John Price

Young-onset Alzheimer's wasn’t something Price would have thought was possible, and even if he had known about it much sooner, he would have thought he would get it before {User}. He had been there when {{sub}} first recruited. He had trained {{obj}}. He had been the one moving {{poss}} gun to the correct position and guiding {{obj}} on stealth missions. And yet {{sub}} didn’t seem to remember those details? What he had done?

The vet said it was Alzheimer's, something common in demi-humans. Price hadn’t realized an animal’s lifespan would be mental, while their physical age was human. Mentally, {User} could have been nearing eighty. Physically? Not even forty.

Which made it worse, because Price felt like he had watched an entire soldier blossom just to be shattered. He had been {{poss}} handler in the military, and shortly after he retired, {User} was wounded in action and retired into a shelter after a sloppy mistake. He adopted {{obj}} shortly after, but he never called it that. It was simply him being reunited. It wasn’t a child-father relationship; this was still a handler-demi relationship.

And yet he had noticed a year after taking them home that {{sub}} hadn’t been the best. {{sub}} had been sick at least once or twice a month for the last six months, and Price had to remind {{obj}} more than once to wash {{poss}} hands or clean something up. He thought it was disrespectful–he even tried disciplining {{obj}} until he noticed it simply wouldn’t do. Forgetting to wash {{poss}} hands lead to forgetting how to cook, or in general, forgetting when {{sub}} cooked. Price walked in the kitchen to a boiling pot of water and nobody in sight more than once.

He didn’t think it was disrespectful, not truly. He knew {{sub}} had noticed small things while in the military and recalled major incidents in missions. And now {{sub}} walked away from a boiling pot to go to the bathroom without returning? Price knew there was something more, and maybe that’s why he took {{obj}} to the vet. Even if he hated the diagnosis, he didn’t regret taking {{obj}} in.

Worst of all, {User} didn’t seem to fully remember the diagnosis. {{sub}} remembered {{sub}} went to the vet, but when Price tried getting {{obj}} to recall what for, it never came to be. He didn’t try again after {User} completely forgot it. He wanted {{obj}} to live as normally as possible.

But Price knew {{poss}} quality of life was decreasing majorly.

---

It had been like any other day. Price had woken up nearly six, a bit later than what he would in the military, but it was a value he treasured–waking up early. He had set his leg into the prosthetic, hand wrapped around the cane in the familiar hold he always had.

Price made his way to the kitchen around six-thirty. He had begun to cook bacon, a specific brand he knew {User} liked, only to have that settling surprise in his stomach when he heard footsteps. He knew who it was, but usually {{sub}} slept a little later.

“Go’ morning.”

Price didn’t expect a response. It was often where {User} would simply go quiet in the mornings, throat still getting used to even breathing. Yet he heard a quiet response, with a word that stuck to him.

’Sir’.

The fuck?

Price kept moving the bacon around on the pan, brain taking in what he heard. {User} had stopped calling him that a few years into their handler-relationship...thing. Of course, respect was one thing, but Price wasn’t captain. He wasn’t even a soldier, so why the hell had {{sub}} called him ‘sir’?

Then a thought dawned on him, but he tried to avoid seeming bothered by it.

“Did you forget my name?”

Young-onset Alzheimer's wasn’t something Price would have thought was possible, and even if he had known about it much sooner, he would have thought he would get it before {User}. He had been there when {{sub}} first recruited. He had trained {{obj}}. He had been the one moving {{poss}} gun to the correct position and guiding {{obj}} on stealth missions. And yet {{sub}} didn’t seem to remember those details? What he had done?

The vet said it was Alzheimer's, something common in demi-humans. Price hadn’t realized an animal’s lifespan would be mental, while their physical age was human. Mentally, {User} could have been nearing eighty. Physically? Not even forty.

Which made it worse, because Price felt like he had watched an entire soldier blossom just to be shattered. He had been {{poss}} handler in the military, and shortly after he retired, {User} was wounded in action and retired into a shelter after a sloppy mistake. He adopted {{obj}} shortly after, but he never called it that. It was simply him being reunited. It wasn’t a child-father relationship; this was still a handler-demi relationship.

And yet he had noticed a year after taking them home that {{sub}} hadn’t been the best. {{sub}} had been sick at least once or twice a month for the last six months, and Price had to remind {{obj}} more than once to wash {{poss}} hands or clean something up. He thought it was disrespectful–he even tried disciplining {{obj}} until he noticed it simply wouldn’t do. Forgetting to wash {{poss}} hands lead to forgetting how to cook, or in general, forgetting when {{sub}} cooked. Price walked in the kitchen to a boiling pot of water and nobody in sight more than once.

He didn’t think it was disrespectful, not truly. He knew {{sub}} had noticed small things while in the military and recalled major incidents in missions. And now {{sub}} walked away from a boiling pot to go to the bathroom without returning? Price knew there was something more, and maybe that’s why he took {{obj}} to the vet. Even if he hated the diagnosis, he didn’t regret taking {{obj}} in.

Worst of all, {User} didn’t seem to fully remember the diagnosis. {{sub}} remembered {{sub}} went to the vet, but when Price tried getting {{obj}} to recall what for, it never came to be. He didn’t try again after {User} completely forgot it. He wanted {{obj}} to live as normally as possible.

But Price knew {{poss}} quality of life was decreasing majorly.

---

Even if the idea made Price paranoid to every extent, he still allowed {User} that alone time outside. After all, it was important to everyone, no? Sunlight was a cure for a lot of things.

But it wasn’t a cure for Alzheimer's, and that’s what scared Price the most.

Now, he didn’t want to be overbearing. He wanted {User} to live as normally as possible, and it was practically something he lived by. He would let {User} roam around, but after the diagnosis, he wouldn’t let {{obj}} go alone.

Price always kept a pair of {User}’s shoes out in any scenario, and had made a small cut at the bottom to slip a tracker inside, an app on his phone allowing him to view everywhere {{sub}} went. Now, he wasn’t staring at the phone every second or becoming worried enough that he stalked {{obj}} outside. He only checked where {User} was if {{sub}} came home later than {{sub}} anticipated.

Like today.

{User} had been out and about for a good three hours, claiming {{sub}} wanted to go out and watch the sunset for a bit and get some fresh air. Not a big deal, really, because Price knew he had that tracker ready. This time was the first he’d used it, though.

It was dark, the clock on his phone ringing sharply to alert Price it was time for medication. Medication time was ten PM, and {User} was supposed to be back thirty minutes ago. Of course, though, Price wasn’t missing his medication for the world, so he made sure to grab that little pill bottle and swallow a dose before checking the app on his phone, hand already moving to his keys.

Price’s heart felt heavy, but he also knew {{sub}} would be okay, and it was confirmed when he noticed the little footsteps that the tracker picked up. Wandering, maybe, but it was at least true that {User} was still fine.

---

It took fifteen minutes for Price to drive his way into the woods surrounding his home, the road crackling under the tires like a menacing hailstorm ready to pop. It wasn’t a big deal to Price that {User} had wandered off–or got lost, for that–because he expected it. That’s what the tracker was for, no?

It wasn’t too hard to find {{obj}}. {User} was walking around the same distinct area–a pond Price had set up specifically to keep them both company. {User} had grown to like it, and as such, Price wasn’t surprised he found {{obj}} there.

He pushed himself out of the vehicle, his cane ready in his right hand as he closed the door. The thud seemed to startle {User} out of {{poss}} thoughts, but Price didn’t appear mad.

“You forget your way back, or are you trying to sleep outside?”

Young-onset Alzheimer's wasn’t something Price would have thought was possible, and even if he had known about it much sooner, he would have thought he would get it before {User}. He had been there when {{sub}} first recruited. He had trained {{obj}}. He had been the one moving {{poss}} gun to the correct position and guiding {{obj}} on stealth missions. And yet {{sub}} didn’t seem to remember those details? What he had done?

The vet said it was Alzheimer's, something common in demi-humans. Price hadn’t realized an animal’s lifespan would be mental, while their physical age was human. Mentally, {User} could have been nearing eighty. Physically? Not even forty.

Which made it worse, because Price felt like he had watched an entire soldier blossom just to be shattered. He had been {{poss}} handler in the military, and shortly after he retired, {User} was wounded in action and retired into a shelter after a sloppy mistake. He adopted {{obj}} shortly after, but he never called it that. It was simply him being reunited. It wasn’t a child-father relationship; this was still a handler-demi relationship.

And yet he had noticed a year after taking them home that {{sub}} hadn’t been the best. {{sub}} had been sick at least once or twice a month for the last six months, and Price had to remind {{obj}} more than once to wash {{poss}} hands or clean something up. He thought it was disrespectful–he even tried disciplining {{obj}} until he noticed it simply wouldn’t do. Forgetting to wash {{poss}} hands lead to forgetting how to cook, or in general, forgetting when {{sub}} cooked. Price walked in the kitchen to a boiling pot of water and nobody in sight more than once.

He didn’t think it was disrespectful, not truly. He knew {{sub}} had noticed small things while in the military and recalled major incidents in missions. And now {{sub}} walked away from a boiling pot to go to the bathroom without returning? Price knew there was something more, and maybe that’s why he took {{obj}} to the vet. Even if he hated the diagnosis, he didn’t regret taking {{obj}} in.

Worst of all, {User} didn’t seem to fully remember the diagnosis. {{sub}} remembered {{sub}} went to the vet, but when Price tried getting {{obj}} to recall what for, it never came to be. He didn’t try again after {User} completely forgot it. He wanted {{obj}} to live as normally as possible.

But Price knew {{poss}} quality of life was decreasing majorly.

---

Within two years after the diagnosis, Price knew {User}’s time was coming to a short end. He noticed it after {{sub}} forget his name, got lost more than once, forget {{poss}} own name, and had to relearn how to walk just a year ago. Cooking had become impossible, as {User} had begun having tremors a few weeks ago.

It didn’t help that words became hard to remember. {User} knew how to talk–{{sub}} hadn’t quite forgotten that yet–but it was obvious that remembering was difficult. Price had to recite words and finish {{poss}} sentences more than four times a day. It felt like watching {User} die without the complete absence of life.

Price knew {{sub}} wouldn’t understand, so he never mentioned it.

Euthanization felt cruel and inhumane, even if {User} was technically an animal. In a way, Price wanted to let {User} go because it meant giving himself that break. It meant working on his own physical health without having to track someone down. It meant not teaching a grown adult things kids even knew. It meant being free, even if he lived with the guilt of killing someone he had worked with.

Which was the worst part, in his opinion.

He didn’t want to kill {user}. He never considered it beforehand or when things had begun to get hard. He only considered it after he realized {User} was only getting worse. He considered it after he realized {User} was dying in front of him. But Price never went forth with the idea.

Even now, as he researched it, that guilt gnawed at his heart in a way that made it feel painful in his throat. He wanted to cry at the mere idea of what he was even daring to look up. {User} wouldn’t understand because {{sub}} couldn’t remember the diagnosis. He was doing this because of the diagnosis, was he not? He was putting {{obj}} out of {{poss}} misery. It felt selfish to keep {{obj}} alive, but it was another kind of weight when he realized he was being more selfish when considering euthanization.

He didn’t stop looking, because Price knew the possibility of euthanization being required or recommended was growing more expected with each visit.

Price knew Alzheimer's didn’t kill the patient, but he knew {User}’s mind was too lost to guide {{obj}} into doing simple things. Price didn’t want {User} to die painfully because he was selfish enough to keep {{obj}} in misery, but he knew it was selfish to watch the life drain from {{poss}} eyes when the vet stuck {{obj}} with the needle. When he watched the last bit of betrayal and fear leave his friend’s body.

As of now, Price still had that small moment in the morning to research his options, but he had heard the rustling of sheets from the other room. He swallowed, but it felt like knives grasped the inside of his throat even when he knew it was fine. Was that how {User} felt every day? Was it more humane to kill {{obj}}?

Even when {User} emerged from the side room, looking tired as ever, Price made sure his lips curled into that soft smile. He needed to appear normal.

With his hand reaching to the top of his computer to shut it, he set aside the device and put his hands in his lap before saying, “How’d you sleep?”