Author's Note: I don't know how much I ship Artie and Quinn together, but I can't deny that there's always been something there from the start. I feel like I'm just kind of jumping on the bandwagon because of the Big Brother episode... Eek. Anyways, here it goes. I hope I did the pairing and story justice. Oh, and Glee club doesn't really exist in this story.
Flight
Artie Abrams did not believe in miracles. Not a single person in his position could. But not even that could stop Artie from thinking that his wish could become a reality. The entire notion of a wish coming true from producing a thousand paper swans seemed foolish to Artie from the start, but the dreamer buried deep within his heart couldn't resist to at least an effort.
Even before the accident, Artie never formed any friendships. At the age of five, Artie sat alone in the midst of chatty, detestable children and endured his solitude, acting as if he welcomed it. Artie's father insisted that he be tested. But his mother convinced herself and his father that Artie's shyness would not hold him to be alone for the rest of his life and that in time Artie would be just as everyone else. There would be no more watching from the sides of the playground as the other boys ran around and Artie sat alone in the shadows burying his face in a book. In time, Artie would no longer suffer watching the other children receiving invites for birthday parties and return home empty-handed. No longer would Artie be called four-eyes or freak because he would grow out of this phase.
But Artie's mother turned out to be wrong about everything.
That one untimely crash to his first party at the age of eight changed his life. The boy named Finn never picked on Artie as the others did, but actually didn't mind his presence at all. Artie never considered Finn a friend, but he would probably be the closet to it. And when Finn handed him the invite decorated with the Power Rangers at school whether or courtesy or friendship did not matter to Artie. Maybe he would never openly show it, but Artie wanted a friend if only out of curiosity. That day when Artie came home with the envelope in hand, his mother stared in disbelief and let a trail of tears fall down her face.
Artie could not have been any more ecstatic though an average person would not show it the way he had. The blood red wrapping paper for the action figures later on would prove to be ironic to Artie, but at the time seemed to be a chance of a friendship with the Popular Boy.
No one wanted Artie there and he acknowledged it, but still felt a rush of joy when climbing into the backseat of the car an hour early to Finn's party. Although Artie's mother insisted that his early arrival would be an inconvenience to Finn and his family, Artie maintained his position on being the first there. This way, Artie would have an opportunity to speak to Finn one on one and maybe form his first friendship.
Artie always looked back and wondered how changed his life would be if he had listened to his mother and departed at a reasonable time. But the what if's of life long stopped entering Artie's mind. The only detail of the accident that stood out vividly in his mind had to be the scream that escaped his own lips as the world enclosed around him, trapping the poor boy into a never-ending nightmare.
No tears spilled from Artie's eyes when the news reached him. "I can't walk." But who needed to walk? Artie could deal with a wheelchair. After all, not all hope could have been lost in that moment of time, that moment when the blood spilled to every inch of his body. Artie half-expected everyone at school to sympathize when he returned to school. And yes, several of the girls pitied the paralyzed boy, but not even Finn Hudson ever looked him in the eye after that. Maybe Artie's height disadvantage did not allow it, but deep down he discerned the look of guilt and distance on Finn's face. And he hated it.
The first few months of chair felt torturous, but Artie couldn't allow his mother to know that he hated himself because of it. That every single time Artie even passed by a mirror, his workable limbs would cringe and retract at the slightest glimpse of the paralyzed boy. Artie hated that this would be his label for the remainder of his life. Even if Artie discovered a cure to cancer or would become a famous author that he would be the wheelchair scientist or the wheelchair author. That any time anyone would ever think of him, no one would envision his shy smile or twinkling eyes, but only his attachment to the wheelchair. And that would be all that Artie Abrams could ever be.
But Artie wanted to resist the labels, the lies, the pains. And he would do whatever it took to distance himself from the title wheelchair kid as much as possible. Artie took an interest in whatever didn't legs, but there would always be one thing he failed at: Art. And it infuriated him. If he couldn't work his legs, the least he could do would be to work his hands. Artie remembered begging his mother to purchase endless art kits and materials and books, but nothing could ever improve his inability to create art.
Art class in school, for the lack of a better word, sucked. Artie sat alone at the corner table surrounded by paints and oil pastels and notepads, but could not craft anything worth a second look. The other kids would snicker at his failed attempts and emphasize the Art in Artie just to torture him further. Just as Artie felt on the verge of stopping his failures, a yellow container of paint fell onto his painting. Artie felt compelled to look up at the one who ruined his painting, but resisted to urge, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction. Only when the culprit said the word Sorry did Artie stare. Before him stood the blond-haired goddess of the fifth grade class, Quinn Fabray. Artie refused to believe that Quinn intentionally ruined his painting and his certainty turned out to be correct. Quinn continued to murmured apologies as a faint blush crept to her cheeks and cleaned up the mess entirely on her own while Artie only watched in silence.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said for what felt the hundredth time and only this time did Artie spoke, but not to her apology.
"What's that?" Artie asked as Quinn stopped wiping at the table and blinked in confusion until Artie pointed at the paper tied to the chain around her neck. Quinn blushed as she felt the crafted paper and played with it for a moment before responding.
"It's a swan," Quinn said as she left Artie, causing him to panic and wonder if he had offended her, but Quinn returned moments later with a sunny yellow paper matching the spilled paint in her hands. Artie watched closely as Quinn folded and creased with precision, moving her hands in a fashion that he could not explain. The end result slightly stunned Artie, who had never experienced any type of Origami before. Quinn held the swan out to Artie on her palm and he took it from her cautiously as it would explode at any moment.
"I don't know if this is true or not," Quinn began to say as she toyed with her own swan on her neck, "but if you make a thousand of those, you can make a wish and it'll come true."
Artie didn't Quinn and it must have shown on his face because Quinn laughed a little and continued. "I know it sounds silly, but I believe in it. I've never tried it or anything because I'm saving it."
"For what?" Artie looked at her skeptically, understanding that this must be a once in a lifetime wish.
"I'm not sure," Quinn hesitated as she frowned and Artie's heart melted a little at the angelic face before him. "But I have this feeling that I'll need it one day. And I don't know if I'd be able to make that many. My hands would become all crippled and - "
Quinn stopped herself at her word choice and instantly, her face became that deep shade of red once again as she muttered another apology.
"Don't," Artie said, looking down at the radiant swan in his gloved hands. "Just... don't."
"I'm - " Quinn stopped herself before she could say the next word and observed Artie for a moment, wondering if he would look up and show her that he forgave her, but he didn't. Quinn bit her lip and understood as she dropped her hand from her own swan and walked away.
"Quinn?" Artie spoke, his voice weak but hopeful.
"Yes?" Quinn spun around in an instant and looked at Artie watchfully.
"Thank you," Artie said as he felt his own face grin from watching the sunny smile on Quinn's face as she murmured a You're welcome and returned to her rightful place by Finn Hudson's side. Artie toyed with the swan, but did not dare undo Quinn's handiwork and wheeled away to fetch his own paper and imitate what he had seen before a swan identical to Quinn's appeared in his hands.
From that day forward, Artie made a swan whenever he felt alone to feel close to Quinn. There would be weeks when he never needed to make one and days when he needed to make five. Artie would deposit each of his own swans into a transparent jar, keeping a tally for the number and kept Quinn's in its own special place. Artie remembered the day that his mother had cleaned room and he returned to find Quinn's swan gone. "I put it with the others." Artie stared into the jar and saw hundreds of yellow swans swimming in a sea of others and even though he had never wanted to only craft yellow ones, he had grown a certain attachment to the color. Artie panicked as he dumped the jar onto his desk, watching countless of the swans fly and fall onto the floor. Artie searched through the pile, touching each yellow swan with care before throwing it into the air, letting each one take flight before meeting the ground. Finally after what seemed a decade, Artie found Quinn's swan and just knew that it was hers from its precision and its handiwork. Artie sighed in relief and set it aside into its own miniscule jar, where it sat alone as a reminder to him.
The middle school years passed in a blur of teasing and bullying, but high school felt worse as the jocks of the school harassed Artie physically. It never felt shocking to him that Finn Hudson stood among the idiot jocks, throwing slushies in his face.
Artie never could speak to Quinn face to face after that fortuitous talk. Quinn became perfect from her head cheerleader position and her flawless looks. It killed Artie that Quinn had begun dating Finn Hudson, but he could nothing to change Quinn's heart except well, maybe...
The wish never seemed clear to him. There would be days Artie wished for his legs and other days he wished for Quinn. When the day would come, Artie wouldn't know which one to wish for and that day was approaching. The bullying in high school drove Artie to craft countless swans and it would not be too long now before he would finish the thousandth one.
And then it happened. Artie watched helplessly as Quinn's pregnancy ripped apart her life and his urge to attack Finn Hudson became almost unstoppable, but he quelled it by the swans. Each delicate crease and fold that followed Quinn's example calmed Artie but did not stop him from wanting to reach out a hand to Quinn who had long stopped wearing the swan and chain around her neck.
But Artie did nothing but watch Quinn suffer as her own crowd turned against her and her parents threw her out of the house. And it didn't even matter to him anymore whether it was Finn Hudson or infamous Noah Puckerman because all Artie cared about was Quinn. Didn't that much make him the superior choice between the two blockhead jocks?
But Quinn survived and kept the baby, Beth. No one expected Quinn to declare that she would raise and nurture the child on her own without the help of her parents or Finn or Puck. It made Artie respect Quinn, but also want to help her that much more because that pain could not be endured alone. No pain could and Artie knew that best of anyone.
Quinn was bound to a life in Lima, Ohio to raise her Beth as a single mother without anyone else's support. Artie understood that feeling of being bound and tied down and wanted nothing more than to help Quinn, but she would never expect him. What could Artie do for Quinn? Nothing. This chair would forever stop him from supporting her and loving her and giving her the partner she deserved. And that's when Artie came to his resolve that he would wish for his legs for Quinn.
Artie continued to make the swans, wanting to be closer to Quinn than ever and his count told him that it would be closer than ever. It would be now in the double digits until Artie could make his wish for Quinn and for no one else.
And then Quinn's life fell apart again. The local news informed Artie about the crash and he swore that his heart stopped beating altogether as the caption and reporter told him. And Artie didn't care that maybe Quinn wouldn't want him there - but the thought killed him - and set out to find her, but not before retrieving the jar that held his only hope for her.
Artie had spent a decent amount of his life at a hospital and spoke urgently to the receptionist, Emma. A matter of moments later, Artie tore into the hospital room, torn at the sight of a conscious Quinn lying in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling emptily.
"Quinn," Artie spoke breathlessly as Quinn turned to him, shocked by his appearance. Had no one come at all to visit Quinn? Maybe she had been expecting a doctor or a nurse, not a visitor. Artie wheeled over to Quinn's bedside haphazardly with the jar in his hand. "Quinn."
"Artie," Quinn said his name and it just felt right to him, more than anything else. "What are you doing here? What is that?"
"Is Beth okay?" Artie pressed, not answering any of Quinn's questions. Artie knew Quinn had been thinking of her when her mouth twisted into a dejected smile.
"Yes," Quinn nodded, not looking at Artie. "Thankfully, she wasn't in the car. I can only assume that my parents somehow found out about this mess and picked her up from daycare."
"Have - have you not spoken to them?" Artie asked hesitantly as Quinn shook her head, not wiping that heartbreaking smile from her face.
"I haven't spoken to anyone," Quinn said and silence fell until a laugh from Quinn broke it.
Artie looked at Quinn questioningly, but she could only shake her head in response to Artie's unspoken inquiry.
"What is it?" Artie asked, but not demandingly, not wanting to a hit a nerve especially at this moment.
"I just..." Quinn spoke and then looked at the jar in Artie's hands. "I can't believe you did it."
Artie smiled sheepishly, toying with the lid of the jar and nodded, not meeting Quinn's eyes. "I wanted a wish."
"Did you make it?" Quinn asked, quietly as if scared to hear the answer. Artie shook his head, not knowing what Quinn expected of his answer. The quietness in the room might have appeared as tension to others, but Artie could feel nothing but a hint of embarrassment and curiosity and assumed that Quinn could only feel the same. What could Quinn possibly be thinking about Artie's appearance with the jar? Had he been foolish to show up with it, let alone show up at all? Maybe Quinn didn't want him there, by her side when she felt weakest. Artie knew the feeling.
"I might never walk again," Quinn broke the silence as Artie looked up at her with widened eyes. "I felt so scared when I heard the news, but the only person that I could think of that entire time was you." Quinn's voice broke a little as she continued. "And then I felt angry at myself. I shouldn't have been thinking about you just for that, but for other reasons... Artie, I - "
"Do you know why swans felt right to me?" Artie cut her off, not wanting to hear anymore. Artie didn't know if he felt scared to hear Quinn's little speech, but could not hold in his own words any longer. "Swans don't just walk; They fly. If I could make a thousand of these, then maybe one day I wouldn't just be able to feel my feet leading my somewhere, but I could feel them leave the ground and take flight. I could feel anything but powerless for once in my life. And for a long time, that's what my wish was." Quinn watched as Artie took out a yellow piece of paper from his pocket, identical to the one she made for him on that day in the Art classroom years ago. "But now I know that's not really what I ever wanted. Because I don't need my legs to feel like I can fly, all I need is you." Artie finished his last one and held in his hand as Quinn watched, knowing what was happening.
"Artie - " Quinn began to say, wanting to stop him from being so selfless, but he just shook his head and deposited the swan into her hand.
"All I know is that this is my wish: I wish for you to never have to sit in this chair and wheel around and feel powerless anymore. I don't want you to lose anything else." Quinn stared at disbelief at the tiny swan in her hand, a stream of tears falling down her face as she looked at Artie and could say nothing.
"All this time?" Quinn asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper and breaking from the coming uncontrollable sobs in her throat.
"Of course," Artie said as he reached out to take Quinn's hand, but hesitated and asked her with his eyes if she minded. Quinn responded by taking his outstretched hand, the swan resting in between. "I just want you to be able to fly even if that means I never will."
Quinn didn't even try to stop the tears now as she cried openly, holding onto Artie's hand as if it were all she had. Artie set the jar onto her table side as he took his free hand and wiped away every single tear streaming down Quinn's still beautiful face.
"Why?" Quinn managed to say brokenly in between the uncontainable sobs. Artie took her cheek with one hand and brushed away a single tear before answering.
"Because if you're here then I feel like I can fly," Artie answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't want you to be alone anymore, Quinn. I'll be here for you even if I can't provide for you the way that any other person could... And if you don't want me because of that, I understand - "
"Stop it," Quinn said as she took her other hand it touched the Artie's that was resting on her cheek. "Just stop. You're making me hate myself. You don't need to do any of this for me, do you understand? Take your wish back... Just - just take it back. I want you to wish for you."
Artie didn't even know how to respond as he could watch Quinn continued to cry, falling apart into pieces in front of him.
"A wish for you is a wish for me," Artie said. And before Quinn could protest, he leaned in a kissed her chastely for a second before pulling away and taking out yet another object from his pocket, a chain. Artie took the now gently crushed swan from their hands and unskillfully forced the swan onto the chain and leaned over to tie it onto Quinn's neck.
Quinn stopped most of her crying and touched the swan around her neck, toying with it gently as she had years before during their first encounter. And that look on her face told Artie that she wanted to ask him a million questions, but he just took her hands into his face and kissed away a stray tear before saying, "My wish will come true, just for you."