Disclaimer: I love Back to the Future. I love to write fanfic for it. But I'll never own it…sniff

Well, this is the beginning of the second part. Enjoy!

Part 2: i) Such A Perfect Day

Monday, 28th July 1986
8:57 a.m.
Brown residence

Doc's hand dropped beside his head, causing him to stir. At first his hearing returned, only to be met with his soft, relaxed breathing. Gradually opening his eyes he winced as the fresh morning light stunned and blinded him momentarily. The effect did not last, as Doc lifted his hand to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

He allowed his eyes to focus on the ceiling above him, until the blur had disappeared. He turned to read the clock on his desk – the two silver hands read 8:58 a.m.

Ooh, so early already! Doc thought to himself. The night had seemed to fly by so fast. He still felt exhausted from the journey he had made to Los Angeles for a science conference concerning the possibility of time travel. It still amazed him to think that all these scientists were debating the theories and possibilities surrounding the concept, whilst in the very same room he himself had answered the puzzle by inventing the world's first time machine. And they never even knew.

The very thought brought a smile to his face, as he turned to face his dear wife lying in the bed beside him.

Only she wasn't there.

Brief concern washed across Doc's face, before rationalizing to himself that she must have wanted to start the day early. There's nothing wrong with getting up at the crack of dawn, he told himself.

No longer feeling deprived of rest Doc decided to rise for the day ahead. He dressed quickly and headed for the stairs to find his beloved wife and children. Walking past his son's rooms Doc noted one of the beds was not occupied. Verne lay fast asleep, far away in his own curious world. Jules was active already at this time, which surprised even Doc given that Jules enjoyed his lie-ins even more than Verne.

Almost as he reached the bottom of the stairs Doc heard a loud crash as dishes and pans smashed on the floor. Clara could be heard cursing herself for being so seemingly clumsy at her mistake, as she tried to clear the mess before Doc could find out. Rounding the corner, Clara could be seen busying herself about the room, while Jules occupied the living room to the left of the hall. His Walkman was at full volume – the heavy bass guitar and drums quietly audible from every room on the ground floor, blasting through the headphones into the juvenile's ears.

Doc made his way into the kitchen, to find Clara sweeping the floor, tidying away the remnants of the dish that had fallen. She seemed angry with herself, but also very nervous as she looked up and noticed her spouse for the first time. Her startled expression told him she was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, you frightened me! Good morning Emmett." But she didn't stop for long. If anything, Doc's presence only speeded her up, making her more anxious to tidy the floor even quicker.

Her surprise had held more meaning than a small shock from her husband. Her expression held more fear than Doc could place. He began to worry instantly, hoping he hadn't over-stepped the mark unknowingly, somehow.

"Clara, what's wrong?" he asked as calmly as he could compose himself. She lowered her head and moved herself away from him. She didn't want to share her problems.

"Nothing! What…whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know – you seem to be nervous, as though something is bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me, dear. You just gave me a little scare, that's all!" She smiled as sweetly as she could, brushing past him to put away the broom. But Doc didn't accept it, and she knew. Almost immediately the smile fell, and Clara's mind finally began to relent to Doc's concerns.

Doc took hold of her hand and led her to the table – the usual place where problems would be shared and solved if needed. He smiled, and softly told her: "You know you can tell me anything – I'll always be here for you, no matter what the situation may be."

Clara looked into his sincere eyes, and proceeded to prepare herself to share her problem.

"Well…it happened two days ago – on Saturday – while I was in town on my way to the bank," she began slowly. "I was minding my own business, really. I had nothing to do but to go to the bank and deposit some money into the account…"

That's when Clara's nerves caved in to demand. She began to cry uncontrollably, letting the fears and anxieties she had kept inside release themselves into several fits of emotion. She reached into her pocket to take hold of her handkerchief, desperately trying to wipe away her tears. Doc held her hand reassuringly.

"I was heading away from the market…when a couple of teenagers – I don't know, about 17 or 18 – walked up to me and asked me for some change. I remembered your advice, Emmett, and so I told them I had none. That's when…when they attacked me."

The colour drained from Doc's expression, and Clara's face crumbled into her hands. "They stole my handbag…and everything in it. I only had…about fifty dollars with me and…"

"Shh, it's OK," Doc calmly reassured her. She began to cry again; Doc felt helpless inside to help her. "Everything will be fine. The police will handle the matter."

Clara lifted her head to the last remark. She seemed to grow fearful again, like a child afraid their parents will discover their hidden secret.

"I only…wish they could," Clara replied. "I didn't tell the police. I was too frightened to contact them – I didn't know what to do. Nobody saw it happen…I don't think. I was just too scared…"

Doc's expression fell as he realised just why she felt afraid. She was afraid he would be upset with her for not seeking help. She was a headstrong woman, able to deal with any situation fate threw at her. But in such a foreign home as the twentieth century she felt out of place, trying to adjust to her new life.

"I see." Doc moved back in thought, trying to decide the best course of action to help his wife. His most obvious choice was his most dreaded; knowing full well any time travel for personal gain never went according to plan. But in this case, Doc was prepared to make an exception.

"What are you thinking?" Clara asked nervously, unsure as to what Doc's actions were to be. Doc noticed her reaction, and calmly stood to move over to her. He gently placed his arms around her, comforting her as best he could. She turned and embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder to hide herself away. They remained like this for several minutes, until Clara felt much calmer.

"It's all right, don't worry. Everything will be fine, I promise." Doc looked straight into her eyes, sincere with his words. She smiled – only this time, it was a genuine smile of love and gratitude that told him "thank you".

In the living room Jules finally moved from his spot on the couch. Walking through into the kitchen he caught a glimpse of his mother's tear-stricken face and his father at her side. He slipped the headphones off his ears.

"Mom, you all right?" came the young boy's question.

Clara nodded her head in reply, not wishing to upset her son as well. "Of course I am. Nothing to worry about." She smiled to let him know she was well.

Jules took the signal to leave, having found an apple to snack on while he listened to his music. He strode through the hall back into the den, preparing himself to leap over the back of the couch when a knock came from the door. Without thinking Jules made his way over to the front door, stopping his Walkman once again to save the power in his batteries.

With one swift click the door was unlocked, and was pulled back to reveal the very distinct physique of one Marty McFly.

Doc had heard the knock on the door just as Jules had, but hadn't been as quick to respond. Leaving Clara to sort out her thoughts, he rushed over to answer the door – only to find Jules had gotten there first. His heightened emotions over Clara's distress had yet to quieten down - something that became evident in his voiced annoyance at his eldest son.

"Jules, what have I told you about answering the door on your own?"

Jules noticed the frightened edge to his father's question, along with annoyance he rarely encountered. Immediately the long speeches by Doc of remaining safe came flooding to Jules – about how not to go out alone after a certain time, how to activate the alarm when locking the door, and how not to answer the door without his father's presence.

The sulk appeared almost right away, as Jules decided the only safe and quiet place in the house would be in his bedroom. He backed away, to the comfort of his own haven.

Marty watched as the young boy ran up the stairs. Doc watched also, before returning his attention to his young friend.

His irritated interaction with Jules had only made him feel worse inside, as though he had let everybody down. Smiling to Marty he hoped he could hide some of the pain, but of course that never worked. Marty knew him too well.

"Hey Doc. Everything all right?"

Not wanting to feel as though he was sharing his problems out on the front door step Doc gestured Marty to enter, closing the door behind as the teen entered.

Marty changed his posture to a firm one, folding his arms to ask; "Doc, what's wrong?"

Doc was about to answer the question when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Clara shifted in her seat in the kitchen, still trying to calm herself down. Doc wanted to give her some time to herself, and so quickly moved over to pull the kitchen door to. Marty watched him with mixed reactions.

Doc returned sharply, ready to answer the question. But Marty interrupted. "Doc, you haven't had a fight with Clara, have you?"

Doc frowned, not expecting that response, but quickly rationalised why such a thought might have occurred. "A fight? No, of course not! No, no – you've got the wrong idea. She's upset because of an incident that happened on Saturday, while I was away at the conference."

Doc turned to look at the kitchen door again, before deciding that it was best if he and Marty went into the den to talk. He didn't think Clara wanted to listen to the story again, if she could overhear them.

"Clara explained to me this morning that she had been mugged on the way to the bank, on Saturday." Doc began. "She's very upset about it, especially since the police were not notified of the situation."

Marty shook his head in disbelief, feeling annoyed that such a thing could happen in a small town like Hill Valley. "She was acting rather…peculiar, this morning. I asked her what was wrong, and she explained everything."

Doc felt uneasy about the whole situation. He was still having trouble taking it all in.

"Is Clara all right though? I mean, she wasn't hurt physically at all, was she?" Marty asked in concern. Doc shook his head in reply.

"No, they just took the money, thank heavens."

Doc was about to continue, until the soft creak of the kitchen door opening behind him interrupted his concentration. He raised a finger to his lips, signaling to Marty not to say anything. Quickly Doc turned to find his wife leaving the kitchen. She seemed more settled internally, but still shocked at finally realising just what she had been through. She looked up to see Doc before her, and found herself walking to him once again for comfort. Doc hugged her tightly.

"It's all right Clara, everything will be fine. Why don't you go back up to bed, and put this whole thing out of your mind? You'll feel much better if you try to relax."

Clara nodded in response, feeling exhausted from her emotional outburst. She smiled sweetly to him, grateful for having such a caring husband to turn to in such times as these. That was only one of many reasons why she loved him so much. Carefully she made her way up the stairs and out of view of the two men, as they continued to talk.

Clara hadn't even noticed Marty as she had come from the kitchen – a subtle fact Marty noticed himself. Doc turned to his friend to judge his reaction; Marty nodded in agreement.

"So, what are you gonna do?"

Doc gave the matter one last think-over, before offering his friend the plan. "I was about to call you when you arrived, to ask if you could assist me. My plan is to use the time machine to intercept Clara in town before the mugging takes place, so as to prevent it from ever happening." Doc studied Marty's features carefully. "But…you don't think so."

"I don't know…it just doesn't seem like you to jump to using the time machine. Are you sure there's no other way you can think of Doc?"

Doc firmly shook his head. "No. We can't take this to the police now, not at least since two days have passed when the mugging occurred. They would be powerless to do anything, or much if anything at all. I also don't want to place Clara in such a stressful situation. She found it difficult enough to tell me about the incident."

Marty nodded, still a little unsure but feeling that Doc knew what he was doing. "What do you need me for then?"

Doc was much slower to answer this question. "I…I need your support. You know, assistance. I always like to keep my mind at ease knowing I have back up should anything go wrong."

Marty smiled, a tinge of confidence entering the grin. Doc saw this and took the signal to leave, eager to get the task dealt with as soon as possible. "Right! Come on then, let's go!"

"What, now?" Marty asked, not expecting to leave so soon.

"Yep." Doc replied, already heading for the door.

"But Doc, don't you need someone to look after Jules and Verne?"

Doc grinned as he continued to the back of the house. "Marty, you're not thinking ahead! We'll only be gone a couple of minutes, maximum. Jules and Verne will be fine! Come on!"

"Guess I keep forgetting about that," Marty remarked, to himself more than for anyone else to hear.

Quickly the pair manoeuvred round to the lab where the time machine was kept. Still in perfect working order, the time machine stood tall within the walls of the laboratory, covered with a thin sheet to protect it. Doc was still proud of his invention, especially with the train since the tools he had used to build it with were limiting compared to his 1985 tools. They had seemed primitive somehow, but had been adequate.

Ahead of Marty Doc made his way to the door of the train, activating it by means of a small electronic keypad hidden in his pocket. Doc's own creation, no doubt. Keying in the required code the door opened effortlessly, grinding to a halt just above the concrete floor. Grabbing the small handrail Doc pulled himself up the great steps into the time train, only turning to face Marty once he had arrived in the train's interior. "Come on then, Marty!" Doc exclaimed, almost looking excited about the situation.

Marty hauled himself into the train and seated himself behind Doc, looking in awe around the roomy interior and taking note of the differences it held compared to the DeLorean. He had never travelled in the train before, and especially not a train of such an age.

"All set?" Doc asked, nodding towards the seat belts he had installed. Marty took heed and fastened himself in. He didn't want to take any particular risk, especially in a flying time train.

"All set, Doc." Marty replied. With this Doc carefully lifted the train out of the lab, manoeuvring it upwards into the sky. Within three short blasts it had defied both gravity and the time barrier once again.