She had decided to take Artie up on his offer. For one thing, she needed her own space for pumping, and though she loved Mercedes, it was too weird to do that with anyone else in the room. Plus, what if DeShaun walked in? At least this way, the only person going upstairs would be Amy Abrams, who was coming back home from college in a week.

While she was away in Akron, Mercedes had taken the liberty of bringing her stuff over to Artie's. Everything was ready for her when she arrived. Artie's mother even cleared out space for her in the deep freeze in the garage, which was another blessing because she wouldn't have to store her milk in the freezer that everyone was using.

Tina looked a little conflicted when she learned of the plan. After she and Rachel were dropped off first, Mercedes then took Quinn and Artie back to his place. Once they had unloaded, Mercedes headed back to her place as Quinn awkwardly followed Artie back to his place, where currently no one else was home.

"Mom and Dad went to visit Amy this weekend," he explained, as he headed inside and dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, with Quinn following along behind him, carrying her rolling suitcase and her portable pump. "They're bringing some of her stuff home today, then she'll bring the rest of it next weekend."

"Gotcha." Quinn felt that familiar tightness in her chest, which meant she needed to pump and soon. Thankfully, Shelby had gotten her pads to put in her bra now, which helped with the leaking. Still, she hurried up the stairs without giving explanation, but figured that Artie knew why she rushed off by now.

Upstairs, in Artie's old bedroom, she was surprised to notice that so many things had been left up there from when it belonged to him. The bed, she suspected, had been his but the comforter had been changed to something more neutral. The sheets were the originals, however, and it saddened Quinn to notice the little soccer balls all over them. Covering the walls were team pictures, shelves with trophies, and even a jersey in a frame. It had obviously been his passion, before his accident.

She settled herself on the bed and began pumping. As she did so, she focused on a picture on the wall nearest the bed. Artie was one of the smallest, front row and center, kneeling and holding the ball. A very tall kid stood out, and she gasped when she recognized Finn in the photo. But even more surprising was a kid standing by Finn, sporting a familiar Mohawk. Sure enough, it was eight-year-old Noah Puckerman.

She recalled that conversation she'd had with Artie in the hallway, back when she'd been overcome by embarrassment, with everyone staring at her huge belly all the time. And she'd been able to somewhat relate to Artie and how he dealt with everyone staring at his wheelchair all the time. They'd talked about him giving up this life of being the young star of his soccer team.

At some point, you just do other things, he'd said. But then something happens that brings it to the forefront of your mind and it sucks.

Quinn suspected that Artie avoided going in his old room, but that his mother was too attached to the memories to take down the photos. She hadn't even parted with the soccer ball bedsheets. Quinn's heart was heavy, but she wasn't going to say anything about the room later. She knew better than to bring it up.

She headed downstairs. After bagging up the milk labeling it, and putting it in the deep freeze in the garage, she went off in search of Artie. She could hear him playing something on his guitar and singing in his room.

"Uh, can I come in?" she called, a bit loudly over the sound of his guitar.

"Sure." Artie paused, as she came in. He'd moved out of his chair and was seated on his bed, legs arranged in a cross-legged position as he leaned against the head board, his acoustic guitar on his lap.

"That sounded nice," she said, leaving the pocket door open as she strode across the room. She knew better than to close the door behind them. "What were you playing just now?"

"That's 'To Sir, With Love,'" he explained. "Oh, right, you don't know. We picked it to sing to Mr. Schuester. We're gonna go ahead and do it next week, because we lose the choir room to the Cheerios next week and we won't have access to the auditorium either."

"Wow..." Quinn couldn't believe the Cheerios were already moving in and taking over, not even waiting until the end of the school year. Coach Sylvester really lacked any kind of compassion. It made her second guess even trying out again next year.

"The song's from a movie with the same title," Artie went on. "My parents told me about it when I said we were looking for a song. In the movie, they sing this song to their teacher, to thank him. It's the perfect choice."

"It really is," Quinn agreed. She'd never heard of it before, but it sounded perfect. She settled on the corner of his bed. "Would you sing it for me?"

"Sure, I'll sing my favorite verse and the chorus, to give you an idea," he said, turning his attention to his guitar as he strummed and sang.

The time has come, for closing books and long last looks must end,

And as I leave I know that I am

Leaving my best friend,

A friend who taught me right from wrong,

and weak from strong.

That's a lot to learn.

What! What can I give you in return?

If you wanted the moon I would try to make a start

But I would rather, you let me give my heart,

To Sir, With Love."

"That couldn't be more perfect," Quinn breathed. "Especially with you singing it. Artie, you have an amazing voice. Why have you not sung lead?

"Oh, no," Artie said. "I like Finn singing lead."

"He's okay," Quinn said. "You're better."

Artie shrugged modestly. "I'm a better dancer," he said, grinning mischievously. At that, Quinn laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn was still hung up on that moment she'd witnessed in the park earlier. "Why do you... why do you let Tina push you around all the time? Your chair, I mean. You don't look like you like it."

Artie surprised her by laughing out loud instead of taking offense. "Habit, maybe?" he said, with a shrug, setting his guitar aside. "When I met her in seventh grade, she was so shy. I decided she liked pushing my chair so she could hide behind it. Now, pretty much everyone else I know does it, too. Sometimes I don't mind. My arms do get tired. But I don't know, sometimes I feel like..."

"A baby in a stroller?" Quinn guessed. Then she bit her lip. "Sorry, er, I didn't mean that's what it looks like... that-that came out wrong."

"No, I know," Artie said, quickly, smiling to show he wasn't mad."But yeah, like that. I should probably tell her to stop one of these days, I just don't know how to do it without offending her. And well, I'm already not sure about us."

"But you guys are... cute together," Quinn said, unconvincingly. "Why, um, why do you... say that?"

She couldn't honestly say she liked them together, not after what Tina had confessed about how she was considering breaking up with him. That was several weeks ago. She had said she wouldn't do it before his birthday or Regionals. With both of those events in the past, Quinn wondered what was stopping her now.

"Because..." Artie fidgeted with the strap of his guitar. He seemed to struggle to put it into words. He probably just sensed that Tina was getting tired of him and now saw herself with someone like Mike. Tina wasn't giving Artie enough credit, if she thought he hadn't noticed.

"Just a feeling?" Quinn guessed, as her hand instinctively went to his shoulder, and now they were both recalling that particular moment and what had prompted her sympathetic touch even then.

"She's just not my shy, stuttering Tee anymore," he said, sadly. "Not that I want her to stutter or experience debilitating shyness, I don't. It's just that... she gets to grow out of her issue..."

Artie had that look now that he often got when he thought he'd said too much. Quinn gave him an understanding nod but said nothing, not wishing to embarrass him if he hadn't really meant to talk about this with her.

"So, would you like to watch 'To Sir, With Love?'" Artie asked, out of the blue. "My parents own it. It's kind of cool, to know the context around the song. The singer, Lulu, was actually an actress in the film as well."

So, apparently Artie Abrams turned into IMDb when he was put on the spot and feeling uncomfortable. Letting this coping mechanism slide for now, Quinn agreed and got some popcorn while he worked his way up the stairs to the loft, where they kept the comfortable sofa and all the family's DVDs.

She caught up with him as he was inching his way to the couch, and with impressive strength, he hauled himself from the floor to the couch in one quick motion, then pulled his legs up after himself and arranged them, leaving space for her to sit by him. Suddenly, here she was, cozying up next to Artie in his empty house and watching a movie, sharing popcorn out of the same bowl.

About an hour and a half in, she had to ask him to pause the movie so she could go to her room and take care of "mommy business," still every two hours. Without fail, if she waited too long, she'd be leaking. She had no idea how she was going to manage this at school next week, especially not with Coach Tanaka being the chauvinist jackass he was. She finished up and carried the milk downstairs and out to the deep freeze. Meanwhile, Artie had taken a restroom break that seemingly took longer than the time it had taken her to pump and carry the milk downstairs. Not that Quinn would ever ask why. She would leave his situation alone, and he would do her the same respect.

At last, they were back on the couch to finish up their flick. Quinn found herself leaning against him, her head tucked on his shoulder cozily. She didn't know why she did that, and he didn't stop her either. It was another thing they weren't going to mention.

As the movie reached the ending and the characters sang the classic, title song to their teacher, Quinn was crying. Now that this song would be their gift to Mr. Schue, it took on new meaning. As she sniffled, Artie passed her a box of tissues, which she accepted to dab her eyes.

"That song just takes on a whole new meaning, because of what's happening with Glee club," Quinn said, sniffling some more and using her tissue. "I guess I had better get to work learning it. Would you play it for me?"

"Sure, could you bring my guitar up?" Artie asked.

Quinn nodded and hurried downstairs to retrieve it from his room. As she did so, the garage door opened up, signaling his parents' return home. She headed on up to the loft with his guitar.

"Your parents are home," she said, handing the instrument to Artie.

"I guess that means we can't make out now," he quipped, at which point her eyes widened, making him laugh. "I was kidding? It was a joke?"

"Right, I've just never heard you joke like that," Quinn confessed, as Artie continued laughing, clearly proud of himself.

And then she joined him in laughing, thinking back to how seconds earlier, they were all cuddled up in what one might think of as a romantic way. But the fact that Artie even joked about it make Quinn realize that he was gradually becoming like a brother to her. That's all this was.

As he was teaching the song to her, his mother came thundering up the stairs with an armload of Amy's stuff in bags, his father right behind her with more bags.

"Good lord, and that's still not all of it?" Artie remarked, watching them carry it all to her room. "I mean, not that I have room to say anything.

"No, you really don't, I dread that trip, son," Mr. Abrams added, grinning back at him, and Quinn realized where he got that wry sense of humor. "We'll need a moving van and movers. Or some very strong friends for all your equipment. Oh, hello Quinn."

"Hi there, Quinn," Mrs. Abrams said, and Quinn was so thankful she didn't shy away from what she said next. "Congratulations. I heard she's a beautiful baby girl."

"She is." Quinn beamed. Even though she wasn't a mother, she'd still given birth and she enjoyed people congratulating her, because it was a huge accomplishment. "Her name is Beth. Thank you, by the way, for all the freezer space."

"Of course," Mrs. Abrams said. "Amy was formula-fed, because she was a stubborn and difficult baby, but Artie here was—"

"Mom," he interrupted, exasperated.

Mrs. Abrams relented and didn't finish her story, though she'd clearly been wanting to brag on her nursing journey with Artie. Quinn was beginning to learn that it was a source of pride for some women.

"I get it," Quinn said. "Pumping is a lot of work, but it's worth it. It means I get to do something for Beth still."

"Absolutely," Mrs. Abrams said, with a sweet smile. "Well, Quinn, if you need anything at all while you're here, don't hesitate to let us know. I'm gonna start dinner." As Artie started to move, she stopped him. "No need to help tonight, Art, you just finish teaching Quinn the song for Glee club. Quinn, any dietary restrictions while you're nursing?"

Artie looked surprised, as like any teenage boy, he had no idea this was a thing.

Quinn nodded slowly. "Um, dairy," she said. "But please... don't go to a lot of extra trouble for me..."

"Don't worry about it at all," Mrs. Abrams insisted. "I can make sure your plate doesn't include any dairy. Let me know if you need anything at all while you're here."

Artie's parents deposited Amy's stuff in her room and headed back downstairs. It looked like Artie breathed a sigh of relief as they left. Quinn liked his parents a lot, though, and wished hers were even remotely similar to them. They were so laidback and clearly so supportive of their kids.

"Like how about telling her you need all those creepy old pictures of me off your walls?" Artie asked, giving an eye roll. "I've asked her to redecorate numerous times. Maybe she'll listen if you say it."

"What? No, of course not," Quinn gave him a strange look. "Why would you want those taken down? I mean, yeah, you can't play now, but don't you think those trophies and pictures are worth keeping?"

"I'd be okay with them going in a box," he said, simply and coolly.

"Oh." Quinn was at a loss, so she steered the conversation in another direction. "Hey, you never mentioned to me that Finn and Puck were both on your team."

"Oh, yeah, they were," Artie added, and he said nothing more. Quinn wasn't sure why she'd struck a nerve, but clearly, Artie didn't wish to elaborate. That was a little odd for a guy who usually talked your ear off, once he got going.

She let him finish teaching her the song, until it was time for dinner. By the time Artie's mother summoned them to the kitchen, Quinn knew the song pretty well and was ready to tackle it with the rest of the Glee club during what would be one of their final practices on Monday.

Later, after dinner, she found herself staring at that picture again. And she found others. She'd been hanging up her dresses in the closet when she found a dusty old photo album. Since Artie was all the way downstairs now, she knew there was no risk of him suddenly coming in and finding her looking at all of these old keepsakes.

She rifled through an album that started with a toddler Artie playing pee-wee soccer. As she turned the pages, he gradually grew up. He was always one of the smallest kids on his team. The pictures displayed a few different jersey colors. When she got to the pictures of him in a blue jersey, she knew this to be the last team he'd ever played with.

On the last few pages before the blank ones that followed, Artie was sitting in a blue wheelchair. Finn and Puck were in a picture with him. He was wearing the blue uniform shirt but different pants and no shin guards, clearly just a spectator now. He had a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Quinn brushed her fingers over the page and remembered when she, Lucy Fabray, had sat next to this boy, the very same day this picture was taken, and distracted him from all that he was missing out on.

"I think I get it now," she whispered.