Author's Note: This story is related to another Back to the Future story I wrote: "The Resulting Present of Respective Pasts." In that story (which starts in the 1885 time period), Marty is discussing his scattered memories with Doctor Brown. Marty is agitated over the fact that he and Doc might have different recollections of how they met and became friends. This story is a continuation of Marty's 1982 memory, from the Twin Pines universe/timeline.

-ck

Disclaimer: I do not own Back to the Future, Doctor Emmett L. Brown, Marty McFly (or any of his family members), or Einstein the dog. I have created one original character who is mentioned in this chapter.

I am writing for fun and feedback, not for profit.

TIME WILL TELL

by InitialLuv

Chapter One: Trial Period

Saturday, August 21st, 1982

1:32 PM

Hill Valley, California

Marty stood In the center of the converted garage, looking around in awe.

It was just a few days ago that he and Doctor Brown had made the slapdash agreement re: employee and employer while seated at Burger King. Marty had quickly boarded home (taking care in the dark so as not to have another wipeout and get his second-hand skateboard taken away as well). He'd then snuck back into the house without anyone being the wiser. Linda had been holed-up in her room, Lorraine had still been in front of the TV (and out like a light), and George had moved from the living room to the kitchen table, so he could concentrate better on Biff's reports. Marty had wandered into the kitchen to sit at the table and stare at his father.

ooOoo

It took almost two minutes before George realized his youngest was sitting nearby. "Oh, son. I didn't see you."

Marty tipped his head in acknowledgement. When George concentrated on something, whether it was work, a television program, or a science fiction book he was reading, he became singularly focused and there was little that could distract him. "'sokay, Dad," Marty said.

George wrote down a few words and related numbers, grabbed a nearby calculator to check his subtraction, and then nodded to himself. Dropping his pen, he rubbed at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew.

"Whatcha workin' on, Dad?" Marty asked idly.

"Oh, just some profit and loss numbers, nothing exciting." George pushed his glasses up. "What's your mom doing?"

Marty shrugged, swallowing uncomfortably. "Ah, I think she's asleep."

George twisted around in his chair, trying to see the living room couch from his seat at the table. Marty noticed the man didn't try very hard. He swallowed again. His parents appeared to love each other, he'd seen them kiss and hold hands and occasionally laugh with one another. The affection was infrequent, though, and when it did occur, it seemed obligatory. Marty often wondered about that, especially when he'd see other couples who were clearly in love, and obviously didn't have any qualms about showing it. Like Uncle Milton and Aunt Nancy. They were always draped over each other, teasing and joking, they had cute nicknames for each other, and they didn't have any problem putting their love on display for the world to see. It was almost kind of sickening.

But it was also kind of nice.

George had turned back to his papers, and Marty sighed audibly. The man looked up, somewhat surprised. "Marty? What is it?"

"I, um, well. . . " Don't be like him, say what you want! "Dad, I wanted to ask you something."

George lowered his pen again. "Go on, then."

"Okay. I talked to Mom this morning, I asked her about what you guys had said, that you'd help me buy an electric guitar if I raised half of the money myself – "

"Marty, you know we can't – "

"I know, Dad, Mom already told me," Marty said sharply. "But what if I could earn more money on my own?"

"I believe your mother said she didn't want you mowing Milton's lawn anymore," George said, gesturing at Marty's bandaged hands. "Especially if you are going to injure yourself – "

"This wasn't from mowing the lawn! I fell off my skateboard because I wasn't paying attention. And I'm fine, it's just some scrapes, they'll heal." Marty was starting to get frustrated, and he took a few deep breaths to settle himself. "Anyway, mowing the lawn or cleaning someone's gutters or things like that don't pay great. I just got this opportunity to take a better job, one doing cool stuff, and it pays better." Marty actually wasn't sure of that, he and Doctor Brown hadn't exactly discussed a pay rate, but if he could get paid for something easy like playing with a dog and shopping for groceries, it would be loads better than doing yardwork.

"You 'just' got this job offer? When did this happen?" George was resting his chin on his hand, closely observing his son.

"Uh – " Marty's hand crept around to the back of his head, rubbing at his neck. "Um, like an hour ago."

"An hour ago you were in your room. Weren't you?"

Marty was now tangling his fingers together, playing with the bandages on his palms. "Uh, no. I was at Burger King."

"Marty," George sighed, shaking his head. "You're supposed to be grounded. I don't know how you can come to me and ask me about money and taking a job when we can't even trust you to stay in the house when you're being punished."

Marty opened his mouth, blinked, and then suddenly realized he had an out. "I'm not grounded, Dad. Mom just took away my new skateboard for a while. She didn't say I couldn't go out."

"She didn't?" George looked doubtful.

"No."

"So why didn't you tell us that you were going to Burger King? I had no idea you were gone."

Marty glared at his father. "That's just the point. You don't know what I'm doing. You were busy working, and Mom was already half asleep." Half something.

George stared back, his mouth tight. "That's not fair, Marty."

"No, it's not! You guys only notice me when I get in trouble! Or when I ask for something." Marty was dismayed to feel tears pricking his eyes. "Sometimes I don't know why you guys didn't stop having kids after Linda. You got a girl and a boy, what did you need me for?" What was it that Dave had called him? Oh, yeah. "I'm redundant!"

The father and son looked levelly at each other for several moments; Marty was breathing hard and George was grimacing, his mouth twisting as he chewed on his lower lip. Marty lowered his eyes first, sighing deeply. "Sorry, Dad," he murmured. "I didn't mean that."

"All right." George sighed as well, taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses with his shirt. "It's late, son. You should get to bed."

"No!" Marty said, looking up. "I still never told – asked you about the job offer I got."

George immediately shook his head. "You're too young to work at Burger King, Marty – "

"I know that, that's what Dave – " Marty sighed loudly. "I went there to talk to Dave, and he said the same thing. But someone heard us talking, heard me talking about needing money, and he offered me a job. And not some crummy yardwork type job, it would be running errands and dog-sitting and house-sitting and stuff like that."

"There's no shame in yardwork, Marty, working with your hands. . . Most kids your age do jobs like that, or a paper route, for money," George pointed out.

"A paper route? No way, that's like for a ten-year-old kid." Marty wrinkled his nose. "And I did my share of physical jobs, mowing Uncle Milton's lawn and raking leaves for the Walsh's next door and moving all those flagstone pieces for Mrs. Robertson. . . Maybe I want to use my brain for once!"

George had put his glasses on again, and now had his hands clasped together on the table top. "What kind of house-sitting job is this? How would it be so enlightening?"

"Well, it would teach me responsibility – "

"So would a paper route."

" – and I would be trusted with someone else's house, and belongings, and pet . . . "

George nodded slowly. "And who is this person who just up and offered you this job?"

With barely a noticeable hesitation, Marty answered: "Doctor Brown."

George's hesitation was much longer. He shook his head slightly, lowering his eyebrows in consternation. "Who? Wait, you mean that odd older man who lives in the strange house by Burger King? The house that looks like a garage?" He looked away distractedly. "I think it is a garage."

"So what? What's the big deal about that? And Doc's not 'odd.' He's . . . different."

"They mean the same thing basically," George said. "They're synonyms. Granted, 'odd' is more of a pejorative term, but. – "

"Dad, don't get all into simintics with me – "

"Semantics, Marty," George corrected. Marty rolled his eyes. "Well, you just said you wanted to use your brain. If not for the English language, then what are you talking about?"

"Science!" Marty tossed his hands out desperately.

"I didn't know you were interested in science."

Marty shrugged and nodded at the same time. He honestly didn't know if he liked science. The stuff he'd done in school so far had been a combination of boring and too complex to understand, and he'd been happy to achieve a 'C' in Physical Science last spring, Doctor Brown had said he was looking for someone to help him with his science experiments, but he'd also said he might want to delay that part of the "assistant" job description until he and Marty were more familiar with each other.

George stood, stretching. "I don't know, Marty. That Doctor Brown is a strange fellow, and he's quite old." The man went to the refrigerator, opening it to peer inside. "Do you want to split a soda?"

"Yeah, I guess." Marty rose to go to the cupboard and get out two small glasses, placing them on the table. George cracked open a can of Diet Pepsi, pouring a half into each glass. The father and son sat quietly for a time, both sipping the soft drink.

George spoke first. "How exactly did Doctor Brown offer you this job? And what does it entail?"

Marty set his glass down. "Dave and I were talking – he took his break and we were in a booth. Anyway, Doctor Brown heard me telling Dave how I needed more money so I could get the guitar and everything on my own. If I earn the money myself, can't I spend it on what I want to? Dave got himself those new shoes!"

"I didn't say you couldn't spend your money on what you'd like, Marty," George said slowly, thrown by Marty's defensiveness.

"Oh." Marty looked a bit embarrassed. "It's just, I know you make Dave put a part of his check in the bank, and Doctor Brown kind of mentioned that, too." Before Marty and Doctor Brown had parted at the restaurant to return to their respective homes, the scientist had touted the importance of saving a portion of his money, instead of instantly using any and all funds toward his immediate desires.

"He said you should save some of your money?"

Marty nodded. "Yeah. And he wants you and Mom to come over to see his place, and meet him, so you can kinda see what I'd be doing. That he's not gonna be using me as a guinea pig or something for his experiments." The teen finished his drink, then grinned.

"Hmm." George took a drink, sighing as he did, in the way that Marty always identified as an "old man swallow." "That seems very responsible of him," he commented.

Marty felt his heart beat just a little faster, as he realized he'd already won half the battle. And if he and his father worked together on convincing his mom. . . Electric guitar, here I come!

ooOoo

So now he was standing in the middle of Doctor Brown's . . . "house," his mother and father flanking him, as the earnest scientist prattled on about the particulars of Marty's possible employment. "You see I have the normal amenities," the man was saying, as he moved around and gestured at certain areas of the interior. "Kitchen area, refrigerator, television. . . Living room area. . . This is obviously my work area." He moved on. "Ah, another work area, um, books, I have quite a few books, that's one of the tasks that Marty could help me with, going through and organizing my work texts from my fiction library. . . "

As Emmett continued, Marty wandered away from his parents and began to explore. He heard his mother whisper for him to return, but ignored it. There was just so much to look at! Random pieces of equipment, some recognizable but some completely foreign, tables loaded with circuit boards, tools, blueprints, and instruction manuals –

And a classic jukebox! Marty was headed toward the musical machine, but then unexpectedly came upon a furry shape in a dog bed. When Marty and his parents had arrived at the converted garage earlier, a smallish fluff of a dog had run up to them, causing Lorraine to back up uneasily. The scientist had quickly directed the dog to its bed in a further part of the building. Now again seeing the sheepdog, Marty forgot about the jukebox. He instead dropped to his knees and patted his legs. "C'mere, boy," he said softly. "C'mon."

The small dog popped his head up, then climbed out of the dog bed (which was adorned with a nametag that read "Einstein") and tromped over to Marty. The boy dropped his head down and snuggled into the dog's soft fur. Einstein, apparently taking to Marty as much as the teen had to him, lapped a sloppy dog kiss onto Marty's face.

Doctor Brown broke off from his rambling, turning in the direction of Marty's giggles. Lorraine moved forward, but George held out a hand, causing her to hesitate. George was watching Emmett's face, intrigued by the change that had come over the older man. Instead of the awkward, frenetic energy of before, the scientist now seemed to be calm, almost content.

Marty sensed the silence and looked up, seeing the trio watching him. He addressed Einstein's owner. "Hey, does he have a leash or something? Can I take him for a walk while you guys talk?"

"I don't know, Marty. . . " Lorraine said, at the same time that George said, "I think that would be fine, if Doctor Brown agrees." Marty made a face at his parents' disagreement, used to their contrary discussions. He turned again to Emmett for the final decision. "Doc Brown?"

Emmett looked between the husband and wife, then shook his head lightly and reached for a leash hanging on a hook by the door. "Here you are, Marty. He's still young and doesn't heel well, but I'm sure he'd be very happy to explore with you."

Einstein came running, understanding exactly what was happening. Marty took the leash, clipping it onto the dog's collar. "Don't worry, we won't go far," he reassured his parents as he opened the door. "Come on, Einstein!"

Marty and Einstein first rambled around the backyard, and Einstein relieved himself (I'm not looking forward to this part, Marty thought to himself, as he made a mental note to ask Doctor Brown if he had a pooper scooper). After Marty was sure the dog didn't have any more disposals to make, they left the backyard, skirted the few cars parked in the side lot of the Burger King, and made their way down the sidewalk. The young dog did spend the majority of the time sniffing and half-growling at any bugs or birds or scraps of garbage it happened to see, but when Marty gave a tug on the leash, Einstein would react more often than not. By the time Marty turned around and started to walk back to Doctor Brown's place, the dog was trotting along at his heel fairly obediently. And when boy and dog returned to the garage, both looking quite happy with the other, the three adults were smiling. Well, George and Lorraine were smiling faintly. Emmett was beaming.

Marty stood in the entryway, still holding the leash. Einstein plopped down by Marty's feet, apparently unconcerned that he was still tethered. He dropped his head onto Marty's sneaker and sighed.

"Did you guys – can I? Can I work for Doctor Brown?" Marty asked breathlessly, twisting his head to look between his parents and the scientist.

Lorraine held up a finger. "One week," she said. George cleared his throat softly. "One week," Lorraine repeated, staring intently at her husband. "School starts after that." Lorraine turned back to Marty. "A trial period. And if that works out for both of you, and there are no problems, then we can talk about setting up something more specific."

Emmett was nodding in agreement. "If everything works out well, we'll have to devise a schedule, concerning which afternoons you come by, what weekend hours, and so on."

Marty found he couldn't stop grinning. "That's great! That's perfect!"

"You'll need to keep your grades up," George said. "If your studies suffer, we'll know you're not able to handle school and a job."

"But that won't be a problem!" Marty answered, still grinning. "Doc Brown's like really smart! If I have a hard time with homework he can help me!"

Lorraine scowled, immediately shaking her head. "That's not what this is about, Marty. I don't think Doctor Brown is looking to offer you tutoring. This is a job."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, right, okay, Mom. Don't worry, I'll keep up in school, I promise." Handing Einstein's leash to Doctor Brown, Marty bounded up to his mother, bouncing on his feet excitedly. "It'll be fine!"

Lorraine nodded grudgingly, and Marty embraced her, then did the same to his father – inasmuch as he could, as George barely returned the hug. "Thanks a lot, guys, really!" He turned back to Emmett. "You too, Doc, thanks!"

"My pleasure, Marty," Emmett said. He smiled at Lorraine and George. "And if it's all right with your parents, I could put you to work today." His smile dimmed a bit. "Unless, of course, you all already have plans. I don't mean to interrupt your weekend."

Marty laughed shortly. "Nah, we don't have anything going on," he said, not caring that his truthful statement caused his mother to flush. "I'm free."

"I want you home for supper," Lorraine said firmly. Even though George was often distracted by work or the television and Dave typically left early to go to work, Lorraine McFly tried her best to get the family to eat supper together.

"Yeah, yeah," Marty murmured. Wouldn't want to miss the pressed turkey loaf, he almost said, but was able to hold his tongue, knowing that a smart remark just might get him a quick trip home.

George and Lorraine left not long after that, once they were reassured that Emmett would run Marty home in time for supper. Doctor Brown unclipped Einstein's leash and hung it back up, patting the dog's rump; the dog trundled back into the living area of the garage. Marty watched him for a moment, then looked back up at the scientist. The man and boy regarded each other curiously.

Emmett gestured at Marty's hands. "You've healed from your skateboarding mishap?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Marty glanced down at his hands, which were still scraped, but mostly scabbed over. "That was already a few days ago. My knees are still kinda bruised." He lifted a knee for inspection. "Nice and yellow and purple now."

Doctor Brown looked at Marty's clothes, frowning slightly. "I know why you're in shorts, it's quite warm out. But if you start assisting me with some experiments, it might be a good idea to wear longer pants, or to keep some here. So you don't have as much exposed skin." The man himself was wearing canvas trousers with many pockets. "If you have any jeans, preferably ones you wouldn't mind getting stained or . . . well, not new ones."

"Oh. Okay. I can bring some by tomorrow." Marty gazed around the garage. "I thought I was just going to be doing organizing and cleaning and errands for you at first."

"Yes, that's the plan," Emmett allowed, "but it's always good to be prepared, I've found."

Marty nodded. "What kind of experiments might I be helping you with, that you don't want me wearing shorts?"

The scientist smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Time will tell."

TO BE CONTINUED. . .