Page 60 of Evermore

“Where were you when Mom needed family?” The words escaped before Finn could stop them, years of buried resentment surfacing with the sharp edge of hospital fluorescents and too much time to think.

Captain Torres's face went gray, his hands fidgeting with the Coast Guard cap he still carried everywhere like a security blanket. “Finn, that's not—I couldn't handle what was happening to her.”

“You couldn't handle it, so you just left?” Finn struggled to sit up straighter in his hospital bed, anger giving him strength he didn't know he had. “She needed us, and you disappeared.”

“Because I knew what she was seeing,” Captain Torres said quietly, his voice breaking years of carefully maintained silence. “I knew about the conversations she claimed we'd had, the places she described that we'd never been. I knew because sometimes... sometimes what she said would happen actually did happen.”

The room went quiet except for the steady beep of medical equipment and the sound of Finn's world rearranging itself around information that changed everything.

Maya leaned forward, her psychology training engaged. “Dad, what are you talking about?”

“Your mother would tell me about rescue operations before I got called out to them. She'd describe exactly how they would unfold, who we'd save, what equipment would fail.” Captain Torres looked at his hands like they might hold answers he'd been too afraid to find. “I thought she was getting lucky withguesses, or maybe picking up information from radio chatter. But it happened too often, too precisely.”

Finn felt his heart racing as pieces of an impossible puzzle started fitting together. “She was seeing different versions of reality.”

“She was seeing futures, possibilities, things that hadn't happened yet but would.” Captain Torres met his eyes for the first time since entering the room. “And when I realized that what she was experiencing wasn't madness but something else entirely, something I couldn't understand or control, I ran.”

“You left because she had abilities you couldn't explain?” Maya's voice carried disbelief and growing anger.

“I left because loving someone who lives partially outside normal reality is terrifying.” Captain Torres's admission hung in the air like something toxic. “Every day with her was like living with someone who had one foot in our world and one foot in possibilities I couldn't see. I wasn't brave enough for that kind of love.”

Finn felt validation and horror in equal measure. His mother hadn't been losing her mind. She'd been experiencing something similar to his own condition—displacement from linear time, access to experiences that felt real but existed outside consensus reality.

“The doctors said she had dementia,” Finn said.

“The doctors didn't know what they were talking about.” Captain Torres rubbed his face with hands that shook slightly. “They saw an older woman who talked about things that hadn't happened and assumed cognitive decline. But Elena wasn't losing memories. She was gaining access to experiences that existed in different timelines.”

Dr. Voss arrived that afternoon carrying medical files and wearing the expression of someone who'd spent hours connecting dots that painted a troubling picture. She spreaddocuments across Finn's hospital table with the focused attention of someone building a case.

“I've been reviewing your mother's medical records,” Dr. Voss said, her voice carrying subdued excitement. “The symptoms documented by her doctors are completely consistent with Temporal Perceptual Displacement.”

River looked up from his position beside Finn's bed, where he'd been quietly processing the family revelations. “You've known about the genetic connection this whole time?”

“I suspected based on Finn's symptoms, but I needed confirmation from medical records.” Dr. Voss pointed to specific entries in their mother's file. “Look at these documentation patterns. Memory displacement episodes, knowledge acquisition that couldn't be explained, temporal confusion that doctors interpreted as cognitive decline.”

Maya leaned forward, studying the documents. “Why didn't anyone recognize it as TPD?”

“Because most medical professionals have never encountered temporal displacement. The symptoms look like dementia or psychological disorders to doctors who aren't familiar with consciousness research.” Dr. Voss gathered the medical files carefully. “But understanding Finn's family history explains why his condition manifested so dramatically.”

“How so?”

“TPD tends to activate during periods of intense emotional stress, particularly related to loss or trauma. Elena's condition probably began during a difficult period, and Finn's activated after her death.” Dr. Voss's clinical detachment was both helpful and disturbing. “The genetic predisposition was there, but it needed emotional triggers to manifest.”

The condition hadn't appeared randomly. It had emerged from the deepest pain he'd ever experienced.

“Is that why my episodes got worse when River and I got closer?” Finn asked.

“Emotional intensity can trigger more frequent displacement events, but it can also provide stability if the relationship is supportive.” Dr. Voss paused, her expression shifting to something more personal. “Which brings me to something I should have told you earlier about my own involvement in TPD research.”

River's attention sharpened. “What do you mean?”

“You already know about my daughter, but what I didn't mention is that her condition has an official designation now. Temporal Personality Displacement, or TPD.” Dr. Voss's voice was steady but her hands shook slightly. “I've been researching this specific condition ever since her death, hoping to understand what happened and prevent similar losses.”

“That's why you pushed for the experimental treatment,” River said, understanding and anger evident in his voice. “You weren't just trying to help Finn. You were trying to understand what happened to Elena.”

“I was pursuing answers for both of you,” Dr. Voss admitted. “But I realize now that my personal investment compromised my judgment about appropriate treatment approaches. I nearly killed you in pursuit of answers about my own loss.”

Finn felt sympathy and anger toward Dr. Voss in equal measure. Her motivations were understandable, but she'd used his condition to pursue her own research goals rather than focusing on his wellbeing.

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