Page 75 of Evermore

River kissed him then, slow and deep, marveling at how episodes that once terrified him had become windows into the extraordinary way Finn experienced love across time.

They developed communication strategies for when Finn experienced temporal displacement—simple phrases and gestures that kept them connected even when Finn's consciousness was elsewhere. River learned to read subtle signs that indicated whether episode was distressing or peaceful, when to offer comfort and when to simply wait with patient presence.

“You've become fluent in TPD,” Finn joked one morning after brief, gentle episode during breakfast. “Like learning second language.”

“It's the language of loving you,” River replied, and meant it completely.

Their physical intimacy deepened too, River learning to make love to Finn with complete presence rather than fear that passion might trigger episode. Finn's responsiveness, the way he gasped River's name and arched beneath his touch, felt like prayers of gratitude for being accepted completely.

“I love you,” River whispered against Finn's throat one night as they moved together in darkness, lighthouse beam painting patterns on their skin. “I love all of you, every part of how your beautiful mind works.”

Finn's response was breathless and fervent: “I love you too. God, River, I love you too.”

Their love became stronger through accepting uncertainty rather than seeking guarantees. River no longer needed to know their relationship would last forever—he just needed to choose Finn fully, every day, for however long they had.

Three months after Finn's return, as autumn painted the coastline in shades of gold and crimson, River began to think about forever in different terms. Not as guarantee, but as daily choice. Not as destination, but as journey they'd take together, one step at a time.

Ever After

Finn

Five Years Later…

Finn woke to the sound of waves against the shore and River's steady breathing beside him. Five years had passed since his return from the temporal stream, five years of learning that love didn't require perfection—just the courage to keep showing up. The lighthouse cottage had grown with them, expanded to include a proper restoration workshop where centuries-old books waited for his careful attention.

He lay still for a moment, watching River sleep in the early morning light. The worry lines that had once etched themselves into River's face during sleep had softened, replaced by the peaceful expression of someone who'd learned to trust rather than control. River's dark hair was longer now, touched with silver at the temples that Finn loved to trace with his fingertips during their quiet morning rituals.

The transformation of their home still amazed him sometimes. Where medical equipment had once cluttered everysurface, books now lined the walls in careful rows. Where monitors had beeped with urgent data, plants grew toward windows that let in natural light instead of the harsh glare of research stations.

River stirred, his eyes opening slowly to meet Finn's gaze. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and warm with contentment.

“Morning,” Finn replied, leaning over to press a soft kiss to River's lips. The kiss tasted like home and possibility, like five years of choosing each other through good days and bad ones.

River slipped from bed to prepare coffee—a routine they'd perfected over years of learning each other's rhythms without trying to control them. Finn listened to the familiar sounds of their morning ritual: the coffee grinder, the whistle of the kettle, River humming unconsciously as he moved through their kitchen.

Through the bedroom window, Finn could see bottles scattered across the beach from last night's storm. Once, every piece of glass on their shore had held the potential for supernatural mystery. Now they were simply part of the coastal ecosystem River studied and protected, beautiful debris from beautiful storms.

“Coffee's ready,” River called from the kitchen, and Finn could hear the smile in his voice.

Later that morning, Finn settled into his restoration studio, surrounded by centuries-old books and manuscripts that trusted him with their secrets. His hands moved with steady confidence as he assessed a water-damaged ship's log from the 1800s, the pages yellow with age but still holding stories worth preserving.

His customer consultation notebook lay open beside him, filled with neat handwriting documenting projects and deadlines. No more mysterious gaps where hours or days had vanished from his memory. No more waking up to find work completed by hands he couldn't remember using.

The ship's log was particularly fascinating—the captain's entries growing increasingly erratic as what he described as “time sickness” affected his navigation. Finn recognized the symptoms immediately: temporal displacement episodes that the 19th century had no name for, no understanding of.

As he worked, Finn felt the familiar shift in his awareness that signaled an approaching episode. Five years ago, this moment would have filled him with dread. Now he simply set down his tools and let the displacement wash over him like a gentle tide.

The workshop faded around him as his consciousness drifted backward through the ship's history. He saw the captain struggling with episodes that left him disoriented and fearful, saw the crew's growing concern as their leader battled something none of them understood. But Finn also saw the moments of clarity, when the captain's unique relationship with time allowed him to navigate storms that would have destroyed other ships.

When Finn's awareness settled back into the present, he was smiling. The episode had lasted maybe ten minutes—River had learned not to worry unless they stretched past an hour—and had given him insights into the book's provenance that ordinary research couldn't provide.

He made careful notes about what he'd experienced, documentation that had become part of Dr. Voss's research into how TPD could be accommodated rather than cured. His episodes were no longer medical emergencies but collaborativetools, windows into historical understanding that made him uniquely qualified for his work.

River

Hey, love. How are you?

Finn

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