Page 62 of Evermore

Most importantly, he had River beside him—not trying to cure his condition but willing to accept it as part of loving him. That felt like the kind of foundation they could build a life on, regardless of what temporal echoes thought was best.

“Ready for this?” River asked as they walked toward the hospital exit.

Finn looked at the man he loved, seeing determination and fear and hope in equal measure, and felt his own resolve solidify into conviction.

“I'm ready,” Finn said. “Let's go home and face whatever's been trying to destroy us.”

Chapter 19

Truth

River

The lighthouse cottage felt different when they returned from the hospital, charged with tension that had nothing to do with Finn's medical condition and everything to do with the confrontation they both knew was coming. River moved to the kitchen to make coffee, needing something normal and domestic to anchor himself while Finn settled carefully on the couch, still moving with the cautious exhaustion of someone recovering from a medical crisis.

“You're scared,” Finn observed, watching River's hands shake slightly as he measured coffee grounds.

“Terrified,” River admitted, not bothering to lie. “I'm about to face someone who thinks our love is doomed.”

Finn stood up and moved into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around River's waist from behind. The simple contact was grounding, familiar, real in ways that made the supernatural strangeness surrounding them feel manageable.

“Whatever warnings we get, whatever threats, we make our own choices,” Finn said against River's shoulder. “Nobody gets to write our story for us.”

River leaned back into Finn's embrace, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “What if they're right? What if trying to build a life together really does destroy us?”

“Then we get destroyed together,” Finn said simply. “I'd rather risk everything with you than be safe without you.”

The coffee maker gurgled to life, its familiar sound interrupted by the temperature in the cottage dropping dramatically. Their breath began to mist, and the lighthouse beam outside flickered erratically before going completely dark.

“We know you're here,” River called out, his voice carrying more strength than he felt. “We know what you've been doing. If you want to save us so badly, then talk to us directly instead of hiding.”

The lighthouse beam flickered back to life, casting strange shadows through the cottage windows. In the shifting light, a figure materialized in their living room doorway—unmistakably River, but seventeen years older and broken by accumulated grief.

River had glimpsed this impossible version of himself before, but seeing him fully was like looking into a mirror that reflected loss instead of possibility. The man's hair was streaked with premature gray, his face lined with exhaustion that went bone-deep. He wore clothes River recognized from his own closet, but they hung on his frame like they belonged to someone who'd forgotten how to take care of himself.

“Jesus,” River whispered, his rational mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

“You really have no fucking idea what you're doing to each other,” the older River said, his voice carrying authority earnedthrough years of consequences. “I've been trying to save you from making the same mistakes I made.”

Finn stepped out from behind River, facing his temporal tormentor with courage that made River's chest swell with pride and terror. “You've been sabotaging us. Making my episodes worse, triggering them at the worst possible moments.”

“I've been trying to teach you both to let go before you destroy the very thing you're desperate to preserve.” The older River's eyes held pain that made River want to look away. “Do you have any idea what it's like to spend seventeen years knowing you could have prevented your own heartbreak if you'd just been brave enough to walk away?”

“We're not walking away,” River said, his voice stronger now. “Whatever you think we should do, whatever warnings you have, we're not giving up on each other.”

The older River laughed, but it was the sound of someone who'd forgotten how joy was supposed to work. “That's exactly what I said. That love meant fighting for each other, solving problems, finding cures for what was broken.”

River felt Finn move closer to him, their hands finding each other automatically. The simple contact seemed to make the older River's form flicker, like their present connection weakened his ability to maintain his presence.

“Tell us what actually happened,” Finn said, his voice carrying quiet strength. “Not warnings, not manipulation. Tell us the truth about how your story ended.”

The older River was quiet for a moment, his expression cycling through emotions River couldn't identify. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of seventeen years of accumulated grief.

“You want the truth? I became obsessed with curing Finn's TPD. Not managing it, not accepting it, but eliminating it completely.” The older River's form flickered as he continued.“I tried everything. Experimental medications, dangerous treatments, research that consumed every moment of our lives until I forgot how to be his partner instead of his doctor.”

River felt ice in his veins because he recognized the obsession his older self was describing. The desperate need to fix, to solve, to make everything normal.

“What happened to him?” River asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

---