened. "Einstein?" He groped for the matches he kept by his bedside lamp – and the shotgun he kept under his bed, just in case. "Are you all right, boy?"

There was no answering bark. Doc found the gun and pulled it close to him, still trying to locate the matches. He had a nasty hunch about who was trying to break into his house, but he couldn't attempt defensive action without light. Damn it, I thought I had them right here!

A shadow suddenly darted across the room. Doc swung the gun up, but something grabbed the back of his head first. There was a loud crack as something very heavy smashed against his skull.

Then everything went black.

November 12th

Hill Valley

1:21 P.M.

All right! Today's the big day!

Marty excitedly peered under a loose stone in the hearth. His shoe was stuffed underneath – a little dirty and crinkled now, but otherwise none the worse for wear. "Clara, mind cleaning it up a bit?" he asked his fairy godmother over his shoulder. "Just so they'll really look like a matched set?"

"Not at all." Clara wiped the dirt away with a wave. "Oh, this is exciting. Third town on the list! I thought it would take them longer to get here."

"Me too," Marty admitted, carefully replacing the rock. "It feels – surreal. In just a few minutes, I'm gonna be reunited with the girl of my dreams. And then, this whole nightmare's gonna be over."

Something squeaked at him from the top of the fireplace. Marty looked up and frowned. "Jesus, George, how many times do I have to tell you to stay in my pocket?" He retrieved the mouse from its perch. "You've never been this jumpy before."

"He's probably not used to being in the house," Clara said. "And the Tannens do have those dogs."

"Yeah, but they tied them up in the kitchen to keep them from mauling anybody important." Marty patted George's head. "You're safe, buddy. Really."

George squeaked and wriggled in his grip. "George, you gotta settle down," Marty said firmly. "If I'm gonna sneak you into the palace, you need to be quiet. I don't want to leave you behind with the Tannens."

Clara patted George's head too. "Just overexcited, I'm sure. It's hard not to be."

Marty grinned. "You've got that right."

The sound of footsteps coming their way caught their attention. Clara vanished as Marty hastily got George back into his pocket. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Buford, dressed in his Sunday best and looking smug. "All right, cinderboy," he greeted Marty. "The royals are gonna be here in a bit. You keep your head down, and don't make any trouble."

"Right," Marty nodded, trying hard not to smile.

"And don't you get anywhere near the royals. They don't need your stink on them. You stay back in the servants quarters, cleaning!"

Now Marty couldn't hold back a small grin. "Well, I'll do my best, but-"

"No buts! Just stay in the background til they're done and gone!"

"What happens when they ask me to try on the shoe?"

Buford snorted. "What makes you think you're trying on that shoe?"

Marty raised an eyebrow. "Uh, royal order? The proclamation clearly said every eligible young man. I'm one of those under all this dirt."

"No you ain't. You ain't getting anywhere near that shoe."

Marty glared, getting frustrated. "Listen, I know you're hoping one of your kids win, but I deserve a chance! Besides, how are you gonna stop me, anyway?"

Buford grinned coldly. "Boys!"

Biff and Griff came in, dragging someone between them. Marty went white. "DOC!"

Doc looked at Marty with wide, fearful eyes. The scientist was tied hand and foot, and had a length of cloth forced between his teeth for a gag. A nasty lump throbbed on his head. Marty tried to run to him, but was caught by Buford before he could take more than a few steps. "Now listen here, runt!" Buford said, looking almost gleeful. "You even think of trying on that shoe, and I'll slit his throat from ear to ear!"

"No! Leave him alone!" Marty cried, struggling against Buford's grip.

"You behave, and we will." Buford smirked. "Maybe. Now come on, we-"

The butler suddenly entered the room, looking a bit out of breath. "Sirs, the royal carriage just pulled up," he reported.

"Already?" Buford checked his watch. "Shit, they're early!"

"What do we do with them?" Biff asked, nodding at Doc and Marty nervously.

"Stuff the blacksmith in there," Buford said, pointing to a nearby closet. "Cinderboy here can sit by the fireplace."

Biff and Griff nodded, dragging Doc over to the closet. Doc and Marty shared one last frightened look before the door was shut. Shit shit shit! Come on, Clara, do something! Marty thought desperately.

I can't! Her voice suddenly broke into his thoughts, startling him momentarily. I wish I could, but they'd notice and then we'd really be in trouble!

But – damn it, we have to help him! Marty bit his lip. He's – he's the only family I've got anymore.

I know! Oh, God, Emmett. . . .

There was a knock at the front door. The butler dashed back out to greet the guests at Buford's nod. Buford snatched up a handful of soot, threw it in Marty's face, then sat him firmly on the hearth. "Now sit there and don't move a muscle," he said firmly. "Otherwise-" He yanked his finger across his throat.

Marty nodded, spitting and blinking the soot out of his eyes. Buford turned toward the door as Biff and Griff took up guard positions by the closet.

Moments later, the butler reentered the room. "May I present the Princess Jennifer and her entourage," he said, bowing low.

The royal party entered the room. Marty sucked in his breath as he saw Jennifer in the middle of all her guards and attendants. She looked even more beautiful now that he could see her full face. For a moment, he was tempted to say something – then Biff caught his eye and put his hand over his dagger. Marty lowered his head, feeling miserable. Damn it.

Buford bowed, grinning. "How d'ya do, milady?"

Jennifer frowned at him. "Well. It's good to see you've learned some manners. How do you do?"

"Mighty fine. Have you got the shoe?"

Jennifer nodded as one of the servants held it up, resting on a cushion. "I must admit, I'm confused as to why you asked us here," she said. "I know none of you will fit. You left before midnight."

"Worth a try," Biff said, leering. "For all you know, we snuck back in."

"Bullshit," Lorraine, standing by Jennifer's side, said flatly. "If you're trying to rig this in your favor, it won't work."

"Hey, your princess said anyone who wanted to could try on that shoe."

"And I intend to honor that promise," Jennifer said, though not without a bit of reluctance. "Let's get this over with."

"Who's first?" the man holding the shoe asked.

"Me!" Griff said, beating Biff to the punch. His brother gave him a dirty look.

"All right, come here please."

Griff went over and sat in one of the armchairs, removing his left shoe. The shoe-holder knelt down and tried to pull the magical shoe over the young man's foot. It became immediately obvious that Griff's foot wouldn't fit – in fact, Marty could have sworn the opening had shrunk upon touching Griff's flesh. Despite himself, Marty smiled. Guess Clara was right – either that or the spell hates him as much as I do.

After a full minute of fruitless tugging, Griff finally admitted defeat. He stood up and sulkily replaced his own shoe. "All right, let's have the other brother," Jennifer said, sighing.

Biff changed places with Griff. He smirked at the princess and her lady-in-waiting as he took off his shoe. "Nice to see you again, Miss Baines."

"I'm afraid to say the feeling is not mutual," Lorraine replied icily, eyes narrowed.

"Aw, come on, we had a fun time!"

"If you call pawing at my breasts and ruining a brand new dress fun. Which you might, granted."

"Excuse me, it's my hand you're asking for," Jennifer interjected, frowning at Biff.

"Yeah, I know," Biff said easily. "But if we ever get tired of each other-"

"I'm tired of you already," Jennifer snapped. "And I will cut out my own tongue if that shoe fits you."

The holder of the shoe tried fruitlessly to pull it onto Biff's foot. It resisted just as much as it had with Griff. "It appears your tongue is safe, your Majesty," the man finally said, giving up.

"Wait a minute!" Biff said as the man started to stand. He yanked out his dagger. "I'm willing to work with you here!"

Marty's jaw dropped. Was Biff seriously offering to carve up his own foot just to fit that shoe? "Holy shit!"

Buford shot him a look, but the damage was done. Lorraine, surprised, looked in Marty's direction. "Oh, hello! We didn't see you there," she said, smiling. "Who are you?"

"That's just the cinderboy," Buford said hastily. "He ain't nobody."

Jennifer turned to look. Her eyes widened as she saw Marty. Marty felt a nervous thrill – did she somehow recognize him? "Well, does 'nobody' want to try on the shoe?"

"Look, I'm offering to make some drastic changes here!" Biff said, scowling.

"Oh hush," Lorraine told him brusquely. "Though if you want to cripple yourself, be my guest."

"I – ah – dunno," Marty said, eyes flicking to the closet.

Jennifer smiled encouragingly. "Anyone can try, really. And you look about the right height, which is more than I can say for most of the competitors."

"Your Majesty doesn't want to marry a cinderboy," Buford interrupted, giving Marty a significant glare. "Look at him! He's filthy!"

The shoe-holder looked Buford up and down critically. "If your Baronship will excuse me. . . ."

"Hey, I had a bath just this morning! Shut it."

"We've considered people in much worse shape than him," Jennifer said, frowning at Buford. "A little dirt doesn't bother me." She smiled again at Marty. "Come on, give it a go."

"I – I – well, it all seems like a lot of work," Marty said lamely, rubbing the back of his head.

Jennifer blinked. "All it is is trying on a shoe."

"I mean the kingship. I don't know anything about ruling. What if I cause some sort of uprising?"

"We wouldn't let you stumble into it blindly. We'd have tutors for you. And I'd certainly help you."

"Still. . . ." Marty's eyes flicked back to the closet. Griff noticed and glowered at him significantly.

Lorraine shared a puzzled look with the other attendants. "Weird – usually they're falling all over themselves to try it on," she muttered. She arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps he doesn't like girls?"

"I like girls!" Marty snapped. "It's just-"

"Yes?" Jennifer asked, eyeing him.

Marty grimaced, fumbling for some sort of excuse. He wanted so badly to go over there and try on the shoe. But if Doc died because of him, he'd never be able to live with himself. Damn it! What do I do? he thought, beginning to sweat.

Then, out of nowhere, all hell broke loose.

Marty hadn't noticed him sneaking out of his pocket again. George quickly scurried down the teen's leg and raced across the floor. He didn't understand all that was happening, but he knew that his friends were in trouble. And he was going to help any way that he could.

He paused a moment at the door to look back at Lorraine. He still had enough of his human brain to feel a pang. He was so close to her, and yet so far. Why did we have leave right at midnight? If only I'd gotten a chance to talk to Clara. . . .

Well, there was no time to mope over missed opportunities. George scurried out into the hall and looked around. It had been ages since he'd been inside the house. He didn't have a clue where anything was.

Luckily, he didn't have to rely on memory or guesswork. Sniffing around, he located the scent he wanted and followed it.

About a minute later, he came upon his quarry. Buford's dogs were tied up in the kitchen, alternately gnawing on bones and fighting over them. Seeing them, George's courage wavered. What was he thinking, seeking out these vicious mutts? If anything went wrong, he'd end up dead!

But – if he didn't do this, that nice Doc person might end up dead. And Marty wouldn't ever get away from the Tannens. And –

And he'd probably never see Lorraine again.

George stiffened his mousy spine. Hell with that – he had to try this plan, at least. He snuck into the room, keeping to the shadows until he'd reached the ropes holding the dogs to the counter. They were old and frayed already, which made his job a lot easier. He gnawed on them for a few minutes, weakening them even further. Then, taking a deep breath, he raced out into the open.

Right in front of the dogs.

They reacted instantly, lunging and snapping at the mouse. George dodged their jaws and headed for the door at a dead run. The dogs followed, howling. The ropes stretched, held for a moment, then snapped. The group exploded out of the kitchen, unheeding of the destruction they caused. George led them down the hall and toward the living room, dodging and weaving like crazy, heard pounding even faster than usual. He hoped he didn't run out of adrenaline before they got there. Otherwise –

Luckily, at their pace, it took them almost no time at all to reach the room. George darted inside, the dogs hot on his heels. Hopefully they would cause enough of a distraction for Clara to free Doc. And then, maybe SHE COULD SAVE ME!

"Oh my God!"

"Be careful!"

"Holy shit!"

"How'd those stupid mutts get loose?"

Marty leapt back as the trio of dogs plowed through the room, growling and snapping at everything in reach. Jennifer's servants immediately surrounded her, pulling daggers for extra protection. "Damn weak ropes!" Buford snarled, lunging at the dogs. "Get over here! Griff, help me! Heel! Sit!"

The dogs were heedless of his commands, intent on chasing something. With a jolt of fear, Marty felt in his pocket. Shit! George, why couldn't you stay put? he thought, looking at the floor. It's bad enough I have to worry about Doc –

Right on cue, there was a faint flash of purple light, and the closet door burst open. Doc toppled out, looking rather startled. Marty raced to his friend's side, dodging a snap from one of the dogs. "Doc! Jesus, are you all right?" he asked, pulling out the gag.

"I've been better," Doc rasped.

"What on earth is going on here?" Jennifer demanded, peeking between her attendants. "Where did those dogs come from?"

Lorraine, however had spotted what the dogs were chasing. "They're trying to kill that poor mouse!" Muscling past a surprised guard, she reached out and scooped up the little creature as he passed. The dogs immediately went for her, but she quickly retreated back behind the line of attendants.

In the confusion, Biff noticed that the shoe had been left sitting on one of the chairs. Seeing everyone else was otherwise occupied, he grabbed it and slashed it to ribbons with his dagger. "That's for not fitting me!" he hissed.

Finally, Buford and Griff got the dogs under control. "Sorry," Griff panted as they forced the animals back out into the hall. "Fregging lobos. . . ."

Jennifer shook her head tiredly. "And I thought visiting that cheesemaker was the worst. . . . Lorraine, are you all right?"

"Yes," Lorraine assured her, clutching George in her hands. "Poor little mouse," she added, stroking him gently. George squeaked in contentment.

"Who is that and why was he in your closet?" one of Jennifer's retinue demanded, as a couple of others went over to help Marty get Doc to his feet.

The Tannens seemed at a loss for words. "Ask him," they said in unison, pointing at each other.

"I'm Emmett Brown," Doc introduced himself, nodding gratefully as the attendants undid his bonds. "I'm the local blacksmith."

Jennifer looked over at Marty, understanding starting to dawn in her eyes. "Is he a friend of yours, then? Did they kidnap him to keep you from trying on the sh-"

Her eyes fell on the ruined shoe. She shrieked. "Oh! Oh no!"

The servants gasped and looked at each other nervously. "Your Majesty, we – we do apologize-" one began.

Jennifer ignored him, turning furious eyes onto the Tannens. "Which one of you did it?" she demanded, voice shrill. "Which one of you? I bet you released those dogs on purpose, just so – I tell you right now, I'm not marrying any of you!" She glared around the room. "I could throw you all in the dungeon for this!"

"We'll flush out which one was the perpetrator, your Majesty!" the attendant quickly said. "You can be sure of that!"

Marty, however, had a different idea. He looked around. Doc was with Jennifer's retinue, George safely in Lorraine's hands. And no matter what, the Tannens were in serious trouble. There was no reason to hide anymore. He smiled and stood up by the hearth. "Excuse me, your Majesty," he said, leaning over the loose rock. "Would you be interested in a replacement shoe?"

Biff gave him a nasty look. "Replacement? What the hell are you talking abo. . . ."

Biff's voice died as Marty pulled the matching shoe from its hiding spot. The teen kicked off his own worn-out footwear. Then, before everyone's astonished eyes, he slid the shoe onto his foot.

It was a perfect fit. Marty smiled over at the princess. "Hey, Jennifer."

"Marty!" Jennifer flew across the room and embraced him. "Oh, I thought it was you – er, it is Marty, right?" she asked, pulling back a bit to look him in the face.

"Yeah," Marty said, blushing. "I only fudged my last name. Sorry I lied to you, but those jackasses threatened to break my arm if I showed up there."

"I don't doubt it," Jennifer nodded, shooting the Tannens an ugly look. "Oh, it's good to see you again."

"Same here. And hey," he added with a smirk, "at least I didn't turn out to be a coal heaver."

Jennifer giggled. "There's that. What is your real last name?"

"McFly."

"McFly?" repeated the attendant, looking shocked. "Oh my God! Your Majesty, this is the missing Marquis!"

"What, really?"

"Hang on a second!" Buford protested. "I'm the Marquis! I married his mama!"

"And murdered her," Marty said viciously. "Stabbed her to death. Then he killed Marshall Strickland so I couldn't go to him for help. Let me guess, he told you guys I ran off."

"That was the report he gave," the man nodded. "We've been wondering what happened to you for a couple of years now." He looked suspiciously over at Doc. "What do you have to do with all this?"

"He's my friend," Marty said firmly. "Closest thing I have to family any more."

"I recognize him from the ball too," Jennifer said. "It's hard to mistake that hair." Doc blushed faintly. "Mr. Von Braun, I take it?"

"Brown these days, but yes," Doc said with a bow. "And you were correct in your earlier assumption, your Majesty – the Tannens kidnapped me to prevent Marty from trying on the shoe. I doubt they could have stopped the kid any other way. He's been walking on air ever since he realized he was the one."

Jennifer beamed. "Well then, I'm really glad those dogs got loose."

Buford had gradually been turning from red to purple as they talked. "DAMN YOU, RUNT!" he suddenly roared, lunging at Marty. "DAMN YOU TO HELL!"

Marty darted out of the enraged baron's grasp, pulling Jennifer with him. Two of the attendants promptly tackled Buford and wrestled him to the ground. The others quickly restrained Biff and Griff before they could come to their father's aid. "You certainly have a lot to answer for," Jennifer informed Buford coldly. "I'm sure my father will be very interested in what's been going on around here."

"It's –it's not fair!" Biff protested, squirming against his captors.

"Life isn't fair," Marty replied, grinning.

"Remove these people," Jennifer told her retinue. "But be careful of those dogs. We'll be out in a moment." The attendants nodded and forcibly escorted the Tannens outside. Jennifer looked over at Doc. "We'll have to stop at your blacksmith shop before we head back."

Doc smiled. "Oh, thank you, but I couldn't impose on your Majesty for a ride home."

"Hmm? Oh, no, Mr. Brown, you're coming with us," Jennifer clarified. "If you really are the closest thing Marty has to family, you really ought to."

"Hell yes," Marty agreed.

Doc blinked a few times, caught off guard. "I – all right," he said, nodding. "I do need to check that my dog's okay, and pack some clothes. . . ."

"And get your wife, of course."

"Wife?"

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Clara?"

"Oh! She's not my wife."

"That's a long story," Marty said as Jennifer blinked. "We'll tell you all about it on the way to the palace."

"Okay. . . ." Jennifer said slowly.

Lorraine looked around. "What about George?" she asked excitedly. "Is he a footman or stablehand here? I want to make sure he comes along too!"

Marty suddenly felt really awkward. "Oh jeez. . .um, Lorraine-"

"Or is he someone else's footman you borrowed?" Lorraine cut him off, grinning at him.

"No." Marty took a deep breath. "You see, about George-"

"Yes?"

"You're holding him."

Lorraine's smile faded. "What?"

"He's the mouse," Doc confirmed, looking a bit sad.

Lorraine looked down at the black mouse still clutched in her hands. "George?" she asked in a near-whisper.

George squeaked and rubbed up against her thumb. Lorraine looked back up, her face a mixture of disbelief and sadness. "But – but I saw – he was human -"

"We'll explain it all on the ride over," Marty promised. "Come on, Doc, let's blow this popsicle stand."