November 14, 1955
2:30 PM PST

"You're right, Marty," Doc said, as the duo were about to leave Boot Hill Cemetery. "I know too much, already. Better that I not attempt to uncover the circumstances of my own... future." Then calling to his dog, Doc shouted, "Copernicus! Come home, boy!"

"I'll get him, Doc," offered Marty. "Copernicus!"

Marty could hear Copernicius whining.

"C'mon, let's go home, boy," Marty called.

Copernicus began to whine again.

"What's wrong?" asked Marty, as he began to feel concerned. "What's wrong, Copernicus? C'mon, let's go home. C'mon."

Copernicus was standing in front of a gravestone. Marty put the flashlight onto it, but didn't notice what the gravestone said: "Here Lies Emmett Brown, Died, September 7, 1885. Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara." Marty began to walk off - then, realizing something, he stopped. He turned back, and began to read the writing. Marty couldn't believe what he saw!

"Doc! Doc!" Marty called out, panicked. "Come here! Quick!"

"What's wrong, Marty?" asked Doc, concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're not far off, Doc," said Marty, as tears came to his eyes. "Look at this."

Doc read the gravestone - then clutched his chest. "Oh! Great Scott!"

"Check this out," called out Marty. Then, reading, he continued, "Died, September 7, 1885." Turning to Doc, Marty added, "That's one week, after you wrote the letter!" Tuning back to the gravestone, Marty continued, "Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara." Marty stood up, as he gasped, "Who the hell is Clara?"

"Marty, please don't stand there!" shouted Doc, as he sounded agitated. Marty couldn't blame him. It would be very freaking, spotting your own gravestone!

Struggling to blink back tears, Marty stepped away from the grave. "Oh, right, sorry," stammered Marty. "I gotta get another picture."

Marty then took a picture of the gravestone. I wonder who Clara is, mused Marty. Did he actually find love in 1885, within the week of writing his letter to me? Even before finding out about the gunshot, Marty had considered going back to 1885 - and rescuing him. He figured that Doc, secretly, wished for Marty to do just that - but that he was trying to put on a brave act. Marty know Doc better than that, as they've been friends for over ten years. Marty knew, without a doubt, that he needed to rescue his friend.

"... shot in the back by Buford Tannen, over a matter of 80 dollars," Doc read, from the gravestone. Then Doc gasped, "What kind of a future do you call that?"

Marty glanced between Doc and the gravestone, as he tried to take everything in. He knew that the Tannens were far from being nice people. He thought of the dreadful 1985 that he just came from, where Biff was terribly rich. Biff actually boasted about shooting Marty's father, George. Still, this Buford Tannen seemed to be worse.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Doc!" wailed Marty, throwing his arms around Doc. Then, beginning to cry, Marty said, "It's all my fault, Doc! It's all my fault! It's all..." Marty could no longer speak, he was crying so hard.

Doc held Marty close, as he whispered, "Please, Marty, please don't blame yourself."

"But I, uh... I, uh..." Marty sobbed. He was unable to speak. I must go back and prevent this tragedy, Marty thought, miserably. I cannot let this happen to him! I cannot let this happen! Marty tried to stop crying, but was unsuccessful. He finally stopped struggling, realizing that it was better just to let the tears flow.

Doc gently rocked Marty back and forth, murmuring, "Just let it all out, Marty. I'm touched that you care for me so much." Doc was trying to hold back his own tears, realizing that he must be strong for Marty. He was more concerned about Marty's emotional well-being, then he was about his future - or was it past - impending death.

Marty was obviously not your typical teenage boy. Oh, sure, he had the hunger for adventure and the skills to fight, that was typical of young men Marty's age. Still, it was obvious that Marty also had a soft, sensitive, and emotional side - which he figured to somewhat uncommon in men Marty's age. He realized how much he would miss Marty, once he left. He wished that Marty could stay in 1955, only he realized that Marty had a life of his own... back in 1985.

One thing was certain, Marty was definitely one of a kind. He wondered how long it would be, before he met Marty, again. It had been some time, since he felt as though he could really connect to anyone.

"Marty," Doc asked, softly, "I was wondering. When, uh... When have we first met?"

"In April," Marty whispered, through sobs, "April of 1975. I was almost seven."

"Sorry, Marty," Doc apologized, embarrassed. "I, uh, should've waited until you were done crying... to ask."

"It's okay, Doc," Marty whispered. "I really hate crying like this, but you... You mean so much to me. You were there for me... when my parents weren't."

"Shh, don't talk anymore," Doc spoke, gently. "Just let it all out. You'll feel better... when you're done crying. I understand how upsetting this is."

Marty realized that Doc was right. He had to admit that it felt good to cry. He didn't quite hate crying, just that doing so tended to embarrass him. Then again, this was just his very best friend from childhood, Doc. There was obviously no need to really be embarrassed about crying in front of Doc. In fact, it felt good - being comforted by Doc. This just made him realize how much more he would miss Doc, if he didn't go back to 1885. Marty really held unto Doc, tightly - as he, freely and fully, gave way to tears.

After about 20 minutes, Marty's sobs finally began to subside.

"Thanks, Doc," Marty said, softly, lifting up his tear-stained face. "I promise, Doc, I sure won't let you die. I mean, I've already seen you get shot! I'll come back... and prevent that from ever happening."

"Are you sure you wish to do that, Marty?" Doc asked, gently.

"Yes, I'm sure, Doc,' insisted Marty. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, Doc. I need you! Do you remember, yesterday afternoon, when I helped you tape the letter together? I wish you would've just let me..."

"Okay! Okay, Marty, I'm convinced,' stammered Doc, not wanting to see Marty cry again. "I really you really do care for me. I do apologize, Marty, for not listening to you. I don't want myself to die that way, either."

"Right, I know," replied Marty, managing a small soft smile. "You really are my close friend, Doc. When those terrorists shot you - it just tore me up, inside."

Doc and Marty embraced, once again.

'It'll be a long time, Marty, until April of 1975,' said Doc, sighing. 'I guess it'll be worth the wait. You really are one precious young man, Marty. You know that?"

"Thanks, Doc," replied Marty, smiling. "I, uh, I guess you're glad... that I returned to 1955. I know that I gave you a fright, but..."

"I was too stunned, Marty," Doc explained, "to really think fourth-dimensionally. In all honesty, though, I am glad that you're back - even though I know that it wasn't quite under the best of circumstances."

Marty just flashed his friend a lopsided smile. Doc, Marty, and Copernicus all turned to head for home. Marty really did owe much to his scientist friend, Dr. Emmett Brown.