CHAPTER ONE

Artie could hear the strains of "Dream a Little Dream" and the tap-tap-tapping coming from inside the choir room. It wasn't a Glee day but Tina and Mike were putting in extra practice so they could get their tap routine just right for rehearsal in the auditorium with everyone else at the end of the week. He told Tina he'd wait for her so they could head back to his house and study for their upcoming Biology test. He probably should have waited in the library or something, but it was like his wheelchair had a mind of its own and so he found himself sitting outside the choir room faster than you could say "tap duet."

He knew that listening by the door was only going to be painful. Maybe he was a masochist. If so, then every tap coming from inside the room was like a whip being cracked. Even though he had told Tina he was good, he was, in fact, not at all good.

Ugh. I can't wait here. It's torture. I'm supposed to be the one dancing with her. Not Mike.

Artie supposed that at least it was Mike – and not Puck – in there with Tina. Mike seemed harmless enough.

But still. Tina's my girlfriend.

The green-eyed monster was rearing its head big time and all Artie could picture in his head was Mike holding Tina in his arms. Mike dipping Tina. Mike…kissing Tina.

A sweet laugh, unmistakably Tina's, rang out from behind the door. She was clearly having a good time.

Artie dropped his head and rubbed his temples anxiously. When had he developed this pounding headache? Maybe he should just go and text Tina to let her know.

Artie turned his wheelchair around and slammed right into someone's shins.

"Ouch! Christ, Artie. Watch where you're going!"

Artie's head snapped up and saw Quinn rubbing her shins, looking down at him somewhat imperiously.

"Geez, Quinn. You scared me!"

"I scared you? You wheeled into me!" Quinn retorted.

"I'm sorry...are you OK?" Artie said, somewhat distractedly.

Quinn looked down at Artie's furrowed brow, and looked up again, peering through the glass window to the choir room.

"What are you doing here? Were you waiting for Tina?"

Artie put on his best macho, I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck voice. "Nah. I was just passing through. I was gonna let her now that I'm heading home. You know, she wanted me to wait, but I don't just hang around waiting for some chick."

Quinn arched an eyebrow and stared at him. What a dork. "Puh-lease. Drop the act. I know you were eavesdropping, and I know it bothers you, because you've been too busy being angsty to notice that I was standing right next to you for like…5 minutes."

Artie blushed and started wheeling himself down the hall, not caring whether or not Quinn was even following. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Quinn held on to her ever-growing belly and half ran-half walked to keep up with Artie. "Puck. He has his stupid fight club, and I'm waiting for him because he's my ride home. Well…back to his home anyway."

They walked (or rolled, as the case may be) down the hall silently.

"Do you want to talk about it? We could sit outside and wait for them."

Artie stopped short and looked up at Quinn incredulously "Hold up. You want to talk to me?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Chalk it up to my hormones, OK? I like you and Tina. You guys were nice to me when the whole Finn-Puck-pregnancy crap was going down. And…let's face it. I'm fat, and getting fatter by the minute. The Glee kids are my only real friends these days."

Artie softened. "C'mon. Let me buy you some ice cream from the truck that's always outside."

They sat at the picnic tables, in comfortable silence, eating their ice cream.

Quinn devoured the last of her Strawberry Shortcake bar, wiping a smear of ice cream off her chin.

"So. Wanna tell me what's going on with you and Tina?"

Artie groaned. "I was sort of hoping the ice cream would make you forget."

Quinn grinned. "No way. You have to throw in pickles to make that work. Now come on, spill. I can tell it's eating you up. And I won't tell anyone if you cry."

Artie looked at Quinn. All joking aside, she seemed sincere. And he certainly wasn't going to say anything to his parents, or Kurt and Mercedes. He took a deep breath and out it all came. Tina finding his secret dream in the trash. Tina encouraging him to do a tap number with her. His stupid tap wheels. Him falling. Her research. His hopes raised, and then dashed again, thanks to reality in the form of Miss. Pillsbury. Tina choosing Mike Chang as her partner. And what they must be doing in that choir room.

All of it came flooding out like word vomit, and Artie couldn't even look at Quinn when finished. "Great. Now you think I sound like some weepy chick," he grumbled under his breath.

Quinn patted Artie's shoulder awkwardly. "Hey. You can't really believe that Tina would rather be with Mike than you. She likes you, Artie. I can't see her doing anything to jeopardize that."

"Even if that's true, look at me Quinn! I'm too damn broken to be her dance partner, to damn broken to even be a proper boyfriend. She wants to be a star, Quinn. And I'm holding her back," Artie said, frustrated.

"And let's face it. She only tried helping me with my dream so she could be with someone who was whole, someone who could twirl her around the dance floor," he finished, muttering under his breath.

"Cut the self-deprecating crap, Artie. You know that isn't true! If you told Tina your dream was to be the next Monet, she'd buy you an easel and all the oil paints you could possibly need. If you told Tina your dream was to be a director, she'd let you put her in all your crappy home movies even though she's ridiculously shy. Hell, if you told her your dream was to sit there and do nothing, she'd be there, sitting and doing nothing with you," Quinn said, her voice raising higher and higher until it hit that pitch that only dogs can hear.

"Do you know how lucky you are? To have someone who cares so much about you and loves you? That tries so hard to help you achieve your dreams, even if her attempts are somewhat misguided? Someone you can be honest and vulnerable around? I'd give anything for that. I can't even tell Puck that I'd really rather watch American Idol than American Chopper, much less tell him anything real."

Artie was silent, just letting Quinn's words sink in.

"You're right. I am lucky. I don't know why she picked me," Artie finally said, picking at a piece of lint on his sweater vest.

"She picked you because you're the only one she can tell anything real to, too. So don't ruin it, Artie…Look, there's Puck, so I have to go….but, you're good?" Quinn stood up and looked down at him, questioningly, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks, Quinn." Artie smiled up at her.

If I can't dance with Tina, then I'm going to sing the crap out of that song.