In the days that followed, Sarah practically lived at the hospital, arriving when visiting hours started and only leaving when the nurses came in and demanded her to leave night after night. The only times she left Charlie's side was to get a drink, get a snack, or sneak away for a smoke break. She was never gone long, she didn't want him to start thinking she had abandoned him. He needed her now, and she, well, it was the least she could do given the circumstances and their history. But now came the question of the hour.

Where would Charlie stay?

He couldn't stay at Sarah's place, not with her room mates and her frequent use of illegal substances, the place constantly had a smoke cloud over it and smelled like an ashtray. No place for someone like Charlie. It seemed the best place would be Charlie's home. Sarah's old home. It was familiar to him, and familiar was good. Sarah hadn't heard yet the identity of the driver of the car, but she naturally made an assumption, and the assumption was that she figured there wouldn't be anyone to oppose her returning to the old home she was run out of. 

Sarah was pushing Charlie via wheelchair out of the hospital doors and out into the sunlit sky. Cradled under her arms were folders containing information regarding the medical treatment, doctor's reports, and instructions on how to care for him. 

"Okay, Charlie, you ready to go home?" Sarah asked, stopping as she waited for a handicap accessible hospital van to pull around to the front. "Rah-Rah's gonna be looking after you for a while, alright? We're gonna go home and it'll be like it was." 

She gave Charlie a little nod from behind the chair, not like he could see, and as she waited for the van and the staff - why are these people always so late-, the only thing she thought was how badly she wanted a cigarette.