Page 36 of Evermore

Emergency

River

T he world exploded in sparks and smoke and the screaming of machines failing in ways that defied explanation.

River dove through the chaos without thinking, his body moving on pure instinct toward Finn's convulsing form in the laboratory chair.

Heat from shorting circuits scorched the air, but all River could see was Finn's face, pale and twisted with pain as the magnetic equipment discharged in patterns that seemed almost deliberate.

“Finn!” River's voice tore from his throat as he reached for the emergency shutdown, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the nightmare Dr. Voss had created. Sparks flew from the magnetic coils, and the smell of burning electronics filled his lungs with acrid smoke.

Dr. Voss was shouting something about data collection, about breakthrough readings, but River couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

Finn's body went limp as the machines finally died, leaving them in sudden, terrible silence broken only by the hiss of cooling metal and River's ragged breathing.

“Jesus Christ, Finn, wake up.” River's hands found Finn's face, his skin cold and clammy, no response when River touched his cheek. “Please wake up, please be okay.”

But Finn wasn't okay. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, and when River checked his pulse it was too fast and too weak. Whatever Dr. Voss had done to him with her experimental equipment, it had pushed his brain past the breaking point.

“Call an ambulance,” River yelled at Dr. Voss, who was crouched beside her destroyed equipment, looking more devastated about her ruined research than concerned about her patient who might be dying.

“The data,” Dr. Voss mumbled, picking through smoking circuit boards like she was searching for buried treasure. “Years of research, all the breakthrough readings...”

“Fuck your data!” River scooped Finn into his arms, surprised by how light he felt, how fragile. “He's not breathing right, and you're worried about your goddamn research?”

Dr. Voss finally looked up, seeming to register for the first time that Finn was unconscious and possibly in serious medical danger.

River held Finn against his chest while they waited for the paramedics, whispering every prayer and promise he could think of. The basement laboratory felt like a crime scene now, filled with the wreckage of equipment that had been designed to help but had nearly killed the person River loved most.

“I'm sorry,” River whispered against Finn's hair. “I'm so fucking sorry I let her do this to you.”

The ambulance ride felt like drowning in slow motion. River sat beside Finn's gurney while paramedics worked with quick, professional movements, checking vital signs and asking questions River couldn't answer.

“He has some kind of neurological condition,” River said, his voice barely steady. “Temporal displacement episodes.”

The paramedic's expression shifted to something between confusion and concern. “What kind of doctor was performing this treatment?”

“I don't know anymore,” River admitted, watching Finn's face for any sign of consciousness returning. “I thought she was trying to help him, but now...”

Now River wasn't sure about anything except that he'd let someone he barely knew perform experimental procedures on the person who mattered most, and Finn might pay the price for River's desperation to find solutions.

Maya was waiting at the hospital entrance like a storm about to break, her scrubs wrinkled from rushing over from her own job, her face a mask of fury and terror that made River's stomach drop.

She took one look at Finn being wheeled into the emergency room and turned on River with the kind of rage that came from months of accumulated fear.

“What the hell happened?” Maya's voice carried across the waiting room, drawing attention from other families dealing with their own crises. “You said you were getting a second opinion, not letting some quack experiment on him with electrical equipment.”

“Maya, I can explain?—”

“Explain what? How you let someone torture my brother because you couldn't accept that his condition might not have a cure?” Maya stepped closer, her voice dropping to something more dangerous than shouting. “How you convinced him to risk his life for experimental treatment that nearly killed him?”

River felt every word like a knife between his ribs because Maya was right. He had pushed for the experimental treatment. He had convinced Finn to trust Dr. Voss despite warning signs that something wasn't right about her approach.

“I thought it would help,” River said, his voice breaking on the admission. “I thought if we could just find the right treatment, the right approach...”

“You thought you could fix him.” Maya's expression was a mixture of heartbreak and disgust. “You thought love meant solving his medical problems instead of accepting them.”

Before River could respond, a doctor in scrubs appeared with the carefully neutral expression that hospital staff learned for delivering news that might destroy people's lives. River felt his heart stop as he waited for words that would either give him hope or take away everything that mattered.

“Mr. Torres is stable,” the doctor said, and River felt like he could breathe again for the first time in hours. “The electromagnetic exposure caused some neurological stress, but his vital signs are strong and I don't see any signs of permanent damage.”

“Thank God,” River whispered, his legs going weak with relief.

“However,” the doctor continued, “he's still unconscious, and his brain activity suggests he's experiencing some kind of extended neurological event. His EEG readings show patterns consistent with REM sleep, but much more intense. As if he's dreaming with unusual vividness while unconscious.”

Maya's face went pale. “How long could this last?”

“We're not sure. Has he experienced anything like this before?”

River and Maya exchanged glances, both thinking about Finn's episodes and the way they seemed to transport him to experiences that felt more real than actual life.

“He has a condition,” River said carefully. “Memory displacement episodes. They've been getting more severe lately.”

“I see. Well, we'll continue monitoring his brain activity. But right now, all we can do is wait.”

Waiting turned out to be the hardest thing River had ever done.

He sat beside Finn's hospital bed while machines beeped their steady rhythm, monitoring vital signs that stayed frustratingly stable while Finn remained somewhere else entirely.

His face was peaceful, like he was having pleasant dreams, but River knew better.

“I'm here,” River said quietly, holding Finn's hand and trying not to think about how still it was. “Wherever you are, whatever you're experiencing, I'm right here waiting for you to come back.”

Jake appeared sometime after midnight, moving through the hospital room with the careful quiet of someone who'd dealt with medical crises before. He took one look at River's red-rimmed eyes and exhausted posture, then settled into the chair beside him without saying anything.

“How long has he been out?” Jake asked finally.

“Eight hours. The doctors say his brain activity is off the charts, like he's experiencing something incredibly intense, but he won't wake up.” River rubbed his face with hands that shook from too much coffee and not enough sleep.

“What if I broke him? What if that treatment damaged his brain permanently?”

“You didn't break him,” Jake said firmly. “You tried to help him. Sometimes trying to help goes wrong, but that doesn't make you responsible for everything bad that happens.”

“I pushed him toward experimental treatment because I couldn't handle watching him get worse. I made his medical decisions based on my own fear instead of what was actually best for him.” River's voice cracked with exhaustion and guilt.

“Maya's right. I've been trying to fix him instead of just loving him.”

Jake was quiet for a moment, studying Finn's peaceful face. “You know what I think? I think you've been loving him the only way you knew how. That doesn't make it wrong, even if it didn't work out the way you hoped.”

Around three in the morning, River noticed the first strange thing.

The room grew cold suddenly, like someone had opened a window to winter air, but all the windows were closed and the heating system was working fine.

River pulled his jacket tighter, but the cold lingered in a way that felt unnatural.

Then the lights flickered. Not the steady flicker of electrical problems, but a deliberate pattern, like someone was sending signals. River looked around the room, expecting to see a nurse or maintenance worker, but they were alone.

“Jake,” River said quietly. “Are you seeing this?”

Jake looked up from his phone, noting the flickering lights and the way their breath was starting to mist in the suddenly frigid air. “That's not normal hospital weirdness.”

The flickering stopped, but the cold remained, and River felt the strangest sensation that they were being watched. Not by hospital staff or security cameras, but by something that understood more about Finn's condition than any of them did.

“There's someone else involved in this,” River said, the realization hitting him like ice water. “Someone who doesn't want Finn to get better.”

“What do you mean?”

“The interference we've been noticing. Equipment failures, power outages, the way his episodes always seem to happen at the worst possible moments.” River stood up, pacing beside Finn's bed as pieces of an impossible puzzle started clicking together.

“What if someone's been manipulating his condition? Making it worse on purpose?”

Jake looked skeptical but didn't dismiss the idea completely. “Who would do that? And how?”