A/N - Thank you all for your favourites, follows and reviews! It means a lot! It was pointed out that this story was similar to Still Alice, there will be 1 or 2 similarities to that movie, however this is mostly from personal experience and how I perceived it to be. I know that it is a devastating disease but I'm not going to solely focus on the negatives, but also their past and how this affects how they both deal with Alex's illness together. I have a few ideas on where to take this story, but I'm not sure which way I'll go yet, I guess I'll just see what happens. Anyway, I'll gladly take any ideas and constructive criticism on board, whether that's through a PM or review. This chapter is from Alex's POV, so without further ado, here we go!
*Again I own nothing*
At first, it's the little things. You're in the middle of a conversation and you reach a point in your sentence where you completely lose track of what you want to say. No big deal, right? You cook dinner for you and Piper, and you ask her, "Can you please pass me the… oh never mind, I got it". You put it down to tiredness and stress. "Work's been busy lately, lots of shipments to organise and people to meet." You think to yourself, maybe take a weekend off, have a bath and a few early nights and you'll be right as rain.
The next few weeks go well. The cartel's thriving and Kubra is ecstatic. You throw a party in your apartment, inviting all your friends and business associates and partying well into the next morning. You and Piper sleep well into the late evening. You wake up to a dozen messages from your best friend Nicky, asking why you didn't come to the concert you'd both been looking forward to for a few months, despite the fact you'd only discussed it the previous evening. "Shit," you curse yourself, you get up and take a few painkillers and hunt for some food. "It was a late one last night and I was absolutely fucked. No wonder I slept the whole day missed it." You reassure yourself, quickly typing an apology to Nicky and making up some half assed excuse that you had to attend an extremely important and short notice meeting, that you'll make it up to her ASAP. You ignore the tiny voices in the back of your head that question why you completely forgot about the concert you had been looking forward to for ages, and why you had absolutely no recollection of the conversation with Nicky the night before. Once again, you blame it on tiredness and alcohol.
You promised Piper that you would try and get fitter, that you would at least attempt her detoxing, gluten free and strictly organic diets with her. You start jogging daily, plugging your tiny iPod shuffle into your ears and finding a good route to run on. It's a dreary Monday morning and you want to clear your head before sitting down at your computer and getting to work, so you pour out some foul concoction Piper had made earlier with Kale (who the hell puts Kale in a smoothie anyway?) and you grimace as you try some. You grab your little backpack, almost forgetting your iPod but remembering right at the last minute. "Just like everything recently, right before it's too late," you smile sarcastically to yourself, the thought disappears though, just as all doubts do, when you feel the first bite of wind on a cold winter's morning in New York as you step outside your door. You set off on your usual route, it's so familiar you could almost do it with your eyes shut. You run past the local cafés and through the park that's already suffering from the first symptoms of winter, blocking out the hustle and bustle of people commuting to work. You suddenly start to feel hot and agitated and a loud buzzing starts in your head and you're forced to stop jogging. You put your hands on your knees, breathing deeply and trying to recollect yourself. You gaze around the city, and even though you jog this route every single day, you haven't got a fucking clue where you are. You panic and desperately start trying to attract the attention of the commuters, but nothing happens. Your panic and desperation is lost and ignored by all, not one person stops to check you're alright and you feel as helpless as the day Jessica Wedge put you in a locker and ran off with the key. You take your backpack off and rifle through it, pulling out the smoothie and gulping it down it as if that's the only thing that can help you now. You breathe out a shaky breath and suddenly you know where you are, "Right by the god damn hospital," you think to yourself, the irony of it all. You run home as if the devil himself is chasing you, a pernicious fear starts seeping through you.
You realise that what happened is not normal.
"There's something wrong here."
"I am not OK."
Alex Vause never seeks help. Even when you were a child and your mother couldn't afford school meals and the bullies had thrown away your sandwich, you would rather sit and be hungry then tell a teacher. It was nothing to be proud of, no way, but that's just how you are. It's inbuilt and you don't know how to change it, so you do your usual and try to tackle it by yourself. Alex Vause doesn't need anybody's help. Ever.
You do what all health professionals advise what not to do and consult Dr Google itself.
'Memory loss' you type in. Nope, you haven't had a recent head injury and you're certainly not pregnant. Maybe that search term is too vague so you try something else.
'Memory loss and confusion' you try this time. Vitamin B12 deficiency? Possible but unlikely with all the health foods you've been forced into recently. Iron deficiency? Your periods are normal and you would absolutely kill for a steak, so again unlikely. You scroll through the results and your heart stops when you see the words 'brain tumour,' you click the link and compare your symptoms and the symptoms of a tumour. Poor memory? Check. Confusion? Check. Headaches? Check. Mood swings? If you'd have asked Piper, certainly 'check' but she's biased so you start to think objectively. You think to when you snapped at Nicky for no reason, to when you shouted at someone for walking into you, hell you even demanded that the barista in Starbucks got fired when they spilt coffee on your moderately cheap blazer. You swallow deeply, 'Check,' you think as you dial your doctor's number.
You go to the doctor for the first time by yourself, you know what Piper's like and you don't want to unnecessarily worry her. They take your blood pressure, give you a thorough check over and take some blood as a precaution. You ironically nearly forget to mention your memory loss, so briefly mention it at the end and the doctor sets you a simple test of remembering a name and an address and asks you to recite it back to them after a few minutes. 'Easy,' you think to yourself. The doctor quizzes you on your parents, on your career, on your relationship with Piper, you give straightforward and non complicated answers until you're made to talk about your 'father'. The doctor asks you to remember the name, you start out confidently, 'Oh, it's Mary…' but then you frown when you realise you've forgotten the surname. You remember after a prompt from the doctor, but in your mind that's acceptable and perfectly normal, the question about your father just caught you off guard. The doctor then asks you to recall the address and you're completely stumped, "'Oh,' you laugh nervously, 'its fifty… fifty six something?'" The doctor shakes his head and tells you it's White Crescent Avenue, he then tells you he's sending you for an MRI scan and to bring Piper with you to your next appointment.
You storm home and sit and drink five bottles of Merlot whilst listening to Pink Floyd's The Great Gig in the Sky. You laugh darkly and wonder how it'll be until you're up there joining in, so you pick up the bottle and drink until the pain starts to numb again.
That's how Piper finds you upon her return home, clutching a bottle of wine and drunkenly imitating the song. You start to cry and tell Piper what's wrong, that you could be dying of a brain tumour or even an aneurysm like your mum. Piper cradles your weary self and tells you that she'll be with you every step of the way, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief, 'Maybe she won't actually run away this time'.
After your diagnosis, you feel sick. How could you have Alzheimer's at 30 fucking 6? You decide you'd rather have a brain tumour, at least it's treatable and maybe curable. Alzheimer's is a guaranteed death sentence. You once again break and tell Piper that you'll understand if she doesn't want you anymore, that's she's free to leave. She says that she's not going anywhere, that the world holds no interest for her without you. Stupidly, you feel selfish and cruel for putting her through this, she's only a few years younger than you yet it'll be like caring for a pensioner in the not too distant future.
'If she stays,' the voices say.
Of course she'll stay, you argue with yourself, she's changed. There's no way she'll go.
If only you believed yourself.