Disclaimer: I don't own Back to the Future. This is said enough already, so I'll leave it with this and don't start worrying about other things what I should do if I would and stuff like that. I just don't own it, okay? Leave it to be this way.

Author's Note: Hi, here we are again with the fourth Chapter. I think the fifth will be the last... or else the sixth. I have set myself on having the story finished this month, and considering all of my chapters in this story have 5700 words or something like that, that won't be easy if I have to write another two. I think, if that would be the case, that this story will have another 11.500 words.

Well, as you'll find out when you read this story, it'll be about Marty waking up in '55. Will be about around a few minutes before 7am 'til 9.35 or so. That's pretty short time, I think. Another record in history of my fanfiction so far - never was a story centring about only two people in the main roles be able to have 5800 words (this story is 5800, then) while it was only about a hundred and sixty minutes. That's two hours forty minutes.

Around this time, I'm a bit 'fan' of writing about the Hell Valley Universe so I hope to edit "Future Travellers" and "I Didn't Invent Any Time Machine" a bit. I thought of re-naming the last one "I Never Invented Any Time Machine" but decided against it. I prefer the present one.

What a long note, huh? Please review... and suggest for the Sequel, which will probably start at November 19 or November 26, 1955.

PS: As for people who miss the letter about the terrorists, that will come in Chapter Five! Well, anyway, enjoy the fic!

Chapter Four

Monday, November 14, 1955
06:54 AM
Hill Valley, California

"Dr. Brown! Dr. Brown! Wake up, Dr. Brown!"

Groggy, Dr. Emmett Lathrop Brown opened his eyes and stared in dumbfounded expression at the teenager who had – once again – woken him up, George McFly. "You again?" he asked, not really surprised about his approval but about the fact Lorraine wasn't with him. "Have I fallen asleep again?" He grinned. "I really should do something about this, shouldn't I?" He recalled how yesterday night had again been a late night, so he wasn't exactly surprised. But of course, he as a scientist should be able to know how to keep himself awake.

George, however, wasn't in the mood for those questions. "Come on, Dr. Brown!" he called, trying to pull the inventor with him. Doc looked up, confused. "I'm coming!" he called. "Just relax a bit. Gimme time to change."

"No!" George called out. "You don't understand… it's…it's…"

"I don't understand what?" interrupted Doc. "I'm sorry if it's a bad question to ask, but I'd like to know what the hell is going on, George McFly. You're acting like world is about to get destroyed." He could barely hold the words "Just like a time-paradox" inside. He didn't want to explain things about time and have to carry the risk of actually saying things that concerned time travel.

"All right, then!" George called. "Marty…I mean Calvin... is stirring!"

The news of a bomb coming down to Hill Valley couldn't have woken up Doc any better. "WHAT?" he called, grabbing George with both hands and shaking him up and down. "You serious? You can't be! You can't be serious! Marty can't be stirring! This can't be happening! Not right now!"

"He is" George replied, once again falling back into his normal, nervous, self that he had been before November 12th 1955. "He's making moves, he's breathing louder… in fact he's doing everything that points on the fact he is on the verge of waking up."

"Since when is this going on?" Doc asked, now holding George a little less hard. However, still the teen hardly could breathe when he muttered: "Since…6:50. That's…around… five minutes ago."

"Great Scott!" Doc called out. "Five minutes? Then why didn't you wake me up sooner?" The inventor was really exhausted right now. Why did those, those kids let him sleep while Marty was about to wake up? Didn't they understand he had to be there for him, because events could go really wrong if he wasn't?

Another question came into his head just after the first one. "And, while you didn't wake me up immediately, why did you wake me up at all?"

"Lorraine asked me to do so" George said. Doc sighed – he could've known it. With Lorraine on his side, George was still shy and nervous as always.

But, when Marty was waking up in the presence of his future mother and was be able to blurt out almost everything he knew about time travel to her, what did he care?

Almost stumbling over his blanket, the inventor got up, and changed as quick as he could – while George watched in another dumb-founded expression. And finally, at 6:57, he ran off to the spare room in which Marty slept… or maybe now, woke.

As he was close to the room – while George followed him a few feet behind, he could hear a soft voice from the room, and stopped in his tracks. "Mom?" he heard the voice say, and Doc was sure it was Marty. "Mom is that you?"

"Just relax now" Lorraine reacted, as Doc and George saw her place a soft thing on Marty's head. "You've been asleep for more than a day."

"Oh" Marty breathed, still half-asleep. "I…I had a terrible nightmare… I was back in time… at the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance… it was terrible."

Lorraine frowned at the comment. "Well," she answered, "you're safe and sound now, back, in good old 1955, in the Brown's Mansion."

The answer couldn't be worse. Marty jerked up, opened his eyes and screamed: "1955!" Then, noticing Lorraine, he added: "You're my…you're my…" It was clearly he couldn't bring out the words so confused and stunned was he.

"Just relax now, Calvin, you were hurt pretty bad in the accident" Lorraine said, worried about her patient. It was clear that she'd lost the crush she had on Marty in the past few days – she didn't stroke him, or made other moves that made clear she loved him really much. Must been because of George, Doc thought. Now she loves another one, she doesn't care about Marty as a boyfriend anymore…

"Accident" muttered Marty, barely be able to breathe. "Accident…I was in an accident?" Lorraine wasn't given time to respond, however, because at that same moment Doc came in. "Okay, Lorraine, we're ready, right?" he asked. "I can handle my nephew… you can go. We'll have to have these first moments in private."

"Right" Lorraine nodded, as she left the room. "Call me when I'm back to school about Calvin. I'll leave my number on the table in the dining room." She went off, followed by George.

"Okay" Doc said, turning back to Marty. "Now we can talk."

"We can talk" replied the seventeen-year-old, staring at Doc. He slowly moved his hand to his head. "My head hurts. What happened? Mom talked about some sort of accident…where am I, Doc?"

"At my mansion" replied Doc, not understanding why Marty needed to know this – Lorraine had already told him. But his patient shook his head. "No, I don't mean the place, Doc. The time. I wanna know what time it is."

"It's six fifty-eight A.M." Doc responded. "At Monday morning. To be exact, it's Monday, November 14th – 1955. And fifty-eight AM, of course. I mean fifty-nine. You've been out for quite a long time now, Marty. In fact, you haven't woken up since you had the accident." He chuckled at the reminder. "I had a hard time waking with you."

"The accident" breathed Marty. "You…you talked about an accident. Mom talked about an accident. What happened? Why am I still in 1955? I was supposed to get home at November 12th, wasn't I?" Doc could see he had a hard time remembering the details. "Through…the lightning bolt at the tower."

"Right" replied Doc. "That was the way we were going to get you home." He tried to hide the sad feeling about it's not working behind, but Marty had already noticed. And if he hadn't, he'd notice that Doc had used 'were' instead of using a line in the present time. "It didn't work, did it?" he asked sad. "I'm stuck here."

"Relax, Marty" Doc said. "Nobody says you're stuck in the year 1955. Nobody says it." Right – that confirmed Marty's thoughts even more. "I've got to go off – I'll get some nice coffee for you, that'll help you wake up."

"Good" replied Marty, as he saw the inventor walk off. Was it true? Had he really no way to return back home, to the 1980s? Or wasn't Doc kidding – and had he really got another chance to return back to the future?

Sighing, the teen went down in deep thoughts. He was almost asleep again when Doc showed up. "Oh hi Marty" he greeted. "You almost fell asleep, didn't you?" Marty immediately reacted. "No Doc, of course not, don't be silly" he muttered. It was almost like that first time travel night, for him now a little over a week ago, when Doc showed him for the very first time the time machine…

"Yes" Marty thought. "The time machine. It worked perfectly – it was working as it should be, you could explore new eras, do experiences up that you never could've before…"

And it has only been one week in your hands and it makes you stuck in another time period, a thirty years away from home.

Sighing, Marty grabbed his cup of coffee and managed to mutter a "Thanks Doc". As the scientist moved away, he thought about the how and why he had been ending up here. Just after finishing drinking his cup of coffee, he'd concluded he should ask Doc about the experiment with the lightning – he couldn't remember anymore than the dance. What did go wrong?

Did the time machine miss the lightning bolt? Yes, of course, that was for sure. Why would he else be here. But how? Did it just came too late to connect with the wire? No, then there wouldn't be an accident. Unless, of course, he'd driven through and hit the future site of Essex Theatre at the end of the street. That would've given quite a crash, probably – and could also have been the cause of him being out for quite a while. But it had been more than a day…

Why didn't Doc just tell him what happened? He could keep it a secret, if it was bad and nobody should know it. Hell – he was Doc's best friend, why would Doc hide secrets for him? They'd been friends for more than a half decade! They'd known each other for years!

"Youmight have known him for years" a little voice in Marty's head reminded him. "But he hasn't. For him, you're some stranger from the future who just showed up at his doorstep nine days ago. He doesn't half know who you are, and you expect him to tell you everything? You've gotta be kidding, McFly!"

And even if that hadn't been the case, Marty remembered, Doc had hidden the time machine for him as well. He'd been working on it secretly all the time they'd known each other, and Marty had never found only a little piece of it out.

For one second, he felt like he had gotten the chance to see another, unknown, secretly side of his future best friend.

Sighing, Marty grabbed his pillow and hid his face in it, deep thinking about Doc Brown and time travel and all stuff like that. And one question stayed hammering in his mind – What happened two days ago? What made you wounded at your head, what made you miss the lightning? What the hell did it?

Sighing, Marty went off to sleep. Tired from everything, and having a bad hurting headache, this was the best he could do. He didn't exactly know that – he didn't care either. All he wanted to do was getting some rest, before exploring how little his chances to return had become.

oooooooo

Doc was, unbeknownst to Marty, having trouble with time travel as well. He'd called the doctor after he'd made Marty's coffee, and guessed the guy would be here around 7:30. It was now 7.10am; he'd have another twenty minutes to go.

Since George had woken him up about a quarter earlier with the fascinating news that Marty had woken up, things had moved fast. The two of them had ran to the bedroom, and there he saw how Marty almost had told Lorraine the entire story about time travel – which was not exactly a happy foresight. Lucky enough, he'd been able to stop them and send them home, so he and Marty could spend some time together. "And talk about things we can't let you guys know" his mind added.

It was strange – even since only a few minutes after they had missed the lightning he'd been looking forward to this event, Marty waking up, and had prepared himself for it as good as possible – but when it finally happened, he hadn't know what to do. The best thing that came up in his mind, thinking about "what to do now", had been to send Marty's parents home, and get Marty some coffee so he could be a little less disorientated, what he clearly was now. And it had worked – Marty was asleep again, and the doctor could arrive in twenty minutes. It wasn't exactly the moment to fall asleep – but Doc was not really be able to put himself awake. In fact, he wished for a second that Marty hadn't woken up, so he could have some nice rest. But he quickly putted that thought away – he couldn't think so. He had to be happy that his young friend had finally managed to put the sleep away and wake up, even while it was only for no more as ten minutes, and don't worry about little things that could come later…things like going back to bed and fall asleep. There certainly were more important businesses to attend.

Doc took another glance as the puzzle book from the McFly's. It was open and there was a puzzle filled in half in a handwriting that wasn't his - obviously, George had seen the familiar book and made a puzzle in it while waking for Marty. The inventor grinned, as he looked at the young teen's handwriting, and at the notes made for the puzzle lying next to the book. That boy sure was going to make it into the author's world. Doc felt really happy, as Marty's father was heading right towards a good future with Lorraine. He was looking forward to following their carriers and personal lives, as they'd get married between now and six, seven years – Marty had told him Dave was born in 1962 – and get their three kids. Doc wondered how much would change in their lives, now Marty had interrupted. Would Marty still be the same Marty by the time 1985'd roll around? And, more importantly, would he be still as happy as he was originally to be friends with the then sixty-five-year-old scientist that was known as the town's nutcase?

Suddenly getting the need to do something, Doc grabbed the book and went to make the puzzle. He really liked the puzzle – it was not too easy, and not too hard, perfect for a scientist. Obviously, George had been struggling a bit harder with it, as he found rewritten words all over the puzzle.

In only ten minutes, the inventor finished the little puzzle, enjoying the rest that it gave him. He hadn't had so much rest while being awake since Friday, November 4th – the day before he invented time travel, and Marty came into view. Doc envied his younger self of that sunny Friday, who didn't know yet what for a horrific things were going to happen – getting a teenage friend who loses one of the most important things he has – his future – on a Saturday evening because of a simple bolt of lightning that struck on the wrong place…

Sighing, he got up. He could worry like this for ages, but it didn't bring any progress in the situation – not for Marty's health, not for his, and not for the time machine. He made himself some more coffee, and made a croissant for him and Marty – if the teen would be able to eat bread at all when he woke up again. As he was just ready, the bell rang – the doctor had arrived.

Dr. Pentinson, the same one who had been asked to come right after the accident happened, woke Marty – who had been sleeping – up with his arrival. "Well, of course" Doc thought. "He's only been asleep for half an hour, so he hasn't slept too deep so he's easy to wake up."

The inventor watched as Dr. Pentinson got closer. "Good morning, Calvin" he greeted. "You've had an accident, I've heard? Your uncle told me."

Marty looked up. "Yeah" he muttered, clearly confused by the word 'Calvin' until he remembered the 'Calvin Klein' story that had been caused by his underwear nine days ago. "Can't remember, though. I can't remember anything in the last ten minutes before it occurred." He sounded like someone who was far away – Doc didn't have to ask to know the teen was everything but fit awake right now. Which was logical if you had such an accident. "Well, After the doctor's gone, I'll let him sleep until noon" Doc promised himself. "That'll make him more awake."

"Don't worry" Dr. Pentinson assured Marty. "It's normal to do not remember too much about an accident for a while after it occurs. In about a week, you should be more recovered and then you'll start to have memories about the incident."

"A week" Marty muttered. Doc knew why the teen said this – it was a hidden mention to the thought 'another week in the fifties'. He knew the teenager hated the 1950s and hoped he'd have him used to the here and now soon. He sure didn't like the idea of having to deal with a rebelling kid for the rest of the year… or even the rest of the decade.

"Yeah, a week" the doctor answered, mistaking Marty's hidden comment for something else, more obvious. "By that time, you should be pretty recovered. You'll have to stay in bed for the next three days, though, and your headache will be bothering you, but by the end of the month, you'll be the same guy that you were before the accident."

"Great" muttered Marty, sarcastically. "The end of the month. That's another two weeks, at least! Do I have to rest all the time?" He couldn't imagine anything as worse as that.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no" Dr. Pentinson assured him. "You can go up since Thursday morning – maybe you can try a walk from a couple of metres on Wednesday evening already – and the rest of the week you should sit down much, but by next Sunday, you should be able to do more things inside the house. Like helping your uncle with things, as long as it isn't too practical." He turned to Doc. "Dr. Brown, you can't let this patient work with your experiments!"

"Oh no, of course not" Doc assured him – he'd got lots of other things to do then provoking Marty into working for him. "I'll leave him out of that business, you can be sure of that. All I want is my nephew to recover, and having him help with my experiments again could sure be risky – I'm not sure if I even try to do that at all after the incident that happened this time." He sighed, as if he gave something really hard away.

"Good" the doctor nodded, clearly happy now. "Well, Emmett – I hope you keep your promise, and I also hope that your nephew will recover soon. It's such a tragedy what happened to him, and many people have showed their loyalty to him. I guess you'll be getting a lot of flowers and cards today."

"Really?" Doc asked, surprised. He never thought Hill Valley citizens could possibly think positive of him. Well, a major piece didn't think he was nuts, but to exactly send him flowers and cards like the doctor said… he could hardly believe it. It wasn't the news he'd believe easy.

"Yes" the doctor replied. "Me wife and I even sent our wishes to you. I'm surprised you haven't caught them yet – but maybe the post man could be late."

"Yeah, he usually is here at 8.30," Doc answered, "so that would be a little more than half an hour from now. Well, thank you for the wishes, and the help – and I think we should go now. Marty – I mean Calvin is pretty tired right now. I'm not a doctor – not in medicines, I mean – but I think it should be wiser to do not make him even more tired than he is by talking like this in his room where he can hear us. The poor boy really has gone through a hard time."

"Yes, you're right" the doctor replied. "I should go home – I've got patients to see. Well, Dr. Brown, it was nice to see you again, and it was a relief everything is going well with your nephew. I'll come over tomorrow morning at 9AM again to check upon your nephew again, okay?"

"That shouldn't be any trouble" Doc replied, smiling. The doctor smiled back and went off. Doc took a chair and went down to sit next to his friend, trying to think everything over once again. Marty had finally woken up, now, and seemed to be on the bettering hand. But how would he break the news about "you're stuck in the past" to him? He couldn't do it. At least, not yet. Maybe he'd better wait a day or two, or three… and when Marty was be able to walk again, show him the DeLorean's remains.

Sighing, Doc stood up and went to walk around. It wasn't exactly his favourite duty, but he wanted to do something – as already mentioned twice before, waiting was something the inventor hated. Detested. It horrified him. And especially now, now he didn't know why he was waiting. And that was something he possibly hated even more – waiting for nothing at all.

So, if he was waiting for nothing, why on earth was he waiting?

Yup – there he went. Another question about how, where, when and why stuff. Doc had started to hate those things in the past two days. They made him get pretty much sick. Of course he tried to do not think about them too much because he didn't want to worry such a lot with Marty's health to be concerned about. Of course that was more important than these stupid things.

But right now, Marty's health was good. And maybe he wouldn't have to wake again – Marty didn't have to be checked up on waking. He could just write a little note, and Marty would understand that his friend was still asleep.

Doc began to think of the future. Now he had Marty accompanying him, he wouldn't have a lonely Thanksgiving 1955. He wouldn't have a lonely Christmas 1955. He wouldn't have a lonely Easter 1956. Or a lonely thirty-sixth birthday Or all other celebrity days and stuff like that that would come in the new year…

Doc wanted to force himself to do not think these things, especially not in Marty's presence, but his mind didn't care. His mind was filled with joy because the loneliness was gone off crying and the accompany had, in the form of Marty McFly from the year 1985, after having spent years alone in his mansion finally come…

The clock striking 8 woke Doc Brown up out of his thoughts of the future. He began to eat his slice of bread again, and drank his coffee. For once, he tried to forget that he was used to start his day with a cup of tea – these days were different. The normal days weren't including a seventeen-year-old staying at his mansion, or a time machine which was or smashed or in it's earliest stages of being build…

"How confusing has my life become," Doc realised, "since I have invented time travel. What I lived through in the past nine days were experiences of a lifetime." Sighing, he added: "I wonder why I never got strain all those days. Another person would go mad of them. Or maybe it is, because I…because I…"

Because I finally felt the use of my life.

The inventor suddenly realised he had never felt this before. He'd been treated badly and teased all around as a kid, because he was smart. Strickland, who was still hoping to be vice-principal one day back then, was his worst teacher. Nothing was too good for him. The future doctor in science had delivered reports that Einstein couldn't make and still they were rated "too low" by Strickland. And finally, Doc had began to think they were true, that he was a slacker and a nutcase and that he should be thrown in a mental institute for the better of the world.

It had become worse, especially because of himself. He had forced himself to do better, and every time he hadn't made his reports good enough he had accused himself to be a slacker, like Strickland said, and told himself that he should never have been born – that would free the city from lots of problems that he caused. He even got home crying, however he was already in his late teens back then.

In the year 1940 he had finally learned to have some self-respect. Strickland was fired from college for treating him so bad, and he'd made himself into the university. He had moved up his grades, he had grown smarter and smarter while the time passed. And in late 1944, he finally reached his doctorate. From then on, the twenty-four-year-old was Doctor Emmett Lathrop Brown. A thing he'd been really proud of.

But the use of his life had never came. He knew he was a doctor, and that he was one of the smartest persons of Hill Valley, but there was no use to be spotted for him in that. He never thought he could be from any use for any person of Hill Valley.

And now, a seventeen-year-old had came who did need his help. And he, not wanting to be put down again, had thrown all his power in this experiment. He finally felt no useless anymore.

"But now?" Doc thought. "Now I've failed. I've failed to send Marty back home, back to the

future. Marty will be dead angry on me when he finally will hear the news. And – and that's the worst – he'll be completely in his rights. I did, indeed, fail."

Sighing, the inventor got up and grabbed his puzzle book. He could not easily put his mind off the subject – it bothered him really much – so he figured he'd might as well do something else, hoping that would work. And yeah, this time luck was with him. The scientist got completely onto the puzzles, and forgot for a moment the world that surrounded him.

That was, unfortunately, not for very long.

"Doc?"

The scientist looked up and faced his eyes to the spare room. While standing up and walking towards it, he responded: "Yes, Marty?"

"My head hurts" the teen softly responded.

Doc smiled, as he entered the room. That was for two reasons – because of Marty had asked a stupid question, since it was natural for your head to hurt when you had it slammed to the edge of a car in an accident, and because of the position that Marty was lying in. The teen was in a position in which no-one would survive in – head on the edge of the pillow, feet almost on the ground, arm under his head, other arm just lying above his stomach – it didn't look like a position where anyone could lie in for a few seconds, let alone sleep in it. But, as it seemed, Marty had only just moments ago waken up.

"Well, it's quite natural for your head to hurt" Doc replied, feeling he had to say something in reply and felt shy to say everything he thought about how stupid Marty was lying. "If you want, I'll get you an aspirin. That should help you to recover some more, and it should be able to kill the pain for a couple of hours."

Marty managed to make a smile. "Thanks, Doc" he uttered. Doc smiled back in response. "You're welcome" he answered and went off to get the aspirin, being watched by Marty, who was feeling uneasy about the whole situation. "Well" the teen muttered, "at least he's trying to help me. I should act more nice towards him – after all, I could've been killed in that accident, whatever it was exactly, if it wasn't for him." He figured out, that that was indeed a good thing to do.

So why couldn't he do it… and felt he like Doc was sort of betraying him by holding knowledge he needed to know behind? Why did he feel like…the Doc was lying to him?

oooooooo

Lying in bed silently, without having anything to do but sleep, or talk to Doc when he was around, was boring, Marty McFly concluded. He actually had to do this – and for quite a while, as it seemed to be, since he was going to be released from bed on Thursday morning… and maybe for a short walk on Wednesday evening. That was, however, still two and a half day away, even three in the first case, since it was at the moment still Monday morning, at not even nine A. M – the clock said 8.58.

Doc had brought him an aspirin a quarter ago – he had apologised for that he was so late, but that he didn't have any aspirins anymore and that he actually had to get them from the shop up town – and since a few minutes, it indeed seemed to work, as he felt a little more relaxed and had a little less pain. He should then now be sound asleep, and giving his body some rest – some rest that it needed. Marty, however, didn't felt the need for any of this. He was still awake.

Oh yes, he knew he had to be asleep. Or at least, that he was supposed to be asleep. He had then also decided to pretend to be sound asleep when Doc came to check up on him, as he did every half an hour. But he really didn't thought he needed the sleep. He was wanting to be awake, wanting to think about every little confusing thing that moved around in his head, all questions going about why on earth Doc was hiding a secret – whatever it was for him, that he obviously needed to know. He puzzled about it every single minute that he was awake, but still he hadn't found the solution of the problem, yet. He simply couldn't think of an idea of what it could be. He simply couldn't.

"Marty?" Doc asked him, as he re-entered the room. He was holding a croissant on a small tray, and there was a small cup of tea next to it. "I've made some breakfast for you. I'm not sure if you're be able to eat it, though." Sighing, he added: "That's why I made it in little pieces. Maybe you're be able to eat it better, then. I'll give it to you with the fork, and pull it in your mouth…"

His line didn't get finished. "Doc!" Marty exclaimed. "I'm not a baby! There's no way I'm gonna just let you feed me like that! You can do that to infants, but not to me! Hell, I bet you've never even fed babies before!"

"Well," Doc replied, "you may not be a baby but you are someone who's had an accident. I want you to rest as much as possible, and if that includes feeding you, I'll do that as well. It's for your own better, Marty."

"Sure" Marty replied, sarcastic. "It's for my own better to be treated like a little child. Sure, Doc. Like I believe that."

"Martin Seamus McFly!" The voice shouted through the room, making Marty shiver a little bit. Doc '55 obviously knew his full name – maybe he'd checked the drivers license in the time the teen had been out. "Don't you dare to say things like that again! I sure don't think you're like a baby or have to be treated like a baby. I just… I just care for your health a lot, Marty." The inventor began to talk much softer now, causing Marty to look up in a bit of surprise. "I've been starting to like you in the past few days you've spent here, and I understand how much my future self cares for you. And I do, as well. So when I believe it's better for you to have as much rest as possible, I take care you have." He sighed. "Like I said – it's for your own better, Marty."

The seventeen-year-old looked up. "Maybe you're right, Doc" he shrugged. "Do it like you want it to do."

Doc gave him a faint smile. "Thanks, Marty" he replied, as he began to feed the teen the croissant.

oooooooo

Marty McFly sighed, as he was feeling tired again. He'd eaten the croissant Doc gave him half – he did kind of like it, but his body obviously hadn't recovered enough from the accident, whatever it had been, to eat the whole thing – and afterwards, he'd slept for half an hour. Now it was 9:35, and he had just woken up, bored as every time.

Marty knew he couldn't get any distraction from Doc – the inventor was gone off to the city to buy Marty some new clothes, adding a line "you'll need them" to it. That did even more confirm Marty's suspicion to the guess that Doc was hiding something for him. Something about the time machine, most likely. How serious had the machine been damaged? And more to the point, how much of that could be repaired?

Marty tried to think about how much he could remember from before. Well, that hadn't changed much – almost nothing. He could indeed remember the dance, and afterwards heading to the Square. Or wait… now he also remembered how he'd parked a few hundred metres before the Square to change clothes. The teen grinned, as he guessed Doc probably would have worried really much about where the hell he was. If only he could remember that…

The teen began to think more about time travel. The moment Doc had told him he'd invented a time machine – out of a DeLorean – Marty had thought Doc was crazy, no matter the ten years he'd known him and learnt that the inventor wasn't actually nuts at all. But after he'd showed him Einstein's successfully return, and told him about the time circuits and about the flux capacitor he'd came up with on November 5, 1955, Marty had believed him. And he had been enthusiastic about the fact that time travel had proven to be really possible, and had contained a small piece of hope that his best friend would actually let him travel through time with the machine one day in the not-too-distant future. But unfortunately, that opportunity had come way too soon.

"And now I'm stuck" hammered through Marty's head. "Stuck. Stranded. A thirty years ago… and home's further away than any vehicle can bring me there. The only vehicle that could, is destroyed."

"Who says that?" another voice in Marty's head asked. "Who says the DeLorean is destroyed? Never conclude before you've seen it's true. The DeLorean could as well be damaged not too serious, and you could be home before the end of the month."

Hoping that that was indeed the truth, Marty fell asleep for once again. Life sure was confusing… when your best friend was the proud owner of a crashed DeLorean time machine.