A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, and it was great finding out about a couple of new readers last time I posted. If you're following the story, please speak up and say hello or click follow, so I know you're out there!
Also, I was inspired by a recent chapter post from my good friend, QuinnAbrams, for her current story, Getting to Know You: The Sibling Stories. Her posts always get me motivated! (OK, so it was recent when I first wrote this author's note. Now, not so much...)
One more thing, I'm introducing a character in a different place than the show did. But, seeing as I have changed most things around about the show and this particular season, hopefully that won't bug you much, reader. This is not the Glee you knew! But you knew that. Enjoy.
Even with being properly secured on the bus, in his chair, a four hour trip was rough on Artie's body. It wasn't any easier than the time he'd gone on that road trip with Sam. Now that they were finally checked into their hotel in Chicago, at last, he had the opportunity to stretch out on a big, comfy hotel bed. Sam didn't hesitate to help Artie with his stretches again. (Artie was sharing a room with Mike, Blaine, and Sam, an ideal group of guys to split a room with really).
As he closed his eyes and relaxed, Artie reflected on the much smoother dealings with the hotel staff, in contrast to the nightmare with the bus that morning. Mr. Schuester, who wanted to put Artie at ease and head off any more accessibility related problems, had called the hotel on the way there, double-checking all the things. He made sure Artie's room had everything he needed, so that there wouldn't be any delay in getting settled, once they arrived. Artie felt nothing but gratitude when he considered how far this team had come since his freshman year, back before anyone really quite knew what to do about his needs. And back when nobody thought to ask either.
They hadn't been in their room for very long when Finn came knocking at the door. "Five minutes," he said, when Blaine opened it to find him there. "Mr. Schue says everyone needs to meet up in the lobby so we can load up and head to the theater for tech rehearsal."
"Dude, are we gonna eat?" Blaine wanted to know. "I'm starving. I could go for one of those Chicago style pizzas. You know, the slices you fold?"
"That's New York style," Mike corrected him. "Chicago's the deep dish."
"Neither one's a good idea." That was Sam, who directed a look with Artie that clearly said what he thought of Blaine's appetite. On more than one occasion, Sam, who obsessed over his own appearance and diet a little too much, had subtly teased Blaine, saying these habits would surely catch up to him by the time he headed off to college.
"We'll eat after rehearsal," Finn informed Blaine, lifting a brow. "We just had lunch like an hour ago, dude. Anyway, I'm gonna go tell the girls. Meet us down in the lobby." He looked past Blaine, to Artie. "You good, man?"
It did look a bit weird, with Sam holding Artie's leg in the air like that. "Yeah, just stretching," Artie explained, feeling his face flush a bit. "Lots of, er, sitting. Well, I mean, no more than usual, but you know, like... like on a bus."
His explanation sucked but he knew Finn didn't need all of that anyway. The other guy simply nodded and went on his way. Sam finished up by repeating the same stretches on the opposite side, and then Artie thanked him and slid back into his chair.
"What's the point in being in Chicago if you don't get a deep dish pizza?" Blaine wondered aloud, as they stepped out into the hallway and made their way towards the elevator.
"Chicago is amazing, it's my future home in just a few more months!" Mike proclaimed, dancing a little as he strode alongside them. He did some sort of leap then, that would have been among the top gayest things Artie had ever witnessed, had he not known of Tina and Mike's undying Asian love.
"Except you're devastated to be leaving Tina behind and utterly torn between the excitement of going to Joffrey and your deep depression over the thought of being away from her." Artie arched a brow in Mike's direction as he caught up with him further down the hall. "That is the narrative you're going with, yes?"
So he was a little overprotective of Tina, so what? He didn't have to date her to care about her. And Mike would do well to remember that fact. He didn't need to gush over Chicago like this where Tina might overhear him. They didn't need a distraught Tina Cohen-Chang, on top of all the other challenges their team of underdogs already faced.
"Of course," Mike said, frowning a little and furrowing his brow, as if offended that Artie thought he might say the wrong thing.
They fell silent on the elevator, obeying the etiquette rules, since they were sharing it with a couple kids from another show choir. There was a girl in a red dress standing by a guy clad in a black dress shirt and pants with a red tie, similar to what the New Directions had worn at their first Sectionals, only nicer and more bejeweled. Probably a lot of their competitors were staying at the hotel.
"Bruce, Miranda, where have you two been?!" Shelby Corcoran had her hands on her hips and hissed the names of the two show choir members, evidently two members of Vocal Adrenaline, as the elevator door opened into the lobby. (It was a hotel and they were horny teenagers, so Artie had a few guesses as to where they had been.) Shelby softened her tone when she noticed who was on the elevator with them. "Oh, Artie, hello. I didn't know the New Directions would staying here, too."
"Yeah, we just arrived and we're about to head to our tech rehearsal," Artie informed her, as the two Vocal Adrenaline members stared down at him, possibly recalling the team they'd slaughtered in years past who happened to have a wheelchair user and realizing they were one in the same. "Quinn's around here somewhere."
"Is she going to perform?" Shelby's tone of surprise didn't surprise him. Most people wouldn't have expected Quinn to do what she was doing.
"She's going to try," Artie explained. "If she can't go on for some reason, then, uh, then I'm not gonna go on. And she'll take my place. In my chair."
"But that's not going to happen." The voice joining their conversation, startling them both, belonged to Quinn. She was walking without any kind of mobility aid, even though Artie kind of thought she should have used something for her time off-stage. (But what did he know, right?)
"Oh, Quinn, wow," Shelby gasped, as she turned around to face her, and Artie reasoned that Shelby hadn't seen Quinn since she'd stopped using her walker all the time and started walking on her own again. Quinn, used to these kind of reactions by now, just softened a bit and extended her arms for a hug, which Shelby reciprocated.
"Where's Beth?" was what Quinn wanted to know next, undoubtably eager to take the focus off of her own recovery (especially when Artie was around).
"With my younger sister," Shelby explained quickly, as she drew back from the embrace. "She agreed to come along as Beth's caretaker and I got the three of us a private room."
"Way to balance being a mom with a successful career," Artie piped up, causing them both to look down at him, a little startled by his random comment, and then chuckle. Artie smiled proudly. Sure, he may have said some accidentally-chauvinistic things in his young life, but he knew enough to know being a working mom was a bragging right.
"We'll see just how successful tomorrow," Shelby said, and they were all reminded in that moment that the New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline were competing again, something that hadn't happened in awhile.
"Mind if I come by your room later to say hi to Beth?" Quinn asked. "If she's sleeping by then, I could always stop by before breakfast instead."
"Of course," Shelby said. "Text me first and I'll let you know."
"Okay, well, I'll let you get back to–" Quinn's eyes darted over to the two teens clad in red sequins and satin, the girl's makeup a bit smudged. "– supervising."
With an eye roll, Shelby just nodded, waved, and ushered her two rogue teammates back to the rest of the team, also all dressed in their costumes and ready for their rehearsal.
"Should we have worn our costumes for tech rehearsal?" That question came from Mr. Schue, who had just stepped off the elevator with Finn and the other guys, plus all of the girls on their team. They were a ragtag bunch in mostly hoodies and jeans.
"And risk wrinkling them?" Tina asked, her voice rising in a panic. "Mr. Schue, there isn't enough time for me to steam everyone's costumes again before the show. I just brought it along for touch-ups."
"Of course we don't need costumes," Rachel said, thoroughly nonplussed by the polished Vocal Adrenaline standing next to the mismatched New Directions. Or trying to pretend she was. "Classic Vocal Adrenaline intimidation tac–" Her voice caught in her throat and she stopped speaking as someone else stepped off the elevator. "Jesse?"
Newly graduated, Jesse St. James apparently had nothing better to do with the weekend than to assist Shelby in seeing Vocal Adrenaline through to an epic Nationals win. It was the epitome of awkward moments, as the two groups watched these two ex-lovers meet in the middle of a circle formed by the members of the respective show choirs, one dressed to the nines and one clad in their comfy bus attire, carrying their dancing shoes.
Finn made sure to speak next. He stepped forward and shook the other guy's hand. "What brings you to the competition?" he asked, innocently. "I figured you'd have better things to do with your time."
"He's learning how to lead a team," Shelby spoke up, placing a hand on Jesse's shoulder in what looked like an unnecessarily protective manner, in Artie's opinion. "For when it's his turn."
"His Bohemian Rhapsody was, like, the benchmark performance of every show choir competition in the past ten years," said another Vocal Adrenaline member, tossing her long dark curls over her shoulder and standing on the other side of Jesse, sneering down her nose at the rest of them. She was nearly as tall as he was.
"Most people don't realize I lost ten pounds during that performance," Jesse added, inconsequentially. "I don't believe you've met our newest star. This is Wade 'Unique' Adams."
"When I look like this, people just call me 'Unique,'" said Unique, shooting a meaningful look in Jesse's direction. Wade-or-Unique extended a hand and batted eyes with heavy false lashes in their direction. "Pleasure to meet you all. From what I understand, this isn't your first being time at Nationals. Last year, you were something of an internet sensation, despite not placing in the top ten."
"We did come in twelfth," Artie added. He wished others would join him in feeling like twelfth in the nation was still something to take pride in.
"It was called the kiss that missed." Kurt's commentary earned him dirty looks from Finn and Rachel.
"This is my first time competing nationally," Unique interjected. "I'm a little nervous." And Unique-or-Wade genuinely did sound nervous.
Puck, being Puck, couldn't seem to resist adding what he thought was a funny comment. "Well, may the best man win," he told their new competition, prompting the tall boy in drag to shrink a little in his heels.
That earned them some dirty looks and not so much as a 'good-bye' from Shelby. Quinn elbowed Puck as the other team took their leave. He pretended to look confused as she glared at him.
Jesse, it seemed, had to get the last word in before they went though. Over his shoulder, he addressed Rachel. "Oh, and I wouldn't count on Carmen Tibideaux coming here," he said, an obnoxious knowing glint in his eye. "She hates Chicago and only comes when it's in New York."
Rachel looked like she might cry as he walked off, and Artie felt a little sorry for her, despite the fact that she'd been completely dismissive of his situation with the bus earlier that day, focused on nothing but making it to their precious rehearsal slot. Now he couldn't figure out why she'd once almost dumped Finn for a short-lived long distance relationship with that loser.
"Last year, Vocal Adrenaline lost for the first time in eight years," Kurt offered. "If they lose again this year, that's it. The dynasty is over. The mystique and aura that they use to intimidate their opponents with will vanish."
"Still doesn't give them the right to be so mean," Rachel muttered, sniffling and swiping furiously as her eyes. She spun around on her heels. "Mr. Schue, what are we waiting for? We've got to go lay down a little intimidation of our own!"
"Safe to say, no one was the least bit intimidated by us," Mike said, dejectedly, as they all boarded the bus to head back to the hotel.
They were all reeling following the tech rehearsal, which just seemed to hold nothing but one disaster after another. Mike was holding an ice pack against his eye as he spoke, for Brittany had accidentally kicked him in the face in heels while doing a cartwheel on his knees in the middle of their big dance break. Considering that they had never messed up in rehearsal like this, they were both pretty badly shaken. Brittany had taken a vow of silence, or so she'd said, but every five minutes, she forgot and started talking to Santana again.
Their bad luck might have all started when Mercedes threw up backstage. As the star of their 'Edge of Glory' girls number hurled into a trashcan right before it was time to go onstage, Santana offered an explanation for the sudden re-appearance of Mercedes' lunch.
"We all wanted burritos for lunch, so we went to Chipotle," she had informed the group. "But Mercedes tried some dive called "Señora Salsation."
In what might have been his most rash move to date, Mr. Schue sent Quinn on in her place. She knew every move, sure, but she'd never danced the number until that day. Shaking and nervous, Quinn made it through the number but sat off by herself afterwards and appeared shell-shocked.
Artie had been watching Quinn like a hawk as she boarded the bus, noticing the way she favored her left side, her right side still a bit weaker. Once he was loaded and secured on the bus, he swapped to watching Mercedes. She'd finally gotten her vomiting under control and now she just slumped down in her seat. Rather than going off in search for Chicago-style pizza, they were headed back to the hotel first to drop Mercedes off with Ms. Pillsbury to look after her. Then they'd probably do something quicker and lighter and decidedly less risky for dinner.
"Feel better, Mercedes!" several of them called after her, as she slowly made her way off the bus, Ms. Pillsbury's arm draped protectively across her shoulders. Mercedes tried to smile, but she still looked a little green.
With Mercedes' seat empty, Artie could clearly see Quinn from his seat now. With a loud "pssst," he summoned her attention, and once he had it, he gestured for her to come over and take the empty seat in front of him.
"You're limping," he pointed out, when she moved to where they were close enough to talk to each other. "Why did you go full out in rehearsal like that?"
Not only that, but they hadn't even rehearsed Quinn taking Artie's wheelchair, amid all the chaos of the last-minute substitution of Quinn for Mercedes. After dancing that dance, Quinn had immediately joined in for 'Paradise' and no one even questioned whether she should be doing that. Well, maybe Joe. Joe had looked nervous and had exchanged a few troubled looks with Artie.
"To show everyone I could."
In typical Quinn fashion, she was determined to perform. It didn't matter wherever she was nine months pregnant and in labor or recently out of a wheelchair. She was still the same girl once who lost forty pounds and changed her name, also just to prove that she could.
"I see." Artie narrowed his eyes, she narrowed hers right back, and they had a brief stare down before he spoke again. "And where's your walker?"
"I left it at the hotel."
"Not doing you much good there, is it?"
Quinn was on the verge of becoming annoyed with him, or maybe she was already way past annoyed by now. Whatever the case, neither would back down from their viewpoint. Quinn, who wanted to prove that she could, and Artie, who still wanted her to know it was okay to admit that you couldn't or to at least consider slowing down for a change.
"I think my right side always hurts me because they said that's the side that slammed into the guardrail..." she trailed off, evidently regretting her subject change when she noticed his face and the movement of his throat during a hard, abrupt swallow. Even Quinn sometimes seemed to forget about Mack and how much it pained Artie to discuss any details about their accident.
"So, knowing what you know about your body," Artie began, brushing off what she'd just mentioned as best he could. "Just take it easy the rest of tonight and tomorrow, okay? Use your walker tomorrow before competition. And sit on my lap when we park and walk to dinner. Sam can push us."
Quinn opened her mouth to reject his idea at first, but in the dimly-lit bus, she must have seen the expression on his face that clearly told her not to argue with him this time. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.
"You didn't come all this way to sit it out, Quinn," Artie reminded her.
"Neither did you," Quinn pointed out. "Plan B, or whatever... is out of the question, Artie. I can perform and I will."
"Good." Artie didn't argue with her this time. He paused, then added, "I hope Mercedes can, too."
Someone else was evidently listening. "If Carmen Tibideaux isn't there to see it, does it even matter?" Rachel wailed miserably.
Quinn and Artie exchanged a brief look and an eye roll. As the two people closest to Rachel, apparently they were given the job of consoling her. Finn was at the front of the bus, caught up in an intense discussion with their driver, Coach Beiste, and the rest of the football players.
"Yes," Artie said. "It matters. You know why?" And as Rachel peered over the back of her seat at him, with tear-stained cheeks and wide eyes... he had to figure out why. "Because... because I'm there. And Quinn. And Finn. And hopefully Mercedes. Because this is everything we've been fighting for, for the past three years. Through all of it - Quinn's baby's birth, Puck's many, many suspensions, Mr. Schue nearly getting fired–"
"Me getting laryngitis." Rachel was nodding in agreement now.
"Y-yeah, okay, for sure that too," Artie continued. "My point being–" (what was that point again?) "– we aren't doing this for Carmen what's-her-face or just because we hate Jesse and want to see him cry, although that's pretty motivating..."
Quinn was giggling now and even Rachel had cracked a smile.
"THIS is for US, okay?" Artie concluded. "So if you're doing it for anyone but yourself and your team, you might as well go home. Only don't do that because we really do need you."
"Okay." Rachel nodded and gave him the brightest, most optimistic smile she had in her. "I'm glad you got to ride the bus, Artie. Each and every time. We need you, too."