Foster lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. Blood tests, CAT scans and all the usual probably wouldn't detect much. Yes, it might tell him elevated white blood cell count, ketone bodies and various other signals of bodily distress, but he suspected that what Gabriel had was a virus which was systematically destroying him, sabotaging his DNA in a steady progression.
He looked over at Gabriel, whose face was relaxed and carefree in slumber. Foster had to resist the urge to touch, to pet and stroke. It was still amazing to him that they'd ended up together, having been with one another less than a few months. He'd barely found him. Before, alone and powerless, Gabriel had fallen so far with no one in his life to prop him up, to lean on, to help him. Foster swallowed roughly. He'd lost so much time. He blinked and looked away, slipping carefully out of the bed. Time.
He cleaned up the kitchen and the leftovers from dinner, leaving a note prominently on the table: "Gabriel - I'll find a cure. I'll be back." He wasn't sure how long it would take, but he wouldn't stop until he had it.
Gabriel.
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