A/N: I've had a few things going on in my life recently that made me come back to this verse. It's a hard topic, but I've found writing about it helps deal with the complicated emotions that come with it. I hope reading these stories helps someone else, too.

I'm not a medical professional, and I've never personally been present for an appointment like this, so I've definitely taken some creative liberties. However, this is based on a conversation I had with someone close to me who was present for an appointment like this, so I've used some elements of that in this story.


"Are you okay?" Kurt asks, cutting the car engine and turning to look at his husband.

"I'm fine," Blaine says, in a voice that is very clearly not fine.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks again, softly.

Blaine looks at him then, eyes wide and vulnerable and it breaks Kurt's heart just a little. "I'm scared," Blaine admits. "I don't... I'd almost rather not know."

"I know," Kurt says, reaching out to take Blaine's hand. "But we have to do this."

"Yeah," Blaine agrees reluctantly.

"Whatever happens today, we're in this together, alright? We have each other. I love you."

"I love you, too," Blaine says, tries to offer a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Are you ready to go in?" Kurt asks, giving Blaine's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Can we just sit here for a minute first?" Blaine asks, voice shaking just a little.

"Of course, honey," Kurt says, leans over to place a soft kiss on his husband's lips.


"We'll start by asking you some questions, and just answer them as honestly as you can, Blaine. If you don't know the answer just let us know. When we're done with that portion, we'll take your husband into another room so we can ask you both some questions separately. Once that's finished, we'll bring you back together, and go over the results. Do you have any more questions before we start?" the doctor finishes.

She's very friendly, has a sort of calming effect, Kurt thinks. He likes her.

"None from me," he answers, gives Blaine's hand a squeeze where he's holding it on his husband's thigh.

"Blaine, do you have any questions?" she asks.

"No, I don't," Blaine replies, a small shake of his head.

"Okay, we'll get started then. Can you tell me your full name, please?"

"Blaine Devon Anderson."

"And what's your birth date?" she asks.

"February 22nd, 1995."

"Okay, great. And can you tell me what day it is today?"

"It's Thursday," Blaine responds.

"Could you tell me the full date?"

"Um. It's November 16th, 2073."

"Good. And how old are you, Blaine?"

"I'm 78," Blaine responds, then with a hint of annoyance, adds, "or do you need it to the exact day?"

"No, that's fine," the doctor says, and Kurt isn't quite sure if she doesn't notice, or is so used to reactions like this that it doesn't phase her.

He gives Blaine's hand another light squeeze, hopes it's comforting.

"Do you know where you are right now?" the doctor continues.

"I'm in your office," Blaine says, a flash of something in his eyes.

"Can you tell me the name of the building we're in?" she prompts gently.

"I–," Blaine starts, stumbles over his words just a little before continuing. "I didn't see a sign. I must have missed it."

"That's okay," she reassures him. "Do you know the street name?"

"Um," he stammers, "I wasn't– Kurt was driving," he mumbles.

"Okay, that's fine," she assures him.

"Blaine, I'm going to say three words. I'd like you to repeat them back to me, and then try to remember them, because I'm going to ask you for the words later. Alright?"

Blaine just nods.

"Ball. Car. Man," she says, voice slow and clear. "Could you repeat those three words to me?"

"Ball, car, man," Blaine repeats.

"Good," she says, and makes another note on the clipboard in her hands.

She spends time going through more questions with Blaine, handing him a piece of paper at one point and asking him to fold it with both hands, then place it on the ground.

Kurt doesn't understand the point of all the questions, isn't quite sure what putting a piece of paper on the floor has to do with Blaine's memory. But if the doctor is asking his husband to do it, he's sure there's a reason.

Blaine is... decidedly less calm about it. He's having difficulty with some of the things the doctor is asking him, and he's getting frustrated.

"Could you repeat the three words from earlier for me again, please?" the doctor asks, calm as ever.

Blaine stops at that, blinks at her. "What three words?"

Kurt feels his chest tighten just a little.

"Several minutes ago, I said three words, and asked you to remember them. Do you remember what any of those words were, Blaine?"

"I– no you didn't," Blaine argues, defensive, but Kurt can see the confusion in his eyes.

"Okay," she says simply, nodding as she makes another note on her clipboard before she continues on to the next question.


Kurt is alone with a nurse in another room, the doctor still with Blaine in the room where they'd started.

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions about your husband's typical behaviour," the man explains.

"Sure, of course," Kurt answers, nervous. As much as he wants answers, he's scared of what those answers might be. And he doesn't like being away from Blaine; he knows his husband is on edge, too. He wants to hold his hand.

Instead, he just fidgets with his own hands in his lap.

"Could you tell me a bit more about some of the lapses in memory that he's been experiencing?"

Kurt swallows, steadying himself before he speaks. "Well, there's little things. I'll tell him our daughter is coming to visit, and then later that day he's completely forgotten. Or we'll be in the middle of a conversation, and he starts to tell me something he'd just told me earlier. He's left the stove on a few times. Completely forgot it was on, I come into the kitchen to find a pot boiled dry. And," he pauses, takes a deep breath before this one, "he drove to the store the other day, and couldn't remember how to get home. He called me from the parking lot of this little bakery to tell me he was lost, but it's the same bakery he drives past every time he goes to that store. He didn't remember it."

It's the thing that had finally convinced Kurt they needed to see a doctor. The little things at home, in conversations, even the stove wasn't so bad; Kurt could manage those. But Blaine getting lost; he can't deal with that. What if Blaine hadn't remembered his number to call? What if Blaine panicked, and didn't think to call him, wandered off and got himself even more lost?

It wasn't safe.

"Okay," the nurse nods, taking down a few notes – those damn clipboards. "And how has his mood been? Any changes recently?"

Kurt purses his lips. "He's been... he's not angry. Just, easily frustrated, I guess. He has a shorter temper than he used to. It's usually when he forgets something, if I point it out."

"That's not an unusual occurrence for people with dementia," the nurse explains gently. "It helps if you don't call attention to the fact that they've forgotten something."

"Yeah," Kurt nods dumbly. He's learned that the hard way.


He's back in the room with Blaine now, sitting beside him and holding his husband's hand as the doctor sits across from them.

"Now, there does seem to be some evidence of memory problems," she explains slowly, voice calm and soothing, practiced, like she's had this conversation a hundred times.

She probably has.

"Given your age, I think it's likely that we may be seeing signs of dementia," she continues, "but we'll need to set up some additional tests before we can be sure."

She starts to explain the additional testing she'd like to schedule for Blaine, and he knows he should be paying attention – Blaine won't remember, so this is his responsibility – but he just... can't. He'd expected it, really, of course he had; that's why they're here, after all. But hearing this, from the doctor, his fears confirmed – he isn't ready for this.

He's not ready for Blaine to lose his memory. For Blaine to lose all of their memories, for Blaine to forget...

He's not ready.

He feels numb, unsteady, like the floor beneath him could give out at any moment. Like he's standing on a frozen lake and waiting for the melting ice to crack wide open, for the icy waters below to swallow him into their depths. Like he's on the edge of a precipice, a moment before tumbling off, staring down at the inevitability of the fall to come.

Is knowing the misfortune of the rest of your life really better than the merciful uncertainty of not knowing?

Right now, Kurt's not so sure that it is.

"On your way out, just speak to the receptionist, and you can discuss scheduling those appointments," the doctor explains, and Kurt is finally pulled back to the present, though it still feels surreal, almost like he's watching it all happen from the outside.

"Do you have any questions for me before you leave today?" she asks.

She has kind eyes, Kurt thinks. She's good at her job. It's not her fault she has to be the one to break awful news like this to families day after day.

"Um," Kurt stammers, at a loss for words. He feels like he should have questions, but he can't think of any, can't think of anything right now, really, not while he's trying to process this news.

And this isn't even an official diagnosis. All she's done is confirm there's something wrong and, god, why does it have to be Blaine?

Why couldn't it be Kurt instead?

"I understand you must have a lot to think about," she continues gently, seeming to interpret the silence correctly. "Feel free to call my office anytime if you have any questions."

"Thank you," Kurt murmurs.

Blaine is silent beside him, staring off at some empty space on the wall, looking like he's somewhere else. Kurt nudges him, tries to pull him back to the present, too.

"It's time to go, honey," he says quietly, tries to speak with the calmness the doctor had used.

Tries to be strong for his husband.

Blaine just says, "Oh."

They make their way from the office, and Kurt talks briefly with the receptionist who confirms their phone number and says she'll schedule the appointments and call to tell them the dates and any preparations that will be required.

Then they walk from the building, settle into their car, ready to go home.

Blaine doesn't speak another word the whole time.

"It will be okay," Kurt says; isn't sure if he's saying it for Blaine's or for his own benefit.

Blaine takes in a deep, ragged breath. "Will it?" he asks, voice a little desperate, breaking, and he turns to look at Kurt.

Kurt can see the tears welling in his eyes.

He feels his heart cracking open inside his chest.

"Blaine," he says brokenly, doesn't know what else to say. Wants to say yes, it will, but isn't sure he really believes it himself.

How could this be okay?

Instead, he just reaches across the centre console and pulls Blaine into his arms.