As soon as she had a chance, Elisabeta borrowed her step-mother's car and headed for the hospital. It was a pleasant route through bustling city streets and sunny, tree-lined avenues, but she was on edge. It made her almost uncomfortable to think that these people were so oblivious to the mindless destruction that filled the scene of much of the Middle East. With every smiling, clean child she saw on these sidewalks, she remembered a small and mud-covered orphan, carrying a battered toy down the broken road. She would have liked to shoot those poor children out of mercy, but her fleeting hope that they would be saved kept her from harming them.
As she neared the sprawling parking lot, Liz let out a long sigh and glanced at the newspaper beside her. She had opened it to a page with listings for rentals in the area. There were several houses that she had been looking at, but she wasn't prepared to make any decisions without Gilbert's consent.
She pulled into a parking space and gently pressed down the brake pedal. Breathing out deeply, she stared down at herself. She had changed out of her uniform in favor of jeans and a black jacket but had kept her boots. She didn't have many other pairs of shoes - not any she liked, anyway. It felt strange to be wearing civilian clothes, in a civilian setting; to /be/ a civilian. She missed her gun and helmet and all of the clothes protecting her. It had made her feel less vulnerable.
Picking up the newspaper, she opened the car door and stepped onto the paved lot. It was mostly empty, but she wasn't surprised. It was nearly noon on a Tuesday - most people were working. Soon enough, she would be joining the millions of bored workers, wasting her life away.
But she tried not to think about that now. After all, she was about to see Gilbert. They were going to work something out so they would both be - more or less - happy. And she lingered next to the car door for no less than a minute, thinking this through. Finally, she found her strength and walked towards the clear glass doors.

This time, when she arrived, Gilbert was acting almost normal. He lay in bed, staring intently at book. She couldn't see the cover, but she suspected he was reading it out of sheer boredom because, the second she entered the room, he snapped it closed without any marker.
"Good morning," she said in what she hoped was a pleasant tone. He rolled his eyes.
"It's not even morning. I've been up for like six hours already," he replied, a bit too harshly. Shaking his head, he looked up at her and forced a smile. "Hi, though."
She shrugged and walked over to the bed. "I found a bunch of listings for houses around here."
Gilbert raised a pale brow. "Are they any good?"
Liz pulled the newspaper from her purse and handed it to him. He squinted at the words in the housing advertisements and nodded.
"Have you checked 'em out yet?"
She blinked in surprise. "Oh, gosh, I should have."
He smirked, shaking his head in mock disdain. "I'll go with you, if you like. I really need to get out of here for a while."
She tensed up a bit, unsure if she could handle it. "But I don't.."
"I can handle myself, Liz. Besides, you're gonna have to get used to it if you don't plan on going back on your offer and leaving me to rot," he interrupted. She could only nod uncertainly and get up to consult a nurse - or whoever was supposed to be in charge.

Once she was sure they were allowed to leave, Elisabeta spent several minutes struggling to unfold Gilbert's wheelchair. It was latched in what must have been twenty different places, and, even with Gilbert shouting commands from the bed, it took her a ridiculously long time to undo it. He was able to get himself out of the bed and maneuver around, but she still groaned quietly at the entire situation. He turned to him and sighed.
"Are you already convinced this won't work? Geez, that didn't take long." He cast a long, sad glance out the partially opened window.
She shook her head. "You know that's not it. I'm not going to.. give up on you. Ever."
He narrowed his eyes a bit in doubt, but shrugged of the nagging uncertainty in his mind. He didn't believe her. He was sure that, as soon as it became difficult, she would wish she had never agreed to help him. People were just.. like that. And though he didn't question her honor or dedication, this wasn't her duty. She had no reason to feel obligated to help him.
Grasping the wheel of the chair with one hand, he gestured towards the door. She sighed and walked behind him as he pushed himself along. The were on the bottom story, so all he had to do was confirm with the receptionist that he was leaving and then head out. Liz sped up and led him to the car. She was sure that, if they were planning on living together, they would have to buy a larger vehicle - one that could fit the entire wheelchair. For now, she simply unlocked the door and stared at him blankly, unsure of how to proceed.
He almost laughed at her confusion. "Okay, come.. help me into the seat or something.."
She walked around the car and open the door. It was high enough up that she didn't feel she was in danger of hurting him, even though she might have liked to. She sighed and awkwardly put her arm around him. With her support, he used his arms to pull himself into the seat. She was surprised at how light and thin he felt; under the baggy clothes he wore, she could feel his bones, and he was much too easy to lift. She was just slightly smaller than him, after all, but she remembered him as someone who was athletic and muscular, not weak and unhealthily thin. She frowned and caught his eye.
"I once again find myself wondering what 'okay' means to you," she mumbled. He didn't answer.
She folded the wheelchair and put it in the back seat. Once she was in the car and preparing to put in the keys, he turned to her.
"I'm sure you want the truth, so I'll be honest. I really don't eat much, and I don't sleep much, and I don't know if this is going to be a problem for you, but things are really hard for me right now and I need time to work all this out."
She stared at him with a bewildered look on her face, as if she couldn't truly comprehend his lack of sarcasm. With nothing to say, she took his hand and held it tightly in hers.
"I know. "
And that was all they said for a long time.

Liz called some of the numbers on the advertisements. One man answered and said he wasn't working today, so he could show them the house. They met him a few minutes later and Liz was forced to, once again, lift Gilbert. It made her do uncomfortable, and yet she almost enjoyed touching him. The owner regarded them with a raised brow but no comment. He greeted them with a smile and shook hands with Gilbert. They all glanced at the house for a moment.
"My wife and I bought this house when we first got married. It's small, but I think you two will like it," he explained, his eyes glazing over in apparent fond recollection. He led them over a smooth cement path and into the house. The yard was ragged and overgrown, but it looked as if it had once been beautiful. The house was painted a faded brown with darker roofing, and the door was dark red. It looked nice but slightly outdated, at least to Gilbert.
The bottom of the door frame was raised slightly, but the owner nodded in acknowledgement and looked it over. "If you need to accommodate, we can help you."
Elisabeta smiled and lifted the chair over the bump. The came into an open small room with a living area to the left and a doorway to the kitchen in the other. Straight ahead was a hallway. The man led them first down the hallway, which had a single bedroom and bathroom, and then into the living room. There was a doorway in one of the walls, and he led them through and explained that it was the other bedroom. The kitchen was small but functional, and all the appliances were fairly new. Overall, they both seemed to like the house.
"Can you wait for us to look at some other units?" Elisabeta asked, but the landlord shook his head.
"I've got two or three other people who are interested. If I don't know now, it'll get taken by someone else."
Gilbert glanced up at her and shrugged. "It's nice, Liz. We could handle this."
She nodded. "Alright. We'll take it. I'll give you my number so we can talk about it."