An authors note...While I should be working hard to update my stories(I actually really am, but that's not going very well:P), I've decided to take this detour and post my Quartie week submissions instead...hoping they will help with the time constraints and wicked case of writers block, or lack of inspiration I'm currently suffering from. Hope these will at least make up some, for the long delay in updates. Love you all, and I'll be back soon:D
Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers.
Day one: Season 3 Quartie
"I can't."
"Yes you can."
"No, I can't," she returned, more forcefully this time. There was an edge to her tone...a bitterness. "It hurts."
"But I wouldn't understand what that's like, right?" he interjected flatly.
Scowling, she turned her head away and rolled her eyes.
He let out an exaggerated sigh, and she could almost hear disappointment in it. "I am so sick and tired of people assuming that because I can't feel anything from here down..." he paused, gesturing from his waist, "...I must not be able to feel anything at all."
He noticed her shift slightly, but didn't back down. "Geeze Quinn, I broke my back in three places...along with a few other miscellaneous bones," he replied flatly, even if his expression did soften just a little. "I may have been young at the time, but I think I know what pain is..."
"I'm sorry Artie," she cut in, her voice waivering, "I didn't mean to..."
"Look, I deal with it everyday...from the ache in my arms, to the spasms in my back...it's just a part of my reality," he intejected, quickly dismissing her attempted apology. He didn't need her to feel guilty or sympathetic, he needed her to feel motivated. Catching her gaze, he held it steadily. "It's going to hurt, Quinn," he told her, and not that watered down version of the truth everyone else was feeding her, "It's probably always going to hurt."
She broke contanct again, so he leaned forward, hands resting on the frame of the walker standing between them. "You just have to push through it..."
"I don't know if I can."
It was barely a whisper, but the desperation rang out loud and clear. Artie lifted his hands to the grips of the walker, covering hers. "Of course you can," he assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze of encouragement. "You have the chance to beat this Quinn," he added, though the 'to walk again' that was to follow, remained stagnant on the tip of his tongue. This wasn't about him, and he didn't want to make it that way.
As if reading his thoughts, Quinn's gaze momentarily shifted to the corner of the room, where the wheelchair she'd relied on for the past few weeks, sat in the corner. "You can do this," he urged again, without reservation.
"What if I fall?" Quinn's eyes darted cautiously from the physical therapist standing to her left, to her mother on her right.
The corners of Artie's lips began to turn upwards. "Then I'll catch you," he chuckled lightly.
Quinn blinked back in surprise, as she once again focused on the sparkling blue orbs sitting in front of her. "I'd crush you," she quipped, and the telltale signs of a playful smirk were starting to make their appearance.
"I can handle it," Artie countered teasingly. "I'm not nearly as fragile as I may look."
Quinn shook her head as she scooted forward slightly, the healing bones of her shattered pelvis protesting sharply at the movement. "No, you're not fragile at all," she concurred, wincing, but still beaming the first genuine smile since her accident, "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Artie Abrams."