AN: Augh, short little chapter here, with a bit of angst that ends in fluffiness. I'm having a hard time keeping the storyline going, so I think it's definitely going to end in the next couple chapters. Sorry to all of you who were asking me to keep this going forever. On that note, a lot of my creative juices have been stolen by a Christmasy-ish Artie-centric fic that came to me last night (while watching It's A Wonderful Life... hint hint) that I am determined to have written and posted before the holiday. First chapter will most likely be up today. :) Thanks again for all the support, you are fantastic.

Chapter 21

There are very few things that can be done in a hospital without constant interruptions, and it turns out reading a book isn't one of those things. We have to stop several times, usually for the doctor or nurses coming in to do one thing or another. They bring him his lunch, inject him with a few medicines, do tests, check his vitals, change out catheter bags (I really do turn away and keep my face hidden for this one, not even able to imagine how embarrassed he must be about it. Not to mention it's just something I really don't want to see).

With all the interruptions, our progress in the book is pretty slow. I don't really mind it, since the breaks give me a chance to get a drink and rest my voice, but I do hate that it feels like every time we are settled into real comfort someone comes in and disturbs it. It looks like Artie is thinking along the same lines as me because he looks annoyed every time someone new walks in.

After a little while it seems like things are finally calming down and we decide to pick up on the book again. Ten pages later we're both feeling hopeful that for once we won't be interrupted. And then my phone goes off.

Artie rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back into the pillows with a dramatic sigh. I laugh at him as I dig my phone out. "Sorry," I tell him, "I just want to make sure it's not my parents." When I open the screen I see a text.

"Wheels up 2 seeing us yet?"

I feel Artie setting his chin on my shoulder, trying to read the message over my shoulder. "It's Mercedes," I explain. "She's wondering if you are ready for her and Kurt to come up yet."

For a second the expression on Artie's face tightens, and then he shakes his head in what is obviously supposed to be an off-handed way. "Why?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Artie looks uncomfortable and he chews on his bottom lip for a minute. When he finally looks up at me there's something sad in his eyes, and he gestures around the room vaguely. I stare at him in confusion, not quite getting the point. Artie opens his mouth, looking like he's trying to find the right words, and then sighs and grabs the notebook.

I don't want them seeing me like this

"What do you mean?" I ask. "You look fine." Artie's laugh is sarcastic. "I don't understand what the problem is, Artie."

I don't like them seeing me here

"In the hospital?" I ask and the way Artie's frown hardens gives me my answer. "Why? You didn't have any problem with it last time."

That was before

"Artie, you really aren't doing much to help me understand this," I say, trying very hard to keep the exasperation out of my tone. I know being patient is the only way I'm going to get Artie to talk, but patience has never exactly been one of my strong points. "It was before what, the complication?" Artie jerks his head in what I assume is supposed to be a nod. "They've seen you since then too, they were coming up all week to check on you. Why does this matter, Artie?"

"You don't know what it's like to be me," Artie says in a quiet voice, but there's an edge to it I've never really heard before and it makes me uneasy. "Whenever people look at me, it's with pity. Look at the poor boy in the wheelchair. When they see me, they immediately see me as someone who's weak. An invalid. It – I don't want them coming in here and seeing me and realizing everything they think is true, is true."

My first instinct is to remind Artie that he's not supposed to be talking, but one look at his face tells me that's probably not a wise idea. He's glaring pointedly at his hands in his lap, and there's that same angry frown on his face that he'd worn right before he rolled away from me after our first date. The one that took all of his hurt and the years of discrimination and even the self-loathing, and put it all on display.

"It's not true though," I say earnestly.

"No, it is," Artie insists, still barely whispering so I have to lean closer to hear him. Apparently he still has the self-control to remember that he's not supposed to be talking at all, so he's at least being careful. "Tee, I'm a cripple. And I've accepted that. I'm not going to be a whole, normal person again, and in that way I am weaker than other people. And they can see that. And now that I'm sitting here, barely coming out alive from the sort of problems people shouldn't have to deal with at our age, they're only going to see that more."

"They're your friends, Artie, they don't think of you like that," I press, trying to make him understand. "They look at you and they see you, for everything you are, not everything you aren't."

Artie laughs quietly and I watch as he blinks rapidly a few times. "No, Tee, that's how you see me," he says and finally looks up to meet my eyes. "You see me. Mercedes, Kurt, Mr. Schue, even my parents sometimes, they say that they don't see the chair, and they try not to, but they always do. I'm an expert on this, I can tell when people are looking at me and when they are looking at the chair. And everyone else, they are always looking at the chair."

I stare back at Artie for what feels like hours. I understand where he's coming from now. He's speaking from that huge part of him that hates being vulnerable. He hates that he is even more vulnerable now than usual, and he hates letting people see him like that because he thinks they'll judge him. I might not know exactly what he's going through, but at least that I can understand.

I open my phone again and start typing a message.

"What are you doing?" Artie asks, his eyes narrowing as his gaze drifts to my hands.

"I'm telling Mercedes you've just fallen asleep," I say as I send the text. When I look up there's surprise and relief in Artie's face. "I might not agree with you, I still think that they see you better than you give them credit for, but if you're not ready then you're not ready."

For the longest time, Artie just stares at me. It's unnerving, but I stare right back. And then finally he blinks, looks down, and says, "Thanks, Tee."

I crawl up to sit next to him again and take his hand with both of mine, resting it on my lap. "But don't think this means they won't come up anyway," I warn. "They won't come today, but one of them will be driving me up here after school tomorrow and I'm sure they won't turn down the chance."

"I know," Artie says and the faint sadness behind his smile is heartbreaking. "But thanks anyway." He turns his head to look at me, and for the first time since the whole catastrophe, really kisses me.

"You're welcome," I say when we break apart, and that finally pulls a real smile from him. Then I place a finger on his lips and add, "But don't think I've forgotten, you're still a mute. Notebook, remember?" Artie groans in annoyance, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, but as much as I like hearing your voice again, I'm not risking repeating that song-and-dance."

"Alright," Artie mumbles against my finger. When I make an exasperated noise he just smirks at me. "Fine, I'll go back to sign language." He gently lifts my hand from his face, kisses my palm, and then gestures for me to make myself comfortable. Instead of using the notebook, he's now defiantly trying to convey everything through hand gestures, and it leads to a lot of miscommunication.

"You could have just pointed at the book and I'd have understood it," I grumble, reaching over to pick up the discarded book after a long series of confusing hand signals finally manages to come together as 'let's keep reading.' Artie's trying to stifle his laughter and doing a poor job of it.

"You're only doing this to annoy me, aren't you?" There's something mischievous in his smile and he sets about trying to mime out his answer. "No, stop, I get it, you think it's funny watching me try to figure it out. And I just have to say, I hope I never have to play charades with you because you're terrible at it."

We finally settle back into reading, and for once it seems like people have decided to leave us alone and not interrupt us every fifteen minutes. It feels good, and relaxed, and all of our previous frustration with each other and with the rest of the world is quickly forgotten. Besides, compared to the hardships of the story we're reading, a little teenage angst and shoddy sign language is nothing.

We've been reading an hour when Artie suddenly reaches over and puts his hand over the pages. I blink a little in surprise at the abrupt return to reality, and when I finally look over at him there's an oddly determined set to his face even if his eyes look nervous and hesitant. "Tee," he starts but I place a finger over my lips to quiet him. He sighs, but there's a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.

Reaching over to tilt my chin so I'm looking directly at his face, he squares himself with me and takes a deep breath. For a moment I think he's not going to do anything, because the hesitancy in his eyes is multiplying fast. Then he points at himself, then touches his forehead, then points to himself again, then wraps his arms across himself like he's giving himself a hug, and then finally points at me.

And suddenly my mind is reeling. It feels sort of like that sensation you get when the roller coaster drops straight down and you feel like you've left your brain at the top of the hill, all light-headed and exhilarated. And nervous? Do I? Thinking back over the last two weeks, over the last three years, I already know the answer. So I'm smiling like an idiot when I finally manage to conjure up the higher brain function to get out my response.

"I think I love you too."

AN: Did I go to far? I love this scene, just not sure if it fits right. Rationalizations coming in the next chapter...