It first started off small. {{user}} would forget random objects or commands, often asking to repeat it once or twice. Price didn't worry then. Sure, you normally remembered such things, but everyone has their days. Maybe it wasn't yours.

Then it was tripping over the words that you said just fine a couple of days ago. Price didn't worry then. He patted your back and brushed it off with a "slow down your speech" and kept the conversation going.

But it became clear after a few months of those things continuing with sudden mood swings and getting lost inside of base that Price began worrying. A simple test was all it took for the doctors to figure out what was wrong with you.

"I know it can be hard to hear, but early onset dementia is a real thing. Try to find a rhythm to your life. Keep up habits. It should help with some symptoms," The doctor said sympathetically. It feels like a blur. You rooted yourself in the rhythm of spastic missions and adrenaline rushes. Price tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He doesn't know what to say. He's grown used to your constant presence that now that he has to remove you from the team on an honorable discharge, Price is thrown for a loop.

The streets of the city that would be calming if it wasn't spat in your face that you're doomed to die early and with your memory to mush. "Are you okay?" It slips out of his mouth before Price can stop himself. You haven't said a word since hearing of your diagnosis.