Doc was beside himself—in every possible meaning of the phrase—once he'd realized that Egret had intercepted his attempt at intercepting his past self. He knew, however, above all, that he couldn't draw Egret's attention to his younger self, and so, he ignored him completely and confronted her as she taunted him.

Even without his memories not catching up right away, Doc knew himself well enough to know that his younger self would be listening in. And as Egret made her threat towards Marty, and then boasted that she'd sent her lackey after him, Doc knew that while he couldn't get away from Egret to help Marty, his younger self would without hesitation.

Egret hadn't noticed Young Emmett as he slunk by the alley after that—she had been facing away from the alley entrance, her attention focused solely on the older one.

That did nothing for Doc's nerves, however; he knew what THRUSH was capable of; rumors had flown around about what exactly had been done to those other two physicists she had mentioned. Egret was capable of far worse; she would drag out Marty's suffering until Doc did what she wanted—and then, as Clara had pointed out, she'd kill them both.

If he was doomed anyway at this point, then he might as well try to bluff Egret into believing that he would cave if she left Marty alone.

"Call your lackey back," Doc said. "I'll work on your machine—just… please leave Marty out of this."

"The more I think about it, the more I want him as an insurance policy," Egret coolly replied. "I understand how that part of your mind works. What I don't understand is why you never used your time machine for anything practical. You could have become one of the richest, most powerful men in history if you'd only seized the opportunity. Instead, you're using your machine to chase after one insignificant kid."

Doc knew there was no point in arguing—no point in saying that Marty was far from insignificant and had ended up teaching him a few things about time travel that he hadn't expected to learn. More than that, Marty was his friend—and that was all the justification he needed.

"That's right," he said, without explanation.

"…Then you're a fool," Egret declared. "Look at you—you're ready to sell your soul and hand over your life's work because of that kid. I didn't get to where I am by letting myself get distracted, Doctor."

"And where exactly are you?" Doc asked. He was purely stalling for time now, but if he could unnerve her in the process, so much the better. "Alone, having cut yourself off from everyone else? I used to think that was the practical way to live—to not have to worry about anyone and just throw yourself into your work. But you can have all the success in your work, and still have nothing. Even if you get what you want from me and your plans somehow succeed, you'll still have nothing behind your walls. And I don't regret deciding to let other people past those walls of mine, compared to the alternative."

"Is that so? Let's see if your apprentice regrets meeting you by the time I'm through with him," she returned.

Doc paled, but before he could come up with a response, he and Egret were distracted by the arrival of her lackey—who looked rather worse for wear.

"…Where's the boy!?" Egret demanded, seeing him return empty-handed.

Doc held his breath, hoping against hope this meant what he was praying it meant.

"I had him!" the lackey insisted, holding his head where he was still aching. "Some redheaded Samaritan saw us struggling and belted me with a saxophone case!"

Doc looked away, feeling an enormous sense of self-satisfaction, twice over—for stalling Egret to allow his younger self to pull this rescue off. Now, he just had to catch up with his younger self and get Marty back…

"You were supposed to use tranquilizer darts so that there would be no struggle to draw attention to you!" Egret chided.

"One of these will work in a pinch, too," Doc added, pulling out the sleep-wave inducer and giving the lackey a taste of it.

As the man sunk to the ground again, Egret now whirled to face him—and get a blast of the sleep-waves herself. She, too, sunk to the ground.

Doc sighed, checking the device. It was dead now—it hadn't been fully charged since he'd been in a hurry; they would only be out a few minutes each—though the lackey might be out longer, given his current state. Like his younger self had done, Doc would have to prioritize getting Marty home and, therefore, use the time he'd gained to get enough of a headstart to find him without interference.

He gently smacked himself upside the head, trying to get his memories to catch up in regards to remembering where his younger self had taken Marty, but the ripple effect was delayed again—yet another side effect of Egret's machine, he realized.

He'd have to deal with that later—for now, there was only one logical place where his younger self would've taken Marty. And so, Doc set off in the direction of what had once been home—Brown Mansion.

Young Emmett had known his own shortcuts for getting through downtown as quickly and as unobserved as possible; he'd managed to make it back to his car in spite of having to carry Marty back, and soon, they were back in his lab, having gently placed Marty on the cot that he sometimes used when taking a break from an all-nighter.

Marty was still unconscious, and as much as Emmett wanted to get the family physician back here to check up on him again, he was too terrified of that woman noticing him and following him back to the mansion. She'd made it clear under no uncertain terms that she wanted to hurt Marty to get Carl Sagan to do what she wanted. But what was Sagan's connection to Marty? And why did that woman assume that Marty would be an effective bargaining chip against him?

Emmett sighed, drawing up a chair beside his unconscious friend—his friend from the future. It was really beginning to sink in now that the adrenaline was gone. Time travel was attainable—Marty was living proof of that!

…No wonder, though, Marty had acted so reserved and cautious around him, not wanting to tell him his real name, especially with Artie and Trixie involved in things. As odd as it sounded, without his memories—unburdened by having to remember all the rules involved with time travel—Marty was acting like himself around Emmett for the first time, talking about his own interests and worries, rather than just focusing on Emmett as he'd done on his past visits with him. It was ironic; Marty didn't have all of his memories, and yet, Emmett was seeing the real Marty for the first time.

And, once again, Emmett found himself recalling what Marty had said to him on the courthouse roof on his last visit—

"You care about me, Doc!"

He'd been so confused as to how Marty had been able to say that with such conviction. Now it made sense—Marty obviously knew him in the future. And they were still friends then, as well! That definitely brought some amount of comfort to Emmett, but, at the same time… 1986?

"…That's 54 years…" he calculated.

Before he could ponder over that further, Emmett was startled by the sound of the door to the lab unlocking. Instinctively, he got up, grabbing the chair he'd been sitting on, and stood in front of Marty, fully ready defend him if need be.

He paused, though, in utter confusion, as the door opened to reveal "Carl Sagan" again. At least it wasn't the woman, but this was not a welcome intrusion for Emmett, either, especially since he'd just waltzed right in like he owned the place.

"How'd you get a key to my lab!?" he demanded.

"…The spare was under the mat," Sagan replied, prompting Emmett to sigh in exasperation.

"I've gotta stop doing that…" he muttered.

"You won't," Sagan muttered back. "But, nevermind that…" He trailed off, finally noticing Marty unconscious on the cot. "Marty!?"

"Some hired lackey beat me to him," Emmett lamented, but he stubbornly stood in the way, preventing Sagan from getting closer. "I got him away, but not before Marty got knocked out—he was hit across his shoulders. He seems okay—just knocked out, but… I don't know if this will set his amnesia back or not…"

"We won't know until he wakes up," Sagan sighed. "But what I have to say involves him, anyway. You know why I'm here. I'm here to take Marty back home."

"To 1986?" Emmett asked, prompting Sagan to freeze. Emmett blinked as Sagan gently smacked himself upside the head a few more times. "Yeah, I figured it out—his music was the key."

"…Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone!" Sagan warned, after taking a moment to process it.

"Of course not!" Emmett frowned. "There's already one unscrupulous individual after Marty; if this got out, there'd be so many more, too!"

"Right…" Sagan sighed. "I knew you'd heard her—but now you understand why I have to take Marty back, don't you?"

"I mean… yes," Emmett admitted. "You're working against her—that much I know. And Marty somehow got stuck in the middle of it all. But… how do I know that I can trust Marty with you?"

"What!?" Sagan sputtered, clearly not expecting this complication. "Of course you can trust me! Marty will vouch for me…" He trailed off, facepalming. "…If he had his memory back."

"Which he doesn't," Emmett finished. "So I'm afraid that doesn't convince me of anything."

Sagan ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen…" he said, after a moment. "There is so much here that you don't understand, but you're going to have to take my word for it."

"…I can't."

"What do you mean, 'you can't!?' You have to!" Sagan exclaimed. "Marty's life is at stake here—!"

"I know that!" Emmett retorted. "That's why I can't take your word for it—I don't know you!"

Sagan facepalmed again, shaking his head, biting back a retort.

"Look…" Emmett continued. "He's still got amnesia, and seeing that woman did a number on him; if he wakes up and finds himself with you, wondering where I went, it might distress him further! And I can't send him away with someone until I know for sure he's going to be safe!"

Sagan gave him a searching look.

"There's a bigger picture here that you're refusing to see—so you're just grasping at straws instead," he accused. "Those are just a bunch of excuses you're using because you don't want him to go back—because you know that means waiting decades just to see him again. You're ignoring all of the logic and facts and making decisions out of what you want for yourself!"

Emmett blanched.

"I… I promised Marty that I wouldn't abandon him while he was suffering from amnesia!" he defended himself, growing more and more frustrated now that he'd been found out. "He's my best friend; I can't let him down!"

"Then that means that you have to make the decisions that are best for him, not for you!" Sagan countered. "I'm well aware that it's a difficult decision to make, but you know Marty needs to go back to his own time—in spite of however much you don't want to admit it, you still know it's true."

Emmett refused to answer, looking away.

"Time travel has rules," Sagan continued. "You're still inexperienced with it; Marty was just like you when he stared time traveling, but he knows better now. And so will you, once you understand what this all entails."

"…I'll talk to Marty when he wakes up," Emmett said, still not looking at him. "If he wants to go back, then I'll let him go with you—but only if he's comfortable with it. Because I still don't trust you."

He raised the chair he was holding again, and Sagan backed away, realizing that he was fighting a losing battle and that Emmett wasn't bluffing. He dropped the key he had taken from the mat.

"If you change your mind, take Marty to the opposite end of town—you'll find a silver car with gullwing doors hidden in the foliage," he sighed. "Hide there, and I'll make my way there as soon as I can be sure that I'm not being followed."

Emmett didn't reply, instead watching silently as Sagan left; he ran over and locked the door after him, exhaling as he made his way back to Marty.

He was still furious that Sagan had figured out what he'd been thinking; the man was another mystery, seemingly knowing a lot about him for reasons Emmett couldn't even begin to understand.

At least Marty made sense now. And he had pleaded with Emmett to help him through this—and that's just what he was going to do.

"I'll still leave it up to you if you want to go or stay when this is all over," Emmett said, quietly. "If you did stay, think of all the scientific breakthroughs I could accomplish with your knowledge of the future!" He sighed. "More than that, it would be nice to have a friend around."

There, he'd admitted it—to Marty, at least. Now, he just had to hope that Marty wouldn't have forgotten him again when he woke up.