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'No! No, this can't be happening!' cried Marty, falling to his knees. 'Please, no!'

The torchlight flickered over the headstone. George McFly…

Marty couldn't breathe. The writing on the headstone in front of him blurred as his eyes filled with tears. The wind howled in the trees around him. Far away, a siren wailed.

His father was dead.

His father was dead!

He grabbed a handful of grass and clenched it tightly, trying to find something solid in this world to hold onto, to steady him. But even though he could feel the grass, hear the night, feel the tears trickling down his cheeks, it wasn't like he was in a real world.

He stared at the headstone. George McFly, his father, was down there in the ground. There was no denying it, he could not make himself believe that this was a dream, that it could be fixed, that it didn't matter…another Marty was in this world, so was his mother and brother and sister, his father was dead, Biff corrupt and powerful…and it was happening.

It was real.

'This can't be happening,' he said aloud, his eyes never leaving the etched words of the headstone; but he knew the truth.

Suddenly, cold fear flooded through him as a shadow fell across the beam of his torch. He whirled around in a panic, trying to hold the torch steady as he shone it towards the dark figure approaching him.

'I'm afraid it is happening, Marty,' called Doc grimly.

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Doc's lab was a mess. It seemed to have been abandoned for years. The few candles that Doc had lit cast ghostly shadows everywhere, and the wind moaned through the gaps in the walls.

The entire time that Doc showed Marty the picture of Biff with the Sports Almanac and explained what had happened and explained what they had to do, Marty had simply clutched the newspaper cutting that told of his father's murder, saying nothing, thinking nothing, feeling nothing. But when Doc had finished, he knew one thing.

'It's all my fault,' he whispered. 'Everything's my fault…if I hadn't been so stupid in 2015, none of this would have happened!'

Doc paused for a moment, his face in shadow; then he stepped forward, his face expressionless.

'Marty,' he breathed. 'What have you done?'

Marty tried to say something, but found that he couldn't get the words past the painful lump in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes.

'Insane!' cried Doc, striding over to the bench and snatching up the newspaper cutting that declared him insane. 'I've been locked up! What have I suffered in this world? How many other people have suffered?'

There were no words in any world or time to describe how Marty felt at that moment. 'I'm sorry, Doc,' he managed to choke out.

'Sorry!' yelled Doc, almost hysterically. 'Sorry! Sorry won't cut it! Why don't you say sorry to the other me and the other people's whose lives you've ruined, and see how they take it!'

He strode towards the door and out of the garage. Einstein whined and padded quickly after him.

Marty hurried out into the night after them. The street was deserted, and the flickering streetlights only deepened the shadows. The DeLorean was parked on the kerb, and Doc was already climbing into it.

As Marty approached, Doc slammed down the door and rolled down the window. 'No, Marty,' he shouted, his eyes wild. 'You can stay here!'

'Stay here? Doc, are you insane?' shouted Marty, struggling to make his voice heard above the wind.

'You made this world, now stay in it!'

'But where are you going?'

'Anywhere – the past preferably! I have no wish to stay in this hell!'

'What about the plan? I can get the information off Biff, we can stop this from ever happening – '

'What's the point?' yelled Doc. 'Will it eliminate the fact that so many people have suffered because of you and your greediness?' He started up the car.

'No, Doc,' shouted Marty, banging desperately on the DeLorean's exterior, causing pain to shoot up his wrists. 'Please, Doc, don't leave me here – '

But Doc was pulling away from he kerb.

As he revved up the car, he looked at Marty, and Marty looked back.

He didn't try to run after Doc anymore. He just stood miserably on the kerb and said brokenly, 'You're my best friend, Doc.'

For a moment he thought Doc hesitated; but then the car roared away down the road, leaving Marty behind. There were three booms, a flash of light, and the DeLorean and Doc were gone.