Author's Note: This chapter was ridiculously difficult to write...I hate when that happens. Please let me know if it works.
December - The Seventh Day
When Quinn arrived to the children's section of the hospital, the first thing she saw were two children, a girl and a boy, sitting in Artie's lap, staring up at him adoringly as he spoke to them, telling what Quinn guessed was a story. Ignoring Sam's wave and the flick of his wrist that let her know he wanted her over on the side of the room where they were performing, Quinn walked to Artie.
"Already making fans, huh?"
Pausing in mid sentence, Artie seemed poised to answer with sarcasm but hesitated, glancing down at the two little ones in his lap. "I was telling them the story of Rudolph. How everyone viewed his nose as a disability that set him apart but it was what made him special and that so called disability helped him to save the day."
Tilting her head, Quinn studied his face, as well as the children's. Though they might not understand, Artie was telling a story about himself and, probably, about them as well. The little girl had a burn mark on her face that stretched from one cheek to the other while the boy had no hair, an obvious sign of chemotherapy. Choking up a little, Quinn bent down. "It's true," she told them, nodding. "Rudolph was the most special reindeer of them all."
Running a small hand through her hair, the little girl seemed to be deeply pondering Quinn's addition to Artie's story. "But he wasn't pretty," she said at last, a solemnity in her eyes that shouldn't belong to one so young.
Frowning, Quinn quickly answered, with a resounding, "Yes, he was. He was the most beautiful reindeer of all. But the other reindeer didn't think so because he didn't look like them."
The little boy blinked. "Was he as pretty as you are?"
Flattered, a small smile on her lips, Quinn lifted her eyes to Artie, who appeared to be amused and, maybe, touched by the scene before him. Not sure how to respond, Quinn opened her mouth but instead of hearing her own voice, she heard Artie's.
"Nope. No one is as pretty as Quinn."
Agreeing, the little boy hopped down and ran away, while the little girl looked sadly at her hands.
"That's not true," Quinn chastised Artie. "What's your name, sweetie?"
Twisting her hands, the little girl whispered, shyly, "Angela."
"Well, Angela," Quinn said, taking the girls hands in her own. "I think you are very beautiful."
Without any inflection of emotion in her voice, as if she was stating an obvious fact, Angela said, "No, I'm not."
Feeling tears gather, Quinn looked away for a second, then turned her attention to Angela, telling her what Quinn believed to be true. "Yes, you are. I've never seen eyes as green as yours…they're the same color as a Christmas tree!" The green eyes in question lit up. "And your hair. What kind of shampoo do you use?" Placing a hand on her hip, Quinn surveyed the small girls hair. "I think I need to start buying it because I want my hair to be as shiny as yours!"
Giggling, Angela slid off Artie's lap, gave Quinn a hug, then ran to join the other children, who were being ushered in front of the small stage that was pushed up against a wall, as the show was scheduled to start soon. Biting her lip, Quinn slowly stood, wishing she could do more for Angela and the other children. Beside her, Artie was silent, finally reaching up to tug on her hand. Scrunching her brow, she went into his lap.
"That really meant a lot to her."
Quinn was all prepared to downplay what had just occurred but a thought stopped her from doing so. Once, Artie had been a patient in this wing, all those years ago, after the accident. Picturing a tiny Artie, learning to use his wheelchair, tugged at the strings of her heart. "The message behind your story meant a lot to them."
Skimming a finger down her arm, which kind of tickled, Artie swallowed. "Well, I wish someone had told me a story similar to that when I had been in here. Or even…afterwards. I didn't believe it, that I was special, until…" He trailed his thumb over her knuckles. "My parents told me it but they're my parents. They told me it didn't matter if I could walk but a lot of people in my life didn't feel that way. I thought I could be special only if I could I walk. Until you. You make me feel like it doesn't matter if I can't-" As he spoke, his voice grew raspier and raspier until he finally couldn't go on.
Overcome by emotion herself, Quinn embraced him, not able to form words either.
Their tender moment was interrupted when Sam literally stomped over, his footfalls annoyingly loud. "Hate to end your…cuddling but Quinn, you're up."
Breaking the epic hug, Quinn and Artie took their places on stage, Quinn casting a glare in Sam's direction before forgetting him, once the strains of music sounded and Mr. Schue pointed at her, the cue to start singing.
While she sang, "This Christmas," Quinn often found her gaze lingering on Artie, their eyes locked, as if she was singing the song to him, which maybe she was, a little bit.
After a sort of disgusting dinner of greasy diner food with her fellow glee cub members, and an impromptu table dance where Brittany attempted to get Artie to "fall back in love with her," (her words) not once realizing that Artie had never been in love with her in the first place, Quinn was finally home. Her present was waiting for her. The events of the day had distracted her from asking Artie about the twelve day gifts but she doubted she would have anyway. When he wanted to out himself as the giver, he would.
Plucking if off the ground, she went inside and opened it, as always reading the note first.
"On the seventh day of Christmas…
…a true friend gave to Quinn, seven colored shoelaces, because Quinn wasn't allowed to wear anything but white shoelaces when she was a little girl, six sheets of Lord of the Rings stickers, five snickerdoodles, four mini bags of scrap booking materials, three Reese's Peanut Butter cups, two hair ties and one red rose."
Laughing, Quinn pulled out the multi-colored laces. A few minutes later, she was re-lacing her white keds with a pair of red laces.
Contemplating his thoughtfulness in selecting each gift, Quinn, after some deliberation, texted Artie.
"Hi."
"Hi?"
"I'm glad you're my friend."
"…I'm glad you're my friend too."
