Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ELENA
It was a beautiful September morning as Elena and Finn walked to the testing clinic. There had been exactly zero words said in the last two minutes.
“Another day, another trip to the clinic.” Elena said to fill the air. She immediately regretted it.
Finn’s lip twitched. “What?”
“It’s a phrase, I think.”
There was the ghost of a smile in Finn’s expression. “I’ve never once heard that phrase, and I have spent a lot of time either at the clinic, or on the way to the clinic.”
“Well, on my team, we say that phrase. And I will not be taking further questions about this.”
“I asked one question,” Finn argued.
“Sí, that is the maximum unfortunately,” Elena announced with a polite smile.
Elena was happy to have Finn at her side again today.
Solely for professional reasons, of course.
They were going to the clinic to begin the implementation of their new treatment protocol.
Today, they would only meet with one patient, but she was not looking forward to it.
The patient was already struggling, and now they had to tell them that it was about to get worse.
At least she had someone here to help deliver the news.
She decided they should roleplay the conversation. “Maybe we should practice before we get there. You’re the patient.”
Finn looked skeptical. "Is this necessary?"
"Just humor me. Pretend you're the patient."
Finn paused, then said in his normal tone: "Hello, Doctor."
"Hello sir. I have good news and bad news. We're starting a new treatment protocol. The bad news is your symptoms will worsen for a few weeks."
"That sounds concerning," Finn said, clearly not fully committing to the roleplay. "And the good news?"
"After that, you should start improving."
Finn raised an eyebrow. "'Should?' That's not confidence-inspiring."
Elena sighed. "Okay, this isn't helping."
He shrugged. “We gave it a shot. Which patient are we seeing anyway?”
“Let me check. I believe he is a military veteran,” Elena said as she pulled out the patient file. She combed through his details. “Eric Hayes, 35. Suffered a TBI three years ago when he was on deployment. No treatments have been beneficial yet. Patient 87 in our database, if you are familiar.”
Finn stiffened when she said ‘Patient 87’. He said nothing, just nodded at the information. She wanted to ask what that reaction meant, but something in his face warned her off.
Eric Hayes sat in the reclining treatment chair.
A technician was carefully attaching electrodes to his temples, the wires trailing down to the monitoring equipment beside him.
Eric was thirty-five, built like someone who used to be military-strong.
What struck Elena most were his eyes. They were alert in a way that seemed like it had been drilled into him over years.
But beneath that alertness was true exhaustion that suggested he hadn’t had good, restful sleep in a long while.
"Eric, this is Finn, one of our research assistants," Elena began her introduction, stepping further into the room. "He'll be observing today's session." Eric's eyes flicked from Elena to Finn, assessing. Finn met his gaze. They exchanged the wordless nod greeting that guys sometimes do.
The technician finished attaching the last electrode and stepped back. "All set, Dr. Herrera. System's calibrated and ready."
Elena thanked the technician and pulled up a chair beside Eric.
Finn remained standing, positioning himself near the monitoring equipment.
Elena took a breath before explaining. "Eric, with your permission, we are going to try a new strategy with you, starting today.
Based on our analysis, we're implementing a treatment with higher intensity.
But I need to be honest with you. The data suggests your symptoms will worsen before they improve. "
Eric's expression didn't change much, as if this was another disappointment in a long series of letdowns. "You're saying I will feel worse than I already do?" he asked, his voice flat. "Didn't think that was possible."
Elena noted the hopelessness in his eyes. So far, this was going about as well as her roleplaying exercise with Finn.
Finn stepped in. "It's temporary," he said, his voice firmer than usual. "The two patients who stuck with it in the previous study showed improvement after the initial decline."
Eric turned to Finn, one eyebrow raised. "Two whole patients, huh?" he said, skepticism heavy in his tone.
"Small sample but significant," Finn replied without hesitation. "Their scans showed neural activity patterns consistent with meaningful recovery."
"We understand if you want to reconsider," she said, turning back to Eric. "The protocol is experimental, and we want to be transparent about the risk involved."
Eric held her gaze for a long moment, then looked down at his hands. "What's the timeline on this?" he asked. "How long does the 'worse' part last?"
"Based on the limited data we have, approximately four weeks," Elena answered. "After that, the two patients in the study began showing improvements in sleep quality, pain, emotional regulation, and cognitive function."
"And if I'm not one of the lucky ones?" Eric asked. "What then?"
"Then we try something else," Elena said honestly. "But we believe this approach has potential."
Eric leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Then he shrugged. "What the hell, nothing else has been working. Let's do it."
Elena nodded, respecting his decision. "We'll start with a thirty-minute session today and check in with you after.”
As she prepared the system settings, she noticed Finn studying Eric with deep focus.
Later, Eric emerged from the session looking thoroughly drained.
His face had sunken, and his movements were slow and deliberate as he sat up in the treatment chair.
Elena watched as he rubbed his temples in circular motions, a clear sign of the headache she'd warned might follow.
His shoulders, which had carried tension even before they started, now seemed to bear an even heavier weight.
"How are you feeling?" Elena asked, making notes on her tablet as she observed his condition.
Eric squinted at her, the overhead lights clearly aggravating his discomfort. "My head feels like I tried to set the record for quantity of beers consumed by a thirty-five-year-old man last night."
Elena caught Finn smiling at that. "That's not unexpected. The first few sessions often trigger headaches as the brain responds to the feedback."
"Just so we're clear," Eric said, shifting in his seat, "this is the 'getting worse' part you mentioned, right? Not the 'getting better' part?"
"Yes, this is the initial response," Elena confirmed. "We can provide something for the headache if you'd like."
"I'll manage," Eric said, though his grimace suggested otherwise. "Been dealing with headaches for three years now. What's one more?"
Elena noticed Finn move closer from where he'd been standing by the monitors. His usual stoic expression had softened somewhat. Eric looked up at Finn, then back to Elena.
"Will this help with my insomnia?" he asked, with a glimmer of hope in his voice.
Elena hesitated, knowing honesty was crucial but hating to extinguish that small spark. "Unfortunately, that will get a little worse before it gets better too."
Eric took this in, his expression falling.
"The insomnia's been the worst part of this.
Haven't slept through the night since it happened.
" He paused, then added with a smile, "But on the bright side, I've now seen the complete first season of the FlexiKnife infomercial series that exclusively airs at 3am. "
Elena started to offer the appropriate sympathetic response. Before she could speak, however, Finn let out a genuine bark of laughter. It was a sound she'd never heard from him.
The sudden, unexpected noise startled both Elena and Eric.
Eric's eyes widened in surprise, then something shifted in his expression.
A spark of life that wasn't there moments ago.
His posture straightened ever so slightly.
"Finally! That joke has never landed before!
" Eric exclaimed, a new energy entering his voice.
"Everyone else gives me these sad eyes or an uncomfortable fake laugh. "
Finn moved in a little, with excitement in his eyes. "Episode four is rough," he said deadpan. "When Brad Valentino gets aggressive with the tomatoes."
Eric sat up straighter, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. "You've seen it! The tomato massacre!" Eric said, his voice rising with enthusiasm. "Brad’s eyes were... lifeless."
Elena stood apart from them, observing this sudden connection forming.
"The way he kept saying 'one clean slice' as he cut them apart one by one," Finn added, and Eric laughed again.
"The season finale was insane, with that bread knife attachment revelation!" Eric replied, prompting a smile from Finn.
Elena watched this exchange with growing fascination. In the weeks she'd known Finn, she'd rarely seen him smile, let alone laugh or engage in this kind of casual banter. Yet here he was, bonding over terrible late-night infomercials with a patient he'd just met.
More importantly, she realized this conversation had done more for Eric's mood than any medication she could have prescribed.
The headache still etched lines around his eyes, but the heaviness had lifted from his expression.
But a question nagged at her: Why did Finn know so much about 3am infomercials?
Eric's voice became serious again. "The mood swings have been tough," he admitted. "Yesterday, someone cut me off in traffic. Let it ruin my entire day. One stupid moment and I'm spiraling for hours."