Artie

He woke up groggily and remembered he was supposed to be on his stomach, yet he was on his side, which meant that they'd already come and shifted him at least once. His arm that didn't have the needle in it was stretched out, and he was holding someone's hand. Her hand.

She'd been holding a book with the other hand and was reading, but she noticed as soon as his eyes fluttered open and put her book down.

"Hey, sleepyhead, how you feeling?"

"Would 'like a truck hit me' be an appropriate answer?" Artie asked, his hoarse voice surprising him, before he remembered that he'd had a tube down his throat for six or seven hours.

"Are you in pain?" Kitty asked, standing up and stepping closer to him.

Artie shook his head. "No, but my face itches," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I think it's a side effect of the pain pump. Been down this road before..."

He tried to fight it but he wanted to close his eyes again. But then, he figured she'd been waiting for awhile for him to wake up, he should probably make an effort to stay awake...

But she'd dropped his hand, after giving it a reassuring squeeze. He immediately started scratching his face, not sure if this was better or worse than the pain that he'd be feeling, if it were not for the steady stream of medication being pumped through his body.

"I'll tell your family you woke up," she said. "And I'll find one of your nurses and see if there's anything they can do for the itching."

He wanted to say something in response, but he was drifting off to sleep. Or would have been, if he could stop itching. After about ten minutes of this, he was miserable. Finally, Kitty returned and brought a nurse with her.

"This happens sometimes," the nurse said, as Kitty explained about the itching on his behalf. "I'll see about removing the pain pump, if you would prefer to try it that way."

Artie gave a lackluster nod, closing his eyes as he continued to claw desperately at his face. After some time, how much he did not know, the itching finally began to subside. And, as a trade off, his back now felt like it was on fire. At some point, his parents had come in. He was vaguely aware that he was now writhing around in bed. Someone talked about giving him morphine in his IV. And something else to make him sleep. And then, just like that, he was out.

It was much darker in his room when he woke up again. Maybe it was nighttime now. But she was still there. He wasn't in severe pain anymore, though there was definitely a sharp twinge anytime he moved in the slightest bit. And nerve pain, which was a cruel joke on his body that made him feel phantom pain that shot down his legs.

Again, she looked up from that book of hers as soon as his eyes fluttered open. She sat it aside again and leaned forward, taking his hand in both of hers.

"I know you might argue with this," she said. "But I'm not leaving tonight. They're moving you to a regular room in a little while, so I can stay. By the way, a lot of people have called to check on you."

"Oh yeah?" Her tactic of distracting him so that he didn't argue about her staying worked. Also, he didn't have the strength to argue.

Artie thought back to four years ago, when he made a point not to advertise what was going on. Mercedes found out, seeing as she'd lived down the street at the time. Quinn found out, because she was living with Artie's family at the time. And finally, Finn Hudson wasn't supposed to know, but he'd found out anyway and he'd called. But outside of that select group, Artie's wishes were for others not to know about it. He was already on the receiving end of far too much pity.

"Yeah," Kitty said. "Well, first was Tina and I knew you would be okay with it, so I FaceTimed her from your room and showed her that you were sleeping peacefully. Then Quinn and Mercedes called. They were together. I didn't FaceTime them, because I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with that. You know Tina better. Anyway, um... oh yeah. Some of your friends from college called. Zack called. And that weird guy, Lee?"

"Lee called to check in me?"

"Yeah, it was him," Kitty confirmed, as Artie almost started to laugh at the thought, but stopped himself because his chest really hurt, too. His laugh turned into a stifled cough instead, which jostled his back and made him wince.

"And the other guys were with him, I could hear them saying stuff in the background," she went on. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... who else?" Artie croaked, hoarsely.

Kitty paused. "Well, Julie called you too," she said. "I talked with her for a long time. And, listen, I know that sounds weird, but whatever. It wasn't. We had a nice visit. She was just concerned about you, so I filled her in. Maybe you should call her back when you feel like it later."

"I will," Artie said, thinking that there was no possible way that it hadn't been awkward, for Kitty and Julie to have a nice visit, and yet it had happened, all while he'd been blissfully unaware.

"Want to know who else called?" Kitty asked. "I wasn't done, there were more."

"Sure," Artie said.

"Puck did."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Damn..." Artie trailed off. Mostly because he was at a loss for words, at that, but also because he was getting tired again. He could only sustain conversation for so long.

"Arthur Abrams?" said the voice of a male nurse. Artie hadn't realized that his eyes were closing again, until the guy walked into the room, followed by a second nurse.

"Artie," Kitty corrected. She pointed to the whiteboard on the wall and Artie could only assume she was reading it, because he didn't have his glasses or his contacts at the moment. "See there? Prefers to be called 'Artie.'"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said the nurse. "Well, er, Artie, we are moving you to your room now. But first we need to reposition you one more time, since it's been a couple hours. This is to ensure you don't develop pressure sores or a blood clot."

Artie was well-versed in the purpose for all of this. What he didn't realize was that he needed to ask them to give him more pain meds before they attempted this maneuver. He didn't mean to scream out as loudly as he did. He probably disturbed several critically-ill patients. But as they shifted him from one side to the other, Artie felt like he'd been punched and then stabbed.

"Could you not have been any gentler?"

This wasn't even Kitty trying to be mean, as she said this. This was her genuine outrage that they were hurting him.

"What's wrong?" Amy was approaching the room with Sam as the apologetic nurse wheeled Artie's bed out the door, Kitty trailing along behind and probably looking pissed. He couldn't see her, but he could imagine the expression.

"It just hurt when they turned me," was Artie's muttered explanation. "I'm okay now."

Except he really wasn't, his back was on fire again. He was going to have to have something else for this, which probably meant that he wasn't going to be lucid for the rest of the night. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the discomfort of being rolled over door frames, feeling every bump as they went along. But it was nice to finally be in a private room that was much quieter than the ICU.

Plus, his mom had his glasses for him. She was already waiting there when they arrived. He'd never been so happy to have those. He looked at everyone's faces, staring down at him, then felt weirdly nauseous from trying to focus his eyes. Oh well. He set his frames aside on the bedside table, trying to sleep but failing to properly do so because he was hurting so badly.

"You need more medication?" The question came from Amy. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and she immediately set off in search of someone to help with that.

"Honey, we're gonna stay a little while longer," his mom told him, approaching his bed once it had stopped moving. "But then we're gonna make the drive out to stay with Mimi and Pops. Amy and Sam are closer, so if you need someone, call them."

"Mrs. Abrams," he heard Kitty interject. "I'll be staying here. I'm going to sleep in the chair in his room. So if he needs someone, he's got me."

Her words comforted him, as he heard another nurse enter, to give him something for pain and something to make him sleep again. He was thankful for drugs, for without them, he'd still be feeling like he was being simultaneously stabbed and punched. Before succumbing to sleep once more, he felt the touch of her hand on his. She squeezed his hand once, he squeezed back, and then he was out.

When he finally woke up again, sunlight was streaming through the window and he knew he'd managed to sleep all night, which was a blessing, since he could recall getting almost no sleep after the surgery four years ago. Either he'd relaxed more this time around or he'd been given better drugs.

"Good morning," Kitty said, brightly, lowering the book that she'd almost finished. "Sam and Amy just texted to say they're on their way. And your mom and dad, too, but since they're further out, it'll take longer."

Artie rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses, replacing them on his nose. He'd grown really accustomed to contacts lately and would be asking for those as soon as he could.

"I hope I can go home soon this time," he said. "You didn't have to sleep in my room, you know..."

"I know," she said, simply, and smiled coyly in a way that made him smile, too. "Oh, yeah, PT and OT came by. While you were still asleep, so they said they'll be back later. PT wants you to sit up and OT wants to see if you can manage to eat while you do it."

Artie scoffed slightly. "Man," he said. "They don't waste any time around here." He was so stiff, that what he wanted was a few more hours to lie there, but he again understood why they expedited these first therapy sessions.

He also couldn't get more pain meds until he ate something, they said, which meant that he had to try to make it through these sessions first. With an audience, namely, the first girl he'd ever loved. As the two therapists bounded into the room, far too happy for first thing in the morning, he stared at her. You really want to see this? he wondered. She was about to see him at his most helpless.

And then the PT had to say something stupid.

"You ready, Mr. Abrams?" asked the young guy with the ponytail. "We'll have you back on your feet in no time."

Artie could have said so many things to that. The guy had obviously not studied up on his patient, or else he would have chosen different words. Unless 'back on your feet' was just being used as an expression, and not literally...

"I don't think you will," Kitty interjected, coolly, beating Artie to the punch. "Maybe back in his chair? Would be good enough. Did you even read Mr. Abrams' chart?"

In response to Kitty's sucker-punch, the PT could do nothing more than check the chart. Artie noticed the moment he realized his mistake, for the color drained from the other guy's face. He exchanged a brief look with the OT and said nothing more.

"Let's start by getting you seated," he said. "I'm going to raise the bed a little..." And that was really all the warning he gave, before raising the bed, sending searing pain down Artie's back. He bit back the scream this time, but Kitty had already seen the look on his face.

"Could you slow down a little?" she demanded.

He might have been amused if not for the pain. The PT did what she said. He then went so slow that Artie was kind of growing impatient. When he saw the tray of food coming in, it looked surprisingly appetizing. He grabbed the bars and pulled himself up.

"That was all he needed," the OT had joked.

All he needed, he thought. Was Javier. He thought of the first PT he'd worked with. That guy was a true miracle worker. Artie always thought about him anytime he was faced with a new therapist. It wasn't their fault that they just couldn't stack up.

After what seemed like much too long, they both left at last. Artie remained seated to eat, but he was intending to lay his bed back down just as soon as he could. "I bet my scar looks wicked," he commented, while eating a bowl of cereal, as only he could do. Nothing really grossed him out.

"I bet it does," Kitty said, having recovered from her conflict with the therapist. She jumped up, her phone in hand. "Want me to take a picture, so you can see it?"

"Sure." Artie tried not to laugh, since it hurt so much to do so right now. He'd never known a girl like Kitty. For a moment, though, he panicked as she stepped around behind him. "Uh... I'm, like, wearing... pants, aren't I?"

She shrugged. "Your underwear," she said. "Boxers though. Does that make it better?"

Artie gritted his teeth. "Marginally," he said. And then looked to see as she brought her phone around to show him. "Hey. That looks better than I thought it would."

"Oh, gross," said Amy, appearing in the door. She, on the other hand, was the type to pass out at the sight of blood. Artie wasn't exactly sure how it was going to go when she had a baby in a couple more months.

"What?" Sam wanted to know. "Oh, cool, are we looking at your scar?" And then, he added, "Hey, dude, look at you! Sitting up and eating. That wasn't what I expected. Last night, you were out cold."

"Yeah," Artie said, shrugging. He was beginning to get tired of sitting up already, but having food and the distraction of his friends and his sister helped. "The therapists came in and made me."

"Why were there two of them?" Kitty wanted to know. "The lady didn't do much of anything. Of course, I'm not sure if that was better or worse than what the guy did..."

"Billing, probably," Artie commented, as Amy was giving Kitty a quizzical look, probably wondering what was so bad about the therapists. "Not that I get the bill, but Medicare does, so the hospital gets more money for sending in more therapists."

"A broken system, for sure," Amy added.

Artie looked at Sam. "Well, a word of advice," he said to him. "Whenever you do decide to start on your studies for physical therapy, and then when you become a therapist... read the patient's chart every time. Probably good to know ahead of time if your patient's goal does not involve walking."

"Did you tear them a new one?" Amy wanted to know, as she took a seat in the chair in the room, folding her hands atop her belly like it was a shelf.

"No, but Kitty did," Artie informed her, with a careful laugh. Sam, at some point, had stepped behind him and was examining his scar up close and personal. Again, Artie was just glad he had on good underwear.

"Wicked," he said, getting a close look. "And not as big as I thought it would be."

"That's what she said," Artie commented, and then regretted that he laughed at his own bad joke, causing him to cough, and then pretty much causing him to regret having a few bites of cereal. He was thankful that he'd spotted the barf bag earlier, because then he had to grab it in a hurry.

"Sorry, dude," Sam said, holding his shoulders steady and apologizing, even though he hadn't done anything. Artie had laughed at his own joke.

Artie's eyes met Kitty's, when he was finally done getting rid of the tiny amount of breakfast he'd consumed. He closed the bag, and Sam was kind enough to dispose of it in the bathroom for him.

"Are you okay?" she wanted to know.

"Don't be embarrassed, Artie," Amy said, quickly, sensing correctly that he was pretty humiliated. "Sam had to watch me throw up for about three months."

And then it was Amy who looked a little embarrassed, as she'd undoubtably recalled that Kitty and Artie weren't in an official relationship or anything. She busied herself with looking at her phone and then changed the subject by announcing that their parents were just about 20 minutes away.

"This sucks," Artie commented. "I was hungry. Can someone please put my bed back down? He said I could lay back down when I was ready. Does anyone have gum?"

Amy had some, and he gladly chewed it, to rid his mouth of the taste of vomit. She shared that this was also the reason she was ready with a pack of gum.

Sam carefully lowered the bed, and no one had to tell him to do it slowly. He helped Artie get into a comfortable position on his side, too, and for a moment, Artie wished Sam already had that degree that said he could be a therapist. His instincts were spot on.

Artie shut his eyes and pretended he was going back to sleep, just so that he could have a minute to himself. It wasn't that he minded having them all there. They were a good distraction, when he wasn't throwing up everything he'd tried to eat. Everyone stayed quiet, presumably to let him sleep. When he opened his eyes next, Amy and Sam had left but Kitty was still there, still reading in peace. She didn't look up right away, so instead, he watched her this time.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Artie startled slightly, as his dad's voice interrupted his quiet staring. Kitty looked up, and he blushed, as he'd just been caught. "I have someone who called me via FaceTime who really wants to talk with you."

The last face Artie expected to see was that of Javier. He motioned for someone to help him sit back up again, just so that he could address the guy properly. Kitty got up and carefully raised the bed this time, craning her neck to see who Artie was talking to.

"Javier!" he exclaimed. "It's so good to see you, man, so do you still live in Colorado?"

"I do," he said, with a grin. He looked exactly the same as he did when he'd met Artie, when Artie was just eight. "I heard my favorite patient had surgery and had to call to check on you, dude."

Artie grinned. "I'm doing okay," he said. "Just had to get this fixed before 2016. I've been training in the pool at OSU, to try to make it to Rio in 2016 for the Paralympics in swimming."

"That's awesome!" he exclaimed. "I remember the first time we got you in the pool for therapy when you were a kid. You were a natural in the water. That's a great choice for you. I'll be watching, if you go. Might even be there. Did I ever tell you I have family in Rio?"

"No, you didn't," Artie commented. "That's incredible. So, if I go, you mean you'll come?"

"Wouldn't miss it, kiddo," he said. "Oops, I mean, sorry. You're not really a 'kiddo' anymore, are you?" Javier had always called him that, though, and Artie definitely didn't mind. "Who's the girl?"

"Oh, this is my..." Artie definitely realized he was still on drugs, when he had to stop himself from calling her his girlfriend. "... Kitty. Kitty, this is Javier, the first PT to work with me when I was eight."

"Nice to meet you," Kitty said, warmly. She may or may not have given Artie a smirk before stepping off to the side, letting the guys continue their conversation.

After several minutes of catching up on each others' lives, Javier and Artie finally hung up. Artie realized he hadn't thought about his pain the entire time they'd been talking. His parents stepped out into the hall again, and Kitty still didn't look like she intended to go anywhere anytime soon. Which, oddly enough, suited him just fine. He wanted her to stay, even if she'd just watched him throw up. He couldn't even understand it himself.

"So, do I need to update my Facebook status?" Kitty teased. When Artie didn't immediately answer, though, she just added, "Maybe not now, but perhaps we can continue this discussion after the drugs are out of your system."

Artie just gave her a sleepy smile.

"Go back to sleep," she suggested. And, with that, she approached him and removed his glasses for him, putting them on the bedside table. "I'll be here when you wake up."