The Beacon Point Medical Center smelled like disinfectant and the particular despair of people waiting for answers they probably didn't want to hear. River sat beside Finn in the waiting room, noting how Finn's hands shook slightly as he filled out intake forms that asked about family medical history and current symptoms.
“Previous episodes of confusion or disorientation,” Finn read aloud, his voice carefully neutral. “Well, that's cheerful.”
“Just be honest,” River said, though privately he was already preparing for the likelihood that they'd encounter the same dismissive attitude Finn had experienced before. “The more accurate information they have, the better they can help.”
Dr. Martinez turned out to be a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and the patient demeanor of someone who'd spent years dealing with worried families. She listened to Finn's description of his symptoms with attention that seemed genuine rather than perfunctory, taking notes and asking follow-up questions that suggested she was taking his concerns seriously.
“Memory gaps and episodes of disorientation can have many causes,” she said after completing her examination. “Stress, sleep deprivation, grief reactions, even nutritional deficiencies. Given what you've told me about your mother's death and the recent changes in your life, I think we're looking at stress-related symptoms.”
River felt his jaw clench with frustration. “What about the nosebleeds? The fact that he's demonstrating knowledge during episodes that he doesn't possess when fully conscious?”
Dr. Martinez turned to him with polite attention. “And you are?”
“River Hayes. I'm a marine biologist, and I've witnessed these episodes firsthand. This isn't simple stress response—there are neurological components that need investigation.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Dr. Martinez said, her tone diplomatically neutral, “but stress-related dissociation can present in many forms. The important thing is that Finn is receiving appropriate support and managing his anxiety levels.”
“So you're not going to order any tests?” River pressed, his scientific training rebelling against the lack of thorough investigation. “No neurological screening, no brain imaging, nothing to rule out organic causes?”
“I'll order basic blood work to rule out obvious metabolic issues,” Dr. Martinez conceded. “But based on Finn's age and the temporal relationship between these symptoms and his recent loss, I believe we're dealing with psychological rather than neurological factors.”
River wanted to argue further, but Finn's hand on his arm stopped him. “It's okay,” Finn said quietly. “This is what I expected.”
But it wasn't okay. River could see the disappointment and fear in Finn's expression, the way he was already preparing to accept that his concerns would be dismissed again. The protective fury that rose in River's chest felt disproportionate to their relationship timeline, but he didn't care about proportionality anymore.
“We'll get a second opinion,” River said as they left the examination room. “Someone who specializes in neurological issues, someone who won't just assume everything is stress-related.”
“River, you don't have to?—”
“Yes, I do,” River interrupted. “I absolutely do have to.”
They were heading toward the exit when a familiar voice called Finn's name from behind them. River turned to see a young woman approaching with the determined stride of someone on a mission, her dark hair and brown eyes marking her as obviously related to Finn.
“Maya,” Finn said, his voice holding a mixture of relief and resignation. “I didn't expect you to come.”
“You called and said you were at the medical center with someone I'd never heard of,” Maya replied, her gaze shifting to River with undisguised suspicion. “Of course I came.”
River found himself under intense scrutiny. Maya was smaller than Finn but carried herself with authority that suggested she was accustomed to taking charge in family crises.
“You must be River,” Maya said, her tone carefully neutral. “I'm Maya, Finn's sister.”
“Nice to meet you,” River replied, though Maya's expression suggested the feeling wasn't mutual. “Finn's told me a lot about you.”
“Funny, he hasn't told me anything about you until this morning.” Maya's attention shifted back to Finn. “What happened? Your call was pretty vague about why you needed medical attention.”
Finn glanced at River uncertainly, clearly struggling with how much to reveal. “I had an episode last night. More severe than usual. River thought I should get checked out.”
“Episode of what?” Maya's voice sharpened with concern. “Finn, you said you were feeling better lately.”
“I was. I am. It's just...” Finn trailed off, looking overwhelmed by the prospect of explaining his condition to his sister while standing in a hospital corridor.
“Can we take this somewhere more private?” River suggested, noting how other people in the waiting area were starting to pay attention to their conversation.
Maya studied him for a moment, then nodded. “My car's outside. We can talk there.”
The drive to a nearby coffee shop passed in tense silence, Maya clearly processing the implications of River's prominent role in her brother's medical care while River tried to figure out how to explain his investment in Finn's wellbeing without sounding completely insane.
“So,” Maya said once they were settled in a corner booth with coffee none of them seemed particularly interested in drinking, “how long have you two been seeing each other?”
