A/N: Generally speaking, I love fleshing out the family of characters. When I consider Artie, I find the fleshing out comes out in an odd way, but I'm just going to go with it. This snippet begins four years ago. Many, many thanks to both Maggie for her amazing ideas and complete support (not to mention daily conversations and all that goes with them), as well as to Jamie for being so wonderful at edits, readings, and prompts. Rabid sheep?

Disclaimer: I am taking s1 of Glee into account. I've seen some of the spoilers for s2 and I'm ignoring them, at least until I see what's going on there.

I'm not supposed to be here right now. Right now, I'm supposed to be at home with Charlie. He was going to teach me a new song on my guitar. I know a lot of songs already. Lots of classical guitar sorts of things, I guess. I'm really good at a few Elton John songs, and some Beatles, but I want to start playing more current stuff, and harder stuff. Stuff you can't just play on the regular guitar. Charlie was supposed to show me all sorts of new songs, like hard rock songs. I really want to start playing those.

Instead we're at the hospital. Not a great substitute.

Sometimes, when my family is in the hospital, it's because of me. But other times we've been here because someone's really sick, like when my great uncle died two years ago. He had cancer. My grandpa has cancer too, but they say the doctors caught it pretty early and have been using all sorts of medication to keep it manageable, which I guess means it can't go away, but I'm not sure.

But no one's sick, so that's good. The other reason we come to hospitals is because someone's having a baby. And a lot of the time, I don't have to go because I'm in school or something. But it's summer break now, and we've been in the waiting room for a couple of hours. Mom told me I couldn't bring my guitar, though I used to play a little bit when I had to stay in a hospital after the accident. I don't think people would have minded, and I could have learned some songs. She told me I could bring some books, though, and that's good because the magazines here are really boring.

I think I've gotten used to hospitals by now. Some people say they just hate going to them. Something about the smell, or the really annoying lights, or just being around so many sick people. Hospitals aren't very cheery by design, and no amount of bright sunny balloons will help with that. But I know a lot of good things happen in hospitals too. If it weren't for the doctors and nurses in hospitals, a lot of people wouldn't be living. Hospitals are where you go to get better, if you can get better at all.

I brought the first book from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I started reading it a couple of days ago after I finished The Hobbit. I've seen the Lord of the Rings movies too but never read the books. I guess that's weird, because I've read all the Harry Potter books that are out, and I've seen all the Harry Potter movies. Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings are different, but I like them both. But reading Harry Potter was easier. Lord of the Rings looks longer, even if there are only three books, and it's harder. It's not hard for me to concentrate in the waiting room of the hospital.

Frodo and his friends are just entering the forest when I look up and see some of my cousins are there. Sarah has already been here for awhile. She's reading a book with Lewis, who's five years old, and her mom has Ian, his brother, who's six. Their mom is the one having a baby. Bethany was sitting next to Sarah, but she got up because Charlie and Daniel and their parents walked through the door. I want to say hi to Charlie, but Daniel and I still don't talk, so I stay where I am and look down at my book. I'm suddenly really mad all over again, and I stare at the words on the pages, but I can't read them and I don't want to, either.

Bethany comes over and tells me they're going to play cards, and do I want to play too. I think she must carry a pack of cards with her everywhere she goes, because she always seems to have one. We use a round table and start playing Go Fish because we don't have any candy to play poker. Daniel doesn't ask me for cards, even when he knows I'm holding the card he wants. But playing here means we can ask either Charlie or Bethany, and I'd rather talk to them anyway.

I hate that he won't even look at me. Like I'm not even there. But I know he knows I'm there, because I must be one of the first people anyone sees, even if I seem shorter than pretty much everyone, but I know I'm not because I'm over five feet tall. Is he mad at me? Whenever I ask anyone, they tell me he's not mad, but he must be. But ever since the accident, it's never been the same. I don't know what I did wrong. And he won't tell me. So I don't talk to him, and he doesn't talk to me.

Suddenly everyone is standing up. I look behind me and see Uncle Harvey in a blue hospital gown with a mask hanging around his neck. He tells us that Aunt Serena is fine, and that she just had their new baby, a girl they've named Doreen. There's a lot of clapping and some crying (I don't know why Sarah's crying) and plenty of hugging.

Now we all have to stay to say hi to Aunt Serena and to the new baby. I'm not sure why, because it's not like the baby will remember, and Aunt Susan says that Aunt Serena won't remember either, not after all the stuff they put in her and all that she went through. Which is a lot. I remember that from sex education, and I wonder if it was like that for Aunt Serena when she had Ian and Lewis.

Uncle Harvey brings their two kids in first to see their mom and the new baby. I figure each person will get a chance to see them, but since I'm not really close to them, it won't be awhile until I go in, and by then Aunt Serena will be really tired and won't want company.

But Uncle Harvey comes out, gives his sons to other people to hold, and walks over to me. "Do you want to go see your new cousin?" he asks me.

"Sure."

Aunt Serena is in the same room she was in before, but they'd moved her to a delivery room when it was time for her to have Doreen. Now she's back in her room again, and she looks really tired. Her hair is wet and she looks kind of small in her hospital gown. But she looks really happy as she holds a bundled blanket against her stomach. She looks up and beams at me, like I'm just the person she wanted to see, and no on ever looks at me like that.

"Artie, this is Doreen," she says.

Uncle Harvey puts me right next to the hospital bed, and even then, I have to push myself up and lean forward. The blanket she was holding against her actually contains the baby, a small pink-faced person that looks more alien than human. She almost looks fake, or like the best baby imitation in a great movie, until she scrunches her face and yawns.

"Hi, Doreen," I say. I don't know why I said it. She wasn't going to say anything back to me.

"Would you like to hold her, Artie?"

I stare at Aunt Serena. "Me?" She nods and starts to shift. "But I don't know how to."

"Just make a half circle with your arms, honey. That's it."

Uncle Harvey comes over and takes Doreen in his arms, and he carefully gives her to me. I don't know if I thought she'd be heavy or if it would be like hugging air. But it's not either one. When I don't move my arms, Uncle Harvey pushes them up around Doreen so that she won't fall out. Even through that blanket and my clothes, I can feel her squirm a little to get comfortable. She opens her eyes and looks at me.

"Did you name her after grandma?"

"Yes, we did."

"Will she have blue eyes, like us?"

"Maybe."

"Can I touch her too?"

"Go ahead."

I move my hand to touch her cheek, but I think my glove might scratch her. My gloves are awesome. I've had them for two years. They're green and so soft on the inside. They're rough on the outside, but that's because they don't have to be soft, and if they were soft on the outside, it would be hard to get where I need to go. They have to be rough, and they don't bother anyone, because no one else touches them. But I think babies are really sensitive and stuff, because they've just gone through a lot and have been protected up until this point. So I use my teeth to take off my glove and touch her cheek. It's probably the smoothest and warmest thing I've ever touched before. I've never felt anything that soft. She blinks at me, and she yawns again and snuggles into her blanket.

"I like her." I look up and wrinkle my nose. That was weird. "Umm, congratulations."

"Thank you, Artie." Aunt Serena looks up at Uncle Harvey. "You know, your uncle and I wanted to ask you a question. A favor, really."

"Okay."

"How would you like to be Doreen's godfather?"

"Me?"

"You."

"But why me?"

"We think you'd be a wonderful godfather."

"What do I have to do?"

"Well at the christening, you'd be there to help us. But after that, it's really up to you. You can treat her like any of your cousins, or even like a little sister."

I distinctly remember that my godfather also gives me birthday presents. Do I have to give Doreen birthday presents? Am I supposed to start now? I mean, technically it's her birth day, but she's only an hour old. And I didn't get her anything. And I don't have a big allowance, and now I have to use that money to get her presents?

But maybe it's not like that. I look down at her, at Doreen, and she looks like she might be smiling. "Do you think she'll be okay with that?"

"I'm sure she already is, Artie."

We normally don't get together to celebrate a family member's birthday. Most of the time, the birthday falls on a weekday, often during the academic year, so the kids receive birthday cards from aunts and uncles. Doreen's birthday is more of a special occasion, because she's the youngest and by now there's some unspoken agreement (or maybe it's spoken, but no one ever told me) that the task of baby-making has fallen to the next generation. So it won't be for some time.

Still, I'd be over at the Abrams Compound anyway. Doreen's fourth birthday falls on a weekday in late June, and this summer I'm spending a lot of my time here to tutor Ian and Lewis. Most of the time, Mom drives me over on her way to work and more than occasionally picks me up. My lack of car has never been so inconvenient. All my friends are learning or have gotten their licenses. But I can hardly get a license without a car. One of the last things I want to do on my summer break is have to be stuck waiting for someone to take me home. Tina sometimes volunteers, and it's unfortunate that she occasionally receives some of my attitude about it. I can't stop making an ass out of myself, apparently.

Mom drops me off today, because she and Dad will be by in the evening to have dinner here. Ian and Lewis have already outgrown me. I'm cool to the younger cousins for only so long, until they grow up and want to be with kids their own age or go off on their own. It probably doesn't help that I'm their summer tutor. I've become The Man, though I'd like to think I'm nice about it. They see me and immediately head to the table where we do our work. And they grumble about it, but I know the sooner we start, the sooner I can give them a break. While they're taking out their books and papers, I hear small steps from the next room and look over. Little Doreen, now age four, trots into the room and runs right to me. I've tried to discourage the way she hits my legs with her body and squirms up into my lap by catching her with my hands and pulling her up.

"I hear it's someone's birthday today," I tell her as I set her down on my lap.

"Mine!" She wiggles and leans forward to hug me. "My birthday!"

"Your birthday, huh? Do you have a cake?"

"Mommy's going to make it now and I get to help her!"

"That's really cool," I tell her with a smile. "Will it have chocolate?"

"Lots an' lots." She spreads her arms to show me just how much a lot is. "I looooove chocolate."

"I do too. You have good taste. Go help your mom, okay?"

This isn't the last I've heard of Doreen today. It's hard to tutor when a little four-year-old bursts in to show you her apron, then to tell you she got to help mix everything together, then put it in the pans, then put it in the oven, then take it out to cool, then that they started making the frosting. Ian and Lewis welcome the distraction, and I have to admit that I have a hard time staying focused with the smell of fresh warm cake wafting through the house.

I call off the work an hour early, because we're not being as productive and I don't have it in me to drill my cousins into submission. Plus I doubt my aunt would like it if I tried. Tutoring is one thing, but I don't have the power of an adult. Not that I want it. They go run around in the backyard, which is just as well, with all the energy they have to burn. I sit in the gazebo and watch them.

A lot of things have happened to me since this time last year. A lot of them have to do with glee club, or at least have something to do with it. I like summer, but I kind of wish we could have glee club without going to school. Rachel was all hyped up about practicing over the summer, and it sounded stupid at the time, but I don't think I'd mind it now. I'd get to see people again, and I don't see them at all now. Except Tina. God I wish Tina were here now. I want to talk with her. I want to hold her or sing horrible songs with her or play guitar while she futzes around my room and crashes on my bed. I want-

Doreen's slammed her little body into my legs again. "You've got to stop doing that," I laugh as I pull her up into my lap. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Sorry."

She scrambles up and sits. When she stares at me, I wiggle my eyebrows and tickle her stomach. She flails around and squeals as I try to keep her from falling off (I swear it only happened once). She starts panting from laughing so hard, so I stop and she moves in, setting her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Artie?"

"Mhmm?"

"Will you ask me to marry you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. Holy shit, what is happening? I know kids ask weird things, but this one throws me off. "Marry you?"

"Uh huh."

"You want to marry me, Doreen?"

"Uh huh."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're nice, and you play, an' you're cool."

My first impression is that she's been spending too much time with my cousin Sarah, who is all right but can't stop talking about whoever she's dating. So each story she reads or recites to Doreen has a happy ending with a big wedding and a long and blissful marriage.

The other part, however small it is, is kind of touched. I know it's stupid. I guess it's kind of normal to form unhealthy romanticish bonds to family members. I kind of had a thing for Sarah when we were younger, because she's so pretty and has the most dazzling smile I've ever seen. I never figured I'd be the object of it. It's strange to think about, but sometimes my uncles and aunts forget that I'm still a sixteen-year-old boy. I'm a nerd who doesn't have a lot of friends and can look forward to Dumpster trips and slushie facials in the fall, but I'm still a boy. And to Doreen, I guess I'm just a boy.

"You're cool too. But I'm your cousin and your godfather, so I can't marry you."

"Really?"

She doesn't seem upset, which is what I was preparing to have to deal with. But instead she just seems tired. "Really. But I'll still be around for your birthdays."

"All of them?"

"All of them. I can't miss any, now that I've started. I even went to the one where you were born and didn't have a number yet."

"At th' 'ospital?"

"Yep. You were sooooooooooo small." She laughs and squirms. "You were tiiiiiiiiiiiny and wrapped up tight tight in a blanket." I wrap my arms around her, and she squirms again. "With a little nose." And I bop her nose. "And two pretty little eyes and a small mouth. And then your mom gave you to me and I held you for the first time ever."

"I don't 'member."

"Well I do."

"What'd I say?"

"Nothing. You couldn't talk yet. And you were really tired."

"Know what I would've said?"

"No, what?"

"I would've said, 'Hi, Artie.'"

I smile. "Maybe you did. I said hi to you."

"Hi, Artie."

"Hi, Doreen."

"Hi, Artie."

"Hi, Doreen."

Doreen and I say hi to each other a few dozen times throughout the evening, even when we're supposed to be saying good bye. Dad drives us home and Mom asks what all that was about.

"Just a game."