"Watch it!" Verne said immediately, grabbing hard and fast for a handhold, as he was still standing near the front. "Dad'll go nuclear if you crash the train!"

"I'm not going to crash the train!" Jules snapped back, sounding both annoyed and distracted. "And if you don't want to break your neck, sit down!"

Verne scowled at the words as the train took another dip down. Emily let out a soft whimper and her hand snaked out to grip Marty's arm, hard, but the musician hardly noticed from his own nerves at the abrupt and unexpected movements of the machine. "Maybe you should take it a little lower," he suggested as politely as he could. "Might be windier up here."

Jules grunted at this advice, but he either took it or else the wind settled down; at any rate, the turbulence vanished a moment later. Several minutes after that, they were settled carefully on the ground, on the edge of the woods that had apparently once been part of the Peabody property -- likely a larger parcel than what they owned in 1955.

"All right," Jules announced with a rather deep sigh, once he shut off the machine. "We've got about four hours and forty-five minutes before we need to be right back here. The hike to downtown Hill Valley will probably take half an hour, so--"

"Why do we have to walk in?" Emily asked, frowning, as she unbuckled herself from the seat and jumped to the floor. "Can't we just fly in and drop off so we have more time to do things? And so my feet won't freeze from the snow?"

"No," Jules said flatly. "Dad wanted us to do things this way and I'm not going to stray from that."

Marty couldn't tell if he was being so obedient because the musician was there or because Jules simply didn't want to chance anything going wrong. Either way, he wasn't much more enthusiastic than Emily at the idea of the hike. He kept his feelings to himself, though, and managed a smile as he stood. "It won't be that bad," Marty said trying to sound cheerful. "You did bring a coat, though, Emmy, right?"

Emily nodded, picking up the mentioned article along with a large wool scarf, both of which had been draped next to her on the seat. "Of course," she said as she wigged into it. "It was too hot to wear inside at the house, so Daddy made sure I wouldn't forget it and set it in here. Are you sure we won't get lost out there?" she asked her brothers, indicating the world beyond the windows of the train. "I've read books before about pioneers who got lost and died in blizzards. And I don't really see any streets."

"It's not a blizzard," Jules said as he buttoned up his coat. "It's just a little heavy snow. And we won't get lost because Dad told me exactly how to get to the town. And Verne and I both grew up around here so we would recognize some of the landmarks. Don't worry, Emmy."

Verne made a rather skeptical sound as he opened the door. "I dunno, Jules, it's coming down pretty hard out there," he said as a gust blew a chill and snowy wind inside the cab. "Looks like there's at least six inches on the ground, too. It's gonna be a nice, long hike. Why don't we just get a little closer to town?"

"No," Jules said. "If Dad wanted to save us the hike, he would've told me to land somewhere closer. I don't want to do anything to stray from the plan. Do you know how much is riding on the success of this? Better to be a little cold for a half-hour than cause some kind of disaster because we didn't follow things by the book."

Verne frowned once more but didn't say anything else. Even Emily seemed to get the message and grew quiet. After making sure the train was secured and invisible, the group set out, cutting across a field to reach a plowed road that apparently lead into Hill Valley. The walk was uncomfortable, with a brisk, cold wind, heavy flakes obscuring the view ahead, and the choice between walking on a smoothy plowed -- and icy -- road or just off it where the snow came up mid-shin. Marty soon wished, intently, that he'd tried to persuade Jules to disregard Doc's orders and land them closer to town. While one mile was by no means the same as the twenty that the scientist had sent him outside the city when he had made his first visit to 1885, he hadn't been walking very long before he started to get a sharp pain in his lower right side, a very nasty stitch that seemed to get worse the farther he went, not improving his stomach-ache, either. Annoyed that he was so out of shape that a short hike through snow would bother him so much, he didn't mention it to the kids, instead trying to concentrate on their conversation for distraction.

"I wanna see everything that has to do with our family history!" Emily announced, keeping her head down and her scarf pulled tight around her hair and mouth. "The schoolhouse Mom taught at, the place where Daddy did his smithing, the cabin where you guys were born...."

"None of which is standing anymore," Jules said. "You can see where they once were, but Dad told you they rebuilt a lot of those since we left."

"I know," Emily said, a little defensively. "And I don't know why we couldn't go back sooner to see 'em still around."

"Couldn't work entirely," Verne said. "The cabin that we were born in burned down in 1895 when the current schoolteacher -- Miss Perkins, a real windbag -- had the head of the schoolboard over for dinner and he had a bad smoking habit. Made the front page of the paper for a few days. The schoolhouse didn't go up in that, but I know that they tore it down not long after we left to build a bigger one on the same site. And Dad's old workplace came down before then, when some kinda windstorm almost flattened it. Shoddy workmanship. He had to build a new one before we left."

"Lame," was Emily's disappointed opinion. "But I still wanna see where they were -- and it might be kinda interesting to see our house right now, too."

"Won't happen," Jules said. "Not unless we want to take a long detour on foot, and we frankly don't have the time. Where did you want to go first, Emmy?"

The girl shrugged. "Downtown, I guess, and see the courthouse square. And then I wanna walk out to see where the school and cabin were, at least."

Verne made a face. "That's, like, another mile out from the town square," he said. "You sure you wanna do that, Em?"

"Can't we get some horses or something to ride out there?" Emily asked instead, hopeful. "Like, rent or borrow 'em?"

"Doubt it," Jules said, "but I guess we could ask. Dad gave us some money for emergencies...." He looked at Marty, trailing quietly behind them, slowed by the stitch in his side and not feeling that great in general. "Did you want to come with us on Emily's little tour or do your own thing?" By his tone, it was clear that the young man was hoping he'd select the latter option. Marty did, but for his own reasons.

"I think I'll probably just stick around in town and pick up the medicine for Jennifer. It's probably better if fewer people see me, too. Unlike you guys, I have family in town...."

"Then it might be better if you come with us," Emily said reasonably. "We're not gonna hang out in one place for too long. And won't you get bored being alone?"

"I'll be fine," Marty said. "And if I went with you guys I'd probably slow you down. I've already got a hell of a stitch in my side from this little hike. God, I can't believe I'm getting that old already...."

"A lack of regular exercise, along with this cold, could do that," Jules said. "I'm sure you'll find some way to keep yourself busy while we're trudging through the snow."

Marty wasn't too sure -- though, when they finally arrived in town, a little more than half an hour after leaving the train, he was surprised at how much Hill Valley had grown since he had last visited it in 1896, while with Doc on a mission to erase old family records. Streets were now paved with stone and brick, and many of the buildings that had been standing as new during his visit to 1885 were gone, replaced by better constructed buildings. The downtown area was easily three times larger, and boasted a number of different businesses that hadn't yet been around the last time Marty had spent substantial time in the past. The Palace saloon and hotel was modified, now, to simply be a rather elegant-looking restaurant. The train station had doubled in size and now included a second floor. Among the new buildings and businesses, there was a pharmacy with a soda fountain adjacent to it, a bank, a dress shop next to that of a tailor, and a brand new carriage house. A dance hall stood where the Town theatre would be someday, with a sign advertising lessons for only fifty cents every Friday and Saturday night. Other businesses that Marty knew had been around during his stay in the past had migrated a bit; the barber shop and doctor's office had changed locations, to a newish building that hadn't been constructed during his last visit. Just as Verne had mentioned, the old livery stable where Doc had once conducted his smithing business was gone, replaced by a better built structure and with, presumably, an entirely new man running it.

When they reached the beginning of the downtown area, the pace of their group slowed dramatically due to both the sights and the increasing amount of people and traffic in the streets, out in spite of the weather, perhaps eager to finish their last-minute holiday shopping. Emily was all eyes as she looked about, stumbling more than once in her distraction and causing a few of the locals to give her an odd glance. Her brothers and Marty were more subtle in their gawking, but were equally fascinated for different reasons, perhaps. Marty was just amazed so much had changed in the fifteen or so years since he had last seen a past version of the town. Hill Valley no longer looked like a western frontier town but a larger Victorian-era settlement that was clearly on its way up, especially if the wealth of new businesses and buildings was any indication.

"Amazing," he commented as they stopped before the window of what looked to be a much larger general store, currently displaying some china dolls and other contemporary toys. "It looks like Hill Valley, but at the same time...."

"It's different," Verne said, understanding. "Man, half these places weren't here when we left....."

"Natural progression," Jules said, stepping back as Emily pushed her way forward to take a look at the dolls through the window glass. "It's only natural that Hill Valley's going outward and upward if it's as large as it is by our time. This is rather interesting, however. So, should we split up now?" He looked at the clock settled in the courthouse, barely visible from where they stood with the thick snow falling. "We've only got a few hours here and if Emily still wants to do as much as she thinks...."

"I wanna go in there, first," Emily said, pointing inside the store. "And pick out a doll. They don't have things like that at home and Daddy said I could get a small thing from here, s'long as it doesn't mess up anything in history."

Jules looked like he thought such a thing could, but Verne beat him to the answer. "Sure," he said. "I'll take 'er in there while you guys figure out what's going on, 'kay?" The blond didn't bother to wait for permission from his brother, taking Emily by the hand to head for the crowded door of the shop. Once they were out of earshot, Marty didn't waste much time in being blunt.

"Jules, I know what you're trying to do and how you feel about me being here," he said softly, rubbing the still-powerful ache in his side through his coat. "And I want you to know that I'm not here on your father's orders as some undercover spy. I just came so I could get something for Jen so she might stop puking long enough to enjoy the holidays."

Jules looked a little surprised at his words, then suspicious. "We're not going to do anything you'd need to worry about telling Dad about anyway, Marty. We're not kids anymore -- well, I'm not and I suppose Verne isn't, even if he acts like it more days than not."

Marty smiled. "Even if something does happen, I won't tell. I know what's riding on this trip for you guys, Jules, and I know you weren't overjoyed to have me tagging along this time. I understand, though."

The future doctor studied him a moment. "Was I that transparent?" he asked, surprised. "I thought I'd gotten better at keeping my feelings to myself; something I've been trying to do for my career and all that...."

"No, you didn't really do anything to tip me off; your mom told me. And I think you were being pretty mature about the whole thing, considering."

Jules looked flattered at the praise, which Marty had expected. "Thanks," he said. "You know, Marty, you can come with us to look around the town if you really want to.... I'm not sure how exciting it will be for you to stick around here alone for several hours."

The musician politely declined, not bothering to elaborate that he felt he was coming down with the flu. "I'll be fine," he said. "I know Emmy's disappointed, but I don't think I can deal with more hiking in the snow right now, especially if we're gonna have to walk back to the train in a few hours. I'll just get what I came for and maybe look around the main drag a little and see what's the latest thing."

* * *

After agreeing on a time and place to meet -- at the restaurant at three P.M. for an early dinner -- the time travelers parted ways for a of couple hours. While Marty headed off in the direction of the pharmacy, Jules joined his brother and sister in the store, where Emily was agonizing over which doll she liked best. She hemmed and hawed for more than twenty minutes until Jules warned her she was wasting time and that it would be a better idea to get the toy on the way out of town, so she wouldn't have to carry it around as much. Emily agreed after a moment of thought and then they were on their way to the first stop at her insistence -- to see if horses could be rented or borrowed.

To Jules surprise, such a thing was possible. The man who ran the carriage house -- Ronald Statler -- was perfectly happy to rent out three of his animals for a few hours once Verne had approached him, improvising the role of a traveler who had become stranded in Hill Valley for the day with his brother and sister. Statler even tried to talk them into renting a sleigh, but they politely declined, knowing that they could get far more done without dragging a cumbersome vehicle. Emily was so delighted with the idea of horseback riding that she offered not one peep of a complaint about the weather, which grew colder and windier as the afternoon progressed. They rode out to the site of the old schoolhouse and schoolteacher cabin, Verne telling her how things had changed since the time they'd left compared to the time now, as well as miscellaneous stories from their childhood. Some of it was new to Emily as her brothers had both of their memories prodded a bit by seeing semi-familiar sights.

After looking at the site of the old school house and cabin for a few minutes -- which now boasted a larger brick building that would remain the only school in Hill Valley for grades one through eight until the late 1930's -- and being a little disappointed by the entire thing, Emily wanted to stop by the infamous Eastwood Ravine, where their father had dramatically saved their mother's life not once but twice. She had seen it before, but that had been more than a hundred years after the rescue, when it had looked dramatically different and was bordered by upscale homes and neighborhoods. But like the schoolhouse site before it, Emily seemed let down once more by the reality.

"Where's the train wreckage?" she complained, squinting at the snow covered ravine bottom. "Doesn't look anything like the stories Mom and Daddy've told...."

"It's been almost thirty years since that happened," Jules reminded her. "Of course things will have changed in that time span."

"Trust me, Emmy, you ain't missing much," Verne said, leaning forward on his horse for a better look at the ravine. "This place has a finished bridge, now, yeah, but aside from that and the snow and the train Dad blew up to send Marty back home... it's not as different as some of the other places are now. And the train was long gone by the time Jules and I were born. We only saw it ourselves when we came with Marty to the day right after the crash."

Emily let out a rather annoyed sound. "I know. It's not fair, you got to do a lot of stuff with the machines that I can't...."

Jules snorted as he turned his horse around. "Illegally," he said. "Dad didn't exactly give his stamp of approval on them. Anyway, you did get to come on a couple of those unapproved trips with us -- remember, when you were almost two, and again when you were five? It's not your fault that Dad's got them very secured now. Though I suppose Verne and I and even Marty helped contribute to that matter...."

"It's still not fair," Emily said as she reluctantly followed her oldest brother away from the edge of the ravine. "I barely remember those trips. I dunno why Mom an' Daddy had to wait to have me so long after you and Jules.... Same with Clayton. By the time he's gonna start elementary school, I'll be in junior high!"

"You and Clayton were surprises," Verne said honestly. "But so were me and Jules. They didn't wanna have any kids, originally."

Emily's eyes grew very round in spite of the snow whistling through the air. "Why not? Didn't they like kids?" She sounded both confused and horrified with the idea, perhaps because their parents had never seemed the types to harbor those sorts of feelings towards them or other children.

"Dad knew he and Mom didn't belong in the past," Jules said, reciting a piece of family history he knew very well by now. "It wasn't his time at all, and Mom was supposed to have died the first time in the ravine. Before Dad built his first time machine and went back, it was known as Clayton Ravine -- not Eastwood. So bringing more lives into the world that hadn't been around originally was extremely risky. They both wanted children, though, and I suspect if Mom and Dad could've had as many as they wanted from the start, you and Clayton might've been born closer to Verne and I -- and we might have even more siblings running around."

Emily gnawed on that while they swung back to town to get a better look at the main street area and other points of interest to their family history. The church where their parents had wed was still standing, which pacified the girl a bit, and when they stopped by the smithing shop that had been constructed on the same site as the old livery stable where their father had conducted his business, they happened to catch the attention of the new smith, Thomas Blair, who had apparently taken over the business when Doc had left and remembered him and his family quite well. "Are you kin of his?" he asked when the subject of the Browns had come up, giving them a good eyeballing that made Jules very glad the three of them were bundled up so well, with scarves covering half their faces.

"No," Jules said, speaking for the three of them. "I knew the younger boy in the family before we moved away, and I was just wondering if they were still around."

The graying smith shook his head. "Naw, they moved East back in '96. The missus was from that area, originally, and missed it. No one's heard from 'em since, and some wonder if they made it safely. Nice family, if a little odd."

That might've been the end of it if Emily hadn't piped up. "How come you thought they were odd?"

Mr. Blair looked to her for the first time. "Oh, I'm not sure if I could describe it," he said. "Mister Brown was a great deal older than his wife, and the missus was a very assertive women. Not terribly unusual, I suppose, for living out here in the West. Both were interested in sciences, and their two children -- both boys -- were named after a science fiction writer they enjoyed. They were nice people, to be sure, but not the very definition of normal."

Jules was old enough not to be really offended by the gentlemen's remarks, as was Verne, but Emily took the words more personally. She frowned, the expression visible even with just her eyes showing. "Sounds perfectly normal to me," she said with a little sniff of distain. "Just 'cause they weren't like everyone else doesn't make 'em weird."

Before the smith could react to this, Jules quickly intervened. "You have to excuse our little sister. She's not terribly tactful in her responses sometimes -- a problem I think she might've inherited from our mother." While Emily glowered at him over his words, he added, "We've got to go now -- we're borrowing these horses by the hour -- but thanks for your help, sir."

The three of them didn't speak until they were out of earshot of the blacksmith. "Why'd you totally defend the smith, Jules?" Emily wanted to know, annoyed. "He was completely dissing you guys...."

"We heard worse when we were kids," Verne said. "Not nearly as bad as what he was saying. Anyway, Emmy, you have to be extremely careful with what you say and who you say it to, here. Not only with things like that but with slang, too. Like weird wasn't around, now."

"Why? We're not gonna see him again...."

"It's one of those cardinal rules with taking trips like this," Jules said, rolling his eyes at his sister's naivete. "Watch what you say, watch what you do, watch how you act, and so on. You aren't home anymore, Emmy. This isn't some game of pretend."

"I know that. I'm not stupid."

"Then don't act like it. I know you know better -- Dad's had to have mentioned this stuff a million times before."

It was Emily's turn to roll her eyes. "Are you done lecturing me? 'Cause it got old a minute ago."

While Verne chuckled a little at the burn on their older brother, Jules sighed. "Fine. Ignore my advice as always. But if you do anything that endangers the success of this trip, don't come crying to me when Dad doesn't let you within a hundred feet of a time machine again. Same with you, Verne."

"Can it, Jules," the blond suggested. "Nothing's happened at all that's gonna snowball into something huge later." He glanced at the working clock in the clocktower. "Didn't you tell Marty we'd meet him at three? It's a quarter 'til now."

It took them twenty minutes before they actually made it to the restaurant. Returning the horses chewed up more time than Jules had anticipated, and then Emily had veered in the direction of the general store and the dolls. Verne had quickly snagged her and reassured her that they would stop there before they left and, thus pacified and looking forward to seeing Marty again, she gave in easily. Having not strayed, presumably, far from the center of town, Marty had arrived before them and was already seated at a table near the front windows, waiting. After leaving their snow-covered coats, scarves, and hats behind on the racks provided, they joined him.

"How was the tour?" he asked as they sat down.

"Kind of a bummer," Emily said, taking the chair next to him and frowning a little. "Most of the places looked nothing like they did when everyone lived here. Didja get the stuff you wanted for Jennifer?"

Marty nodded. "Two bottles," he said. "That should be more than enough, I think, especially since her doc was saying the morning sickness and all that should pass after the first trimester." He grimaced a little and reached for his glass of water, taking a sip. Jules noticed for the first time he was perspiring a little and looked pale. He was about to ask him if everything was all right when Verne interrupted with his own question.

"What did you end up doing?" he asked. "Walk up and down main street a billion times?"

"Not exactly. I checked out the main square and some of the stores and did a little bit of people watching before I came here." There was a strange strain to his voice and he shifted in his chair a little, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh... maybe this is a stupid question, but did they have bathrooms by this point? I know they did on the Titanic, but...."

At the mention of the doomed ship, Emily sat up straighter, interested. "Really?" she asked. "That's neat...."

"They might," Jules said in answer to Marty's question before Emily could sidetrack them. "I'd check with one of the employees here -- but ask if they have water closets or indoor plumbing or something like that. I don't know if they used the term 'bathroom' yet and that might get you some weird looks."

Marty smiled wanly. "Sure. And if the waiter comes while I'm gone, I'll just have the soup of the day, all right?" He stood, slowly, and a wince crossed his rather waxy complexion. Before Jules could ask if anything was wrong, he was walking away, bent over a little oddly as if he was indeed in pain. Unease gnawed at him, but he ignored it, for now, deciding to wait until the musician returned before giving voice to it.

"I dunno why Marty and Jennifer got to go to the Titanic, but I can't," Emily griped, picking up her menu to examine the choices. "That would've made a really cool birthday gift, but Daddy said no way."

Verne rolled his eyes, obviously tiring of his sister's obsession with that film. "Yeah, being on a sinking boat and watching people drown and freeze to death's a real thrill," he drawled.

Emily gave him a rather exasperated look. "I wouldn't hang around for that -- I'd leave before then. But Daddy thinks it would be too risky, especially since he took Marty and Jennifer there before I was born." She clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed by that. "Not like anything would happen or we'd run into 'em, though that might be a lot more interesting.... Definitely better than here!"

The young men exchanged mutually annoyed looks at their younger sister's complaints. "Then why the hell'd you come here?" Verne wanted to know, not bothering to avoid swearing now that their mother wasn't around to chide him. "You could've picked anywhere and anywhen."

"Uh-uh -- Daddy had the final say. If I got my way, I would've gone to the Titanic, definitely. Or come back earlier to when you guys were still living here so I could see when things still looked like they did in your stories and memories and pictures and stuff." Emily frowned at her brothers, able to know just what they were thinking by the looks on their faces. "You know it's not my fault that I'm not getting to do just what I want. This was as much as I could get from Daddy, and I figured if I couldn't go near the Titanic at least I could see things the same year it happened."

"Dad is always gonna be stingy with the machines," Verne said, glancing at his own menu for a moment when he noticed one of the waiters coming their way. "He seems to think the world will end if he's not there to supervise. That's why Jules and I had to sneak off with the machines so much when we were younger."

There was a pause in their conversation when the waiter arrived while the siblings ordered their food, including Marty's choice, as he hadn't yet returned. "It's perfectly in our father's right to be choosy with the machines," Jules said once the waiter had left, lowering his voice a little. "He's correct, time travel is not something to take lightly. And, Emmy, Verne and I did almost cause the end of the world once or twice -- or at least the end of our world. Verne has told you why you're named as you are, right?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah, but, c'mon, Daddy has to know the harder he makes it for us to do this stuff, the more we want to. That's, like, standard psychology stuff."

"Which is why he's being more reasonable now," Jules said. "Verne and I got to go on a few trips of our choice when we were younger, but never without Dad right there. This is a big development, Emmy. Why else do you think I'm being so careful? If this trip is actually successful, if we can get home without any problems and prove to him that we can handle this awesome responsibility, then we should get to do these sorts of things more often."

"Nothing is going to happen, Jules," Verne said. "Sheesh, you're being paranoid. Emily's been cool on this trip, better than you or me at that age. All we have to do now is eat, then go back out to the train and go home."

"And get my doll!" Emily added quickly. "You guys promised."

Jules sighed inwardly, not looking forward to taking his sister to the store, where she would no doubt linger over the choices so long that they would probably get back to the train later than he or his father wanted. If he put a stop to it, though, Emily would run straight to Dad once they got back home and then he'd find himself in trouble since this excursion was for her birthday and he was under rather firm instructions to let her do what she wanted so long as it didn't pose a threat to the space-time continuum.

"Fine," he said. "And get your doll, but we're probably not going to have much time to loiter there, so I hope you have a choice in mind already."

Their meals took a while to prepare and finally serve in this more primitive day and age without microwaves and instant electrical appliances. A half-hour passed before they found their food set before them. Though hungry, Emily hesitated before starting to eat the fried chicken she had ordered. "Marty's still not back yet," she said, sounding concerned as she glanced at his empty seat.

"Weird," Verne commented, not hesitating to dig into his own meal. "Maybe he ducked outside to do something else."

Jules frowned. "You don't think he lied to us and went somewhere he shouldn't've?" he asked, suddenly losing his appetite.

"If he wanted to do that, he could've earlier," Emily said, rather practically. She glanced between her brothers. "You guys should see if he's okay."

"You can, if you're so concerned," Verne said, grinning slyly at her.

Emily looked scandalized. "He went to the bathroom!" she hissed softly. "I can't go in there! I'm not a boy!"

"They might not even have different ones set up for different sexes, now," Jules said thoughtfully. "I'm not really sure if Hill Valley was advanced enough that they had more than one or two bathrooms in here, tops."

"Still," Emily said, clearly blushing, now. "I'm not gonna go barge in when he could be...." The blood in her cheeks deepened in color. "You know, doin' stuff...."

"What kinda stuff, Emmy?" Verne asked, clearly enjoying this conversation, now. "Brushing his teeth? Playing poker? Writing a song?"

Emily looked like she wanted to crawl under the table or smack her brother. "Verne, you're not that stupid!" she whispered. "You know what I mean! You're a boy an' all that."

"And you're a girl," Verne said matter-of-factly, his face completely straight. "I'm curious, Em, what do you think he's doing in there?"

Before the blond could torment his sister much more, Jules put a stop to it, standing. "I'll check it out," he said, tossing his linen napkin on the table and frowning faintly at his younger siblings for acting so childish. "I'll be back as soon as I know what's going on, all right?"

Neither Verne nor Emily stopped him or bothered to protest, which annoyed him all the more, especially since Emmy had been the one to bring the matter up in the first place. He headed off in the direction that he had last seen Marty going and, following his own advice to the musician, stopped one of the first employees he ran into, one of the waiters. "Excuse me, do you know where the rest-- ah, water closet is?" he asked, hoping that was the correct term of the time.

If it wasn't, the waiter didn't react. "At the back," he said, pointing towards a narrow hallway that looked to be just off the kitchen. "First door on the left is the gentlemen's washroom."

"Thanks."

Jules followed the directions, finding the door marked with an etched sign reading "Gentlemen's W.C." A few feet down there was a second door, this one bearing a "Ladies' W.C." sign. Interesting. The med student wondered when the distinguishing of bathrooms according to the sexes had started, since there really hadn't been anything like that when he and his family had still resided in the past. But, of course, plumbing in general back then had been spotty. Their home had been one of the first in Hill Valley to have indoor plumbing installed, the fixtures ordered from back East through the Sears and Roebuck catalogue, in 1890. It had cost a considerable sum, as they had also needed to have a septic system dug for it all. It wasn't until after they had moved to the future that they were able to get connected to the contemporary sewer system.

The bathroom door didn't appear to have a lock. A sign had been draped over the handle. One side presumably read "Unoccupied, as the one currently facing him said: "Occupied -- Please Knock." Jules did just that, tentatively, and listened hard for a response. When there wasn't one, he tried again, and this time thought he heard a groan.

"Marty?" he asked softly, through the wood. "Can I come in?" Jules paused, then added, "Just say if I can't, all right, because otherwise I'm going to open the door." When a minute passed and he wasn't stopped, Jules turned the knob and eased it open, slowly, peering inside.

The "water closet" was small, not much bigger than a regular closet and, presumably, that's what this room had once been before plumbing came in. It contained little more than a decidedly antique pull chain toilet, with a high water tank near the ceiling, and a sink. All the fixtures were porcelain and looked to be cleaned on a regular basis -- something that couldn't be said for most men's rooms in the future. Marty was indeed inside, sitting on the floor next to the toilet with his knees drawn up and his arms hugging his stomach. He looked at Jules as the young man came in, his face the color of ash and bathed in sweat.

"Are you sick?" Jules asked without thinking about it, stepping inside all the way to shut the door. But Marty didn't need to answer; he knew. Since the fall semester began, had been interning at the medical center at UCLA as part of his coursework and education requirements. The work had been beyond tedious, so far, mostly observing doctors and procedures, but he knew the look of someone ill, and Marty was definitely had it.

The musician nodded once. "I think it's the flu," he murmured. "My stomach's killing me, though; I can hardly sit, let alone stand." He closed his eyes and winced.

"Did you vomit?"

"Uh-huh. Twice."

"How long have you been feeling sick? Since we arrived or before we left?"

"Uh... my stomach's been bugging me since I woke up this morning, around ten, but I thought it was from the spicy food I'd eaten last night." He chuckled, rather humorlessly. "Jen thought it might be sympathy pains since she's been so sick. But since the hike into town it's gotten a lot worse, especially in my side."

Jules turned that information over to himself, than blanched at the first diagnosis that came to mind. Oh no, he thought. Oh no, no, no, no, no, I refuse to entertain even the mere notion of that! "Which side?" he asked, keeping his face and voice carefully calm and casual.

"Here." Still holding his gut with one hand, Marty gestured to his lower right side with the other.

"All right, ah.... can I give you a quick examination? I need to check something, and it's rather important."

Marty picked up on something, perhaps a tone in Jules' voice, that he didn't like. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, suspicious. "Do you think it's food poisoning? I know I'm not allergic to anything that I ate in the last day...."

"A good physician never ventures a guess until he has some stable evidence that points to a diagnosis -- otherwise you can alarm the patient unduly," Jules said smoothly, kneeling down before Marty for a look at the problem. "Roll your shirt up, please, and lean back against the wall. Let me know if this hurts you, all right?"

The musician followed orders without question, moving slowly and stiffly. Recalling his lessons, and several doctors he had so far observed, Jules gently pressed his hands into Marty's stomach, feeling carefully. After a moment he moved down to the lower part of his stomach, to the right, where the pain seemed to be most profound. Marty winced at the touch, but it wasn't until Jules was pulling back, not pushing in, that he got a strong reaction; he jerked back. "Jesus, that hurts! What the hell'd you do?"

Jules glanced at the spot a moment, tempted to press again but not wanting to hurt his friend, then looked up to study Marty's face. After a moment he reached out and put a hand to his damp forehead. It was warm, as expected, and he guessed Marty was running a small fever. "Rebounding tenderness," he muttered to himself as he lowered his hand. "Pain in the lower right quadrant, guarding, low grade fever, nausea and vomiting...." He took a breath of the stale, sour smelling air in the tiny room and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit," he swore softly.

Jules rarely used profanity -- he found it a rather uncreative, useless way of expressing anger and frustration -- so his mention of such a word immediately tipped Marty off that something was definitely wrong. "Jules, what's the deal?" he asked, tentatively touching the spot that the med student had pressed on to elicit the pain.

"I'm not sure yet," he lied, rather unconvincingly, even to his ears, pulling himself back up to his feet. "Ah, Marty, wait here a minute, all right? I'll be right back...."

Jules left in a hurry, before Marty could ask any more questions he didn't feel like dodging the answers to. Verne and Emily were still at the table, eating, and Jules made a beeline for his brother, leaning in close to his ear for a quiet word. "We got a situation...." he began softly, not wanting Emily to overhear -- a pipe dream. Her head had turned the moment he arrived, and the fact he was practically whispering in Verne's ear had enhanced her curiosity.

"What?" Verne asked in his normal tone. "Did Marty give us the slip and go around wrecking havoc as the evil Eastwood twin?"

"I'm serious, Verne. This isn't funny."

Something in his tone caused the blond to look up from his food, which he had been devouring in large bites. "What?" he wanted to know.

Jules' dark eyes flickered in the direction of Emily, who was watching them with great interest. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Is Marty okay?"

He didn't want to say it, not before her. "Verne, come with me a minute, all right? Emmy, wait here -- we're going to the men's room."

Emily frowned, annoyed and confused, while Verne simply looked at him as if he'd gone mad. He didn't say anything, though, not until they were away from the table and Emily's sharp ears. "What's the deal?" he asked softly as Jules led him towards the back hallway. "Why'd you not want Emmy to hear? Is something wrong?"

Jules bit his lower lip for a moment. "I think so," he said. "Marty's in the bathroom -- he's sick, Verne, and I think it's serious."

Verne sighed, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, can't we take him anywhere with us without him getting hurt or ill? What is it this time? The bubonic plague?"

"No. Worse." Jules paused as they reached the back hallway, lowering his voice just in case Marty was somehow listening through the door. "He's displaying nearly textbook symptoms of appendicitis."

Verne knew how serious that was. Of all the members in their family, he'd been the only one to have his own taken out, when he was fourteen. Fortunately, they had been at home when it had happened and had been able to get prompt medical treatment and surgery before it had burst. He'd been in the hospital only three days and the scar he bore wasn't more than an inch long. Clara had been astonished by that, as in her times such a diagnosis almost always meant death or at the very least a considerably longer recuperation period.

"All right," Verne said, calmly. "Then we gotta leave now."

"We can't." Jules squirmed a little, not liking what he was about to say. "He's too far advanced. He can't walk out to the train now; I don't think he'll be able to stand. And we don't have that much time even if one of us took a horse out there and got the machine and flew it back here. The area is starting to get firm to the touch, and that's a sure sign that if it doesn't come out, like, right now, there are going to be serious, possibly deadly, complications."

"Nice -- there goes your uneventful trip."