Disclaimer: Emmett L. Brown and Verne Newton Brown do not belong to this writer. Copyright of characters and mentioned characters belong to Universal Studios. Mentioned instances of the actual animated series again belong to Universal Studios.

Vignette Six: Troublemakers

"You know very well I don't like grounding you."

"Then why do you gotta do it so much!"

Doctor Emmett Brown sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was pushing eighty and at this moment he felt that number. Not many seventy-nine-year-olds had a twelve-year-old for a son. Normalacy had never been an adjective of his life. He had two sons for seventy-nine years. The eldest one was well on his way in high school. The youngest… well, needed a bit more parental aid. Normalacy didn't seem to be Verne's adjective either. Not many boys filled a whole swim team's sneakers with lime jello. Jello of all things!

Jules never had pulled such a stunt. Verne had stunts, Jules had experiments. There were loud noises and there were big troubles. Both received groundings if boundaries were broken. Doctor Brown recalled several memories of Verne toddling after Jules. His big brother always had his focus of attention, even if Jules didn't want himself to be. Clara would watch them play, hug his arm, and say that life was just perfect.

What had happened to those days? Doc was sure all parents asked that question, but really what had happened? Verne used to be Jules' second shadow. His eldest was in high school, and already proving himself to his teachers and disproving the stereotype that all teenagers were irresponsible apes. Would it have been so bad for Verne to copy that?

Doc stopped those thoughts right then and there. He was being hard-headed and he knew it. It was not fair to compare his sons like they were food items in the cupboard. They were individual human beings. Ones who were nearing the rocky years of male adolescence. The years where baseball and bike riding were replaced with girls and self-image issues. Last night, he had happened upon Jules examining his face in the bathroom mirror. Indeed a rocky life period was coming up sooner than he would have liked.

He glanced back at Verne, whom was still waiting for a response. He was still short for his age, still didn't care if his hair was uncombed, and still wore that novelty coon skin cap. The hat that had been nearly everywhere since he was a baby. Doc was tempted to stroke the fake fur, but knew it would result in a harsh respounce from his offspring.

Verne did have positive traits too. It was just hard to see them at a time like this.

"Let us go over this again," Doc said with renewed patience. He sat down behind the study's desk. The wood reflected shadows from the dusk outside. "Where did you get all of that jellotin mixture?"

Verne's answer came with a shrug. "Pretending to be a food drive. If it counts, I did give the money donations to a real charity."

Well, at least this child had spasms of honesty.

"What did you do with the jello afterwards?" Doc asked. He put forth an expression of calmness, as if to tell his boy in facial form: See, son. I'm trying to understand. I want to undertand. I don't want to punish you all the time.

Verne didn't seem to get the message and if he did, he probably ignored it. "You know. Didn't the gym teacher screech it out of the phone?"

"I want to hear it from your perspective," Doc said. He noticed Verne lean back in the armchair a bit. A smile creeped onto his face, like he was getting ready to brag.

"It wasn't easy," Verne said. "I had a whole red wagon full of the boxes. It took awhile to just get it up the gym steps and into the joint. Took even longer to get in the locker rooms with the janitor still around. What kind of day and age is it when you can't trust a kid with a red wagon?"

Doc didn't answer that.

"Anyways…" Verne continued, getting even more comfortable on the couch. "I got in. Dad, I've never been in a locker room before. They're mostly for the older guys who stink so much they can't go back to class. There's showers in there like the one in our bathroom and lockers and junk. I'm telling' you, I'm never ever going to take a shower in there with a bunch of other guys and girls. No way!"

Doc didn't interject. Neither did he point out that girls most likely possessed their own locker room.

"No way, no way, no way." Verne said. "I thought that as I found the lockers I was looking for. You know how I found 'em? All the guys on the swim team put these blue dolphin stickers on their lockers. Some stickers were on the locks, too, but those things were no match for the epi-laser 2.0!"

That's where that invention got off to, Doc thought.

"After that I grabbed their sneakers, added water, mixed jello, and…" Verne's voice faltered a bit, like a puppy knowing he's piddled on the rug. "Now I'm dead."

A brief silence was broken by the scientist. "Sneakers?"

"Yeah, sneakers." Verne repeated, surpised. Apparently, this was not what he had expected his father to say. Doc leaned back in his seat and tapped his chin. Verne waited for his death sentence.

"Why."

"What?" Verne asked.

"Not what," Doc said and stared expressionless at his son. "Why. I've known you since you popped into this world, Verne. According to all those times of calls from school and complaints from neighbors, I am positive that you never do the things you chose to do with the intention of hurting people for the fun of it. Now son, why."

"Uh…" Verne stammered. His hand went up to the withered tail of his coon skin cap. He tugged it. "Well, um, I definitely didn't do it to tick off those guys… I… wanted to make someone feel better."

Now this was getting interesting. Doc quirked an eyebrow. "I estimate that now the time comes for the answer of who?"

Verne looked down at his socks. "Jules."

"All right," Doc said. In one nano-second his tone switched from Questioning Scientist to Determined Father. A switch he had gotten used to over the years. "I want to know everything from a complete synopsis. Now."

Verne said nothing, only looked at the door.

"Verne Newton Brown, I said now."

His tone did the trick. Verne spilt out everything and everyone. The whole shebang out in one waterfall of words.

"Jules didn't tell you about this, but he wanted to try a sport. A sport! Even I didn't believe it when he told me. I mean, he can swing a good curveball but man-oh-man does he stink at everything else a-and when he told me I thought it was gonna be some kind of experiment or something. Nope, he wanted to make the swim team. So he tried out and I watched after school. He was great, Dad. Almost as good as he is in class. The gym teacher said he was sure member but the team had to have a conference. Yeah, a conference. I bet they were thinking of a way to make him go away. They're pretty anti-nerd at the high school."

Doc tried to keep up with his son's relentless recap. So far, he had learned what had been going on behind closed doors this week:

1. Jules had tried out for the Hill Valley High School Swim Team.

2. Verne went to the the high school to watch him.

"What happened next?" Doc asked. A gut feeling murged inside him, warning him that the upcoming speech was not going to be nice.

"Those guys came up with a way to scare him off. When me and Jules came out of the gym, they followed us. At first, I thought they were just walking behind us but it kept up for too long. When we were at the quad where everyone else was, they attacked. I got knocked over and Jules yelped, actually it was more of a "Yipe!" I looked up and saw more of Jules than I'd want too. His trunks were around his ankles."

The funny feeling inside Doc got stronger. It wormed his way up to his stomach, creating a threatening sense of control loss. What had happened to his son was making him feel ill. How could a child to that to another child? Especially in those rocky years? What was to gain from it?

The question answered itself: Humiliation.

"And thus you hatched a plan to fill their sneakers with jello." Doc finished.

"They pantsed him! Right in front of all the girls and teachers and everyone! What was I supposed to do? Everyone was laughing at him, Dad. Jules is too perfect to do anything about it. Jeez Louise! You could set all his stuff on fire and he'd just look at you and say "I'm very disappointed in you" and walk away!"

"I know, Verny." Doc said in a sigh. True, his eldest had the ability to hold a mature head high when it came to hooligans. That was both a good thing and a bad thing. He tried to control the sick feeling. "But this isn't about, Jules. You can't lose your head whenever things like this happen. Think conversation, not confrentation."

"Sometimes you need a little confrontation." Verne replied and walked right out of the den. Doc stood up.

"Verne, we're not done here."

"I am."

A door slammed by the time Doc entered the hallway. It was the door to Verne's room and Clara was beside it, holding a laundry basket and already knocking.

"Verne, honey, why did you slam your door?" She asked. Doc was beside by her when the answer came.

"Leave me alone!"

Doc rapped on the door. "Verny, I understand you're plight but-"

"No buts, go away!"

He tried to stop it, but an exhausted sigh escaped him. A female hand touched his shoulder, rubbing it in a sympathetic way. He reached up and patted his wife's hand. "I'll take care of this. Don't you worry."

Clara merely nodded and went down the stairs with the laundry basket. Doc watched her before knocking on the door.

"They really pulled his trunks down?" Doc said into the wood.

"All the way," came an answer. The scientist turned around to see his other son. Jules stood in the hallway, a book from the den in hand. Doc couldn't see the title, but he could see it was rather heavy reading. The type of reading that could take up a whole weekend.

"Verne told me." The scientist said. Jules didn't nodd or say anything. He didn't blink. A millenium seemed to pass before Jules turned on his heels and headed for his room.

Doc tried the door again. "Verne?"

A brief pause and then: "What?"

"Do you want an answer to your previous question?"

A thump of stomping socks came toward the door. Doc stepped back as the knob turned. The wood creaked open from the squeaky hinges. One blue-colored eye appeared along with a strand of blond hair. "My question?"

"Yes, your question." Doc said, kneeling to meet the eye level. "But if you want the answer, you're going to have to allow me entrance."

The door creaked some more, opening just enough for him to squeeze inside. He nearly tripped to his death over some Hot Wheels track. The discarded materials and debris of Verne's room proved more death traps. However, he was able to make his way safely to the bed. Verne had his arms crossed, and eyed him with a frown the whole way. When he sat, Verne still stood.

"What's the answer?" Verne demanded.

"I don't like to ground you," Doc said. "I never have and I never will. You have to understand that all adults never want to punish their children. When you become a father you will come across your child with her hand down the cookie jar and then what? I'll tell you: you'll have to punish her. There's no way around it. It's what's best for the child, whether they know it or not. Well, now you know."

Verne sat down next to him. "It still sucks."

"Yes, it still sucks." Doc said and received a perplexed look from his son. "But getting angry and doing irresponsible things doesn't help. It just leads to more groundings and creates an unfortunate cycle. I'm not shaming you for making mistakes, but neither am I haroulding you for making them. Verny, you have a great mind but-"

"I said I'm sick of buts." Verne said and went to stand up. Doc put an arm around the boy's shoulder, preventing him from doing so.

"But," the scientist continued. "I wish you would let more people see it."

It completely caught the boy off guard. He looked up at his father and his father noticed the confused state. Verne was used to Buts like "… but you act like an infantile primate." or "… but you don't think before you act." Such statements could make the self-esteem receive a beating. Doc winced from the ping in his gut. Yes, he had to make more positive comments to Verne than negative. The boy may be a troublemaker but, hell, so was he!

Flashes came from his memory. Years four through twelve breached his vision. Missing books, broken household items, tumbles in the yard, a broken limb or two, explorations throughout Hill Valley, lectures from his mother, lectures from his father, and the huge exploration of all explorations. Once again, the theory of Verne's genetic traits reminded him of calling the kettle black. Oh yes, there were possibly more than half the personality traits of his that befell into that DNA structure.

There were more than he thought of his own father's traits befelling into his own DNA structure. Could it be? No, he was always available to Verne. Well, not when he was in the middle of an experiment or running around in the Enterprises van. For the big things he was there! That counted in a boy's lifetime, didn't it? His gaze moved to his son.

For a mere second he saw himself. Those blue eyes aside. The messy blond hair, the childish pout, and the rumpled look from playing. It was like him sitting there during this lecture. Another memory threatened to whisk his mind back to childhood. He suppressed it, letting it die out in the back of his skull. Verne sitting there still held reflection. Although, if he was Verne than that made his present self his father.

"Pop, why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"You know something Verne," Doc began and put an arm around his son's shoulder. Verne actually allowed him to do so. The confusion still played on his face. "Whether you like or not, we both are practically one in the same."

"I think you mean Jules." Verne said. He didn't grumble it this time.

"No," Doc said, with more strength. "I mean you." Before he could realize it, he started laughing.

Now Verne was really confused. "What?"

Doc couldn't control his chuckling. "We… we are so much alike…" He tried to catch his breath. "I can't believe I didn't realize it before. You are really my boy!"

He ruffled the fake fur on Verne's cap. No angry reaction happened since Verne was laughing now too.

"A little too much alike…" Doc said between the laughter. He swallowed then hugged his son closer to him. "Yes, a little too much alike."

Verne eased out of his laughing. "But what about Jules?"

"I'm going down to the high school and deal with that swim team. I bet you a visit from Old Man Brown will set them straight."

Troublemakers now, troublemakers forever.