Marty McFly swallowed hard as he shut the door to his truck and headed up the pathway to the home of his best friend, Emmett Brown. He ducked as he jogged towards the farmhouse, doing his best to avoid the sheets of sleet coming down and not succeeding really well. The weather had been beyond foul the last few days, with system after system of rain and cold gusting through the area; one minute it would be raining, the next snowing. Most of the time it was somewhere in between. The current climate was just one more thing Marty felt he could use in the carefully compiled argument he had spent a few days building. He could only hope that he caught Doc in a good mood, or all of his persuasive preparations would probably go down the tubes.

Ascending the steps to the porch, Marty paused a moment before knocking to brush the slush from his hair and wipe his feet on the cheerful "Welcome" mat set out before the door. Once he pounded on the door a couple times, he had to wait only a minute before it was thrown open by twelve-year-old Verne. The blond boy looked disappointed at the sight of the young man.

"Oh, hi, Marty," he said, stepping aside to allow the twenty-one-year-old passage inside.

"What's the matter?" Marty asked him as Verne shut the door. "You were expecting someone else?"

Verne shrugged, his mannerisms resembling his father's more by the day, just as the rest of him was. "Sorta. Mom and Dad ordered me a game for my birthday last month, but it was back ordered. They called yesterday, though, and said it's on its way, so I was hoping it might show up today. It's been too boring lately."

"Yeah, the weather's been a real drag," Marty said, understanding. "Sorry to disappoint you, then. Is your dad around?"

"Yeah, he's keeping Emmy busy in the family room while Mom's at the store getting stuff for Thanksgiving. No way can you take her anywhere, now, and not have it take forever." Verne rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with his sister, now sixteen days short of her second birthday.

"Yeah, I guess so," Marty said. "Jennifer said when she sat for her a few weeks ago that she practically had to hogtie her to keep her out of things."

The boy nodded. "Ever since she figured out how to climb, it's been a major pain," he said. "I can't wait 'til she's got enough brains to know how to listen to what we say and follow it."

"I'm sure she does already," Marty said as he followed Verne to the family room, at the back of the house. "But kids can be smart enough to know how long they can get away with things, too, and I'm sure your sister is no different."

Verne shrugged again. "Maybe if Mom an' Dad actually punished her, once in a while. I think she's getting away with way more than Jules or me ever did." That said, he veered off towards the kitchen as Marty stopped in the doorway of the family room.

Doc, he saw, was in the process of snatching his daughter up off the floor and away from the back of the home entertainment console. "No," he said firmly to her as he lifted her into the air.

"No," Emily repeated in the same kind of tone. "No, no, no!"

Marty couldn't resist grinning. "Sounds like she does know better," he said, his voice causing the scientist to turn around in surprise as he juggled the squirming bundle of toddler in his arms. At the sight of the young man, Emily giggled, stretching one arm out towards him.

"No is her favorite word, now," Doc said, clearly exasperated, as Marty stepped into the room. "I must say I was dreading this 'into everything' phase. It was a real nightmare with Jules and Verne -- and in some ways it was a lot easier back then, since there weren't so many things to break lying around within their reach."

"It'll pass," Marty said, ticking Emily under the chin and earning a delighted laugh from the girl. "Of course, then you get to look forward to toilet training and all that. I can't say that I'm in any rush to have kids. I like 'em and all, but it's kinda nice to hand them back to the parents when they start to get cranky or upset."

"There's plenty of time in your future for that," Doc agreed as he headed over for the playpen set up in one corner of the room. It was almost a joke, putting Emily in there; as Verne had mentioned earlier, now that she had taught herself the art of climbing, there really wasn't much that could hold her captive. Marty pounced on Doc's words immediately, finding that a perfect lead in for what he wanted to talk about.

"You know, that's sort of why I came over here... I have a favor to ask."

Doc looked up as he set his daughter down with the half dozen toys. Emily immediately began to whimper. "What's that?" he asked with a trace of suspicion.

Marty took a deep breath, crossed his fingers behind his back for luck, then plunged ahead. "I wanted to propose to Jennifer tomorrow, Doc."

The inventor blinked, then smiled. "That's wonderful, Marty -- congratulations."

"Thanks. But I wanted to do it in a real special way and I thought... well, could I borrow the DeLorean?"

Doc studied him a moment, ignoring Emily, who was already on her feet and struggling her way over the partition to freedom. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Relieved that his friend hadn't outright told him no, Marty immediately outlined his plans. "Nothing that'll get us into any trouble," he assured him. "I've been doing some research on it, and I figure we can head back to the Polynesian islands they have in the South Pacific, in December of 1500 or something, and find a deserted island since there were so many of 'em back then. I'll make a couple trips, first, so I can set up a picnic dinner on one of the beaches, then bring Jen back with me around sunset and we can have dinner then. And I'll pop the question. I know she'll love it, Doc. She's really going crazy with this weather and school and all that, since she's taking eighteen credits this term."

Doc mulled the words over as he saved Emily from a hard fall to the carpet and plunked her back in the playpen. "Why did you select that date?" he asked.

"December of 1500? Well, because it's south of the equator, the weather is more like summer in December than, in July, and European explorers hadn't found out about that place for almost a hundred more years. There's also a ton of islands in that area -- a hundred and eighteen according to what I found out -- and I think if we did leave anything behind -- not that we wouldn't, not at all, I swear -- it would've gotten taken away by the ocean or something long before people would show up."

The inventor looked faintly amused. "I suppose you have done some homework," he said.

Marty nodded earnestly. "I wanted to make sure I found a place where nothing could possibly go wrong," he said. "And except for the weather -- which I couldn't really find out for a particular day that far back -- I think I got it. There's no people around and that seems to create most of the problems we have. We'll be there a couple hours, tops."

"I'm assuming that this would be a surprise to Jennifer?"

The young man nodded again. "I'm just going to tell her that I want to take her out to dinner and catch a movie, since all the new flicks are opening up tomorrow for the holiday weekend. I already talked to her dad about proposing, though, and he gave me his permission -- I know Jen would like that I did that. He's sworn to secrecy, though. If her mom finds out, I can kiss off the element of surprise right there."

Doc was quiet a moment as he once more prevented Emily from escaping -- and earned himself a rather angry "No!" from the toddler when he set her once more at the bottom of her playpen. "You wanted to do this tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow evening, preferably, yeah. I figure then Jen can tell all her nosy relatives about our engagement at Thanksgiving, then, and escape all those questions on when I'm gonna pop the question and all that. They really nagged her about it last Christmas and it drove her crazy."

The inventor didn't say anything immediately, and Marty hurried to get his last digs in. "We'll be careful, Doc, I promise. Neither of us want to end up creating the end of the world or winding up in some alternate reality from hell. And I wouldn't ask you about borrowing one of the time machines if it wasn't super important, now."

"You're going to let him borrow one of the machines?"

The question came from Jules, who had apparently been passing by the family room. He stopped just outside the doorway and frowned at his father, looking annoyed. "Why are you letting Marty do that when you went ballistic about me using one for a history project?"

"That was different," Doc told his almost fourteen-year-old son immediately, "Marty's a little older than you, Jules, and I don't think going back for history projects is very smart, anymore. You know what happened last time we did that."

"Yeah, right," the teenager said, not sounding convinced. "But that was more than a year ago, Dad. And you haven't taken Verne or I along on anything since Emily was born."

"Actually, I have asked, since then, but both you and your brother declined. You asking to go back to Greece was the first I'd heard about you changing your mind on that matter."

Jules frowned, rather sullenly. So far, from what Marty knew, the oldest Brown child wasn't rebelling too much in his teens, even after entering his freshman year at Hill Valley High that September. He wasn't sure if what he was seeing now was some new development or just Jules in a grumpy mood. "Well, I'm over what happened a couple years ago," he said. "And I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. Marty was almost my age when you met him, and I still get the feeling that you would've let him use a time machine back then instead of your own flesh and blood son."

Doc sighed. "Jules, we'll discuss this later, all right?"

"You bet we will," Jules said, rather smartly, before continuing on his way down the hall. A moment later he heard a door slam shut. Marty looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something I should know about?" he asked.

Doc shrugged vaguely as he grabbed a wayward Emily, again, and put her back in the playpen. Emily's lower lip trembled at this third injustice and she started to cry, obviously frustrated. "Probably the beginning of Jules starting that wonderful separation process known as adolescent rebelling," he said over his daughter's noisy complaints. "He's been acting rather moody the last month or so, and this issue about borrowing a time machine is just one of the more recent matters he's been arguing with us about."

"So he wants to borrow one of the machines and go off alone to check out history for a school project?"

The inventor waved his hand in a so-so manner as he tried to distract the unhappy Emily with some of the toys surrounding her. "I don't think he's naive enough to think that he could actually get away with borrowing one of the machines for a solo trip -- he doesn't even have his driver's permit, yet -- but he would like for me to take him, at least. But after what happened in Chicago with you and me, I'm a little hesitant, to say the least."

"Yeah," Marty agreed, shuddering a little from the memory of that trip, about a year and a half ago, now. "That was definitely a mega disaster.... Has Jules ever been on a trip that's gone wrong? I mean, really really wrong?"

"Yes," Doc said. "About two years ago. I think that was a very large reason on why he and Verne declined coming along on the trips I've made since then. It shook them up rather badly, but I knew it wouldn't last forever." He sighed, almost wistfully, as he finally found Emily's favorite toy buried under a collection of stuffed animals -- a plastic computer with the soul purpose of matching colors and numbers with commands -- and handed it to her. The little girl stopped crying almost immediately. "I should've been expecting something like this, I suppose, and I know it's going to be really bad when they hit seventeen -- since that was your age when you first started using the machines without my supervision."

"Not that I wanted to," Marty said. "At least not at first. There really wasn't much of a choice then, you know?"

"I know that. And I also know that because of your experiences during that weekend that you quickly earned a respect for the act of time travel and knew it shouldn't be something attempted for pure frivolity. Oh, not that I'm against pleasure trips, by any means, but in spite of what Jules and Verne might've seen and experienced on their fourth dimensional travels, I don't think they're very aware of the problems that can happen."

"I guess so," Marty said. "Just don't let them get mad at me if they think you're playing favorites. I still remember how pissed Jules was when I first met him over something that really wasn't my fault."

"Yes," Doc said. "In spite of that, though, I think your request isn't too unreasonable."

Marty didn't know what he was talking about for a second, then he grinned. "Really?" he asked hopefully. "So you're gonna let me do it?"

Doc nodded. "So long as you come over an hour before you want to leave, tomorrow, so I can go over with you all the points of the machine. There might be a modification or two since you last drove it and I want to make sure you know how everything works."

"No problem," Marty said immediately. "This is great, Doc! Thanks!"

"Just try to make this one of the few time machine favors you ask me for this year.... I don't know how long Jules is going to nag me about time machine privileges, but the less ammo he has for it, the better."

By the time Marty picked up Jennifer for their date, he had been working hard on his plan for a few hours. After showing up at the Browns around four that afternoon, he had allowed Doc to lecture him to the point of burnout and demonstrate how to operate all of the fairly new installations in the DeLorean. Marty parroted it all back, but he sincerely hoped that there wouldn't be any major or unexpected problems back there, especially mechanical. He knew his way around a car, sort of, but not one tricked out in time traveling equipment and circuitry.

Once Doc had explained things to his satisfaction, Marty had taken the DeLorean back in time to the date and time he had specified to Doc -- December first, 1500 at 8:00 P.M. -- and scoped out the islands in person. He found a small one that looked completely deserted from the air, and boasted a wide, pretty beach with plenty of room for the DeLorean and a picnic sight. Marty had landed the car on the sand, as far away as he could from the crashing waves, then taken the supplies he had brought along and set them up. It wasn't much -- a tape player with some of Jennifer's favorite love songs, a large picnic blanket filled with still-warm take out from Jennifer's favorite Italian restaurant, as well as the proper dishes and utensils, a few Tiki torches he had borrowed from a friend at school, some soda, as well as a concealed bottle of champaign, chilling in a cooler, and a small chocolate mousse cake -- but it was enough for his purposes. It wasn't like he or Jennifer was planning to stay there for a few hours, after all.

Once Marty had set up things to his satisfaction, going so far as to light the torches in the sand, he returned to the DeLorean and headed back to Twentieth Century Hill Valley and Doc's place to leave the scientist the requested information he had asked for -- a precise date, time, and location on where he would be, as well as the promise to return the DeLorean back to him no later than seven P.M., tops. It was a promise Marty had no problem in making and so, wishing the young man luck on his quest, Doc allowed him to leave.

Marty quickly got the DeLorean in its invisibly holographic disguise, then flew it over to Jennifer's house, landing it one house away, lest her parents watch them leave. Before he left the vehicle, Marty grabbed a couple things off the passenger seat -- a single red rose and a dark colored bandana -- then strolled up to the Parker door with both objects hidden from view, behind his back.

Jennifer pulled open the door at his knock with a pleasant -- and, Marty thought, privately delighted, innocent -- smile. "Hi, Marty," she said. "Right on time -- impressive."

Marty nodded and took a step forward. "I -- what are you wearing?" He swept his eyes quickly over the obviously warm sweater and ankle length skirt Jennifer had dressed in.

"Clothes...." Jennifer said, clearly not getting it, staring at her boyfriend as if he had said one of the dumbest things in the world. "Usually a good idea for going out in public."

"I know, but you're supposed to dress for warmer weather, remember?"

The young woman wrinkled her nose. "I thought that was a joke," she said. "It's twenty five degrees out tonight!"

Marty shook his head. "I've got short sleeves on under the coat," he said. "Trust me, Jen, you might be a little more comfortable in something cooler."

His girlfriend looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Is that so? Can I ask why?"

The young man shook his head again. "Nope, sorry. It's a surprise."

Jennifer studied him a moment, then shrugged. "All right," she said. "Clothes for warm weather, you said? Give me a few minutes."

She left him in the foyer, heading for her bedroom down the hall. Her father, Michael Parker, passed her as she went and glanced at Marty as he walked through on the way to the living room, a book in hand. "Is it set for tonight?" he asked softly, once the sound of Jennifer's bedroom door closing had reached their ears.

"Yeah," Marty confirmed in equally soft tones. "If everything goes as planned." He smiled, nervously.

"It'll go fine," Mr. Parker assured him with a wink. He left Marty to wait alone as Jennifer finished changing. She returned within ten minutes, now attired in shorts, sandals, and a short sleeved button down blouse.

"Is this more what you had in mind?" she asked uncertainly, glancing out the window with a faint frown.

"Perfect," Marty said, giving her a kiss. "Just put on a warm coat 'til we get there."

Jennifer was already reaching into the closet next to the front door. "Where's 'there'?" she asked casually, selecting a black wool trenchcoat.

"It's a surprise, remember?" Marty said, grinning. He handed her the rose once she had bundled up in the coat. She accepted it with a smile, but the smile turned puzzled when he held out the bandana to her a moment later.

"What's that for?"

"Your eyes. It's a blindfold. You're gonna need to wear it."

Jennifer fingered the dark colored fabric with the same suspicion she had worn on her face when Marty had asked her to change. "Let me guess -- so you can surprise me?"

"Yeah. I'll lead you and make sure you don't fall or anything."

Jennifer tapped one of her carefully polished nails against her chin, studying him through eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "We're not going to the movies, are we?" she said.

Her boyfriend answered her with a grin. "It's a surprise!" he said cheerfully. "C'mon, Jen. Turn around and let me put this around your eyes. You'll like it, I promise."

Humoring him, Jennifer turned and allowed Marty to tie the scarf around her head, proclaiming herself unable to see anything. He checked to see if she was fibbing, but when she really didn't flinch or react as he waved his hand before her concealed eyes, he knew she was good. Slipping an arm around her waist to keep her steady, Marty let his girlfriend out of her house and down the street, stopping when he reached the area he'd parked the DeLorean to switch the illusion off.

"You're sure you can't give me a clue?" Jennifer asked as he fumbled around in his pocket for the tiny remote attached to the keys.

"Nope, though I'm sure you'll be able to catch some part of what I've got in mind soon...."

Jennifer smiled. "I think I already have," she admitted, not venturing a verbal guess. Marty clicked off the DeLorean's invisibility, then unlocked the passenger side door and opened it up.

"Watch your head," he warned Jennifer as he guided her down into the seat. Once he had her settled, he straightened up -- only to completely forget his own warning and smack the top of his head into the hanging door. Hearing the sound, and the curse Marty couldn't hold back, Jennifer started to giggle, covering her mouth with one hand to smother the sound. Marty smiled ruefully as he rubbed his head with one hand and shut the door with the other. By the time he slipped into the driver's seat, she had gotten ahold of her humor.

"So, Marty, what time period were you planning on having us visit?" she asked casually as he started the car.

Marty feigned innocence. "What makes you think we're going anywhere?"

Jennifer turned her face towards him, though it was impossible for her eyes to look at him at the moment. The tilt of her head made it clear she was amused. "Well, unless Doc's letting you borrow the DeLorean to drive me around town -- or to the airport since there's no way the weather outside remotely qualifies as warm -- you must have something like that in mind.... How'd you manage to get Doc to loan you the car?"

Marty shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see the gesture. "I'm not saying anything 'til later," he told her, switching the illusion back on and taking the car up into the sky. "Hold on, it might get a little bit bumpy."

The transit to the island he had left went smoothly, and Marty reappeared over the picnic setup just one minute after his departure. Less than five minutes after getting Jennifer in the car, he was on the ground, parked carefully away from the roaring surf. He got out of the car after turning things off and shucking off his now too-warm winter coat, then quickly ran over to Jennifer's side of the car to open her door and help her out. She stumbled a little with the sand under her feet, and Marty helped her out of her coat.

"All right," he said, leading her towards his set up. "I'm gonna take the blindfold off, now."

Jennifer nodded, her face carrying a look of anticipation about it. Marty untied the bandana and dropped it away from her eyes, standing in such a way so he could see the look on her face. Jennifer blinked once, then her eyes went wide at the sight of the picnic and a delighted smile broke out across her face. She turned quickly to look at Marty, as well as the rest of their surroundings.

"Oh my God..." she murmured as she turned around and around, an expression of utter disbelief on her face. "Oh, Marty, this is... Wow, this is so... nice!"

"A tropical deserted island," Marty said, grinning at her. "And a picnic at sunset. I thought you might like it...."

"Oh, God, yes, I love it! Oh, this is so incredible!" She turned back to look at him, her smile as wide as his. "How did you manage to pull something like this off?"

"Wasn't that hard," Marty said vaguely, not wanting to go into great detail until later, after he proposed. Jennifer turned a skeptical eye on him as she slipped her arms around him and stepped close.

"Don't be so modest," she said softly. "You went to a lot of trouble for this... and it's not even my birthday. It's a wonderful surprise, Marty." She kissed him, showing just how much she appreciated the gesture. Marty let it continue a moment, then quickly broke the embrace, not wanting to get sidetracked from The Plan.

"C'mon," he said, taking her by the hand to lead her to the picnic site. "I got your favorite stuff to eat... the chicken Caesar salad from Giovanni's and some of that mousse cake you like."

Jennifer smiled at him again as he helped her sit down on the blanket. "What did I do to deserve all this?" she asked.

Once more, Marty was vague in his answer. "It seemed like you needed something like this," he admitted, more honestly than Jennifer would understand, now. "Especially after this term at school."

Jennifer shuddered at that reminder. "I guess," she agreed. "And please, don't bring up school right now and finals in a few weeks, not if you want me to enjoy this fully...."

"You got it," Marty promised, opening the picnic basket up to pass over the dishes he'd gotten for her. Once Jennifer had gotten her dinner, he started the tape in the deck, earning himself another dazzling smile from his girlfriend as she began to eat the dinner. Marty had gotten something for himself, of course, but eating, he quickly found, just wasn't his thing right then. His stomach was too jumpy and jittery, and his heart kept racing for no reason, particularly when he thought about what he was going to do soon.

It'll all be over in an hour, McFly, he told himself as the sun sunk beyond the horizon, and the sky darkened to deep purples and blues. His palms started to sweat, though, and Jennifer glanced at him more than once to ask him if he was all right. She either seemed to be picking up on his nerves or else knew without being told about the purpose for this "date"; at any rate, halfway through her salad she was picking at it more than eating it and a somewhat nervous smile was quick on her lips every time Marty looked at her.

He didn't know why he was so scared. He was almost certain she'd say yes; hell, he'd seen the future a few times before, and in just about scenario he and Jennifer had been married. Not necessarily happily, but they'd been together. Jennifer's presence in his life had been a comforting constant since their first real date, in January of '85, and even before then Marty had followed her from afar, waiting and watching her until he was sure she wasn't going to run away screaming when he bit the bullet and asked her out. She had said yes, then, and there wasn't really a reason her answer this time would be different.

Still. It wasn't like he was asking her to the movies or to dinner, this time. This was something that was much heavier than that, a date that would last literally the rest of their lives, hopefully. And as much as Jennifer cared for him, maybe she wasn't ready for that, or wanting it right now. Maybe seeing them as losers in the future a few years ago made her want to avoid getting locked into having him as a husband. And just 'cause he'd seen the two of them together in the future didn't mean it was a given. Doc said all the time that the future was what you made of it, not stuck into any certainties....

"Marty?"

The young man started at the sound of his name, snapping his eyes away from the hypnotic ocean waves to regard Jennifer. "Huh?" Marty managed, trying to bring himself back to the present.

"Are you okay?" Jennifer asked, again, concerned. "You seem kinda distracted, a million miles away."

"I -- I'm fine. Are you done eating?" he asked, changing the subject.

Jennifer glanced at the half consumed salad and smiled a little sheepishly. "I suppose so. I'm not particularly starving tonight...."

Understanding -- and even more nervous thinking that she probably knew what was gonna happen -- Marty took a breath and started in on what he'd mentally rehearsed ahead of that time. "Look," he said, pointing out to sea and at the first star now glittering almost above their heads. "First star out. You know what they say -- you gotta make a wish."

Jennifer peered at the star a moment. "Ah, Marty, I don't think that's a star.... I'm pretty sure that's a planet."

Not expecting a response like that at all, Marty blinked, the hand reaching for the small ring box in his pocket halting mid-way. "No it's not," he said, looking hard at it.

"Yes, it is. Remember when we took astronomy together a couple years ago? When the sky is still this light planets are usually the first things you see, especially for something as bright as that 'star' is. Plus, stars twinkle and planets don't, and that thing is not twinkling. I'm not sure what it is up there, since we're in a different part of the world and a different time, now, but I'm pretty sure it's not a star."

Jennifer was smiling at him as she spoke, purposely giving him a hard time, and Marty managed a rather weak smile in return. "Okay, pretend it's a star," he conceded. "Close your eyes an' make a wish on it, okay."

The young woman followed his instructions without any more arguments. Marty reached into his pocket and pulled out the black velvet box that contained the engagement ring he'd picked up from the jeweler a week previous. He creaked it open with one hand to reveal the ring he'd had specially made for his girlfriend, at a considerable price, and started to move, so he would be kneeling before her with it when she opened her eyes. A faint movement distracted him, coming from the treeline, along with the sound of leaves and foliage rustling -- and not from the faint breeze stirring the air.

The sound distracted Jennifer as well. She opened her eyes and turned her head curiously to look in the direction of the noise, not noticing the box in Marty's hand as he deftly slipped it behind his back, out of her line of vision. Her hazel eyes narrowed and she turned the rest of the way, kneeling, now. "Marty," she said quietly after a moment, her voice oddly calm. "Someone's there."

"No way," was his immediate opinion, as he slipped the ring back in his pocket before she could chance to see it. "This is a deserted island, Jen. I checked and went outta my way for that."

"I don't think you checked quite thoroughly enough," Jennifer said in an even softer voice. Marty frowned, opening his mouth to insist, once more, that things were fine and she was probably just hearing some wild animal, when something in the brush shifted and he saw what she already had -- a very human face watching them from the shadows.

"Oh," he whispered. "Maybe we should leave the neighborhood...."

But it was too late. By the time he turned around, back to the ocean, a couple dozen of the locals had somehow crept around, blocking the path not only to the DeLorean, but to escape at all. Their skin was deeply tanned, and they looked very much to Marty's eyes like almost stereotypical film island natives, with painted markings on their faces and arms, some handmade clothes and headdresses, and rather menacing expressions on their faces.

It didn't help, either, that they carried what looked to be weapons of spears and arrows in hand. All aimed dead on at them. "Oh, crap," Marty murmured, surveying the scene very quickly and not liking how it looked.

Jennifer scooted closer to him. "What do we do?" she whispered, leaning close to his ear, keeping her eyes trained on the locals. "They don't look too friendly, and I doubt they speak English. Where did you take us, Marty?"

"One of the Polynesian islands, in the year 1500," Marty said, trying to keep his eyes on all the natives on the chance they would attempt some kind of attack or get too close to the invisibly disguised DeLorean. "I did some research, and this island was so small I was positive there wouldn't be anyone on it. I even flew over it a few times to make sure."

"Well, nothing's a sure thing," Jennifer said, sounding nervous. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Before he could even begin to answer that question, one of the locals -- a man who looked a little older and a little shorter than Marty -- said something that sounded like a question, if the pitch of his voice was any indication. Unfortunately, neither he nor his girlfriend had a clue on what the query was. They stared blankly at the man, shrugging and shaking their heads. The question was repeated, the tone harsher, now, and the words more rapid. Marty's eyes flickered for a moment in the direction of the disguised DeLorean, wishing he'd thought to bring out some of the language translators that Doc had found in the future several years ago. He knew there were some in the glovebox, for emergencies like this, and if he'd had the brains to bring them out to their picnic....

But there's not supposed to be anyone here! he thought, glancing once more at the natives and wishing they were just some weird hallucination.

"Marty, I think they want something from us," Jennifer murmured, her eyes not leaving the men gathered before them.

"What?" Marty asked. "Our picnic food? Something tells me it ain't that simple, Jen. Ever see movies about this sorta thing?"

"And you know as well as I do how seldom Hollywood has accurately portrayed history," Jennifer said right back, her tone quite no nonsense. She stood slowly, her hands held out before her in what she hoped would be a gesture of peace and nonviolence. "What do you want?" she asked them, speaking slowly and keeping her tone and expression carefully neutral.

They just looked at her, the expressions of confusion over her question matching those that the couple had worn when they had been addressed. Marty groaned softly. "Wonderful. Maybe we should just start walking to the DeLorean and they'll let us go...."

"And I think Doc might get a little -- ow!" She cringed, her hand shooting to her back, where a small collection of what looked to be feathers were gathered, embedded into her shoulder. Jennifer's fingers located the problem immediately and yanked them out. "What the hell is that?" she asked, examining it with concern in her palm.

His mind now racing with a number of ideas once more gleaned from movies, Marty reached for Jennifer's arm and tugged on it once, hard. "Sit down," he said.

"Why? I... ohhh....." Marty moved quickly as his girlfriend's legs suddenly gave out and she started to fall towards the sand. He managed to catch her, quite awkwardly, kicking over the last of her dinner onto the picnic blanket as he did so and spilling the can of Pepsi he'd been drinking. He swept her hair out of her face once she was safely down in his arms and saw her eyes were closed and she was completely limp. She was still breathing, though, thank God.

Marty held her close, protectively, unable to resist glaring at the foreign faces around him, now a few feet closer than before. "Why'd you do that?" he demanded, angry.

The man who had spoken earlier repeated what sounded like the same unable-to-be-understood query. The young man once more shrugged and shook his head, frustrated, now. The native took a step towards him, and Marty hugged Jennifer closer to him. She moaned faintly but didn't wake. He made a gesture, as if he wanted Marty to pass his girlfriend over, but he shook his head firmly and gripped her tighter.

"You're not getting her!" he said, starting to stand while also lifting Jennifer to her feet. "No way in hell!"

His words couldn't be understood, but his intentions were clear. The native shouted something harsh that sounded like an order, and Marty suddenly felt a stinging in his own arm, the sensation eerily reminiscent of a time he'd been shot in almost the same place, more than three years before.

"Oh shit," he muttered passionately, knowing what was going to happen next. His heart started to race in fear for the first time, but the awareness that they were in deep trouble lasted only a moment. Then the drug hit his system; he was out before he hit the ground.

"It's not fair, Dad! Why not?"

"I don't think you're quite prepared for something like that, Jules. And it's not fair to the other students in your English class."

"So? What the hell good is a time machine if you never let me us it?"

Emmett Brown looked up from the box of miscellany he was sorting through to give his eldest son a mild reprimanding look. "Watch your language -- if your mother heard you say that, you'd be grounded the entire holiday weekend."

"Why? Marty swears and Mom doesn't chew him out."

"Marty is not her son -- and stop dragging him into every conversation we have revolving around behavior and time travel. The time machines were not made for your use and whims."

Jules scowled, his hands on his hips. "But you let him use them whenever he wants, for things that aren't nearly that important!"

"Oh, I think tonight was quite important," Doc said, not elaborating on the details to his son. The chances that Jennifer would turn Marty down were almost nil, so far as the inventor knew, but life did occasionally have unexpected curveballs to it. If there was even the faintest glimmer of possibility that the young man's proposal didn't go the way he hoped, Doc certainly didn't want to add insult to injury by telling everyone he knew about it. Clara was about the only one he had told, but he didn't think Marty would mind that so much one way or the other.

"Even if that's true" -- and, by the tone in Jules voice, it was clear he didn't think it was -- "you've still let him use it for frivolous things before."

Doc merely grunted at that and decided a change of subject was in order, fast. He didn't feel cornered by his thirteen-year-old son as much as he was just sick and tired of having to explain himself to the kid. "I thought you came out here to help me with the mess?"

Jules blinked once, glancing around the room as if now just seeing it. Over the last several weeks, in between projects, Doc had taken upon himself to clean out the lab and reorganize a lot of the junk that had accumulated in the four years since his family had moved from the Nineteenth Century. He had optimistically -- and erroneously -- assumed that the job would take a week, tops. Three had passed since then, and he estimated he had only organized about ten percent of everything in the old barn. Part of it was the sheer magnitude of stuff that the inventor had managed to accumulate over time, not helped now that he had a family. Most of it, however, was that he was too easily distracted during the job, finding something that sparked an old interest or idea that he had to then set aside and look over, locate old notes and the like, and suddenly hours had gone by with the cleaning stalled. Doc still hoped to have things under control by New Years, but it was going to be an ongoing battle.

Had he been less distracted by the job, and waiting out Marty's return in the DeLorean, there was no doubt Doc would've sensed his oldest was up to something the moment the kid had come into the lab. Jules hadn't been inclined to help his dad for no reason at all since he was about ten. He had moved perhaps two boxes before his polite conversation gave way to innocent queries and then escalated to flat out whining and demands as to why he was being so unfair and unfit as a parent. As much as he hated to admit it, some of the points his son made were valid, and while Doc was usually supportive of anything that might work as a teaching tool, he thought taking Jules to the Elizabethan times to see a Shakespearean play on its premiere night was too dangerous. Marty had perhaps burnt him out of using time travel for "school field trips," especially after the last jaunt they had taken for such a purpose. And it was terribly unfair to the other kids in Jules' English class, who were only able to study history books for their reports on the playwright. Not to mention there was always the chance Jules would write something that would stand out to the teacher enough that it would create unwarranted attention towards the scientist and his family.

Finally, there was the simple fact that Jules was nagging him about time traveling far too much, and it was definitely not the way to go about persuading his father to take him on a trip. If anything, Doc felt more inclined to grounding the teen for pushing the matter beyond the realms of tolerance.

"That was before you started being a jerk," Jules muttered in response to his father's pointed hint to start doing the job he'd supposedly come out to do.

Doc looked up and tossed aside a burnt out lump of circuit board. God knew why he had opted to save something like that. "All right, Jules, if you already think I'm being such an uptight stiff, why don't you march yourself into your room and stay the rest of the night there? You've got two choices," he added as his son's posture stiffened and his mouth began to open for a smart retort. "You can help me clean things up in here or spend the rest of the evening staring at the walls in your room. And if you opt to do the former, then you'll keep quiet. If I hear any words involving the concept, creation, or manipulation of time anymore, then you'll find your own free time in life manipulated so that you spend in your room every day. Is that what you want?"

Doc could almost see the steam rising from Jules' ears. "But you're not being fair, Dad!" he burst out. "You've let Marty get away with murder in terms of time travel, and you're completely punishing Verne and I for nothing -- or for his mistakes."

The inventor couldn't hold back a laugh. "For nothing!" he echoed, incredulous. "You kids were far worse in borrowing the time machine without my consent than Marty was. Anyway, I see you've made your choice about how you want to spend your time, so why don't you--"

"You've never wanted to take us anywhere!" Jules broke in, angry, his voice cracking awkwardly on the words.

"That's absolutely not true," Doc said, his voice growing lower as it did when he found himself getting angry. "There were many times in your childhood where we went out on family excursions."

"Maybe, but that was in childhood. I'm an adolescent, now. A teenager. And since then, I've gone nowhere."

"And you'll certainly continue to go nowhere, Jules Eratothenes. I think it's time you go back to the house, now. I've got nothing more to say about the matter, even if you do."

Jules screwed his mouth up in a half frown, half grimace, dropping the trash bag he'd picked up earlier, shattering some breakables within it. He strode out of the barn quickly, slamming the door in a typical dramatic tantrum fashion. Doc sighed in the silence that came after his son's exit, not at all sorry to see him go.

I've got the youngest kid still in diapers and the oldest acting like he should be, the scientist thought, shaking his head as he started to go back to his job.

He was thinking so hard about the increasing problems with Jules' temper, bent over a small box of circuit pieces at one of the tables and wondering what on earth those things were from and why he had bothered to save them, that he didn't even notice how late it had gotten until Clara came out, snuck into the lab, and slipped her hands down on his shoulders, nearly sending him through the roof.

"How did things go with Marty?" she asked, softly, smiling rather sheepishly when her husband turned around with his hair almost standing on end from the scare she'd thrown into him. At his baffled expression to her query, she elaborated. "Did Jennifer say yes?"

At the mention of Marty and his proposal, Doc's eyes darted to one of the clocks in the lab. It was almost a quarter before eight. The young man was nearly an hour late. "Great Scott!" he gasped. "Is that time right?!"

"You would know far better than I, dear," Clara said, amused.

Doc set aside the box before him and got up from the stool, checking his watch. The time was mimicked on his wrist. 7:41 P.M. "Marty's late," he said, so surprised that the words came out as a flat statement.

"Is he? Well, you've always said he's had a poor concept of time--"

Doc whirled around to look at his spouse, now, his worry kicking in. "No, Clara," he interrupted. "He was supposed to bring the DeLorean back by seven. He has a time machine -- there's no way he should be late, certainly not this late."

Clara blinked, the amusement on her face trickling away. "Did he have instructions to come directly here upon returning to this time?" she asked.

"He had instructions to be back here with the machine no later than seven this evening. And it's almost an hour past that." The inventor looked into his wife's wide, dark eyes. "Something's wrong," he said softly, decisively.

Clara reached out to him as he abruptly strode over to the table where he'd tossed the information Marty had provided him as to his planned whereabouts. "Emmett, don't jump to any conclusions," she warned, quite calm, following his steps.

"I'm not," Doc said, mildly insulted. He scooped up the papers with Marty's scrawl on them and looked them over more carefully than he had earlier. "'December first, 1500, 8:52 P.M., one of the Cook Islands,'" he read aloud. "Well, I suppose that's better than simply 'one of the Polynesian islands'...."

"Are you planning on going after them?" Clara asked. "Just like that?"

"Yes to your first question, no to your second," her husband answered, heading for the stairs to his loft study, nudging and hopping over the clutter and boxes as he went. "I'd like to do a bit of research on the area to see what he and Jennifer might've wandered into. Environmental or medical. And--"

"Emmett."

Doc turned two steps away from the stairs to face his wife. Clara waited by the table where the inventor had retrieved the note, clearly worried by his behavior. "Don't jump to any conclusions," she said gently. "It's quite possible that Marty simply forgot about the time. No doubt he's had a lot on his mind as of late. Perhaps he thought you said eight, or else he and Jennifer have already returned and have just gotten sidetracked. They were just engaged, after all..."

"That's not entirely a given," Doc said. "It's possible she said no."

Clara frowned. "Oh, I can't see that, Emmett. It's plain she cares for Marty as much as he cares for her. And I thought you said you've seen them together in the future, married?"

"Yes, but it can change. You know that. I'd be quite surprised if Jennifer turned him down, but stranger things have happened."

"I suppose," Clara admitted slowly. "And if she turned him down, I can see Marty not wanting to face anyone for a while. Oh, dear...."

Doc turned back to the stairs and continued forward while his spouse pondered over that possibility, intent on checking some books and maps on the area. Clara hesitated only a moment before following him up the stairs and into the study. "Why don't I call the Parkers?" she suggested as Doc eyeballed his bookshelves for the travel encyclopedia he knew he had. "If she did turn him down, I'm sure Jennifer would be home by now."

"But if she's not, then her parents might wonder what was going on," the scientist said, his hand snaking out to remove the now-located travel encyclopedia book from the shelf.

Clara's brow creased in concern. "Then what do you intend to do, Emmett? I think it might be wise to rule out the simple explanations before you automatically assume that something bad happened to them at their destination. What could possibly cause problems for them in that time and place?"

Doc smiled grimly, without mirth, as he brought the book to his desk, brushing aside a computer keyboard, papers, notes, and other books. "Do you want a list?" Without waiting for an answer, he began to rattle things off. "It's possible a wave might've washed over the DeLorean, if Marty parked it too close to the shoreline, and the saltwater would've shorted a lot of things out. A storm could've blown up last minute and they were struck by lighting trying to leave. A volcano might've erupted, causing injury or even death."

"Oh, Emmett, I dare say that's a little dramatic!"

"Actually, not really. The Polynesian islands were created from volcanic activity, much like the chain of Hawaiian islands. And since they were supposedly uninhabited by European settlers during the time Marty selected, it's quite possible that there could've been an undocumented volcanic eruption."

Clara stared at her husband as he opened the book and flipped rapidly through the pages, in search of the listing for the South Pacific Islands. "It sounds a bit farfetched, regardless," she said, though now her words carried a trace of doubt.

"I think it has a stronger likelihood of occurrence than Jennifer turning Marty down," Doc said, finding what he wanted. "Ah, here we go. Let's see what this says about the islands...."

He skimmed the basic text quickly.

Polynesia and the South Pacific: The Cook Islands

The Cook Islands lie nestled between the islands of Tahiti and Fiji. The easiest way to locate them on a map is to find Hawaii, and do a mirror reflection of Hawaii over the equator. There are 15 islands in the Cook Islands, divided up into two groups: the Northern and Southern Groups. The Southern Group includes: Rarotonga (capital), Mangaia, Mauke, Mitiaro, Atiu, Takutea, Manuae, Aitutaki. The Northern Group includes: Suwarrow, Palmerston, Nassau, Pukapuka, Manihiki, Rakahanga, and Penrhyn.

In its entirety, the Cook Islands have more ocean (2.2 million sq. km) than land (240 sq. km) space.

When the Cook Islands were actually settled is unknown but archaeological digs put Rarotonga at 1500 years ago and Pukapuka at 2400 years ago. Cook Islanders are believed to have come from a place called Avaiki. The majority of the population is ethnic Maori, followed by European.

Rarotonga, the main island is the hub of the Cook Islands and also its biggest island. Rarotonga is a volcanic island, although the volcanos are long extinct. This means its interior is mountainous and laden with lush tropical rain forests. The island is encircled by a reef providing some idyllic swimming spots. Rarotongans live on the coast.

Apart from Rarotonga and Aitutaki, the other islands are less frequently visited. A visit to islands such as Mauke, Mitiaro, Mangaia, and Atiu in the Southern Group would be like taking a step back in time. The people are incredibly friendly and go out their way to please you and ensure that you never want to leave. There are regular flights to these islands. There are also weekly flights to the Northern Group islands of Penrhyn and Manihiki. Cook Islands' black pearls are cultured in these islands. The other Northern Group islands of Rakahanga, Pukapuka, Nassau and Suwarrow are only accessible by cargo ship, approx. once a month.

"It doesn't sound like there's too much danger there," Clara said, having read the text over his shoulder. "Did Marty mention seeing any natives on his first trip there?"

"No, but that doesn't mean much. Not all the islands were always settled. He told me repeatedly that no one was on the island he selected."

While Doc frowned in concentration, studying the text once more, as well as the rather puny map illustration on the adjacent page, Clara stepped away and headed for the stairs. "I'll give a quick call to the Parkers and McFlys just to make certain they haven't returned and simply neglected to drop the DeLorean by."

"All right," the inventor agreed, reluctant, as he folded down a corner of the page to mark it. "Just be careful not to alarm their families. If something happened on that trip, the last thing we want is to have their parents know... especially if we can fix it."