The cottage's spare room had become Finn's refuge, a place where he could try to sort through his increasingly unreliable memories without worrying about alarming River. He'd covered the walls with lists and diagrams, desperate attempts to create some framework for understanding what was happening to his mind.
Real memories (probably): Meeting River at the bookshop, the tide pool exploration, moving in together.
False memories (definitely): The garden, detailed knowledge of River's preferences, conversations we've never had.
Uncertain: The depth of my feelings, how well I think I know him, whether our connection is real or manufactured by my brain.
The lists grew longer each day, filled with observations that never seemed to resolve into clarity. Finn found himself caught between trusting his emotions and accepting the timeline River described.
River found him there that afternoon, surrounded by notebooks and scattered papers.
“What's all this?” River asked gently, settling beside Finn on the spare room's narrow bed.
“My attempt to figure out what's real,” Finn said simply. “Turns out it's more complicated than I expected.”
River examined some of the lists, his expression growing more concerned as he read. “You've been spending a lot of time thinking about this.”
“I've been spending a lot of time confused about this. There's a difference.” Finn gestured toward the evidence of his mental struggle. “Everything feels simultaneously familiar andimpossible. I love you with the intensity of someone who's been building a life with you for years, but apparently we've only known each other for not that long.”
“Intense feelings can develop quickly under the right circumstances,” River said carefully. “What we've been through together—that kind of shared experience can accelerate emotional connections.”
“Is that what you think this is? Accelerated emotional connection?”
River was quiet, clearly struggling with his own questions about their relationship's rapid development. “I think we found something special, and I think the circumstances made us both more open to connection than we might normally be. But that doesn't make what we have less real.”
Finn wanted to believe that, but the explanation felt inadequate for the depth of familiarity he experienced with River. The way they moved around each other, the comfortable silences, the sense that they understood each other on levels that usually took years to develop.
“What if my brain is creating false memories to fill in gaps?” Finn asked quietly. “What if I'm not actually remembering real experiences with you, but generating fake ones based on what I wish our relationship was like?”
“Then we deal with that. We figure out how to build something real regardless of what your brain is doing with memory.” River's voice was steady but carried undertones of uncertainty.
Before Finn could respond, Dr. Voss arrived for one of her regular check-ins, carrying her usual medical bag but looking more serious than her previous visits. She moved through the cottage with clinical authority, setting up basic monitoring equipment.
“The current medication seems to be helping with episode frequency,” she observed, checking Finn's blood pressure and pulse. “But we're still seeing significant symptoms that suggest ongoing neurological instability.”
“What does that mean for treatment?” Finn asked, though part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know.
“It means we may need to adjust the current protocol. The medication is managing some symptoms, but we're still seeing breakthrough episodes.” Dr. Voss opened her bag to reveal additional pill bottles and monitoring tools. “I've been developing more targeted approaches based on your specific responses.”
River leaned forward with obvious concern. “More targeted how?”
“Different medication combinations, adjusted dosages, additional supplements that might prevent the neurological events entirely rather than just reducing their frequency.” Dr. Voss's voice carried medical authority, but also something more personal. “We're learning more about your condition with each episode, which allows me to refine the treatment.”
The prospect of adjusted treatment felt both hopeful and frightening. Finn's current medication had helped somewhat, but the episodes were still occurring, still pulling him away from reality.
“What would the adjustment involve?” Finn asked.
“Modified dosages of your current medications, plus additional compounds that target the specific brain regions showing unusual activity.” Dr. Voss began organizing her materials. “The goal would be to stabilize your neurological responses completely, eliminate the displacement episodes, restore reliable memory and temporal perception.”
“And if the new combination doesn't work?”
“Then we continue refining until we find the right approach for your specific condition.” Dr. Voss's confidence was both reassuring and slightly unsettling. “Every case is different, but I'm optimistic about the protocols we're developing.”
Finn felt cautiously hopeful. His current situation—living with uncertainty about his own perceptions, unable to trust his memories—was exhausting.
“I want to try the adjusted treatment,” Finn said.
“Good,” Dr. Voss replied with obvious approval. “We'll start with modified dosages and monitor your responses carefully.”
