Chapter 8 #2
Finn hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Books help. During the spiral. Gives your brain something else to focus on." He paused, then added, "I have some good ones I could bring by later, if you'd like."
Eric looked at him curiously, clearly recognizing there was more behind the offer than simple professional courtesy. "That would be great," then he asked, “Does that work for you?”
Finn's expression shifted, a flash of discomfort crossed his face. "For someone I knew," he responded.
Elena caught the past tense and filed it away with all the other pieces she was gathering about Finn Cochrane.
"These last couple years have been difficult. I’ve been trying to stay strong for my daughters." He ran a hand over his face. “Even if I'm not always much fun." He mumbled.
Elena listened sympathetically, but her attention was split between Eric's words and Finn's reaction to them. She watched as the color drained from Finn's face.
Finn mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom and practically fled the room. The suddenness of his exit left both Elena and Eric momentarily speechless. Eric recovered first, raising an eyebrow. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, genuine concern replacing his earlier animation.
Elena shook her head. "No, not at all. Finn just..." She searched for an explanation that wouldn't reveal too much. "He gets migraines sometimes too." The lie felt awkward on her tongue, but she needed to protect Finn's privacy while ensuring Eric didn't blame himself.
"Poor guy," Eric said. "These headaches are no joke."
Elena nodded, grateful he'd accepted her explanation. "Let's get you scheduled for your next session," she said, pulling out her tablet. "We'll want to see you again in a few days, if possible. The regular scheduling is key to this protocol."
Eric grimaced but nodded. "Same time?"
"Yes." Elena tapped the appointment into the system. “Thanks again for your understanding on this.” She tried to find the right words. “We believe it will work.”
Eric nodded but she could tell he didn’t fully believe it. She wasn’t sure if she did either.
Once she'd walked Eric to the reception area, Elena went in search of Finn. A quick text went unanswered. Growing concerned, she checked the break room and the small courtyard where staff sometimes ate lunch. Nothing.
On a hunch, she pushed open the door to the stairwell.
The concrete steps echoed with her footsteps as she descended one flight.
There, sitting on the landing between floors, was Finn.
He sat with his back against the wall, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.
He was just sitting there, completely still.
Elena hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether he wanted company or if she should respect his privacy. Before she could decide, Finn sensed her presence and looked up. He was holding back tears, his face drawn with a deep pain.
Without speaking, Elena sat beside him on the cold step. The concrete was uncomfortable, but she didn't care. She rested her head against his shoulder and placed her hand over his where it gripped his knee.
They sat in silence, the only sound the distant hum of the building's ventilation system and their quiet breathing.
Gradually, she felt the tension in his shoulder ease.
His breathing became less measured, more natural.
The hand beneath hers loosened its death grip on his knee.
They remained this way for several minutes, sharing a wordless connection.
Finally, Finn spoke, his voice rough: "I'm sorry. That was unprofessional."
Elena didn't lift her head from his shoulder, didn't remove her hand from his. "It was human," she corrected.
"It's just..." Finn began, then stopped. Elena waited, patient, giving him space to find the words. "I've seen what happens when treatments don't work."
Elena’s heart broke a little bit. There was a long, tragic history behind that statement. That was clear, even if she didn’t know all the details.
"This is going to work, Finn," Elena said with quiet conviction, squeezing his hand.
Finn didn't respond verbally, but she felt his head dip slightly in acknowledgment. His hand turned beneath hers, his larger fingers intertwining with her smaller ones. Elena knew she should pull her hand away and reestablish the professional boundary. But she didn’t.
She laced her fingers through his hand and stayed exactly where she was.
Elena didn't push for more explanation. She didn't need to know the specific details to understand the broader truth.
The pieces had been there all along. His perfect resume, his willingness to work for practically nothing, his encyclopedic knowledge of TBI symptoms, and now, the someone who had needed books during dark spirals.
This wasn't just a job for him. This was personal in a way that probably hurt every single day.
And yet he was here, helping others find what someone he loved couldn't.
They sat there until Finn's breathing was steady. Elena felt no urgency to move, no awkwardness in their closeness. For all his careful distance, all his professional barriers, this moment of connection felt more authentic than any interaction they'd had before.
Only then did she notice how close they were. How her head fit against his shoulder, how small her hand looked enveloped in his, how their breathing had synchronized.
"Another day, another trip to the clinic, right?" he quipped.
Elena laughed. She was starting to enjoy his funny side.
“We should probably get going.” Finn said, more seriously.
Elena nodded against his shoulder before lifting her head. "Whenever you're ready."
Their eyes met, and something passed between them.
She didn’t want to analyze what it meant.
Finn stood first, keeping hold of her hand to help her up.
It felt so natural, she almost didn’t even realize it.
When they were both standing, he released her hand, but the connection lingered in the air between them.
"Eric’s next appointment is in three days, same time." Elena said, returning to safer, professional ground.
Finn nodded. As they climbed the stairs, Elena wasn’t thinking about her work or the deadline. She was thinking about her growing connection with her new research assistant.