Page 26 of Evermore
Scientific Pursuit
River
R iver's laptop screen glowed at three AM, his eyes burning from hours of reading medical journals that all seemed to dance around the edges of what was happening to Finn without ever hitting the mark.
His coffee had gone cold, but he kept taking sips anyway, the bitter liquid keeping him focused on search terms that yielded increasingly esoteric results.
“Come on,” he muttered, clicking through another abstract that promised breakthrough insights but delivered nothing but academic jargon. “There has to be something.”
The lighthouse cottage felt different with Finn sleeping while River worked obsessively in the living room, surrounded by printouts and notebooks filled with observations about episode timing and triggers.
What had started as helpful documentation had become an all-consuming quest to solve the mystery through pure intellectual force.
His phone buzzed:
Jake
Haven't heard from you in a week. Everything okay up there?
He stared at the message, trying to remember the last time he'd thought about anything other than Finn's medical situation. When had he last checked in with friends, responded to social invitations, or engaged with the world outside their increasingly isolated bubble of crisis management?
River
Things are complicated right now. I'll call you soon.
Jake
That's what you said last week. And the week before. I'm worried about you.
River closed the phone without responding, unable to explain that worry was a luxury he couldn't afford. Finn needed answers before the condition progressed beyond help. Everything else felt like distraction.
“River?” Finn's voice came from the bedroom doorway, soft with sleep and confusion. “What time is it?”
“Late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.” River minimized his research windows, guilt making him defensive. “Did I wake you?”
“No, just... the bed felt empty.” Finn moved into the living room, noting the scattered papers and empty mugs that suggested hours of work. “You're researching again.”
“Just trying to understand your condition better.”
Finn settled onto the couch beside River, close enough that their shoulders touched. “Any breakthroughs?”
“Nothing concrete yet. But I'm building a database of similar cases, looking for patterns that might suggest treatment approaches.” River gestured toward his laptop screen, where dozens of tabs displayed medical studies. “There's got to be something that explains what's happening to you.”
“And if there isn't?”
The question hit River like a punch to the gut. “There will be. I just have to look harder, dig deeper.”
Finn studied River's face with careful attention. “When's the last time you slept more than four hours? Or ate something that wasn't coffee and leftovers?”
“I'm fine.”
“You're not fine. You're running yourself into the ground trying to solve something that might not have a solution.” Finn's voice was gentle but firm. “I appreciate everything you're doing, but I need you to take care of yourself too.”
River wanted to argue, but Finn's concern was valid. He had been neglecting basic self-care. But stopping felt impossible when every hour of delay might mean another severe episode, another piece of Finn lost.
“I can't stop looking,” River admitted. “Not when you're getting worse and I'm the only one who believes your condition is real and treatable.”
“You're not the only one. Dr. Voss believes it too.”
“Dr. Voss believes it's worth studying. That's different from believing it's treatable.” River closed his laptop with unnecessary force. “But maybe she's right about needing more investigation.”
Dr. Voss's laboratory had expanded since River's last visit, filled with monitoring equipment that looked more sophisticated than anything he'd seen in standard medical facilities. She greeted him with obvious enthusiasm, her sharp eyes brightening when he explained his desire to collaborate.
“I've been hoping someone with your background would become involved,” Dr. Voss said, leading him through her research materials. “Finn's case presents unique challenges that require interdisciplinary expertise.”
“What kind of challenges?”
“His episodes demonstrate neurological activity that doesn't match standard patterns for memory disorders.” Dr. Voss pulled up brain scan images, pointing to highlighted areas with obvious excitement.
“These readings were taken during one of his episodes. Notice the unusual activity in the temporal lobe region.”
River studied the scans with growing fascination and alarm. The patterns were unlike anything he'd seen, suggesting neurological events that went far beyond simple memory issues. “What could cause activity like this?”
“That's what we need to determine. I'd like to propose more intensive monitoring of his episodes, with equipment that can capture real-time neurological data.”
“What kind of monitoring?”
“Continuous EEG recording, environmental sensors, detailed documentation of episode progression.” Dr. Voss's enthusiasm was infectious, but something about her intensity made River uncomfortable. “With proper data collection, we might identify patterns that lead to breakthrough understanding.”
River's scientific training responded to the systematic approach, but his protective instincts worried about treating Finn like a research subject. “Would this be invasive?”
“Minimally. Most equipment would be unobtrusive, designed to capture data without interfering with normal activities.” Dr. Voss began pulling out devices that looked like they belonged in a NASA laboratory.
“The goal is comprehensive documentation that might reveal insights previous studies have missed.”
“And you think this could lead to treatment options?”
“I think this could lead to understanding. And understanding is the first step toward any meaningful intervention.” Dr. Voss's expression was professionally encouraging, but River caught glimpses of something that looked less like medical compassion and more like scientific hunger.
“Are you willing to help with setup and data collection?”
River agreed before fully considering the implications, his desperation for answers overriding concerns about experimental procedures. If Dr. Voss's approach could provide insights that conventional medicine had missed, then the inconvenience and potential risks were acceptable costs.
“Excellent. We'll start with basic monitoring and gradually increase scope based on what we discover.” Dr. Voss began organizing devices with obvious satisfaction. “I think you'll find that systematic investigation yields much more useful results than emotional support alone.”
The lighthouse cottage transformed into something resembling a research facility over the next few days, with sensors positioned throughout and monitoring equipment humming constantly.
River threw himself into the setup with obsessive energy, determined to create the most comprehensive data collection system possible.
“This is getting intense,” Finn observed, watching River calibrate another sensor. “I feel like I'm living in a science experiment.”
“You are living in a science experiment,” River replied, not realizing how that sounded until Finn's expression shifted. “I mean, we're applying scientific methodology to understand your condition.”
“Is that different from treating me like a test subject?”
River paused in his equipment adjustments, noting the hurt in Finn's voice. “Of course it is. Everything we're doing is designed to help you.”
“Everything you're doing is designed to gather data about me. There's a difference.” Finn settled into his reading chair, the one spot in the cottage that hadn't been equipped with monitors. “When's the last time we had a conversation that wasn't about my symptoms?”
The question caught River off guard, forcing him to realize that their relationship had become entirely focused on Finn's medical condition. Every interaction was filtered through the lens of data collection.
“The monitoring is temporary,” River said, though he couldn't specify how long it would continue. “Once we understand what's happening, we can go back to normal.”
“What if there is no normal? What if this is just who I am now, and you're going to spend the rest of our relationship trying to fix me instead of just being with me?”
“I'm trying to help you,” River said, more defensive than intended.
“You're trying to solve me. Like I'm a research problem instead of a person you care about.” Finn's voice was quiet but steady. “I miss the version of you who used to just hold me when I was scared, instead of immediately analyzing what might have triggered my fear.”
River wanted to argue that systematic investigation was more helpful than emotional support, but looking at Finn's face, he realized that wasn't necessarily true. The monitoring equipment could capture data, but it couldn't provide the comfort and stability that Finn needed.
“The data collection is showing interesting patterns,” River said, trying to redirect toward concrete results. “We're identifying environmental and emotional triggers that seem to influence episode severity.”
“Great. So now you know that I have episodes when I'm stressed. That's definitely breakthrough information.” Finn's sarcasm was gentle but pointed. “What are you going to do with that knowledge? Try to eliminate all stress from my life?”
“I'm going to use it to develop management strategies.”
“By controlling my environment and monitoring my emotional state?” Finn stood, moving toward the window where the lighthouse beam was beginning its evening rotation. “That's not management, River. That's imprisonment.”
The accusation stung because River could see how his systematic approach might feel constraining rather than helpful. But the alternative—watching Finn continue to deteriorate without understanding why—seemed like abandoning him.