A/N: Thank you for continuing to tell me what you enjoy and would like to see in the story. I try to honor those requests! For this chapter, you need to know that, in this universe, Will never left the New Directions and he and Emma have not yet gotten pregnant.

Edit 7/6/21 - to include reference to events in "Lucy and the Incredible Journey"

Artie

It was the look on Sam's face when he came down for breakfast that morning that gave it away. He'd helped himself to a plate of bacon, eggs, and waffles, before joining Artie with the most grave expression on his face, asking, "Did you sleep okay?"

"How long after I left last night before she told you?" Artie asked, just as Amy stopped in her tracks at the entrance to the kitchen and went back into the living room instead. Artie looked at her retreating back and rolled his eyes, taking a stab at his eggs.

"Not... long," Sam admitted.

Artie rolled his eyes. "You missed this weird anniversary when you were visiting your family," he told Sam. "It's like this every year. Sorry."

"Listen, I understand if you don't want to come to church. I can tell Quinn you changed your mind."

Artie quickly shook his head, taking a swig of his juice to wash down the bacon and eggs. It was the nasty cranberry juice that his mother always made him drink, for his kidneys, anytime he was home. She knew, of course, that he didn't keep a carton of it in their mini-fridge at college. He knew that bothered her, too.

"Don't do that," Artie said. "I already told her I'd go, and besides, I want to hear her sing." End of story, Artie could just want to hear Quinn sing and that could be his only reason for going, right? There had been a time when they were very close, and if he was honest with himself, she really was the first girl he'd ever fallen in love with.

As the boys were putting away the dishes from breakfast, a car pulled up in the driveway and honked. Quinn was driving, with Mercedes in the front seat. Artie transferred into the back as Sam dismantled his chair and stuck it in the trunk. As Sam slid in beside him, Artie had made up his mind to go ahead and clear the air, before Sam had to be the one to whisper something about it to the girls later.

"If I'm quiet today, please don't think something's wrong or that I don't like church," Artie began, as Quinn glanced at him in the rearview mirror and Mercedes looked over her shoulder. "Today's just a significant day. It's eleven years since my accident today." He paused, as the rest of the car fell silent. "But it's fine, it just means it's been another year. Is this outfit nice enough for church?"

"Yeah, it looks good," Sam affirmed, and Artie was glad that Sam was also wearing khakis and a polo. It had actually been a long time since Artie pulled out a pair of khakis, although he opted for a more fitted style. Similar to Sam's.

Sensing that Artie didn't want to talk about the anniversary, Mercedes changed the subject to a lively discussion about Sectionals. She personally thought that the Unitards had been robbed and shared that she'd walked right past a tearful Harmony on her way out.

"Yes, but if the group before you steals your competition songs, you have to be ready to make up an entirely new setlist on the spot," Quinn added, getting a laugh out of everyone in the car.

"I wonder if Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury made it to Paris yet," Mercedes mused. The two teachers were planning on a week-long vacation and had left as soon as competition was over. They'd be taking off the entire week, and Mr. Schue had a sub covering his classes and glee club for two school days next week.

The girls continued to speculate all the way to church, that this was probably a Baby Moon, otherwise known as a honeymoon specifically planned for baby-making. Quinn shared that she found out Emma and Will wanted a baby when Emma asked her for the name of the doctor who delivered baby Beth. Mercedes squealed at this and gave an excited round of applause, as Sam and Artie exchanged eye rolls in the back.

When they arrived, Artie realized this was one of those bigger churches, the type that was "non-denominational" and probably had a young, hip pastor and a full band for music. Not much like the twenty-person church with an 80-year-old pianist that they'd gone to when he was a kid. Quinn parked in the accessible spot up front, as Artie passed her a placard to hang on the mirror.

"You guys go ahead," Quinn told Sam and Mercedes, as she waited for Artie to transfer into his chair. Artie paused to look at her, then caught Sam's eye, as he turned (unseen by Quinn) and shot Artie a wide-eyed look, with a huge grin.

"Listen," she said, as he looked up from placing his feet. "I didn't know if you wanted it brought up. I remembered about today. And um, I know our situations are completely different. I mean... the outcome, anyway. But I wanted to tell you, I get it. I can't forget the anniversary of my accident either. I just wanted to say, I'm sorry today is so hard for you."

"I appreciate that, Quinn," he said, pushing his wheels as she fell into step beside him. "But I'm okay with just... trying to have a normal day. Actually, last year was sort of incredible. The anniversary was the day of Sectionals. I didn't even have a second to give it a spare thought..."

Except, he thought to himself. Later that night. When all was quiet on the night after Sectionals, Artie had lay awake in bed for hours, as it finally hit him that ten years had gone by. Ten years of living a life he hadn't planned on, a life that sometimes wore him down, to the point that he worried about what lie ahead for him.

And now eleven. But he wouldn't allow himself to burden his friends with his emotions, too. He would continue to say "fine, it's all fine." Only he was pretty sure that Quinn, having been a few miles on wheels of her own, knew enough to know better. Plus, she knew he had a habit of denying his struggles and downplaying anything that was bothering him. But she also knew enough to leave it alone.

The church was exactly as Artie had expected, judging by its size and general outward appearance. It was attended by a eclectic variety of people, though, with some alternative types and teens with wildly colored hair, mingling with your average, everyday church families. They'd been greeted about ten times, by the time they finally found Sam and Mercedes, seated on the side and near to the back, behind a family with a young-looking couple and three small children. The wife was pregnant, and her husband wore a headset mic as he stood by her in a fitted blazer, jeans, and converse shoes. Artie was sure this was the pastor, and when the couple turned to greet them, he found out he was right.

"Pastor Nick," Quinn said. "Sam and I brought some guests. You remember Mercedes, right? And this is Artie. We've all been friends since high school."

"Nice to see you again, Mercedes," said Pastor Nick. "And welcome Artie. I think I remember you from Quinn and Sam's glee club performances? We were big supporters."

"Oh, yeah?" Artie grinned. "Thanks. Yeah, we really miss our glee club days. We just watched our old teammates compete yesterday." He looked around then. "Nice building you have here."

"We recently did some renovation," Pastor Nick shared, as his wife turned around, placing her hand atop her belly. "And this is my wife, Lara."

After introductions had been made, the lights started to dim, and Artie felt like he was about to watch a performance instead of go to church. Quinn hurried to join the worship leader, a trendy-looking young guy with a ponytail and a guitar, onstage. They launched right into one of those contemporary Christian songs that had been out long enough for Artie to recognize it and even sing along. Sam caugh his eye and looked surprised that Artie knew the words. Artie never forgot lyrics, if he liked them, and he remembered that he liked this song. He could even recall the artist and the year. Stacie Orrico, 2003. It was a weird talent. He liked the song, 'More to Life,' even better when Quinn sang it.

After a few more liked this one, mixed in with hymns (most of them also songs Artie remembered), the pastor then took his place next to a small stand where he placed his Bible and some notes. It was rather funny, at least to Artie, that on this particular day, the pastor was preaching a sermon based on the story of the "paralytic" who was placed at the feet of Jesus when his friends cut a hole in the roof to lower his mat into the crowded room. Artie caught all three of them — Quinn, Sam, and Mercedes — avoiding his eyes, and he couldn't help it. He snickered, his ears turning pink as he drew unwanted attention just then.

"I'm glad you didn't have to cut a hole in a roof," Artie cracked, to Sam on his left, who merely smirked and shook his head.

"So, I take it you didn't hate it," Sam whispered, looking hopeful, and Artie quickly shook his head, in reassurance that, no, he didn't absolutely hate coming to the service that morning.

When it all ended, the pastor made a point to turn around in his pew and address Artie once more. "We'd love to have you back sometime."

"Yeah, maybe when Sam and I visit home," Artie said, giving a noncommittal shrug. "Thanks."

"Not even kidding," Artie said, as Amy nearly choked on her chicken salad when he told her what the sermon had been about. "It was weird, I know Sam and Quinn didn't, like, tell them I was coming. But then he goes and preaches that story where Jesus heals the cripple."

Artie was glad he was having this time alone with his sister. They'd decided to go out for dinner that evening, just the two of them, since he didn't much think he'd have another chance and he really missed her.

Upon hearing Artie's report, she shook her head. "Well, they just love to cover that passage over and over again," she said. "It's in poor taste, if you ask me. I mean, anyone who could use a miraculous healing yet doesnt get one is left wondering what they did wrong."

"I didn't take it that way," Artie said, with a shrug as he took a bite out of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. "Amy, please tell me I'm not the reason you're so anti-church."

"No, Artie, it's nothing you did," Amy said, and Artie frowned. Amy pushed her salad away and looked out the window that they were seated beside. "It's what other people did. People who were supposed to be showing us the love of Christ, when our family was struggling and needed some support."

Artie scrunched his mouth to the side. "I know this is a hard day for you, too," he said. "But you know, for what it's worth, part of me has always wanted to... I don't know... celebrate it?"

Amy arched a single eyebrow, a talent of hers that Artie had always tried to mimic but couldn't pull it off as well as she did. "In that case," she said. "Maybe I'm wrong, maybe you're not going to murder Sam when you find out what he's doing."

"Uh, what's he doing?" Artie asked, slightly worried.

"You'll see."

After splitting the bill and heading home, Artie figured out exactly what Sam was up to. For starters, there were several cars parked outside the house when Amy and Artie pulled into the driveway. As Artie followed Amy, who led him towards the back gate, he noticed a haphazard sign on the fence that, with terrible grammar/spelling, read: "Partie's out back."

Sure enough, there in the backyard, next to the covered pool, were several of his friends gathering around the fire pit, sitting in camping chairs and talking. Seated around the fire were Tina, Mercedes, Blaine, Kurt, Rachel, and Quinn. Some of them stood up as he approached, looking over his shoulder at Amy, who cast a most uncertain glance down at him. He turned to see Sam stepped out onto the back porch with a white box in hand. Artie, finally realizing what this was, cracked a smile.

"You're throwing me a party?"

Sam approached him, a very worried look on his face. Behind him, Artie could see his parents, wearing the same unsure expressions, as though they'd gone along with this scheme but reluctantly.

"Is that okay?" Sam said, under his breath, clearly hoping that he hadn't made a major mistake.

Artie nodded towards the box. "As long as that's not red velvet," he said, naming the one type of cake he didn't like, a grin spreading across his face.

Sam's worried expression changed into a matching grin. "It's not everyday yer young man turns eleven, now, is it?" he said, in a perfect impression of Hagrid from 'Harry Potter,' as he flipped the box open.

The cake, as it turned out, was not red velvet. Sam proudly said he knew enough to know that funfetti was the way to go. He'd also had them write 'Happy Wheel Birthday, Artie!' As he explained, the cake shop had been confused at first, thinking Sam had a speech impediment and was trying to say 'real birthday.' Once he'd sorted that out, Sam had also given them the handicap symbol to draw, in frosting, under the words, taking care to make sure it was the one Artie preferred, with the stick figure self-propelling his wheels. Artie was more than a little bit touched by all that attention to detail. He was speechless as he stared down at the cake in the box.

Sam looked worried again, when Artie didn't say anything. "Too much?" he asked, timidly.

"No, it's not too much, it's..."

Artie tried to find his words, as he glanced up at Amy, remembering what he'd told her. He meant it, too, it kind of seemed like it was a day worth celebrating now. His expression softening, he then looked at the family and friends who had gathered, his heart skipping a beat when the gate opened at that moment to reveal Kitty, who quietly crept inside and joined the group. He mouthed a 'thank you' to her, before finishing what he was going to say.

"It's a day worth celebrating," he finished. "Because I know I could have been killed and... I wasn't. And every year since that one, life has just gotten better. So, thanks everyone, for coming by to celebrate my eleventh wheel birthday." Artie turned to Sam again. "What, no candles?"