The Unseen by wtfisaverage

The solo went to someone else of course. Mercedes tried to breathe through the knot in her stomach, the ball of nerves that appeared without fail when Mr. Schue announced the lead vocalists. She knew it wouldn't be her. It was never her, but she couldn't stop her hopes from rising. Shaking her head, Mercedes quickly gathered her belongings and left the Glee classroom. There was nothing left to say. She'd said it all before. She'd huffed, puffed and worked her butt off only to have everyone acknowledge she was awesome, but receive no shine. At this point, she just wanted to sit alone with her disappointment until it melted away.

Artie didn't see her leave. He didn't see or hear much of anything happening in Glee. The politics of the Glee room were beyond him. He lived for the moments after Glee club when he could go to the deserted auditorium. There he could dance in his wheelchair and sing all the songs he never shared with the New Directions. The moment Mr. Schue dismissed them, Artie was gone. No one noticed. No one saw. Nobody asked.

Artie wheeled in the back of the auditorium, preparing himself for the sight of his stage when he saw her. "Mercedes?" She sat at the judges' table where Mr. Schue watched the New Directions perform. Turning in her seat, Mercedes sighed and said, "Hey, Artie."

Rolling next to her, Artie asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm watching myself sing the solo at Regionals," she answered, gazing at the stage.

"What do you mean?"

Shaking her head, she laughed sadly, replying, "Never mind. It's just a stupid game I play by myself. Ignore me."

"No." Reaching over, Artie grabbed her hand and nodded at the stage. "Tell me, please. I want to see what you see."

Clutching his hand, she dreamed aloud, "The spotlight. It's caressing my curls, you know? My gown flows down around me. I'm singing and everyone is looking at me. My family, my friends, even Mr. Schue. They see me giving praise for my voice, giving thanks to the artists who've inspired me. They are watching me give my all to do justice to Music. The only time the audience isn't looking at me is when they search for my name in the program. Somehow, I've made them see that I matter."

Big brown eyes turned to look at Artie. He could see she waited for him to dismiss her and her vision and anticipated his rejection of her dream. "I only see one thing wrong," he answered, as he watched her begin to shut down, "that stage is too small. It's not you at Regionals. That's you at the Grammy's, the only stage besides Madison Square Garden equipped to handle the star you are."

"Why am I so willing to settle then, Artie?" Sniffing, she continued, "I want all of it. I want that," she gestured to the stage. "I want to stand up there and just know."

"Know what?"

"That I deserve to be seen."

"Having people look at you isn't all it's cracked up to be," Artie said, glancing at her. "Trust me."

"What are you saying, Artie?"

"I'm saying that no one will ever take a first or even second glance at me and think there's Artie the singer. No one sees me as who I am or what I will be because the chair comes first. It's an automatic label. I'm the 'disabled kid who just happens to sing'. People hear you, Mercedes," Artie responded softly, "you open your mouth to sing and people hear everything there is to know about you. They hear your strength and your struggle and you sound like no one I've ever heard. You have a voice."

"You dream, Artie?" she asked.

"Yeah everyday, that I'm a dancer," he confessed. "My body doesn't know it, but I can dance. I can do moves you've never thought existed. In my dreams, I'm Michael Jackson. I'm 'Thriller' and 'Bad'. I'm every step that I can't take without this wheelchair."

It was strange, this confessional they'd enacted. Both knew the New Directions would be different without them, maybe less of a team, definitely less diverse, but they were just pieces. They weren't glue like Finn or Rachel.

It was a tender idea that sparked in Artie's brain. It wasn't much, but he could do it. "If you went on that stage, Mercedes, I'd watch you. I'd be your audience hanging on to every note. I wouldn't look away. I'd see you."

It choked her, his willingness to make her dream come true in his own small way. Her throat was so tight, she didn't think she could croak let alone sing. Instead she said, "I have a better idea. Follow me."

Cocking his head, Artie carefully rolled behind her until they were in the middle of the stage. "How strong are you, Artie?"

Making light of her question, he held up his arms and joked, "Are you kidding me? Do you see these guns?"

"I'm serious. Are you strong enough to hold me… like on your lap?"

With no hesitation, he said, "Yes. Why?"

Coming close enough to where their knees touched, Mercedes leaned over and touched his shoulders, whispering, "Because I want to dance with you."

His hands only shook a little as they came to rest at her waist. Eyeing her carefully to see if she wanted to bail, Artie turned her slightly and seated her on his lap. Settling in against him, Mercedes laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his neck. "Don't we need music to dance?" she asked him, smiling.

"Must I do everything, woman?" Laughing down at her, Artie began to hum as he rocked them to and fro in his chair.

"A Whole New World, Artie? Really, Aladdin?" Mercedes giggled.

"The closest thing to a carpet when you're riding with me!"

They laughed, but Mercedes was touched. Lightly caressing the fine hairs on the back of his neck, Mercedes began to sing.

Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling
Through an endless diamond sky

Her voice was so faint, the song slowed down in bluesy soul. Artie had to lean his face forward to hear her. Her lips grazed his cheek and all he could think was she smelled of jasmine and lavender. Turning his face slightly toward her, Artie picked up her hand and sang with her.

Don't you dare close your eyes
Hold your breath, it gets better

Forgoing the pleasure of her hand, he wrapped his left arm around her waist as he sent them spinning with his right hand. Laughing, she kicked a foot out in glee. Picking up the tempo, they sang together:

I'll chase them anywhere
There's time to spare
Let me share this whole new world
With you

Their voices were magical. They swirled together and complemented each other effortlessly. Yet, it was scary, the way their bodies connected. The scratch of her fingernails against his neck and her lips so close to his chin. The strength of the arm wrapped against her and the safety of his hold. Her breaths came closer together. His palms started to sweat as he slowed them to a stop. When brown eyes met blue, the recognition was there.

"I see you," he said to her, wrapping his arms around her.

She saw that he did. More than that, she saw his belief in her and it made her happier than she'd ever felt in Glee club. Reaching up both her arms, she squeezed him to her and kissed him twice on the cheek. Somewhere in the midst of her affection, Artie turned his face. She hesitated, but she leaned in any way. Their lips met. It wasn't a perfect kiss. The angle was imperfect and they didn't quite match their lips right. Just when it felt like a mistake, they slowed down. He reached up and held the back of her neck. Not forcefully or hard, just holding it. She gripped his shirt and they adjusted. They sipped from each other, each making one unbelievable kiss after another. Artie's glasses fogged and Mercedes' leg trembled.

It hit her. She was kissing Artie. She was kissing… Artie? "Oh my goodness," she breathed, scrambling off of his lap and backing away. "I have to go."

"Wait, just give me a sec. We'll talk," Artie said, snatching his glasses from his face so he could see.

"No, I have to go." Mercedes said over her shoulder as she left the auditorium.

Hurriedly, Artie placed his glasses on his face just in time to see her leave. "Mercedes!" he tried calling out to her.

The butterflies in her stomach churned all the way to her car. "What did I just do? What just happened?" Mentally, she cursed herself. Somewhere in that auditorium, Artie made her feel good and it turned into some hormonal glitch gone horribly wrong. Why was it horrible? Her mind ran in circles trying to explain to the butterflies, her lips, her spirit and all the parts still tingling from the afternoon that this was a bad idea. Her phone buzzed and lit as a text message came through.

It was from Artie. It read: Just talk to me. Please.

A/N: *I'm just trying to get back into the flow of writing again. Nothing serious.*