Disclaimer: I don't own the right to any characters, place names or anything related to BTTF.

Sorry I haven't been around for a while – I've been bogged down with schoolwork and all. But, here is the next update!

Chapter 10

January 22nd 1986
11:31 a.m.
Hill Valley, California

Marty's consciousness started to return to him and the sense of his surroundings became more familiar as he slowly aroused from his nap. Slowly he opened his eyes to allow them to adjust to the light. A sudden unexpected hiss by the side of him jolted them open far quicker than he anticipated.

Breathing heavily for a second or two, Marty looked around him, taking in the new surroundings he had not expected to find himself in. The old rotten house he had found to rest in had been replaced with a laboratory of some kind, albeit one with an unusually high roof with wooden beams to support it. Almost like a barn, only Marty couldn't figure where on earth you would find a barn in Hill Valley.

Marty sensed movement to his left, and quickly turned to see who it was. Beside him a man stood – a somewhat older man – leaning over as he worked on something that lay on the workbench before him. His face was obscured by the protective mask he wore, but Marty could still make out his white fluffy hair poking out from underneath. He wore a long white coat, the kind a scientist would wear, only this coat appeared to be covered in oil and dirt rather than chemicals or anything else he thought a scientist would use.

At Marty's sudden jolt the stranger paused in his work and switched off the blowtorch in his hand. He casually removed the mask to reveal his identity. As he did so Marty studied his face carefully for any indication that he knew the stranger at all. Although at first Marty couldn't place a name to the man stood beside him, he could sense that he was close to him. Even though he technically didn't know the man Marty felt safe to be sat near him, feeling no threat.

Marty studied his features carefully, noting every line and curve of the stranger's face. Nothing came to mind.

The older man saw the shock on Marty's face and looked concerned. "Marty? Are you all right?" he questioned in a warm tone of voice.

Marty was momentarily taken aback. The man knew his name, and seemed genuinely concerned for him. Not knowing what else to do, Marty nodded in reply. "Yeah, I'm all right. I just got a little jumpy with the blowtorch there. I think I must've nodded off."

"Are you sure? It's not like you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine Doc, really."

Marty repositioned himself on the stool he sat on as the elder man grudgingly replaced his mask and returned back to the task at hand. It was then that Marty realised the little detail.

Doc? Is that his name? How'd I know that? Weird name. Must be a nickname or something. It wasn't him that had replied, but someone he didn't know inside – a person he didn't recognise as being him had taken control.

Marty didn't think about the subject for too long, as suddenly he was hit in the face by a gush of wind rushing into the building. He felt a familiar twinge of panic all over him as the dust cleared to reveal a dark and sinister man stood in the doorway. The man beside him – Doc – twisted around quickly while removing his mask to be met with the same image as Marty.

Marty felt too far away to make out who the man was. Sliding off the stool, he moved closer to try and get a better look, but froze as the man pulled out an object from behind his back and pointed it directly at him. Marty didn't need to be told that it was a gun pointing at both him and Doc.

A black mask to match the black clothes he wore - to disguise himself from the two men. He stood alone, menacingly, with the machine gun pointed directly at them. Marty had no clue as to why he had appeared or what he wanted, but he didn't like the direction the situation was heading in.

After what seemed like minutes of complete silence between the three of them, the man bearing the gun slowly began to back away from the entrance. He whispered to them in a foreign language Marty could not understand. The voice sounded familiar, but yet Marty sensed it was a voice he feared, not one of a friend. Confused, Marty turned to look to Doc to ask if he understood, but then gasped as he realised Doc was no longer there behind him. He was on his own, facing a madman with a machine gun pointed directly at him.

Frozen in terror, Marty could do little else than to watch as the madman pumped off several rounds square into his chest. Marty felt the impact of each of the bullets as they entered, throwing him helplessly back into the workbench behind. The last he heard were his screams of pain, and the ricocheting of bullets all around him…

Marty's consciousness quickly returned as he bolted upright on the sofa where he had been lying a few seconds ago. Sweat poured from him from the horror he had been dreaming about, and he breathed heavily with shock. He was back in the old house where he had crashed on the sofa earlier in the day, alone and in tact.

Automatically he grabbed the shirt on his chest just to be sure it had only been a dream. Feeling no injuries and seeing no blood whatsoever, he relaxed again. Smiling in relief, he rubbed his eyes free of sleep and shifted his legs over until he was sat upright on the sofa. He leant forward and ran his hands through his hair. The nightmare he had experienced had felt so real, almost like he had relived a memory he still held. He took a few minutes to regain his nerve and for him to then notice the darkness that surrounded him.

It must be late, he concluded to himself. I'd better set out again, see if I can find anything that might help me sort out this mess.

Grabbing the jacket and putting it on Marty slowly shifted towards the front door, the remnants of the nightmare still running through his mind. He shuddered at the thought, but then quickly replaced them with thoughts that were more important – where to go next. The sooner he found help, the sooner he could rest easy.

August 4th 1989
8:03 p.m.
Brown family home, Hill Valley

All the Browns had congregated within the confines of the living room, enjoying a relaxing end to a special day for Emmett. Some of the presents he had received were indeed surprises to him – like a pair of socks he had been given by Verne with "World's Smartest Dad" written on the side, and a silk tie with the periodic table on the front courtesy of Jules. Clara had bought him a small silver picture frame with a photograph of the whole family, taken recently. Emmett smiled at the picture, hugging his wife dearly in gratitude for a wonderful gift.

They had gathered earlier in the evening around the sofa to reminisce about the past, and to recall some of the wonderful memories they had. Emmett always knew the heart of Clara's memories would always lie in the past from whence she came from, but many of his would lie in-between the 19th century – with the growth of his family – and the late 20th century – where he had shared a wonderful friendship with Marty, his 'partner in time' he had once referred to him as.

"When did you and mom first meet dad?" Verne asked, sitting on the floor in front of his parents.

Emmett turned to Clara; unsure as to whether he should tell his younger son the truth or not. They had met when Marty had gone back to 1885 to prevent Emmett's death. Emmett didn't want to disrupt the timeline by meeting Clara and falling in love with her, and so had not gone to the train station to pick her up. Whilst paying a visit to the bridge over Shonash/Clayton/Eastwood ravine Emmett had heard Clara's screams for help as she had lost control of her buckboard and had gone to rescue her from falling over the edge of the ravine, which he did successfully.

Emmett answered the problem for them both. "Well, we met at the railway station when I had offered to meet the new schoolteacher," Emmett explained, knowing it was safer to go with the less dramatic option. Maybe someday he would tell his children the truth – when they were older and understood better the perils that time travel could hold.

"That's so boring!" Jules remarked. "Why couldn't you have met in the middle of a train robbery, or in a situation where you had to rescue mom off…a runaway horse or something?" Emmett gave a knowing glance to Clara before answering that question.

"I think you should just be grateful that we did meet, otherwise neither of you would have been born!" he replied. "Anyway, how many fathers can say that they met their wife 36 years before they were born, hmm?"

That answered their question. The two boys had a smile on their faces. They hadn't thought of that before! They knew, however, that the secrets of the time machine were to stay secret, especially after the incident with Biff and the alternate 1985. No matter how tempting it was to tell their friends they were not to, as it could place the whole of the space-time continuum at risk. A frightening thought it was, at that.

Marty feared he was going round in circles. Either that or his mind was playing tricks on him.

All the houses looked the same, but whether he had already passed them once or just remembered them from some distant memory was another matter.

By now the whole scenario he was in had hit him hard emotionally. Fearing he would never again find his true identity, Marty had begun to cry silent tears of loneliness and desolation. Finally he had reached the edge of desperation, and was ready to concede himself to being a lost cause when he looked straight ahead to find a house that felt very familiar to him – that he truly recognised.

Sensing some hope at last, Marty studied the house for any clue as to who actually lived there. Was this his house?

Feeling a glimmer of hope revive in him, Marty walked over to the house. Reaching the property he sensed his familiarity with the house grow ever more, making him sure that this house held some importance to him.

The perimeter of the house was marked out with a high wooden fence, and with a gate along where the driveway met the road. The fence had been painted a dark mahogany colour, which made it blend in with the night sky.

Marty walked up to the gate to enter the property, but cursed as he found the gate to be locked apparently for the night. Feeling sure that this would be his best bet to finding out the truth, Marty considered his options. He could return back to the run-down house he'd found and try again tomorrow, but he didn't know for certain if he'd find this house again. It had taken him some time to find it after all.

He could go to a payphone and look in the book for the number and try calling the people who lived here, but then again he didn't have any money on him.

It was then he was left with his last option – to climb over and see if he could knock on the door. Marty didn't feel comfortable with this option for fear of getting into trouble with the authorities, but if his strong gut feeling was correct the occupants of the house would know who he was and would be able to help him. He had nothing to lose.

Throwing his jacket over the top of the fence, Marty rolled back his sleeves and grabbed hold of the side. Scraping against the side with his feet, Marty pulled his weight up to the top. Pausing at the top to catch his breath, he continued on until he could sit with each of his legs hanging over on either side of the fence.

First a grave, now a fence. I don't think I was ever cut out to be a climber, that's for sure!

Swinging his other leg over the top, Marty shuffled until he was balanced on top of the fence. Peering down, he took a deep breath to prepare for the drop down. He was almost there.

He threw his jacket to the floor first. Then he lifted himself off the fence, hitting the ground like a stone. The drop momentarily knocked the wind out of him as he lay on his side, allowing himself a minute before heading towards the house. Dusting himself off, he peered up to take in the grandeur of the abode stood before him. Then as his breathing settled, he casually stepped forward to make his way to the front door, rehearsing what he was going to say to whoever may live at this address. He was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't aware of a tiny pole-like device sticking out of the soil beside him, and the thin red laser beam that pierced through the darkness effortlessly. His leg intercepted the beam, and all hell broke loose.

His thoughts were shattered by the high-pitched whaling of an alarm, slicing through his ears and cutting through to the bone. Instantly his hands flew to his ears to protect them, but even then the alarm still screamed in his head. The cuts on his hands stung like mad, but he didn't dare to lower them. He was paralysed with shock and pain as he lowered himself to his knees in a visual plea for mercy.

Emmett heard the alarm ring loud outside, jumping momentarily at the unexpectedness of it. Clara looked to him, fear etched across her face as Jules and Verne stood quickly from their seats ready for action.

"Emmett, what is it?"

"Don't panic, it might not be anything to be concerned about." Emmett tried to reassure her, placing a hand on her arm. He rushed from his seat to head to a cabinet behind them where a television was housed. The screen showed exactly what the security cameras were picking up outside. Emmett stared at the image on the screen. All he could see was a figure knelt in the middle of the driveway holding his head in his hands in a futile attempt to block out the dreadful drone of the alarm.

Good, the alarm works! Emmett smiled to himself. The alarm had purposely been designed to make any burglary attempts as difficult as possible for any thieves or attackers. Quickly he picked up the shotgun by the side of the cabinet and headed towards the front door. The adrenaline pumped through his body, preparing him to face the intruder who threatened him and his family.

"Emmett, what are you doing?!?" Clara's eyes widened as she watched her husband make his way to the door with the shotgun in his hands.

"I'm going to see who it is that's so keen on interrupting our evening!" Emmett replied with a determined look on his face.

He carefully unlocked the door first; only to be greeted with the same ear piercing shrill of the alarm the intruder had met. Quickly he turned to the alarm control box and entered the six-digit code to silence the alarm. Turning back to the open front door, he pointed the gun in the direction of where the intruder knelt.

However, the determination he had felt a moment ago seemed to die away as he took a closer look at the stranger on his driveway. He wore what seemed to be a black suit and a white shirt underneath – the jacket draped loosely over one of his arms. Yet the suit and shirt were covered in dirt and shredded at the seams, making him look lost and vulnerable. Looking closely, Emmett could see blood and dirt on the stranger's hands above the chestnut hair. His small build gave Emmett the illusion that he was merely just a teenager, scared and lost.

The visitor remained kneeling on the floor, allowing Emmett to move closer. He kept his gun trained on the young man as he approached. Clara and the boys stood watching from the door.

The stranger began to move his hands from his head as he noticed the absence of the alarm, making Emmett more wary as he approached. The stranger slowly began to stand up with his back turned to the scientist. Emmett held the gun tighter and closer to his side as he called out:

"Put your hands in the air where I can see them!" The intruder did as instructed by placing his hands behind his head. Annoyed that he couldn't see the identity of the intruder, Emmett pressed on.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Emmett called to the stranger. The stranger heard his words and froze, keeping his eyes trained to the floor. Then smoothly, the stranger turned his body to face Emmett for the first time, making the scientist gasp in recognition and almost making the gun slip from his grasp.

Emmett's eyes grew wide with disbelief at the sight he saw, feeling every emotion cling to his heart inside as he whispered:

"Marty…"