Author's Note: The updates have been coming quickly because I had a sick day! Hopefully I can keep up the pace. I don't know how many installments it will take to wrap this all up in a neat little box. Time will tell, but I do intend to finish. Thanks to those who've inspired me along the way, my reviewers!

Also, you already know what this chapter is about. The previous one had a painfully obvious lead in, didn't it? :-) Changed my rating to T because of Puck.

Artie

The light flooded into the room, waking me abruptly. For a moment, I struggled to remember what day it was. I sometimes slept in like this on Saturdays, but it wasn't Saturday, was it? Not the last time I checked. It was Wednesday, wasn't it? I'd been practicing a new number with the club in my sleep. Not really an unusual dream or an interesting dream, but quite a vivid one. Oh, no, I overslept!

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

I lifted my head off the pillow and opened my eyes to find something much worse than sleeping in on a school day. Noah Puckerman was in the room with me. He was the one who had opened the curtains to let the light flood in. To complicate the matter further, I wasn't even in my own bedroom. Instead, it appeared that we were in a hotel room.

"We can't sleep all day, you know," said Noah, while I remained frozen in fear. "I forget that you're so young sometimes, dude. Was that the first time you've ever stayed out all night partying?"

Partying, I struggled to process the word. In what universe would I ever party alongside Noah Puckerman? The idea was outrageous and laughable, to say the least. "How did I get here?" I wondered out loud. "Have I been... drugged?!" I didn't even think Puck could stoop so low, particularly now, after we'd spent so much time in glee club together. (Of course, who could forget the bake sale? But that was different...)

Puck clutched his heart. "I'm hurt, Kev," he said. "Cuts me deep."

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that he wasn't going to explain. Kev? What kind of nickname was that? What happened to Wheels? Less troublesome than the new nickname was the fact that as I looked around the room, there was no sign of my wheelchair. I clutched my covers, realizing my worst fear had come true.

"Puck..." I said, slowly, raising myself up in bed. "Where... is... my... wheelchair?" I begged him with my eyes. Surely we weren't reverting to my port-a-potty days. Even then, he'd never stooped low enough to actually rob me of the chair. He'd always left it near the flag pole when I'd been hoisted up there for a Patriotic Wedgie or beside the dumpster when I'd been tossed in. Even when we'd been mortal enemies, there had been a line that was never crossed. Until now.

Puck furrowed his brown, and then laughed. "Oh, I get it!" he exclaimed. "You're in character because today's our big day, right? Great idea. And it would be totally in character of Puck to steal Artie's wheelchair."

I was too focused on getting my chair back to really hear what he was saying. There was a phone nearby. I could always reach for the phone and call someone, but as soon as I did, I was sure Puck would yank it out of my hands and unplug it. Feeling helpless - oh, how I hated that - I decided I would have to do more begging and appeal to the sensitive nature that I knew was really there under that hard exterior.

"Please," I begged. "Just give me my chair back and let me go and if there's anything I can do for you in return, name it. Name your price, Puck, please. This is me begging you. Please let me leave."

"Hm," Puck smirked. "Well, if I were Kurt, I'd ask you for sexual favors. But, let's see, I'm Puck so that won't do..."

I stared at him. "Dude, what the hell are you talking about?" Had he gone mad?

The smirk wavered slightly. "Okay, Kevin, game over," he said. "Seriously, it's already past noon. We've got to grab lunch with the girls. Then there's a whole lot of press before the red carpet. And when we get to the red carpet - more press. Before you know it, we'll be on stage. Accepting our award, with any luck. Now get up and get dressed. Here, I'll get you started."

Puck leaned over to rummage around in a suitcase, turning his back on me, which made me even more furious than before.

"Why are you calling me, Kevin?" I balled my hands into fists, unable to take it any longer. "And what do you mean, get up? I can't get up. I - "

I stopped short because Puck had just thrown a pair of jeans at me. They hit my legs, which normally would have escaped my attention completely. Except for the fact that today, for the first time in eight years, I felt it when an object hit my legs. Curiously, I reached down and touched my thigh over the covers. Sensation. Feeling. The sight of my hand touching my leg actually had a feeling to go along with it. I ripped the covers off to examine my legs, forgetting about modesty and not even caring that I was showing my boxers to Puck. Since when do I wear boxers? I couldn't worry about my choice of underwear because all I could think about was feeling my legs.

Feeling my legs.

I continued to feel around with my hands, touching every inch of my lower body. I knew what I had to try next. I commanded my foot to move and watched in sheer disbelief as my foot obeyed the command my brain had given. Other foot, same result. My knees bent when I ordered them to. I lifted my entire right left, followed by the left. Everything felt as though I'd never been injured. Was I really on drugs? My legs sure looked like they were moving. I knew what I had to try next. I sat up and swung my body around easily. My legs dangled off the side of the bed, feet mere inches from the floor. If I fell on my face, this was going to be a huge let down. But something told me I was really going to do it.

I stood up.

"A miracle," I whispered, amazed. I was still completely freaked out and confused beyond all reason, but at the same time, amazed to be standing on my own legs with no support at all. With entirely no effort, I stood. And then I jumped. Up and down, up and down! I walked in a circle! Did jumping jacks! The grin growing wider and wider across my face, I launched myself into the sprinkler, forgetting entirely about Puck until I heard him laughing hysterically at me. Let him laugh, I thought, wildly overjoyed. I can outrun him now. I was always quick!

"Oh, my God!" He was wiping tears out of his eyes from laughing so hard. "What are you going to do, Kevin, suggest an episode about Artie miraculously walking again? I don't think the disabled community would take too kindly to that, do you? But I'd say you deserve an academy award for those acting skills. Listen, I'm gonna go see what the girls are up to. I'll see you in the lobby, okay? And hurry up. You've got like twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes until what? I wondered, ceasing my sprinkler. And there was that name again - Kevin. Puck kept calling me Kevin. At least three times, now that I thought about it. I walked over to the open suitcase, carrying the jeans that he'd thrown me in my other hand. This wasn't my suitcase and these weren't my clothes. The jeans were my size, though. Same with the shirts. I was pretty sure, in that case, that the suitcase must belong to me and not Puck. I just couldn't recall packing it or even owning a suitcase that looked like this one. I looked around the rest of the room, trying to find some clue as to how I'd gotten there. On a small table were food wrappers and empty soda cans. It looked like he and I had been pigging out together. Weird. Like friends or something. But just then, something else on the table caught my eye.

There sat an issue of Us Weekly, opened to a page that featured a very puzzling photo. Rachel, Kurt, Finn, Tina, Mercedes, and I were peeking out of a blue dumpster, all posing with huge smiles like we were actually happy to be there. On one side of the dumpster stood Ms. Pillsbury, Mrs. Schuester, and Mr. Schuester. In what universe would Mrs. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury ever stand side-by-side and smile like that? On the other side of the dumpster stood Puck, Quinn, and Ms. Sylvester. My poor wheelchair was turned over in front of the dumpster, disrespected in a way that pained me to see. But it was the caption under the picture that interested me the most: Cast of the Year, it read. (From left, Jayma Mays, Jessalyn Gilsig, Matthew Morrison, Cory Monteith, Kevin McHale, Chris Colfer, Amber Riley, Lea Michele, Jenna Ushkowitz, Mark Salling, Dianna Agron and Jane Lynch.)

I counted until my finger landed on myself. According to this picture, the name "Kevin McHale" matched up with me. I continued until I got to Tina, lining up the name "Jenna Ushkowitz" with her face. Kevin. The sound of Puck saying this name resonated in my mind. Only, according to this photo, he wasn't Puck at all. He was Mark Salling. And we were the "Cast of the Year."

Cast. Character. Acting.

Add all of this to the fact that I could walk and we had a real work of science fiction on our hands. I paced furiously around the room, no longer even able to revel in the fact that I was actually pacing, as opposed to raming my wheelchair into the wall. And then came a knock at the door. I quickly yanked on the jeans in my hand and yelled, "Coming!"

I peered through the peep hole, stunned to see Rachel Berry waiting in the hall. Rachel Berry or (magazine check)... Lea Michele? I always thought Rachel was a little scary, but the idea that she was really someone else? Equally terrifying. I considered not opening the door and waiting for her to go away.

"Artie?" She used my name. I reconsidered leaving her in the hall. "Artie, are you in there? Artie, I know you're mixed up right now. Mark just came down and - Puck, I mean... Puck. Puck just came downstairs and said you were acting strangely. Look, I know what's going on and if you'll let me inside, I can explain everything."

Reluctantly, I opened the door. "Rachel-if-that-even-is-your-name," I said, flatly. "Look at me. I'm standing in front of you. And don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be standing here and everything, but I want to know what's going on. How did I wind up in a hotel room with Noah Puckerman and why does he think my name is Kevin?"

She sighed. "Actually, I think you'd better sit down for this one, Artie. May I come in?"

I stepped aside. "Please," I said, watching her closely as I backed towards the bed and sat. She sat opposite me on the other unmade bed which must've been where Puck had slept. For a moment, neither of us spoke. She looked like she was trying to decide how to break bad news to me. She looked down at the magazine in my hand and studied the picture.

"I guess you're probably curious about that," she began, hesitantly.

"Curious about a picture in a magazine?" I echoed. "A little. Maybe a bit more curious about being miraculously healed from paralysis. I have to say, that one's in the forefront of my mind." My voice dripped with sarcasm and Rachel dropped her gaze to her lap. "But yeah, you could say I'm a bit curious about this picture that I don't remember posing for and all these names that I don't -"

"My name isn't Rachel," she interrupted. I closed my mouth and listened. "I'm Lea Michele. I'm... I'm an actress. I play Rachel on a hit television show called Glee. It's... it's about a teacher who starts a glee club with a bunch of high school misfits. It's been a huge success. So successful, in fact, that we've just been nominated for a People's Choice Award. Oh, and four Golden Globes, too! We're gloing to the People's Choice Awards this evening, actually. Everybody's really excited. Is... is any of this making sense?"

"I would be lying if I said it was," I admitted. As ridiculous and unbelievable as it sounded, however, it also sounded amazing. If what Rachel-or-Lea said was true, then I wasn't really Artie Abrams the Wheelchair Kid. Rather, I was the famous actor, Kevin McHale. And my show was up for five awards. And I could walk. If this was a dream, then I never wanted to wake up. I looked down at the picture in the magazine again. My fingers brushed over Tina's face. In this version of the universe, she was called Jenna Ushkowitz. Did Kevin have a chance with Jenna? Was Jenna anything like Tina? I was terribly eager to find out.

I hopped up suddenly, and Lea-Rachel looked slightly taken aback by the sudden change in my demeanor. "You know what though?" I said, gleefully. "I would be lying if I said this wasn't the best thing that ever happened to me. Because I think it is! So, what was on the agenda for today? Lunch, press, red carpet, and then the award show with lots of other famous people? I'm there. I'm so there."