Marty wasn't sure for how long he'd been out—he only knew that Emmett had been there, and he'd trusted his friend to help him find a way out of his predicament. And, indeed, things seemed safe now; he'd briefly heard two people talking earlier: one of them had been Emmett, and the other… well, he couldn't remember, but he'd felt a feeling of security at the sound of his voice—it was the same feeling of security that he felt around Emmett, in fact.

He couldn't quite discern what they were talking about, however; he'd fallen back asleep. As he had during his time asleep the previous night, as Marty lay there, the very back of his subconscious mind stirred up bits and pieces of memories—but, unlike before, these memories weren't pleasant ones—

…He was on a stage, in immense pain as he tried to play a guitar, his right hand fading away before his eyes…

…He was on some weird sort of flying board in a tunnel, fleeing from someone in a car who had a maniacal look in his eyes, aiming to run him down…

…He was in an old cemetery, trying to pick up a small, whimpering dog as he noticed the carved words on the headstone next to him—HERE LIES EMMETT BROWN…

"NOOO!" he yelled, his eyes shooting open.

Emmett himself scrambled backwards with a start, falling off of the chair he'd been sitting on.

"Great Scott…!" he murmured, getting back to his feet. "Marty, what is it!? You look terrible!"

Emmett looked on in nervousness as Marty stared at him with a wide-eyed, but still unreadable expression.

"…You're alive," Marty finally said, in a matter-of-fact voice. He fell back onto the cot, relaxing. "Thank God."

"Yes, that's right…" Emmett said. If it hadn't been for the fact that Marty seemed absolutely terrified, he'd have been relieved that Marty hadn't forgotten him again.

"…It must've been a nightmare," Marty mused. "I dreamed that I'd found your grave—it said you'd been shot and killed in 1885."

"Well, that's going to be a bit difficult since this is the 20th century…" Emmett trailed off. Marty was from the future—but if he'd been able to travel through time, who was to say that he hadn't been to the 1800s? …And, come to think of it, if Marty was friends with him in the future, wouldn't it have made sense that his future self would have been involved in the time-travel, as well? Maybe he had gotten shot and killed in 1885…!

"Yeah," Marty sighed. "It'd be kinda hard for you to die a hundred years in the past, huh?"

Emmett stared back at him.

There it was. Marty himself had just let slip that he was from the future—he didn't remember that he wasn't supposed to let that slip, and he probably didn't realize that he was even in 1932. Regardless, if anyone else had been around to hear him say that just now, it could've been disastrous…

Emmett pushed the thought aside; admitting that Carl Sagan was right would mean admitting that he and Marty would have to part ways…

"Emmett?"

He was jolted back to awareness by Marty looking back at him.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Emmett—I'm sorry," Marty continued, looking mortified. "I don't know what I was thinking…"

"Nevermind that," Emmett said. He had 54 years to figure out how to get himself out of that predicament. "How's your memory? Any change?"

"I don't think so," Marty sighed.

Emmett hesitated now, pondering over whether to tell Marty about "Sagan" or not, but Marty kept on rambling.

"At least that encounter in the alley didn't set me back any," he was saying. "And if you hadn't gotten back there in time, I probably would've been toast." He shook his head. "I owe you one, Emmett. I dunno where I would've been without you."

…Well, that only served to justify Emmett's rationale; Marty wanted his help—and Emmett would give it.

"I'm always happy to help, Marty—" he began, but he was cut off by a furious hammering on the door of the lab.

"I should've known that you'd arrange for the boy to be brought here to your old estate!" Egret snarled. "And if either of you have any sense at all, you'll come along quietly—both of you!"

Marty gripped Emmett's arm in sheer fright, going pale again. He recognized her voice from that fragment of memory he'd recalled earlier. Emmett glanced back at him before glancing back at the door, in some confusion.

Old estate? Emmett's father had commissioned this place to be built upon arriving in Hill Valley…

"I know you're in there!" Egret accused. "I followed two trails of tachyon residue to this place!"

"…Tachyons…?" Marty whispered.

"I don't know what those are," Emmett whispered back. Indeed, he wouldn't have yet—they were only postulated in 1967.

"It sounds so familiar—and important."

"We'll figure that out later; we've got to get you out of here through the back window," Emmett whispered. "We just need a diversion…" He trailed off, his gaze falling on his electrokinetic levitating car from last fall's Expo. "…That'll do it."

He waved his arm towards the back window, indicating Marty to wait there while he warmed up the levitating car.

"I'm growing impatient!" Egret said. "You have 30 seconds to give yourselves up!" Her silhouette turned to someone—her lackey, no doubt. "Get the tranquilizers ready; I'm not losing them this time."

"Guess again!" Emmett murmured, setting the levitating car loose.

The car charged forward at top speed, breaking through the door; Egret and her lackey scrambled to avoid it, but the car caught them a glancing blow, knocking them down.

"Go, Marty!" Emmett yelled, rushing to follow him.

The two of them made their way out the window.

"What now?" Marty asked, still looking pale.

"We have to get to my car and get out of here," Emmett said, a sinking feeling growing in his gut that Sagan had been right all along. He practically pushed Marty along across the lawn. "Come on; we don't have time!"

He glanced back, seeing Egret and her lackey get back up, but he looked back over his shoulder as "Carl Sagan" now came out of nowhere to confront the two of them, and Emmett realized that he was giving him and Marty time to get away.

Marty was already running off ahead, now out of sight of "Sagan" and the other two, having reached Emmett's car—and now pausing as he noticed something in the front passenger seat.

"Uh, Emmett?" he asked, picking up a neon-pink object. "This wasn't here before…" He turned it over. "…Hoverboard?" His thoughts turned back to that fragment of memory of him fleeing in a tunnel. This thing looked exactly like that board he'd remembered… But, wait, if that had been real, then the gravestone…

"I have absolutely no idea what that is," Emmett said, but he glanced back in the direction where he'd last seen Sagan and the others—obviously, Sagan had left it there, perhaps intending for Marty to use it to aid in his escape. "But I think we'd better get out of here first."

They both got in the car (Marty still holding the hoverboard, trying to recall a few things that he knew were important), and Emmett took off towards town, debating over what to do. Sagan had said to take Marty to where he'd hidden a silver car if he'd changed his mind—but what if he wasn't able to get away from the woman and her lackey?

…Maybe it didn't matter whether or not Sagan got away. Maybe it only mattered if Marty did. Maybe this silver car was a time machine—after all, even Emmett had to admit that making a time machine out of a car would be a practical way to go about it. But if that was the time machine, then Emmett had to ensure that he and Marty could figure out how to use it—and send Marty back to his own time.

His own time…

The words echoed in Emmett's head tauntingly. He wouldn't see Marty again for so long—and what about that gravestone Marty had mentioned? And yet… that woman had nearly had Marty in her clutches only minutes ago—if Emmett hadn't pulled off that maneuver with the electrokinetic car, she would've had him exactly where she'd wanted. And she'd already promised a terrible fate for him…

…He was going to lose his best friend either way. Sagan had been right after all—Emmett would have to make the choice that was best for Marty. And that was making sure he stayed out of that woman's hands.

"Emmett! Behind us!" Marty yelled, dropping the hoverboard as he paled again.

The woman's car was behind them, gaining speed; as Marty held his head in his hands, trying to stave off panic, Emmett paled slightly as he realized "Sagan" was in the back of the woman's car, bound and unconscious, by the looks of it—clearly, he hadn't been able to hold them off for long, and she must have subjected him to one of those tranquilizers that she'd been talking about.

Emmett now swerved into an alley after the next turn, hoping the woman's driver would speed past; after seeing that she had, he proceeded to usher Marty out of the car.

"Wait, that hoverboard thing…!" Marty began, going back for it.

But as Emmett heard the screeching of tires from the main road, he pulled Marty away, knowing the woman was backtracking.

"Forget it; we've got to get out of here!" he said, indicating a fire escape behind one of the buildings. He gave Marty a boost to reach it, and then pulled himself up, as well. "This is Kid Tannen's old soup kitchen; he used to have his own quarters on the second floor. Now that he's in jail, I doubt anyone will think to look for us there. That's the one—go through that window right there!"

Marty shrugged, but did as Emmett instructed, and Emmett followed in after him.

"So, what now?" Marty asked, sitting in a chair as Emmett kept an eye out on the alley below from the window. "We can't stay up here forever!"

"No. No, we can't," Emmett agreed. "But we're running out of safe places for you—I thought the mansion would be safe, but she tracked you down there, too. Those tachyon things she mentioned—it sounds like she can use them to find you anywhere you go."

"So… what am I supposed to do!?" Marty asked, his voice raising an octave.

Emmett sighed.

"As soon as we get a chance, we're getting back to my car and we're going to where I'm pretty sure that a time machine is waiting for us."

There was a long silence.

"You gotta be kidding…" Marty said.

"Weren't you the one who remembered something about thinking fourth-dimensionally?" Emmett reminded him. With a sigh, he also remembered that Marty had said that the person who'd told him that had sounded a lot like him. …It had to have been him—perhaps when he was training Marty to be a time traveler, giving Marty the benefit of all the knowledge that he himself had yet to learn. Perhaps after that disastrous trip to 1885 where his future self had gotten killed, Marty had continued to travel in the hopes of finding a way to reverse it—and meeting Carl Sagan along the way, he supposed. And when Marty had ended up here, last year, he'd attached himself to Emmett, knowing that he was the younger version of his departed friend.

And then, somehow, this woman became involved—and Marty had ended up back here, amnesiac, once again clinging to the best friend he had lost.

At this point, however, his own fate was the last thing on Emmett's mind; anyway, once Marty got his memory back, he could then continue with his quest to undo what happened in 1885—but that couldn't happen if this woman got ahold of him.

"Soooo…" Marty was saying. "We hop into this time machine and hide out somewhere? …Or, I guess, somewhen?"

"Uh…" Emmett began. He fretted to himself for a moment, realizing just how difficult a decision he had to make. …But, hadn't Marty had to make tough decisions last year in order to ensure Emmett's timeline remained as it should? Marty had gone through great lengths to make sure things worked out—even risking the chance of forever ruining the very same friendship he'd been trying to restore.

…Now, it was Emmett's turn to take that risk. Once again, he admitted to himself that Sagan had been right; he'd have to make the tough decisions to ensure Marty's safety, even if it meant that he wouldn't see Marty again for a very long time—and even if it meant that this present version of Marty would hate him for the rest of his life.

"Look, Marty, I don't know how else to tell you this, so I'm just going to tell you plain and simple…" Emmett said. "I… I can't go with you. And you can't stay here."

Marty paled again, looking as though he'd just been gutted.

"You… you're sending me out there alone!?"

"Marty—"

"But… but you said you'd help me—"

"And I am—by making sure you're going back to when you belong. Look at you, Marty—look at how you're dressed compared to everyone else! And that music you brought—it's like nothing we've got here! You're a walking anachronism, Marty… but you're also my best friend."

"So, is that how you treat your best friend!? By just ditching him!?" Marty retorted. His expression was one of fear, anger, and betrayal all rolled into one. "What the hell are you thinking, Emmett!?"

"You won't understand now—not until you get your memory back in full," Emmett replied, quietly. It hurt—it hurt far more than he'd care to admit. But this must have been what Marty had gone through with him last fall, after all the things Emmett had said to him in anger then. Marty had persisted then, and things had turned out okay; Emmett had to do the same now and hope things would turn out okay here, too. "There's still so much you don't realize. I don't think you even realize what year this is."

"Of course I do—it's 1986! That Bon Jovi tape you listened to was released just a few days ago!"

"…It's 1932, Marty. That tape won't be released for another 54 years."

Marty's expression didn't change, even as Emmett walked over to the radio in the room—and tuned in to a news broadcast, where the newscaster was listing off the weather report for "Today, June 16th, 1932."

"This isn't the first time you've time-traveled—that was how I met you last year. And you knew then that you couldn't stay. The same is true now—you need to go back to your time," Emmett went on. "And I need to stay here, in mine—and I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not ditching you. I'm sure you'll be going back to your pop and the rest of your family who'll be relieved to see you again."

"So that's it, huh!?" Marty shot back. "You're just gonna send me off through time, not even knowing if it'll work!? You know, if you'd wanted to get rid of me, you could've just said so! You didn't have to go through that whole charade of pretending to be my friend and getting my hopes up and then just leaving me high and dry!"

Emmett shut his eyes in an effort to keep his emotions together. Ironic—Marty was spouting off something similar to what Emmett had spouted off at him last fall. He hadn't given much thought at the time to what Marty must've been feeling back then—but he must've been as pained as Emmett was now.

"I told you, when you get your memory back, you'll understand everything," he said. "Maybe you'll even find it possible to forgive me for this…" He tried not to wince as Marry just scoffed in response. "Look, just calm down and breathe, okay? I'll take a look outside in a bit to make sure that we've lost that woman."

"You don't have to do me any favors," Marty retorted, shoving Emmett aside and leaning out the window himself. "Just tell me where that car is, and I'll get there and figure it out without your help."

"Not now!" Emmett chided, pulling him away from the window. "And, like it or not, I will go to that car with you, okay?"

Marty didn't reply; he just glared at Emmett, but backed off, sitting back in his chair.

And Emmett just sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Well, that could've gone better…

He knew, however, that Marty didn't mean any of this; he must be absolutely terrified at the thought of going through such a journey (with a dangerous enemy in pursuit) without his memory fully intact—and without the rock he'd been leaning on since the last evening. Of course he'd feel betrayed and angry—he was going through far more than Emmett had last fall, and Emmett had snarled at him. Emmett couldn't fault Marty for feeling this way now.

Emmett just had to hope that, in time, he would, indeed, be forgiven.