“Don't 'Maya' me. I told you this relationship was moving too fast, that the emotional intensity was making his symptoms worse.” Maya's voice was getting louder, drawing attention from other families dealing with their own medical crises. “Andnow he's having episodes so severe they require emergency intervention.”
River felt guilt and defensive anger war in his chest. “You think this is my fault?”
“I think a man with a rare neurological condition shouldn't be in a relationship that's clearly triggering more severe episodes.” Maya stepped closer, her protective instincts on full display. “When's the last time Finn had a normal day?”
But Captain Torres was frowning, his attention caught by something Maya had said. “Did you say neurological condition?”
Maya turned to her father with obvious exasperation. “Yes, Dad. The condition Finn's been dealing with for months. The memory gaps, the confusion, the episodes where he loses time.”
Captain Torres went very still, his face cycling through emotions River couldn't identify. “Episodes where he loses time and seems to be somewhere else mentally?”
“You know about this?” River asked, something cold settling in his stomach.
“I know about something that sounds very similar.” Captain Torres looked toward Finn's room, his expression troubled. “Your mother had episodes like that. Before the diagnosis they gave her, before the doctors decided it was dementia.”
Maya's face went white. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother didn't have dementia,” Captain Torres said quietly, the admission clearly costing him. “She had something else. Something the doctors didn't understand and couldn't treat. Something that made her mind... slip between different times, different realities.”
River felt the world tilt sideways.
“Why didn't you tell us this before?” Maya asked.
“Because I hoped it wasn't genetic. Because I hoped Finn would be different.” Captain Torres ran a hand through his graying hair, looking every year of his age. “Because I've beenrunning from this for years, and I thought maybe if I didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't be real.”
Dr. Voss chose that moment to appear, emerging from Finn's room with her ever-present notebook and the expression of someone who'd just collected fascinating data. But she stopped short when she saw Captain Torres, something shifting in her expression.
“Captain Torres,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”
“Doctor Voss.” His tone was equally neutral, but River caught undercurrents that suggested a history between them. “I hear you've been treating my son.”
“I've been researching his condition. The same condition that killed your wife, though you were never willing to cooperate with my investigation then.” Dr. Voss's professional mask slipped slightly, revealing old frustration. “Perhaps now you'll be more willing to share relevant family medical history.”
River looked between them, understanding dawning. “You've met before.”
“Dr. Voss approached me years ago, asking questions about Elena's episodes, wanting to study what had happened to her.” Captain Torres's voice was tight with old pain. “I wasn't interested in turning my wife's suffering into someone else's research project.”
“And now your son has the same condition, and your refusal to cooperate may have cost valuable time in understanding how to treat it.” Dr. Voss's excitement was barely contained behind professional demeanor. “His episodes are providing unprecedented data about consciousness and temporal perception.”
Maya stepped between Dr. Voss and the door to Finn's room. “What exactly are you proposing to do to my brother?”
“Extended monitoring, detailed documentation of his neurological responses during displacement events.” Dr. Voss spoke about Finn like he was a fascinating case study rather than a human being. “This condition offers insights that could help others.”
“Others like your daughter?” Captain Torres asked quietly, and Dr. Voss went very still.
“My daughter died from this condition because I didn't understand it well enough to help her,” Dr. Voss said, her professional composure cracking slightly. “Finn's case could prevent other families from experiencing that loss.”
River felt pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. “Your daughter had the same condition as Finn's mother?”
“Temporal Perceptual Displacement. It runs in families, usually through the maternal line, though it can skip generations.” Dr. Voss's mask slipped further, revealing the grief-driven motivation behind her research. “Elena died because the doctors didn't recognize the symptoms until it was too late. Sarah—my daughter—died because I couldn't convince her to accept treatment.”
“What treatment?” Maya asked sharply. “Because so far, all you've done is monitor and study Finn. You haven't actually offered any concrete treatment options.”
Dr. Voss opened her briefcase, revealing vials and documentation that looked more serious than her previous materials. “Experimental protocols that I've been developing based on the research with Finn. Medication combinations that might stabilize the neurological activity, prevent the temporal displacement episodes.”
“Might,” Captain Torres said, his tone skeptical. “The same way treatment might have helped Elena if I'd been willing to let you use her as a test subject.”
“The same way treatment could help Finn if his family is willing to trust medical intervention over denial and avoidance.” Dr. Voss's voice was getting sharp, professional frustration overriding grief-motivated compassion.
