#it's so true though - god he's as bad as marty was in tp making excuses to always stay later and later at doc's place and not go home

[doctorbrown]

Once again, Emmett scoffs, this time sharper so that there's no room to misinterpret his opinion on his counterpart's deplorable—and rather concerning—actions. ❝The point is, he allowed Hill Valley to become this❞—with a grand, yet no less disgusted gesture, he indicates the monitors strewn across the desk, the cameras looming ominously above—Big Brother, indeed! all that was missing were the on-the-nose signs—❝and either doesn't see why that's a problem or isn't willing to do something about it. If you ask me, he might've benefitted from a—❞

He trails off, remembering himself. He might benefit from biting his tongue in this situation and avoiding vilifying his counterpart in front of Marty, who clearly, at least in some capacity, looks up to him.

The pit slowly opening up in his stomach as he catches every single one of Marty's broken expressions becomes a chasm and Emmett does his best to not allow the hurt over the obvious fear in his eyes, the shattered pieces of his self-worth crumbling before him, to show on his face.

Marty's emotions are too fragile, too mercurial to allow him any moment to try and address everything written so painfully clear across his face, so he chooses to focus on the most poignant part of his disbelief—their seemingly impossible friendship.

Emmett nods, slowly. ❝You have friends where I'm from, even if I haven't met them all personally. I've heard you talk about them often enough to the point where I could almost say I know them. But you were my first—besides my dog Einstein, that is—in a while and you're still my closest friend today.❞

Instinct tells him to reach for the boy and initiate physical contact as a grounding mechanism as he's done time-and-time again over the course of their friendship, something that, while once awkward, has since become second-nature. But Marty's visceral reaction to him even calmly approaching him is enough to make him rethink that—he certainly can't blame the young man.

If his counterpart is as prominent and powerful as this office and Marty have led him to believe, being approached in such a manner likely spells disaster.

❝No more contingently false than I am standing here in your reality right now,❞ Emmett admits, working beyond his surprise to hear such concepts coming from his dear friend's mouth. The nature of this conversation makes his skin crawl. "A possible world is nothing more than the maximal mereological sum of spatiotemporally related things—something existing differently doesn't make it any less real. You're as real as I am, Marty. Arguably more so, as I'm the one who doesn't belong here."

There's something about Marty's readiness to accept that he and his reality are nothing but a falsehood, a blight to be corrected, that sets Emmett's stomach turning. He has neither the heart nor the will to divulge what he knows regarding the correction of temporal aberrations, at least not yet, and he can only hope he will never have to, no matter how the secret will fester and rot inside him.

His better judgment be damned, Emmett reaches out and places a gentle hand on Marty's shoulder.

❝I'll explain in more detail about what happened to bring me here elsewhere, I promise—I can't shake the feeling, despite this being my office, someone is watching me right now as well.❞ It's likely paranoia talking, but he would be in no way surprised to find his counterpart was being watched as vigilantly as the citizens of Orwell Valley.

❝Thank you for still agreeing to help me—I don't think I'd be able to get through this without you. You said I—my counterpart—has a lab in secret out by the ravine. Do you know how to get there? I assume I've still got a car here—that's about two miles out, assuming something hasn't drastically changed the terrain.❞

Martin bites his lip. Part of him-- the part he wants Jennifer to see, the part he thinks he shares with Dave and Linda-- feels vindicated. Yes, Citizen Brown was the architect of not just the city, but of all their problems too. But the other part of him knows how reluctant Citizen Brown is to go home at the end of the night, his sallow face, his sunken eyes.

"...I... I don't know about unchallenged, sir," he admits, clasping his left wrist behind his back and lowering his gaze. The man in front of him as he was now certainly never would have given up without a fight.

He looks up instantly at the other's encouragement, eyes wide in disbelief.

"...Really?" Martin asks, desperately searching his face. There's a spark of hope in his eyes, but it's faint and fragile and immediately extinguished by his rejection. The boy's face falls, rapidly flashing through horror, hurt, and panic, as if the idea of causing Citizen Brown offense brought him actual pain.

Before he can apologize, everything completely shatters. The words ring in his ears, the rest of the universe and the world outside fading into static.

"I... I have a friend?..." he says before he can stop himself. His composure falling apart by the second, he runs his hands down his face before running them through his hair. "What am I saying-- Jesus, that's pathetic, I'm pathetic-- I mean... you're saying that you're... friends with... with me?..."

Martin reflexively backs away from the man as he advances, but after a moment and a guilty look, carefully takes the photograph.

It's unquestionably him, happier in one split second than he's ever felt in his life.

Burning, stinging heat pricks at his eyes as he stares at the image, watching it blur in front of him. His breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut.

After a long moment, he opens them, returning Cit--Doctor Brown's gaze.

"So... the Everett interpretation... modal realism." Martin's tone sounds breathless and hollow as he slowly starts to speak. His hands start to shake. "You're from a possible world. Or this is the possible world. And I'm a... what, a-a contingent proposition? If... If this is true," he indicates the photograph, his voice straining as it rises in pitch, "and it is, that means that all of this... that I-I'm... contingently false?"

He takes a moment to take in a shaky breath, digging his thumb and his forefinger into his eyes.

"I, um..." Martin continues, quiet, "I gotta say it makes sense." His shoulders fall, looking much too old and far too young all at once. "I'll... I'll help you, Doctor Brown. Something must have gone really wrong to make you end up here. I'm sorry."