Marty was still feeling upset and betrayed as the minutes ticked by; he knew he'd gone too far by snapping at Emmett, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being abandoned—and after Emmett had promised to see him through this, too.

Emmett, for his part, was trying not to focus on that, instead forcing himself to put all of his attention on what was going on outside the window. After a few minutes, he paled and suddenly withdrew from the window.

"It's her…" he murmured.

"What!?" Marty whispered.

"Mr. McFly!" Egret called from outside. "I know you're in there!"

Emmett buried his face in his hands. He'd failed; she must have followed the tachyons again—how could he have expected to stall her for that long with this maneuver? He should have kept going—should have gone right to the time machine and sent Marty back without even giving him time to argue about it…

"If you have any thought towards your dear mentor, I would suggest you listen very closely to what I have to say, Mr. McFly," Egret continued. "He's now my prisoner—take a look out the window if you doubt me!"

Puzzled, Marty gave a sideways glance at the distraught Emmett before looking out the window—and his heart practically froze in his chest as he saw a familiar white-haired man unconscious and in the clutches of Egret's lackey.

And another cascade of memories fell into his consciousness in rapid succession, some of them reinforcing the memories he'd already recalled, and others falling into place—standing with him in the middle of a mall parking lot, watching a DeLorean disappear into the space-time continuum, their joy and elation disappearing in the blink of an eye as someone in an approaching van shot him at point-blank range…

"…Doc…!?" he choked out, as more and more memories fell into place. He had been the one to throw him a lifeline as Marty had zoomed out of that tunnel on the hoverboard… he had disappeared to 1885 after the DeLorean had been struck by lightning soon after—Marty had then found the gravestone and had vowed to go back… "DOC!"

Young Emmett's head now jerked up as he stared at Marty with a wide-eyed expression; Marty didn't even notice—he was still staring out the window in utter despair.

That's Doc? But I thought I was… Emmett's train of thought now threw on the emergency brake as the realization sunk in. He turned away, smacking himself gently on the forehead.

Marty had used a pseudonym on his previous visits to the future—something he would've learned from Future Emmett…. Who also would have used a pseudonym to avoid creating a paradox… one that could've been created with devastating effect had he gotten into a full-fledged confrontation with another version of himself…

…No wonder his future self had backed down when Young Emmett had been waving that chair around; he hadn't been bluffing—and who would've known that better than himself?

And poor Marty was too busy having his own breakdown to notice Young Emmett having a minor existential crisis over nearly clouting himself with a chair.

"What the hell have you done to him!?" Marty yelled at Egret.

"He's merely tranquilized," Egret assured him. "For now, at least; what happens next is up to you, Mr. McFly. You see, Dr. Brown made his position clear earlier that he wasn't going to help me. If you aren't going to cooperate and convince him to change his mind, well… your mentor won't be of any more use to me, will he?"

Marty swore at her in response.

"I'll give you five minutes to decide your next course of action," she continued, coldly. "If you surrender and come along quietly, you'll buy Dr. Brown some more time. However, if you refuse, his brilliant scientific career will end right here." She smirked as Marty's distress increased. "Five minutes," she reminded him.

Marty backed away from the window for a moment, running his hand through his hair as he contemplated over what to do. He knew he couldn't let Doc die—and he had to make sure that the other Emmett would be okay…

He froze again.

Emmett…!

He turned, his heart sinking as he saw the expression on Emmett's face.

"Oh, God…. Emmett…" he said, quietly. He knew; there was no mistaking it—indeed, Egret had left no doubt by referring to him as Dr. Brown. Emmett still hadn't had time to get over Marty screaming at him, and now this… "Emmett… I swear, everything I said… I take it all back—"

Emmett gave him a shaky smile.

"…S'all good," he managed to squeak.

"…No. No, it isn't," Marty realized. None of this was supposed to have happened—him barreling back into Young Emmett's life, causing him to cast aside his own priorities to aid him, accusing him of a betrayal when he'd only been trying to help, and now him figuring out who his future self was—just as said future self was being threatened.

Everything was very much the opposite of good, Marty realized. And, in the end, he was to blame—as always.

Despairing, Marty drew Emmett into a hug.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry for everything," he said, his voice cracking.

"Don't be," Emmett sighed, returning the hug after a moment. "I know you didn't want any of this."

"Definitely not," Marty agreed. He pulled back, taking another glance out the window.

"Three more minutes, Mr. McFly," Egret called.

"…Marty, you need to get out of here," Emmett said, quietly. "Go through a back way."

Marty pulled away from the window to stare at him.

"Emmett, are you nuts!? I can't leave you—him—with her!"

"You have to; she's got far worse planned for you," Emmett sighed. "She'll kill me, but she'll hold you over for torture."

"Wha…?"

"I heard her," Emmett said, his voice growing colder. "She was telling my future self that maybe he'd be more cooperative if he… if he heard you 'screaming in agony.' I don't know how exactly she intends to go about it, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be slow, painful, and it won't add up to a ripe old age for you—that's for certain."

Marty ran his hand through his hair again.

"…I'll have to take that chance."

"What?!" Emmett hissed.

"Emmett, come on! I can't let you die!" …Again, he silently added. Marty wasn't stopping to think that he could now easily recall those previous occasions in great detail—indeed, most of his memories had been restored by his amygdala responding to the shock of seeing Doc in such a state. "I have to save you somehow!"

Emmett seemed to realize it, too—for Marty was acting like his stubborn, I-know-what's-best self from his previous visits. And Emmett was finding it just as vexing as he had during the previous occasions.

"How noble and selfless," Emmett snarked back. "But who's going to save you, Future Boy?"

Marty stared, thrown off by the familiar nickname that 1955 Doc would call him during moments of frustration—obviously, Emmett was frustrated now, but there just wasn't time to discuss it.

"Look, if I get out of this, I get out of this," Marty insisted. "If I don't, well… I'll make sure that you, at least, make it out alive."

"That's not good enough," Emmett retorted, seizing Marty by the arm.

"Emmett, don't fight me on this," Marty warned.

"Oh, sure—you'll really inflict harm on the guy you're trying to save? Not likely," Emmett pointed out. "I can be just as stubborn as you can, you know."

"There. Isn't. Time!" Marty hissed, through gritted teeth. "If I don't go out there in one minute, you're dead! I don't have time to make a plan; I don't have the brain power to come up with one under this much stress—I'm making this up as I go! You're the genius—you come up with something!"

Emmett paused, thinking for a moment, much to Marty's surprise.

"…That hoverboard thing you left in my car—how does it work?"

"Uhh, I'm not sure," Marty said. "I know there's some kinda electrical field involved."

"So, a similar principle to my electrokinetic car?"

"I guess…?"

Emmett worked something over in his mind for a moment before turning to Marty.

"…I think I do have an idea," he said.

Doc had not been having a good day—and it seemed to be getting worse with every passing moment.

He was slowly coming awake, still woozy from the tranquilizer Egret had given him, trying to recall what had happened in the last few hours. He'd headed for Brown Mansion the moment he'd gotten the chance—sure enough, his younger self had gotten Marty there safely.

However, Doc hadn't expected such resistance from his younger self when it came to taking Marty back. It would have solved one problem if he'd just told his younger self who he really was—but that might have led to an even bigger problem. And so, when his younger self had been ready to fight him, Doc had backed off, contemplating on how he'd just given new meaning to "being your own worst enemy."

He hadn't left the mansion grounds, of course—he was banking on Marty recognizing him enough to trust him once he woke up, even if his memories weren't fully intact. But he saw Egret's car arriving before he'd had a chance, and so he'd thrown the hoverboard into his past self's car, banking on it jogging Marty's memory, and moved to distract Egret long enough for Marty and his past self to get away. He'd been tranquilized before he'd gotten the chance to find out if it had worked.

He tried to move his arms now, but found that he couldn't—he couldn't move at all. It felt as though he was bound to a chair. He let out a quiet growl of frustration, and then heard a familiar voice by his side—

"Doc!?"

He forced his eyes open, despairing as he looked to his side and saw the still-blurry shape of Marty beside him, also bound to a chair.

"…No…"

"Aw, Doc…"

"Don't feel too badly, Dr. Brown," Egret said. "Your efforts did succeed in your apprentice successfully escaping. One threat to you, however, was all that it took to get him to surrender."

"What!?" Doc hissed—in the same tone his younger self had used. He looked back as Marty's face—and his sheepish expression—came into focus.

"Doc, I'm sorry," Marty said. "I know you didn't want this, but… I couldn't let you die, Doc—that's not how we roll. I've always got your back. And you've always got mine."

Doc stared at Marty in slight confusion at the odd emphasis on his last words, but it was then that he noticed that his younger self was nowhere in sight—and he was clearly fine, as his current self showed no signs of fading away.

He bit his lip; his younger self must have come up with some sort of plan—for there was no way he'd have let Marty give himself up.

Doc looked around now, trying to get their bearings. The two of them seemed to be in a warehouse; exactly where the warehouse was, Doc didn't know—the windows were frosted glass. And there didn't seem to be anything in the warehouse other than themselves, their captors, and the large tachyon machine, which must have been painstakingly removed from Egret's car.

Egret looked to her lackey and nodded; he moved to untie Doc from the chair, but he still kept Doc's hands tied behind his back as he shoved him over to Egret and the machine. Doc glanced back, his heart freezing in his chest as the lackey now drew out some kind of taser and flicked it on, keeping the humming prongs an inch from Marty's neck.

Marty was trying to breathe calmly, but that was the only indication of any fear or nervousness that he was showing.

"Please…" Doc said, now turning to face Egret. "Just tell me what you want me to do with this machine—I'll do whatever you want. Just… don't hurt Marty."

"One demonstration will be enough to make sure you don't try anything," Egret replied, unfeelingly.

She looked to her lackey, but before she could instruct him to do anything, the door of the warehouse suddenly sprung open as Young Emmett, riding the hoverboard and carrying a metal pole to use as a battering ram, barreled into the warehouse.

Marty, who was the only other person not surprised to see Emmett here, took advantage of everyone else gawking to lean forward until the chair tipped, allowing him to put his feet on the floor, giving him the leverage to slam the chair into the lacky. The lackey fell, dropping the taser—and Marty allowed himself to fall over on him, thus pinning him to the floor with the chair.

And Young Emmett now took a leap off of the hoverboard; as he aimed a flying kick at Egret, the hoverboard continued flying forward. Doc scrambled out of the way in time, and the hoverboard slammed into the delicate tachyon device. The machinery let out a shower of sparks as it overloaded, and then flickered into silence as it went dead.

Egret, on the ground after Emmett had landed his kick squarely on her back (he was now using one of the spare ropes to keep her tied up), let out a cry as she saw her machine destroyed.

"You loathsome little brat! Do you realize what you've done!?"

"Well, it's quite obvious that I used the electrical field of the hoverboard to overload your machine, which, as I understand it, was something that you needed work on in order to wreak havoc on the space-time continuum," Emmett replied. "Thankfully, that can't happen now."

Egret stared at Young Emmett in shock, and then looked from him to 1986 Doc, and back again.

"…It can't be…" she said, horrified.

"Oh, it is," Doc said, holding out his bound hands to his younger counterpart. "Careful when you remove that—coming into contact with each other could prove to be an even worse paradox than the one we're risking now."

"Right…" Emmett said. Deciding not to chance untying it, he used a pocket knife to cut through the rope.

The moment he was free, Doc went over to the damaged machine.

"…The hoverboard's put it out of commission quite nicely," he declared. "The feedback loop it was creating with the tachyons was what was disrupting the continuum. With the feedback loop gone, things should be getting back to normal soon."

"That's great, Doc!" Marty called. "Could one of you get me out of this thing?"

Young Emmett quickly cut him free, and once the ropes were now binding Egret's lackey, he finally relaxed, exchanging a glance with Marty.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Marty assured him. "You were right on time."

"Oh, good," Emmett sighed. "You really had me worried."

"Get used to it," Doc grunted. He glanced at Egret and her lackey. "We'll have to call the authorities to have them taken in."

"Whoa, wait a minute, Doc—we're just going to leave them here in 1932?" Marty asked.

"Even if they got off on a light sentence, there wouldn't be any technology available to get them back to the future," Doc pointed out. "And they won't be getting off lightly."

"Not after they were trespassing on the judge's property and threatening his only child and two other innocents," Young Emmett finished. "They won't let Pop judge the case, obviously, but whoever will be still won't take this lightly. There's just one thing…" He glanced at Marty. "You'll be under oath—you won't be able to give a pseudonym to the court." He glanced at Doc. "You, too—I mean, me, too?"

"…Right…" Marty sighed, as Doc rolled his eyes. "And if I stay here, I'll be subpoenaed and have to testify." He winced. "…Emmett, I hate to run out on you again—"

"It's alright, Marty…" Emmett began, but he trailed off. "…'Again?' You remember last time?"

"Yeah, I…" Now it was Marty's turn to trail off. He let out a relieved chuckle as he placed his hand on his head, realizing that he was able to recall everything. "I remember!"

"You do!?" both Emmetts asked, in unison.

"Yeah!"

"Well, thank God that's over," Doc sighed. "But as my counterpart here pointed out, we've worn out our welcome in 1932, Marty. The DeLorean is still where I left it outside town…" He trailed off; he hadn't missed the pained look on his past self's face as it sunk in once again how long a time it was going to be—from his perspective, at least—before he saw his best friend again. "Actually, I'll go get the DeLorean. Marty, you stay and help him—me—wrap everything up."

"Right, Doc," Marty promised.

It hadn't taken long for them to get Egret and her lackey in the hands of the authorities and all traces of her machine permanently hidden, of course—Marty knew Doc had wanted his younger self to get a proper goodbye this time.

"You know, I never really thought about it from your point of view before," Marty said. "You've always been there for me, but… I just appear and disappear in your life for little blips of time, huh?"

"That's one way to put it," Emmett agreed. He paused. "You never meant to come here—this time, I mean."

"…I never meant to come here, ever," Marty admitted. "I didn't want to accidentally screw up your timeline—and then I did anyway."

"…Edna," Emmett realized. "…Is that why my future self looked… not as good last time?"

"Yup. That was a future you from a different timeline—a much worse one."

"So that's why you came back again—to break up Edna and me, and get me back into science."

"Uh-huh. I'm not sorry that I did that—but I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Yeah, I realized that eventually," Emmett said. He paused. "Those things I said to you on the courthouse roof—"

"S'all good," Marty said, deliberately repeating what Emmett had said earlier in regards to what he'd said earlier.

Emmett managed a wan smile.

"Well, I'm still sorry about that."

"And I'm sorry about what I said back at the soup kitchen, too."

"Good thing we never meant any of that, huh?" Emmett sighed. "…But you were serious about giving yourself up for me."

"Of course I was!" Marty exclaimed. "You know, I once told your alternate self that you were my best friend in the whole space-time continuum. And I meant it. You don't know what you've done for me, Doc—I mean, Emmett." He sighed. "It's not going to happen now that the timeline changed, but… before all the time travel happened, when I met you for the first time… You saved me. You'll get the other memories when you're old enough, I guess, but I might as well tell you now…" He glanced up at the sky for a moment. "I was 14 and running with a bad crowd—my mom was an alcoholic and my old man was a pushover. They were there, but… they weren't really involved. They didn't know what I was doing—at least, I don't think they did. Anyway, I was… dared to break into your lab, and you caught me red-handed, but instead of turning me in, you hired me as your assistant—gave me a place to go to after school or on weekends, when I just needed to get away from everything going on at home. More than that, you actually believed in me and the things I wanted to do. And then all the time-traveling stuff happened, and it changed the timeline and made my parents their best selves—I have a happy home life now, all thanks to you." He glanced back at Emmett. "I can't ever pay you back for that."

"But you already did," Emmett reminded him. "You encouraged me to follow my dreams last year, and you helped me patch things up with my pop."

"…Guess I did," Marty realized. "Huh."

"You must have saved me other times, too," Emmett realized. "…That memory you recalled—the headstone with my name on it?"

"Yeah, that's taken care of," Marty promised.

"See?"

"Alright, you made your point. Shoulda known I can't win an argument with a genius who got accepted to six of the best…" He trailed off as a realization struck him. "Wait! You still haven't picked a college yet, huh?"

"Actually, I think I have," Emmett mused.

"Huh?"

"Well, I'll need to come back to Hill Valley, won't I?" Emmett pointed out. "It'll be easier for me to come back from Caltech than if I go to any of those schools out East."

"I mean… yeah," Marty admitted. "But this is exactly the kinda thing I didn't want happening—that you feel compelled to do something because you know your destiny, or whatever."

"This has nothing to do with knowing my destiny," Emmett countered. "My mom and pop would want me as close to home as possible, and, well… Okay, maybe there is a bit of the destiny thing involved—you live here in Hill Valley, obviously, and I want to be here when you finally show up. But this is my choice, Marty. I could change it if I wanted to—and I could change my future. But I don't want to."

Marty considered this and nodded. He technically had the power to change his own timeline—but he didn't want to, either.

"Well, I guess the only other loose end is that we didn't get to have our jam session," he lamented.

"Yeah, that is too bad," Emmett mused. "And after I got those new reeds for my saxophone."

"You might as well keep at it," Marty encouraged. "Someday, you're going to meet the actual love of your life, and, believe me—girls love it when you serenade them under a window."

Emmett arched an eyebrow.

"I'll consider it," he said.

There was the sound of a car pulling up outside the warehouse, followed by a quiet tap on the horn. Marty let out a quiet sigh.

"Welp, time to go…"

"Yeah," Emmett realized. "Oh, here—don't forget this…" He handed Marty the hoverboard.

"Oh, thanks. You know, you're a natural on this thing?"

"Maybe so, but I am never riding that thing again," Emmett insisted.

Marty paused.

"…Actually…"

"…Oh, no…"

"Don't worry; I promise, the next time you ride this thing, you'll have so much more to worry about, you won't even think about it," Marty assured him.

"Thanks… I think…" Emmett mused. "Oh, don't forget this, too…!"

He took Marty's Walkman and headphones—and the Slippery When Wet tape inside it—out of his pocket and held them out to Marty.

Marty glanced at them for a moment, but then sighed.

"Keep 'em."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I can get another when I get back to 1986. You can keep that—and here are some extra batteries for it. …Just don't show it to anyone."

"Right," Emmett said. He sighed as he pocketed them again. "You know, I'm really going to miss you, Marty. …I don't suppose you could come back here just for a visit or two?"

"If I could without endangering your timeline, I would—really," Marty said, after thinking about it. "But after what happened last time, it's probably best if we don't tempt fate."

"…Yeah, I guess so. Still, it's going to be one heck of a wait."

"…Not as long as you might think," Marty blurted out. "And I don't know what's ahead in my future—for all I know, there'll be some other threat to the continuum that'll require me to end up back here and get your help again."

"…I don't know whether to look forward to that or dread it," Emmett admitted.

"…Both," Marty said, with a knowing nod.

Emmett did manage a smile at that.

"Well, if nothing else, it was nice to get to know the real you," he said. "Take care of yourself, Future Boy."

"And you take care of yourself, Doc," Marty returned.

They hugged again, briefly, before heading outside, where Doc was waiting in the DeLorean. Young Emmett took a moment to admire his future creation, and then stepped back to let Marty open the gullwing door and get inside the passenger seat.

He gave a quick wave as the DeLorean ascended—and just before it sped off through the sky, he saw Marty wave back. It tore through the sky, gathering speed before disappearing with a triple sonic boom, leaving behind a pair of fire trails in the sky that remained for a few moments before disappearing.

Emmett let out another quiet sigh before heading home. It was going to be a very long wait—but a friend like Marty was worth waiting for.

Epilogue: It's My Life

After arriving back in 1986, Doc briefly flew over Eastwood Ravine to ensure that the shimmering distortion had stopped for good (it had) before bringing the DeLorean down outside the Brown residence, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.

"How are you feeling, Marty?"

"Me? I'm fine now—I should be asking you that," Marty said.

Doc looked to him in confusion.

"What…?"

"I mean… you were knocked out for a while, and… Past you is back there, all alone. Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that I'd have to be worried about the subpoena, I'd have wanted to stay longer."

"Marty…"

"I know, I know," Marty sighed. "It's just that… Well… You don't really need me as much now, but you sure did then."

"But that doesn't…" Doc trailed off, looking at Marty in surprise. "What do you mean by that!?"

"Well, you know—you've got a wife and kids now; I can't be bothering you about every little thing!" Marty said, parroting what his parents had told him.

"…Marty, if you take a good, long look at everything that we've been through, I think you'll agree that isn't true."

"…Yeah, I guess it isn't everyone who gets to be defended twice over by their best friend," Marty mused. "…Thanks for that, by the way."

"And you're very welcome," Doc assured him. "But the point is that you're needed here, Marty—and not just by me. You've been a good friend to me, and I want the rest of my family to have you in their lives, too. Our home is yours, Marty—there will always be a place for you at our table, and there'll always be a room for you to rest your head. And I hope you take me up on that."

"Sure, Doc," Marty promised. "…Well, I guess it's nice to be needed."

As if on cue, Lorraine, having glanced out the window, now barreled through the front door—George right behind her, followed by Clara, Jules, Verne, and even Einstein.

"MARTY!" she cried, hugging him tightly.

"Ack! Mom, not in front of—!" He'd managed to pull away—only to be caught in George's embrace next.

"What happened!?" George asked. "Where have you been!?"

"I'm sorry to make you worry…" Marty said, feeling a new surge of gratitude towards his parents in this timeline. "I… There was this car, and it nearly ran me down—it just missed me, but I fell and hit my head on the tracks near the ravine…"

"Oh, God…!" Lorraine sobbed, hugging him again.

"He had a case of amnesia," Doc said. "That's why he didn't get word to us. The driver of the car never came back, of course—I'm afraid they'll be long gone."

Clara looked at Doc, who gave her a nod to reassure her that, yes, all was well—and that Egret was no longer a threat.

"Doc found me, and when I saw him, it started coming back," Marty added. He paused. "I don't know what woulda happened if Doc hadn't found me when he did."

"Let's not think about that," George said, shaking his head. "You're back, and that's all that matters."

"Yes, and I think all of us want to make sure that you're going to be fine," Doc said. "George, Lorraine—I'm no expert, but I think Marty should get a clean bill of health from the hospital before we proceed with any celebrations."

"Aw, come on…!" Marty protested. "I've got all my memories back—you can ask me anything!"

"No, Marty—he's absolutely right," Lorraine insisted, practically steering Marty to their BMW before looking back at Doc. "Dr. Brown, you have to bring your family over in a few days so that we can thank you properly!"

"And thank you so much for your patience with us, Mrs. Brown," George added, shaking Clara's hand.

"It's alright—I'm just happy that Marty is back safely," she said, sincerely.

George nodded and looked to Doc; he found himself at a loss for words, only managing an emotional "Thank you" before waving to Jules and Verne, and then driving off.

Doc sighed again as they drove off.

"Marty will be alright," he said, knowingly. "I just wanted an official confirmation from an actual neuroscientist to soothe everyone's fears."

Clara now drew him into a hug of her own.

"It still must not have been easy," she said.

"Not at all," Doc agreed, returning her embrace. The ripple effect had fully settled in now—and he could recall the lonely days of his college years, in between classes and projects (projects that he'd often work on while listening to Slippery When Wet), taking a few moments here and there to wonder about Marty, and how he was doing in the future. "…But that didn't mean it wasn't worth it."

Marty had, indeed, been given a clean bill of health and was released from the hospital soon after, and Lorraine got to work with George, planning a celebratory dinner. In between the time it took for them to arrange it, Doc and Marty spent hours at the library, going over the newspaper archives to find out that both Egret and her lackey had been sentenced to thirty years—Egret had died in prison, and her lackey had been released after time served, living a quiet life outside town and eventually passing away, as well.

Relieved that the matter was closed, Doc and Marty were both able to enjoy the celebration with the rest of their families, which ended up with all of them relaxing on the McFlys' porch after that marvelous dinner, enjoying the summer evening, as well as each other's company.

"Dad has a present for you," Verne said to Marty, after some time.

"…You have a lot to learn about the definition of the word 'surprise,' Verne," Jules said, rolling his eyes.

Not wanting to encourage their bickering, Doc had to bite back a laugh as he handed over a new Walkman and a new copy of Slippery When Wet to Marty.

"Since you… lost your old one," he offered.

"Thanks, Doc," Marty grinned. "You know, this is a good opportunity to announce that I've finally figured out what I want to do with my life."

"Oh, Marty," Lorraine sighed. "We agreed, no more pressuring you—"

"No, Mom; I made this decision myself," Marty said, taking a drink from his Pepsi. "I've been talking to the other guys in the band, and we've been putting some feelers out for potential gigs and stuff—and we've got a few promising opportunities. So, we're going to take this year to focus on our music—but I will keep community college in mind as a backup."

"And we wish you all the luck in the world," George said, sincerely.

Marty smiled as everyone else offered the same sentiments.

"You're going to be great, Marty," Clara assured him. "Maybe you can get some gigs over in Berkley, too—I'm sure Jennifer would love having you surprise her with a serenade."

"Yeah, I'm sure she…" Marty trailed off. "Wha…?"

"Well, Emmett surprised me the other night by serenading me on his saxophone; it was so romantic…!"

Jules facepalmed while Verne made a face; they, clearly, had found it embarrassing.

And Marty nearly dropped his Pepsi as he glanced at Doc with an incredulous expression, who merely shrugged in response.

Jeez, Doc, I didn't think you'd actually take my advice! Marty silently transmitted.

"I think that's so sweet!" Lorraine gushed. She looked to George. "Why don't you try something like that?"

"Well…" George mused. "My mom did give me some singing lessons when I was a kid; maybe I could try—"

Dave, Linda, and Marty all voiced their horrified chorus of "NO, DAD!" in response, prompting Doc to have a hearty laugh as Clara daintily giggled behind her handkerchief, exchanging a knowing look with Lorraine.

"Welcome to one of the unavoidable truths of the universe, George," Doc said. "There is nothing we can do as parents to avoid embarrassing our kids—so we may as well enjoy it."

Jules and Verne now added their voices to the protestations of the McFly youngsters in response.

"…I rest my case," Doc finished.

Marty eventually gave up the fight, though Dave and Linda still were still adamant about stopping this serenade before it started; Marty just took a moment to take in the scene around him—the playful bickering and company of those he cared about deeply.

He looked to Doc, exchanging a glance with him; he knew he wouldn't have had this without him—his best friend in the whole space-time continuum, as he'd so aptly said. And Doc had gone through so much—twice over—to ensure that Marty would return to this happy scene where he belonged.

"Thanks," he silently mouthed.

And Doc just nodded in response, silently transmitting that all the gratitude that Marty had to give was returned, for he had all of this thanks to Marty, as well.

And Marty just smiled, continuing to take in the happy scene around him.

The future was looking bright again—and he was ready to seize it.

The End

Notes: And, it's done! Thanks so much to everyone who supported this venture!