Author's Note: As there is no category for the TV show yet, I figured posting this here would work. I don't want it to get lost in the uncategorized page. If this is not allowed, please make a category for the Limitless TV show! I have more stories!

Anyway, remember, this is from Brian Finch's point of view, not Eddie Morra. This is a look inside Brian's thoughts during the episode "Side Effects May Include..."

I do not own the characters of either the movie or show.

No. No no no no no! Not this, not yet!

I sat down hard on the nearby bench, head in my hands. The dull pounding inside my skull had turned into a whole squadron of engineers (are engineers a squadron? Maybe a brigade...) trying to burst their way out of my skull with jackhammers. It literally felt like the only way to get relief from the pain would be for my skull to split apart. But I was ok with that.

Alright, maybe ok was a stretch. Let's just go with semi-stoically bearing it...

The muscle cramps were worse. As random and painful as electroshock torture, my muscles would seize up, shooting agony through my body from my legs, my back, my abdomen, and for a terrifying few moments my throat. Not tight enough to cut off my air, but just enough to show me it could. It reminded me of Sands, doing just enough to make me want to wet my pants and realize just how far in over my head I was. But the cramps weren't intelligent, wouldn't always stop just short of damage...

Almost worse than the pain was the nearly unbearable nausea. The handful of saltines I had practically inhaled this morning to keep the acid from sloshing around in my gut were threatening to make an encore appearance right here on the sidewalk.

But all that, I was ready for. I want to be all brave and heroic and tough and say i can take it. But let's just go with I'm not dropping to my knees in front of Sands and begging for mercy. But I had expected this. I know the file, inside and out, can recite it word for word in five different languages. Six if you count Klingon... But I have a frame of reference for it. I know what pain and nausea feel like. I've had hangovers before that felt like a week at Gitmo. I know what that kind of thing feels like.

But I've never lost my mind before.

I've never known what it's like to not be able to trust that what I see is real. I've never not known what I'm doing or if anything around me is really happening. I've never seen (felt) a bug crawling through my body under my skin, tearing through tissue and known it isn't real. I've never seen a co-worker turn into a rotting zombie right in front of me. I don't know how to deal with that! I mean, who would? Oh, right... A schizophrenic. Am I becoming schizophrenic? I don't want to be schizophrenic!

More importantly, schizophrenic Brian is too busy battling flesh-eating insects and zombie coworkers to deal with real problems. Like the fact that I have to think about flesh-eating insects and zombie coworkers. Like how badly I needed the shot, how much worse things would get without one, how all I had to do was-

No! I wasn't even going to allow my compromised mind entertain that thought. Because it was to easy to jump from there to 'if I do what he wants, the pain will stop' and no matter how bad I want -need- that shot, I won't do that to Rebecca. I can't.

But this is not fair! I can get through the pain, deal with it somehow. I take a drug that gives me access to my entire brain, and I need all of that and more to solve this dilemma. And I'm willing to take all the other symptoms, suffer through whatever physical effects my tortured body feels the need to do to me. But I need my mind! I need to think, to be smart-Brian now, to find an answer that doesn't leave Rebecca in prison and me in the morgue, but even though I took my pill my damn brain is compromised! It's not fair! I need to think to find an answer, but I can't think even as clearly as normal-Brian.

Oh. My. God. Is that seriously a pack of Roswell Greys walking toward me?

I'm going to die...