Page 52 of Evermore

“Can everyone please stop talking about me like I'm not here?”

Finn's voice came from the doorway of his hospital room, where he stood in a hospital gown and socks, looking pale but determined. River felt his heart clench at how fragile Finn appeared, how carefully he moved.

“You should be resting,” River said, moving toward Finn with automatic concern.

“I should be part of conversations about my own medical care,” Finn replied, his voice quiet but firm. “And I'd really like to understand what everyone's been keeping from me about my family's medical history.”

Captain Torres stepped forward, his military bearing unable to hide his obvious guilt and pain. “Finn, I'm sorry. I should have told you about your mother's condition, about what really happened to her.”

“What really happened to her?” Finn's voice was carefully controlled, but River could see the tension in his shoulders.

“She didn't have dementia. She had Temporal Perceptual Displacement—the same condition you're experiencing now.” Captain Torres looked like each word was being dragged out of him. “The doctors didn't understand it, couldn't treat it. I watched her slip away gradually, living in different times, different realities, until she couldn't find her way back to us.”

Finn was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. “So this is genetic. This isn't going to get better.”

“We don't know that,” Dr. Voss interjected. “Your mother's case was decades ago, before we understood neuroplasticityand temporal processing. The experimental treatments I've developed might be able to stabilize your condition.”

“Experimental treatments that you haven't actually described,” Maya pointed out. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Dr. Voss pulled out documentation, spreading it across the nearby surface. “Medication protocols that target the specific brain regions showing unusual activity during episodes. Environmental controls that might prevent triggers. Behavioral interventions that could help maintain connection to present reality.”

River studied the papers, his scientific training allowing him to understand some of the technical terminology. “These are pretty aggressive pharmaceutical interventions.”

“The condition is aggressive. It requires aggressive treatment.” Dr. Voss's tone carried medical authority, but also desperation. “Without intervention, Finn's episodes will continue to increase in frequency and duration until he's unable to maintain any connection to consensus reality.”

“Like what happened to Mom,” Finn said quietly.

“Like what happened to Elena and Sarah,” Captain Torres added. “Both of them lost to a condition we didn't understand and couldn't treat.”

“I want to try the experimental treatment,” Finn said, his decision surprising everyone with its clarity. “But I want safeguards. I want medical supervision that isn't just Dr. Voss. I want my family involved in every decision. And I want the right to stop treatment if it's making things worse.”

Dr. Voss nodded eagerly. “Those are reasonable conditions. I can arrange for oversight from other specialists, establish monitoring protocols?—”

“And I want complete honesty about risks,” Finn continued. “I want to know exactly what these medications might do tomy brain, what side effects are possible, what happens if the treatment doesn't work.”

“The biggest risk is that without treatment, your condition will continue progressing until you lose all connection to present reality,” Dr. Voss said. “But yes, I'll provide complete documentation of potential side effects and complications.”

Maya looked skeptical but resigned. “If this is what you want to do, I'll support it. But I want second opinions from doctors who aren't personally invested in experimental research.”

Captain Torres was quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling with old guilt and new decisions. “I should have been more involved when your mother was sick. Should have fought harder for treatment options, for understanding what was happening to her.” He looked at Finn with obvious regret. “I won't make the same mistake twice.”

River felt cautiously hopeful for the first time in weeks. “So we try the experimental treatment. With medical oversight, family support, and the understanding that we can stop if it's not helping.”

“And if it doesn't work?” Finn asked quietly.

“Then we adapt,” River said, reaching for Finn's hand. “We find ways to love each other and build a life together regardless of what challenges we face.”

As they gathered Finn's belongings and prepared to leave the hospital, River noticed Dr. Voss hanging back, clearly wanting to discuss implementation details but recognizing that her audience was emotionally exhausted.

“We'll start slowly,” she said to the group. “The goal is stabilization, not dramatic change.”

As they headed toward the hospital exit—Finn leaning on River's arm, Maya and Captain Torres flanking them with protective vigilance—River felt like they were finally takingconcrete action instead of just reacting to increasingly severe episodes.

But he also felt like they were crossing a threshold into territory where medical intervention might change Finn in ways none of them could predict. The experimental treatment offered hope, but it also carried risks that could alter everything about the person River had fallen in love with.

The lighthouse cottage felt different when they returned, charged with tension that had nothing to do with Finn's medical condition and everything to do with family dynamics that were being renegotiated in real time. Captain Torres looked around the space with obvious discomfort, clearly seeing evidence of a life his son had built without his involvement or knowledge.

“This is where you've been living,” he said, the statement carrying multiple layers of observation and judgment.

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