First of all, I AM SO SORRY for disappearing for so long! Life has been super hectic with my degree, new job and other complications getting in the way of free time to write. but I am BACK! And secondly, THANK YOU to everyone who has sent me messages of encouragement, commented on this fic and stayed with me through my hiatus! I am so grateful to each and every one of you who take the time to read this, let alone leave feedback" You make this fic worth returning to over and over again. I never expected to have such a devoted following when I first started this fic and I genuinely missed you all, and these two idiots obliviously in love! I hope you enjoy!

She is waiting outside his apartment door when Kate drops him off later that evening. The woman had sent him an encouraging smile that was futile against his nerves before she drove away, leaving Steve to wheel his way over. Liz turns and smiles at him as she hears him approach, his heart beating rapidly in anticipation. He could hardly work all day, distracted with thoughts of what her reaction would be when she see the state of his apartment, of him?

"Hey, everything alright?" Liz asks as he reaches her, pulling his keys from his pocket, clearly having noticed the distracted look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes off, "You?"

"Not so bad, have a few friends at the Hill so it is always nice to pay a visit," Lizzie says, reaching over. He panics as she touches his hand, taken off-guard, before he realises she is taking his keys from him. Steve can only watch, his mouth dry, as she turns the key in the door, opening it. He waits for her to enter first, not wanting to see her face as she takes in state of his apartment for the first time. He lingers in the doorway as he watches her move forward, fiddling with the keys in her hand. His heart stops as she suddenly stands still.

Steve watches her back as her shoulders drop, the keys hanging limply off her finger as her arms fall to her sides. Her head moves slightly, her taking in the disarrayed space around her. He resists dropping his gaze as she turns around after a moment, knowing he needs to face up to it.

Her mouth hangs slightly open and her eyes are wide, though her brows are turned upward. He expects to see anger there, but his heart aches as he only sees concern.

"Oh, Steve," she whispers, sadly, exhaling as his name escapes her.

The sound tugs at his heart.

He wheels himself forward with shaky hands, pushing the door closed behind him. Defiant against his own nerves, he never takes his eyes from hers. She steps forward to meet him in the middle.

Steve can see Lizzie understands, without him even needing to explain himself. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised she does. She always knows him better than he knows himself.

She crouches down, placing the keys on the kitchen counter before putting her hand on his shoulder. Lizzie looks up at him, tears beginning to shimmer in her eyes as her grip tightens on him. She is studying his face, he knows it. Reading him for an explanation without pressuring him to speak.

He wonders what she sees there - pain, pity, dishonesty. He shrinks under her gaze.

Steve knows he owes her an explanation, even if she is not asking for one.

So, he clears his throat, swallowing down the anxiety that is threatening to choke him, "You should have seen it before Kate came yesterday."

He feels Liz's hand loosen on his shoulder a little, likely disappointed he did not confide in her first, not that he had much of a choice.

But despite that, Liz is more saddened by the truth. That he has struggled like this. And not thought to tell her, so she can help him. Just as she wants to.

"I should have told you," Steve says, the sincerity in his gaze twisting her heart, "I should have said something sooner. And I am so sorry, Lizzie."

A tear slips out of his eye, Lizzie quick to catch it with her thumb, then rests her palm against the stubble on his jaw. He can't resist leaning into it.

"I'm only upset I couldn't help," Lizzie says, disheartened.

Steve panics, his embarrassment at crying in front of her wavering, blurred eyes widening, "No, no Lizzie. This isn't your fault, far from it. I should have told you but I thought you had enough going on and didn't want to worry you. You have already done so much for me and I- I didn't want to take advantage of that."

Lizzie strokes his cheek with her thumb, understanding but shaking her head. She sighs, "It wouldn't have been like that at all. I want to be here for you. I care about you. I had hoped you would know that by now?"

Steve nods. Of course he knows. He just loathes himself too much to allow himself to admit it.

"I do," he assures her, "I was just embarrassed and wanted to prove to you I could manage-"

"You have nothing to prove to me, Steve."

"I know, I just- I couldn't-"

Liz cuts off his stuttering by moving forward and wrapping her arms gently around his neck. Steve reacts immediately, greedy for her touch, using the arm sliding around her waist to pull her to rest upon his lap. His spine twinges, though the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming sensation of her in his arms. He ducks his head into the crook of her neck to hide his inflamed cheeks, feeling his throat begin to close up as he uses the opportunity to inhale her addictive scent, nerves buzzing at the proximity.

She can feel a pool of wetness building on her shoulder. He's crying. She holds him closer.

She just needs Steve to know she is there. Always will be.

She has no doubt he is embarrassed. That he is angry at himself for being vulnerable. But he is allowed to be. Especially around her. She could never judge him for it. Never.

If he did not tell her he was struggling, there had to have been reasons. Things were far more transparent between them now. The man has been through so much the past few weeks, it is understandable if he could not think so clearly. The emotional turmoil of the attack and the case is more than a justifiable reason to have struggled. And she knows how much stress he has been under because she has been there, beside him the entire time.

Is she bothered he did not tell her? Of course, it is disappointing. Can she blame him for feeling embarrassed? No, not at all. Just as with her emotions towards everything that happened last year, he has pushed it all aside and tried to move on without any confrontation of the truth. And she now knows that gets you nowhere.

He is being honest with her now, and that's what matters. Him inviting her here, knowing she would be exposed to this truth, is him asking for her help.

And so she wants to help. That's all. No bitterness, no embarrassment.

Though, it does make her wonder what else he has been dishonest with her about?

"Will you get better, Steve?" she mumbles into his neck, almost afraid to ask. Liz has wondered since the hospital. She was there, beside him, and had seen the terrifying effects of his injuries as he lay unconscious in that hospital bed. She hears him sniff, gripping him tighter as she anticipates his answer.

"I don't know, Lizzie," he answers, honestly for once, feeling her deflate slightly in his arm, "I don't know what is going to happen."

She doesn't shout. She doesn't cry. Just holds him closer, a hand raking its way into his hair from the base of his neck.

"Then I'll be there, whatever happens," she whispers, her vow tickling his neck. He shudders at the sensation and the emotional weight of her words.

"Thank you," he whispers back, pushing his face further into her shoulder. He feels her shake her head beside him, her hair falling over his own shoulder, dismissing his praise.

He exhales, deeply, relieved at where they are now. He had convinced himself she would shout, that she would be mad at him for lying to her. But he realises now, in her hold, that would never have been true. That wasn't his Lizzie. That was his own insecurity convincing and punishing him.

Steve knows Lizzie is there for him, that she always will be. As she is, right now. That she cares for him, as he does her. And as she sits up, pulling her face away from his neck to look him in the eye, a hand still in his hair and the other on his neck, bright eyes gazing into his, her light breath hitting his lips, he wonders: could she ever feel the same? Does she?

But that ridiculous, fleeting notion is interrupted by the sound of her phone pinging in her pocket. Liz sighs, as she shifts on his lap to stand. Steve struggles to ease his grip on her, though eventually surrenders to the broken moment, his fingers clenching into fists to stop himself from reaching out to pull her against him once more.

As Liz stands, she reaches for her phone, glancing at the caller ID. He watches, catching his breath from where she had been held so close to him and waiting for the blood in his veins to catch up with the rapid thumping of his heart, as her eyes widen and flick to him for a moment in some sort of alarm, before she hastily turning the phone off completely.

She catches him watching with a curiously raised brow. Shoving her phone into her pocket again, "You are my priority now."

And Steve can't say he isn't touched.

She reaches over to the table, removing some stacked plates piled there and placing them in the sink. Lizzie then gathers some empty takeaway boxes and throws them into the bin. Steve feels terrible she is here doing this for him, but knows from her words just now the last thing she would want is for him to protest and pretend he does not need the assistance.

"I'll make you some food," she insists from the kitchen area as he wheels himself to the sofa.

"I can phone the chinese?" Steve offers, but Lizzie shakes her head, surveying the plenty of discarded takeaway packets strewn about the room.

"No, let's make you some real food," she says, moving to open the fridge and surveying the very limited selection inside. Once settled on the sofa (with difficulty), Steve can only watch, a little dazed, as she pulls out the carton of eggs and the milk. He smiles fondly at the familiar ingredients.

She scrambles the eggs in a bowl, putting the pan on simmer before moving back over to sit with him, discarding her jacket on the back of the chair.

"So, what did the doctors say?" Liz asks, knowing if they are to move on from this they need to start facing up to what is actually going on.

Steve sighs, both anxiously and in relief he can finally be honest with her, "They aren't sure how quickly I could recover from this. If at all."

"Christ," Liz tries her best not to mutter, but the news hits her hard, knocking the breath out of her.

Steve cringes, feeling a twinge in his lower back as he recoils from her concern.

"I have to go back twice a week for physical rehabilitation," he continues, fiddling with his thumbs, "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," Liz says without even needing to consider it, "I wouldn't let you go alone. I've been with you this whole time."

Steve's heart lurches, rattling against his ribcage, causing a desperate ache. Not quite as painful as the one shooting through his back. No, this is a good ache. His love for her numbing the pain a little.

He knows she trusts him, and that he trusts her. He wants to say it. To tell her. Let it be out there, with everything else.

But something is stopping him. Those destructive doubts in his mind, preventing him from doing something stupid and risking everything they have.

He feels nauseous just considering it, his head spinning as Lizzie stands before he even has a chance, moving back over to the pan to check on the eggs.

"We will get you through this," Lizzie calls over her shoulder as she adds the milk, so casually it almost convinces him there is nothing wrong at all, "One step at a time."

Steve nods, repeating those words in his head. Yeah, that's how he will take it.

He has opened up to her about all this, stopped hiding the truth and accepted her help. And she reacted better than he could have hoped. Assuring him she is there. In this case, honesty has proven to be the best thing he could have done for them both. It worked out well, this whole honesty thing.

So what if he were to open up to her about everything else? His - he gulps just thinking of it all - feelings. How would she react then?

Would she do as she did today? Embrace him, assure him things would be ok?

Would she do as he had feared? Shout and berate him for deceiving her?

Would she laugh at him, belittling his feelings?

Or would she kiss him, admit the same feelings are returned? (His vision almost completely blurs at the thought, his brow beginning to sweat.)

Would she stay? Or would she leave?

Whatever the response, it would change everything. And what they have now is good, isn't it? Yes, of course it is.

But is it enough?

No, he stops himself from considering it any further, squeezing the thumb once injured by his torture all those years ago in that warehouse by those thugs, the lingering pain grounding him in reality. It is not worth the risk. Not now. Not when she has vowed to help me as she is. I need her, in more ways than that. She does not need to prove herself to be anything more to me than what she is. She deserves to know, to not have anything more hidden between us. But amongst everything else going on: I love her. And that is enough. For now.

Steve straightens slightly, despite the pain of the movement, as Lizzie approaches with the two plates, placing a cushion on his lap and placing his food on top of it. She holds hers against her chest as she sits close beside him on the sofa, passing him a fork and prompting him to start eating. He thanks her as she takes her first bite, receiving a satisfied smile in return.

"Shall we put the TV on?" Lizzie asks, reaching over him for the remote, "Some Midsomer Murders or something?"

He chuckles, relishing in the good humour between them as she turns on the programme. She's doing her best to continue like normal, to prove to him things have not changed. Not like they would if he were to confess-

Stop. Just stop it.

He will tell her, one day. When everything is settled. When he is better and can be what she needs him to be. But for now, with her beside him as she always promises to be - her head coming to rest on his shoulder as she settles beside him with her plate of fluffy eggs - Steve is content. He will take things one step at a time.

When he wakes the next morning, he is still on the sofa. There is a blanket laying over him, a pillow behind his head. His neck aches as he sits up, pain shooting down his spine. He looks around, seeing Liz's jacket - and herself - gone. His empty plate is also nowhere to be seen, suggesting she cleaned up and put the dishes away while he was sleeping.

Steve wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, dismissing the fleeting feeling of disappointment fluttering about his chest at the lack of the woman who, last he knew, was tucked in beside him.

Just then, the door opens, said a woman walking in with a brown paper bag in her hand. She closes the door gently behind her, ensuring it makes no noise as it closes, likely presuming he is still asleep. A sweet smile splits across her features when she turns and sees him looking back over at her.

"Good morning!" she practically sings, moving into the kitchen.

"Morning," he grunts, stretching as much as his back will allow him to, "What time is it?"

"About 8.15, so we have plenty of time before work," she explains, moving about the kitchen, "I bought breakfast!"

Lizzie reaches into the brown paper bag, pulling out two cups and two pastries, one croissant and the other a muffin (he assumes blueberry, that's her favourite), "I noticed you didn't have any coffee in your cupboards so thought I would pop out and get one. Left your door on the latch, if that's ok? I also stopped by my own place to freshen up before heading back here."

She pours the drinks into two of his mugs, placing the pastries on some plates before bringing them over to him on a tray. Discarding her jacket onto the back of the seat again after she has placed the tray down, she takes a seat beside him.

"Thank you," Steve says, a small smile on his face as the smell of warm coffee hits his nose.

"No problem," Lizzie smiles back, taking a sip of what he assumes is a hot chocolate, "Your choice of pastry, I don't mind which one."

He chuckles to himself, "We can share?"

"Sure!" she says, leaning forward and splitting the pastries into two and placing them back on each plate before taking a bite out of her half of the muffin.

He just watches her for a moment, indulging in the way the sunlight shines through her red strands of hair, warming the rosy tint of her cheeks that blush against the few freckles dotted about her skin. She is so beautiful.

Steve can't tell if she is aware of his staring or not, and is just too polite to ask him to stop, so he turns away and to his coffee before she can notice and call him out.

They eat in silence, just happy to be in the other's company. Steve eventually places his empty mug on the coffee table before sitting as straight as he can, reaching with a groan for his wheelchair. Liz notices his movements, putting her own mug down before standing and moving over to push the wheelchair closer to him. Steve sighs as she moves to stand beside him, her hands coming to wrap around his shoulder to assist him. This is what he didn't want. Her feeling the need to help him at every moment, as he is sure now she is eager to.

"I can manage, but thank you," he says, placing his hands on her own and moving them away from his body.

Liz huffs quietly at his stubbornness, so instead twists her palms around so she is holding both his hands in hers. She raises a stubborn brow as he glares up at her, him eventually giving in with how own huff before gripping her hands tighter. Liz tenses, keeping her hands steady as he begins to push on them, pulling himself up a little off the seat.

Steve's legs shake as he moves, his face contorting in pain as he hisses at the effort. Liz tries her best not to cringe with him, seeing him suffering so much. Instead, she plants herself, helping him to balance.

Liz expects him to swing himself into his wheelchair, so is surprised when Steve continues to plant his own feet, pushing against her hands to stand straighter and straighter until he is almost standing at full height.

She just watches, unsure what this means, before she sees him stare down at his feet then back up to her. His eyes remain on hers as he slowly begins to loosen his hold on her hands until he is almost standing completely on his own.

His face begins to crack into a smile, though it falls suddenly as he falters slightly, reaching out to take hold of her lower arms that remain outstretched to him and braced against the side of his chest. Lizzie takes a small step forward so he can more easily push himself against her, though is surprised once again when he leans backward. Straight. Upright. Barely gripping onto her.

Steve laughs. A giddy, disbelieving laugh.

He's standing. Sure, he is holding her forearms as she has a tight hold on him just below his armpits and can feel a bit of his weight relying on her to keep him there. But he is standing.

Liz grins too, revelling in the infectious sound of his laughter.

Steve leans forward slightly, his forehead coming to rest against hers as his eyes close, still grinning in excitement at his progress. He can feel her giggling beneath him, not at all bothered by the weight he is leaning against her, her breath as she laughs fanning his jawline. He risks opening his eyes, seeing her already looking up at him, eyes flitting between both of his as she smiles - that smile!

And in the relief and the excitement and the confusion and the thrill - he considers doing something stupid.

I could do it.

His heart beats.

I could lean just a few mere centimetres closer.

His heart beats faster.

I could-

Before he has the chance, Liz moves her face back, still smiling up at him, not having noticed his inner turmoil.

He sighs, relieved and frustrated by the missed opportunity - one step at a time.

She grips onto his chest tighter, having felt him begin to tremble in her arms. Liz pulls him gently to the side as he easily gives in, having lost his balance, collapsing slowly with her guidance into his wheelchair.

Her hands remain on his shoulders for a moment as he lets out a deep breath, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. His eyes are wide as they dart about the room, seemingly anywhere but her. Steve seems to ground himself as his eye since again finds hers, staring up at her, shocked.

Liz grins, "I'll go grab your clothes and give you space to change."

She can feel him watching as she walks away, undoubtedly still stunned he managed to stand almost on his own after the dismal reveal to her last night that he may not get better. She grabs his suit and other clothes, as well as his waistcoat and tie before returning to the room, leaving them in a pile close enough for him to reach. He thanks her as she heads back to his room, giving him the privacy to change for a few minutes.

When she returns a few moments later, knocking on the door and calling out to make sure he is decent, she hears Steve hiss as he reaches his arm around and into the waistcoat. Liz rushes over, her heart breaking a little with every wince and cringe he emits. Reaching to him, she pulls his waistcoat further around himself, taking her time fastening each button so as to not hurt him. Steve makes sure to keep his eyes trained anywhere else but on her as she kneels in front of him, closing his eyes as if that will rid him of the feeling of her fingers dancing across his stomach and chest.

He opens his eyes when she feels her hands move away, only to see her reaching for his tie. Steve holds his breath as Lizzie moves closer to him again, hair falling in her face a little as she reaches it around his upturned collar. Once it hangs around his neck against his aching chest, she reaches her hands back around him to lower the collar over it, fingers brushing lightly against the skin of his neck, leaving a trace of goose-bumps in their wake. She then keeps her eyes trained on the ends of his tie as she slowly and carefully ties the knot, tugging it gently until it is neat. She pats the tie against his chest when she is done, smiling up at him to indicate she has finished.

"Thank you," Steve manages to say, even if it does come out more breathy and dazed than he had hoped. He is sure Lizzie doesn't know this effect on him, even he is surprised by it. But after weeks of only feeling pain and stress, her touch replaces the sharp stabbing down his spine with a satisfying tingle. A soft feeling, warm and peaceful.

"No problem, none at all," Lizzie smiles, insistently, moving to check her bag that she did not miss anything she would need while stopping off at her flat that morning. When she turns back, she sees Steve moving into the kitchen area, pulling something out of a drawer. He glances to her, as if thinking something over, then back to the object now in his hand, which is obstructed to her by the kitchen countertop. Curious, Liz stands, taking a few pieces of rubbish she had missed over to the bin as she goes before moving to his side. He has closed his fist, concealing the object from her as he stares up at her, a glint in his eye she cannot quite put her finger on.

Steve reaches his other hand out to her, Liz taking it instantly and allowing herself to be guided closer to his side. When she is close enough, Steve holds her wrist so her palm is upward, then moving his other hand to cover it. Liz can feel him drop something into her palm. Her eyes never leave his, trying to work out that glint she can see, as he turns her fingers into her palm so they are closed around the object.

The man then leans forward, bringing her closed fist to his lips, placing a small, soft kiss there. - you just can't help yourself, Steve thinks. But he doesn't care, not now. His lips linger for a moment, his eyes still on hers, before he sits back with a smile, his hand now taking a gentle hold of her free one.

Liz raises a brow, both surprised and touched by the quietly affectionate display before looking down to her closed fist. The object is cool, a sharp contrast to the burning heat where Steve's lips just were - a lingering tingling sensation shoots up her arm and to her neck, her hair standing on end at the back of it as she remembers the feeling. Slowly prying open her fingers, they reveal a key.

She stares at it for a moment, unsure what to make of it.

"It's a spare I had cut," Steve then explains, squeezing her other hand for a second, "And it's yours."

Lizzie then understands.

He is letting her in, completely. He trusts her, absolutely.

Steve is allowing her to help him. To be there, beside him. And more so in that moment, although she has known for some time, there is no place Liz would rather be.