“Finn's brain activity showed patterns consistent with active memory formation and retrieval, but the memories he was accessing appear to be real events rather than fantasies.” Dr. Voss pointed to specific data points with obvious fascination. “Cross-referencing with your journals and photographs, we've confirmed that several experiences Finn described during his episode actually occurred.”
River felt the world tilt sideways. “What do you mean they actually occurred?”
“I mean Finn described your private thoughts during research dives, childhood memories you've never told anyone about, internal monologues you had while working alone in your lab.” Dr. Voss's excitement was palpable, but River felt only growing horror. “His brain is somehow accessing memories that should be impossible for him to know.”
“That's impossible.”
“It's unprecedented. But the data is conclusive.” Dr. Voss pulled out more documentation, showing correlation between Finn's episode descriptions and River's own recorded experiences. “We need to understand how this is happening, what mechanisms allow his brain to access information it shouldn't have.”
River stared at the evidence, his scientific training warring with the impossibility of what the data suggested. Either Finn was somehow accessing River's memories, or something was happening that transcended normal understanding of neurology.
“What does this mean for treatment?” River asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
“It means we need more comprehensive monitoring, more detailed documentation of the correlation between his episodes and real events.” Dr. Voss began organizing materials with obvious excitement. “This could be the breakthrough we've been hoping for.”
“Or it could be evidence that his condition is beyond anything we can understand.”
“That's why we need more data. I'd like to propose bringing Finn to my laboratory for more comprehensive testing.”
“Absolutely not.” River's response was immediate and firm, his protective instincts overriding scientific curiosity. “He's not a lab rat.”
“This research could help him, River. It could help others with similar conditions. But we need to approach it systematically, with proper controls.”
“We need to approach it with respect for Finn's humanity. He's not a research subject, he's a person who deserves to be treated like one.”
Dr. Voss's expression shifted, revealing something that looked less like medical compassion and more like scientific frustration. “Your emotional attachment is compromising your objectivity. This condition requires systematic investigation, not sentimental protection.”
“My emotional attachment is the only thing keeping Finn's wellbeing as the priority instead of your research goals.” River stood from the table, his patience exhausted. “I think it's time for you to leave.”
After Dr. Voss left with obvious reluctance, River sat alone surrounded by monitoring equipment, wondering if his scientific approach had become part of the problem rather than the solution.
Finn found him there an hour later, sitting with his head in his hands, surrounded by evidence of his obsession with solving an unsolvable mystery.
“Bad morning?” Finn asked, settling across from River with careful attention.
“Dr. Voss had some findings about your episodes,” River said, immediately regretting mentioning it. “But I don't think her research approach is in your best interest.”
“What kind of findings?”
River hesitated, unsure how to explain that Finn's brain was apparently accessing memories that belonged to someone else. “She thinks your episodes involve real memory retrieval rather than fantasy. But she wants to treat you like a research subject instead of a person who needs support.”
Finn was quiet, processing the implications. “Real memories of what?”
“Experiences we've shared. Moments that I documented but never shared with you.” River looked up, meeting Finn's eyes with fear and confusion. “It doesn't make sense, but the data suggests you're somehow accessing information you shouldn't have.”
“That's terrifying.”
“It's impossible. But it's also what the evidence suggests.” River gestured toward the monitoring equipment surrounding them. “I've been trying to approach your condition scientifically, but maybe some things can't be understood through systematic investigation.”
“Maybe some things can't be understood at all,” Finn said gently. “Maybe the point isn't to solve my condition, but to learn how to live with it.”
River felt something inside him resist that possibility, his scientific training rebelling against accepting mystery without pursuing explanation. But looking at Finn's face, seeing theexhaustion that months of medical investigation had created, River realized his quest for answers might be causing more harm than help.
“I've been treating you like a research problem instead of a person I love,” River admitted, the words feeling like confession. “I've been so focused on finding solutions that I've forgotten to just be present with you.”
“I know you want to help. But I need you to love me more than you need to fix me.” Finn reached across the table to take River's hand, his touch warm and grounding. “I need you to be my partner, not my doctor.”
The simple request felt revolutionary after months of approaching their relationship through the lens of medical crisis management. River squeezed Finn's hand, feeling the monitoring equipment around them like accusatory witnesses to his failure to prioritize love over problem-solving.
