A/N: Yes, I know... it's been awhile, and I sincerely apologize for the delay. If you really want to know what gets me writing, it's being sick for a week! Don't worry, I am finally on the mend and have the energy for the story. Please enjoy and leave a review to tell me what you thought!
Sharing a room with three other guys did not provide the ideal amount of rest needed for a National singing competition the next day, not when all three of said roommates snored in less than perfect harmony. (What else would you expect from a bunch of Glee guys?)
Despite these annoyances, Artie still had to make sure he was up earlier than the rest, to complete his bathroom routine in peace. Rachel was probably the only person on the trip with a longer morning routine than his.
He was one of the first down for continental breakfast, though, and that provided him some peace. Rachel was already down there too, enjoying her cup of tea with some fruit and sitting off in her own corner, her body angled towards the window, in a most uninviting manner than suggested she wanted to be left alone. Artie knew enough not to disturb any of her pre-show rituals, so he helped himself to the buffet, piled his plate full of fresh bacon and pancakes from the very neat and easy-to-use pancake machine thing on his lap, and wheeled to his own respective corner.
After setting his plate on the table, he needed to address the dire need for coffee. As he made his way over to the coffee pots, he spotted a familiar face lingering there. The only name he could immediately recall was Gerber Baby, Kurt's moniker for her, but he wouldn't call her that to her face.
She knew him too. (Everyone did. If they didn't recall his face, they knew the only show choir guy in a wheelchair.) "Rachel's friend, right?" her lips curled up. "I met you last fall, at the Double Tree mixer, yes?"
"Yes, um..." Artie didn't know a polite way to say this, but hadn't her team, the Unitards, been knocked out by them at Sectionals that year? Even without Quinn, they'd had a strong showing, actually eliminating a top team early in the competition, which was undoubtedly devastating for them. "You're, uh, competing? I take it?"
"With my new team," she said, importantly. "When the Unitards somehow didn't make it past the first round, I found myself with a decision to make. Luckily, there are plenty of schools in the area that take out-of-district transfers and quite fortunately, I found a show choir with a Sectionals title and promising outlook for Regionals. And indeed, my newfound team, the Loud Mouths, were the clear victors at our Regionals. And now we have a real shot at Nationals. Last year, the Loud Mouths took sixth. This year, however, they have me." She smiled sweetly, at the conclusion of this rather long and wordy speech with randomly words emphasized for grandeur. "And it's Harmony. That's my name. I didn't get yours."
"Artie," he said, thinking that Rachel Berry might have met her match with this one, when it came to the record for number of words said in one paragraph prior to ever even stating her name. How fitting for her team to be called the Loud Mouths.
"Artie, I saw something you'd surely enjoy on YouTube once," Harmony prattled on, as she helped herself to some hot water for the tea bag she'd evidently brought from home. "You see, a show choir compromised of a bunch girls from an alternative school once did a very inspirational number to 'Proud Mary' in wheelchairs."
He clenched his teeth, not even wishing to share the story behind that and how he was connected. "Yeah," was all he said. "I'm familiar."
"I think you're very inspirational for being a part of a show choir, given your condition," she continued, in a way that was so reminiscent of sophomore-year-Rachel that he would have thought he was speaking to her, had she not been sitting in the corner with her tea, giving him a murderous look right now for socializing with the competition. Harmony followed his gaze to Rachel and promptly left him there, rushing over in Rachel's direction instead with a giddy wave, as Rachel instantly changed her death glare into a huge, fake smile.
Finally, alone with my coffee at last, he thought, derisively. But alas, the pot was perched just a little too high on the tall table and just out of his reach. As he tried to position his cup while making a stretch for the spout, he considered the dilemma. He was going to either spill this whole thing or drip hot coffee onto his slacks in this attempt, he was almost sure of it. He recoiled again and thought. As he puzzled over the coffee, someone else approached.
"Need a hand?"
"I won't say no to that," Artie conceded, passing his cup over to Quinn, who leaned on her walker that morning, keeping the promise she'd made to him last night on the bus.
Together, they drew some looks, him in his chair and her with her walker, and he knew she cared more than he did but tried not to show it. She had to get him his creamer, too, as that was also slightly out of his reach. He had very specific preferences about coffee-to-creamer ratio, but she remembered that, having lived with him and his family for so long. She got him a couple of short pumps of the hazelnut, then she showed him the color after a few quick stirs, ensuring the mixture had his approval. After the lid was secured on top, he tucked the cup between his knees. She made hers, and he then tucked her cup there between the knees as well, as her hands were occupied when she walked. They headed back to Artie's table together.
"Teamwork," she noted, as he gave a quick nod and deposited the cups on the table. She turned to go get her food, leaving the walker just so she'd have her hands free for the plate. Quinn still limped a little, he noticed, and surely was still paying the price for going full out at rehearsal last night.
"How was your evening with Shelby and Beth?" Artie wanted to know. The previous night, the rest of the team had hung out late in the lobby, playing cards and some other games that the hotel supplied, but Quinn had made other plans. She'd promised to stop by and see Beth before bedtime, and then she wound up staying there longer.
"There is nothing sweeter than letting a two-year-old fall asleep next to you while watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse," Quinn divulged with a sigh, smiling and sipping her coffee. "That said, I'm still glad she's Shelby's two-year-old and not mine."
Artie hadn't alluded to anything of the sort but he could see that Quinn couldn't quite keep herself from the "what-ifs" surrounding Beth. And so she kept on answering the question nobody had asked, almost as if just to keep reassuring herself that she'd made the right choice. Artie just politely nodded and moved the conversation elsewhere.
"You ready for Navy Pier today?" And when she looked puzzled, he remembered. "Oh, yeah, you weren't there when we decided. Well, everyone but Rachel wants to spend some time at the famous Navy Pier today, before we head to the competition. Rachel was the only one who voted differently. She wants to stay here and rehearse all day."
"I... guess I can do Navy Pier?" Quinn looked apprehensive as she sipped her coffee and paused in thought. "Seems like a lot of walking."
"You could rent a wheelchair," Artie said, giving away the fact that it hadn't just occurred to him by the quickness of his remark. Naturally, he'd been thinking through every scenario in advance. "I read about it when I was checking out the accessibility online."
"One more day together on wheels?" Quinn asked, playfully, her face brightening at Artie's enthusiastic nod. "Alright, you win. One more day. I'm supposed to be saving my strength, right?"
"Right," he said. "And speaking of saving strength, I hope Mercedes is gonna be okay. With Mercedes down, we are entering the Hunger Games of show choir competitions without one of our most powerful voices."
Mercedes had spent the night in Ms. Pillsbury and Coach Beiste's room. Nobody had seen her since she'd gotten off the bus the evening before. But apparently, Coach Beiste had several remedies she was trying out on Mercedes.
"I know," said Quinn, darkly. "We can't win without her." As they ate their breakfast, one by one, the members of the New Directions made their way to the lobby, Puckerman and Finn the last two stragglers down. Those two wolfed down their breakfast fast enough for it not to matter.
"I really don't think we should be sight-seeing right now," Rachel was still saying, as they assembled in a huddle, preparing to board an accessible bus that would take them to Navy Pier. "We got the first slot, which is like the death slot. And... and even if Carmen Tibideaux does come, what if she's late and she misses seeing me anyway?"
"I knew it," Santana scoffed. "That's still all you care about. Not this being the last time with all of us performing together, just the fact that you might not get to go to NYADA."
"That's not what I said," Rachel insisted, her brown eyes welling up with tears. Strangely enough, Artie found himself siding with Rachel on this one. Her concern for her future was valid. So he did something he usually didn't do, and he decided to speak up.
"Maybe Rachel's right," he said, as all heads turned his way, including a very surprised Rachel, stunned to hear anyone besides Finn defending her. "Anyway, we don't know what travel is gonna be like. Getting stuck with that first slot changes things. What if we were late to the theater? I say we hang around here, mix up rehearsing with just playing games and enjoying the day at this nice hotel, just... just being together. One last time."
A few of them were nodding, starting with Tina (naturally), followed by a relieved-looking Quinn who seemed keen on the idea of another chance to practice her dance moves, and finally all the others joined in.
"Looks like someone's ready to step up and be a leader come next year," Mr. Schue leaned down to Artie's level, saying this under his breath, before rising back up to his full height. "Alright, in that case, everyone relax or go get more breakfast. I'll go find us some kind of space to rehearse. Good call, guys."
Thank you, mouthed Rachel, making eye contact with Artie from the opposite side of the circle. He nodded slowly and gave a thumbs-up.
Mr. Schue disappeared to go talk to the concierge about their rehearsal space as a few people headed to get seconds on breakfast, namely Puck and Finn, who hadn't gotten their fill when they'd been rushed before. After a few minutes, Schue returned and let everyone know they'd been given access to one of those large meeting rooms on the second floor. They'd push the tables to the edge of the room and use the floor as their stage.
"We can always check out Navy Pier when you guys come visit me next year," Mike affirmed, as the group headed to the elevator, seemingly oblivious to Tina's expression as these words escaped his lips. She fell back a pace and dropped her head, her hair falling in front of her face. Most likely, in just a few minutes, she'd been holding back tears. Any mention of Mike leaving seemed to set her off. Artie glared at him again, but again, he remained oblivious.
"Tina really doesn't like it when Mike talks about coming here next year," Quinn observed, once they had exited the elevator and were setting off in the direction of the room where they'd be settling in for the majority of the day.
"Change is hard," Artie noted. "They're the longest-running couple in Glee club. I know they plan to make this long distance relationship work, but... does anyone actually manage to do that?"
"I'm glad I don't have anything tying me down," Quinn said, and then she realized how that had sounded. "I mean, not that-not that I look forward to leaving my friends behind..."
She stopped, so Artie did as well, letting everyone pass them by, leaving them alone in the middle of the hall. He was grateful for a moment alone with her, as they hadn't had much time to stop and chat since boarding the bus the day before.
"I think it's pretty awesome that you missed a huge chunk of the school year and yet you still got into Yale," he said, shifting the conversation in a subtle manner, to make it more comfortable for them both. "I couldn't even finish third grade."
"I'm sure you could have if you'd really wanted to," Quinn commented, tilting her head to the side and smirking slightly, before turning around and taking a seat on the back of her walker, so that they were nearly eye-level with one another. "You just gave yourself the gift of time. And now you have another year."
"Yeah, no regrets about that," he agreed. "Wow, check it out, I can finally actually say that and mean it. What about you?"
Quinn chuckled. "Well, I can't exactly regret sleeping with Puck, because then we wouldn't have the beautiful baby girl that I watched Mickey Mouse with last night..."
"And you probably wouldn't have needed to be in Glee club to feel like you still belonged with a group," Artie added, and then recoiled when his casual observation actually brought tears to her eyes. "Oh, no, what did I say?"
"No, no..." she swiped her eyes, then looked over her shoulder to make sure they were really alone. "I just realized you're right. All the things. Even what I went through this year, I-I wouldn't change it." She sniffled and wiped the corner of her eye again, smiling at him. "I'm really glad I had you through all of it, Artie. You're a special guy."
"So I've heard," he quipped, with a twisted smirk.
"Not like that," she shot back, returning the same twisted smirk he was giving her, having learned how to copy the famous Abrams half-smirk. "You know what I mean. And I just know that next year is the year when some girl is gonna notice and–"
He was already rolling his eyes and stopping her mid-sentence, holding up a gloved palm. "I've decided to give that up," he announced, laying out something that had been on his mind recently. "Not for good. I just mean that next year is gonna about me... and my friends and glee club... and figuring out where I want to end up for college. Which, I'm sorry to say, is probably not Connecticut. What do you even do in Connecticut?"
Quinn laughed. "I'll let you know when I find out," she said. "Probably hole up in my dorm room and study my ass off, just to make sure I have what it takes to keep up at a place like that. If I can get the grades I want, maybe I'll loosen up a little after the first semester. Who knows, maybe I'll even meet a guy..."
"You gonna tell the guy your story?" Artie wondered aloud. "All of it, I mean? Everything from Lucy... to Beth... to the Skanks... to the accident."
"Well, not all at once, I wouldn't want to scare him!" she exclaimed, causing both of them to laugh. "But... yes... eventually, in time, if I found the right guy, I'd want him to know all of it. Without my past, I wouldn't be the person I am today."
Artie opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Santana in the hall, poking her head out of the meeting room and cocking it to the side, perplexed by the intimate nature. By now, he was as comfortable with Quinn as he was with his own sister, so naturally, she'd positioned her walker close to his chair, so close that he could see their knees touching (though he couldn't feel it). He supposed that looked a bit odd to anyone witnessing their closeness.
"They have rooms for that," Santana quipped, never missing a chance to zing someone. She motioned for them to follow her inside. "C'mon, Rachel is being impatient like we don't have all freaking day to rehearse our two dances and her solo."
"Right." Artie grabbed his wheels as Quinn hastily straightened up, using her walker to help herself back to her feet, in the interest of saving strength where she could. Without a word to acknowledge Santana's comment, they both joined the others for the three or so hours of rehearsal ahead.
Nationals.
The buzz was in the air as they arrived to the theater early, so as to be the first group in their green room, since they had drawn the unfortunate first slot, the death slot, as Rachel had so keenly named it. She was being uncharacteristically negative, which meant that others had to make up for that with an over-abundance of reassurance and optimism. Namely, Mr. Schue and Finn, and the rest of them sort of followed their lead.
Mercedes hadn't traveled with them, much to everyone's dismay. Several of the girls and Kurt had taken turns checking in on her all day, while she was being tended to by Coach Beiste. Quinn was somewhat distracted from worrying about herself and her dancing, for fear that Mercedes would miss the whole thing.
There was a quiet, nervous energy in the room as they ran about doing things like adjusting neckties, applying make up, and going over steps. Quinn was walking about in her own corner, still practicing doing quick steps and sharp turns in the delicate, little black heels she had to wear. Artie noticed as she stumbled once, looked around, and caught his eye, her distress evident on her face. He gave her a slight nod and a tight smile, silently reassuring her that she was going to be okay.
"Rachel?" The silence was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Shelby at the door. She acknowledged Mr. Schue with a quick handshake. "Hi, Will. I-I just heard you guys are up first. Great chance to make a lasting impression on the judges..."
Rachel chuckled bitterly. "Thanks for the reassurance, but I doubt Carmen Tibideaux is gonna be on time." She dropped her face to the floor, chewing her bottom lip. "So, even if we do well, it might all be for nothing..."
Shelby hurried to hug her, and Artie was momentarily struck by how much Rachel favored her biological mother. "Don't say that," Shelby said, embracing her in a very motherly way, something that Rachel clearly needed right then. Shelby gazed across the room to meet Quinn's eyes and give her a smile. She may have originally been coming to see both girls, to offer a word of encouragement, but Rachel displayed the most apparent need for a hug just then.
Mr. Schue was looking at the clock. "Already, everyone, let's gather around..." As they formed a show circle, Shelby and Rachel eventually parted and Shelby backed up towards the door, giving Quinn a small wave as she went. "I just wanna say a few words before we go out there."
"Hold on, Mr. Schue," Finn interrupted him. "Hold on. You've given us a lot of pep talks over the years, but remember, you told us once that a teacher's job is done when his students don't need him anymore?"
Mr. Schue looked taken aback but smiled. "Okay, Finn," he conceded. "The floor is yours."
"Earlier today, when we were taking a break from rehearsing and you had stepped out for awhile, well, we all sat around in a circle and everybody said what they wanted to win this thing for. And we all said the same thing: we want to win this for you. And I know every year, Figgins announces the Teacher of the Year award at graduation. But I don't think any of us have to wait to see how we feel about that. You're like our Teacher of a Lifetime."
Finn always did have a way with words. Artie wondered who would step up and give all the big, important speeches next year, when Finn was gone. He wasn't normally one to get choked up, but looking around the room, there wasn't a dry eye there. Puck wrapped a stunned, tearful Mr. Schue up in a big, manly hug, pretty much giving every other macho dude in there permission to do the same. And, as they were all hugging and affirming Mr. Schue, a miraculous thing happened.
"Now I know you weren't planning on doing the show circle without me," Mercedes quipped, walking into the room with her red dress on, hair styled and ready, looking good as new. Beiste followed her in, clearly proud that one of her many remedies had succeeded in bringing Mercedes back.
"You're alive!" Several of the girls rushed to hug her, though she held up her hands, indicating that she was still in a fairly delicate state.
"Yeah, thanks to Coach Beiste," she said. "She's a miracle worker..." Mercedes looked proudly at her team. "Our last time performing together..."
Santana, along with Brittany, made sure to stand next to Quinn during the show circle. "Starting together, ending together," Artie heard Santana tell her. "The Unholy Trinity, just the way we should be."
Speaking of trios, they couldn't have picked a better line up of songs. Starting off with 'Edge of Glory' and featuring Mercedes, plus the girls' incredible dancing (made even better by the addition of a few Cheerios), made this a strong starting number. Quinn didn't miss a single step. Well, Artie wasn't surprised. This was the same girl who still performed when she was in active labor once. He beamed at her from just off-stage, the first one to catch her eye when she came running off.
Rachel had to step out next, as it was her solo, 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now.' And speaking of miracles, the elusive Carmen Tibideaux chose that exact moment to enter from the back of the auditorium. Artie could see the exact moment that Rachel noticed her potential teacher, as her entire face changed and lit up. And now she looked like she could have been singing for just her friends in the choir room, with that same unbridled confidence and brash assertiveness that made Rachel – however irritating she might have been – a truly compelling performer.
Artie wasn't too upset about it, but he wasn't really in Nationals all that much. They'd paired off as couples for the first part of 'Paradise by the Dashboard Lights,' and his chair just didn't work in all that well with the routine, plus they had plenty of guys and not as many girls, when you took out the Cheerios who had just joined them for that one number. He came in a couple times in the middle, being pushed across the stage by Mike so that he could pick up speed that matched the pace of the music. Even if this was all he really had to do, well, he'd give it his all for the team. And he was glad he was the one in the chair, not Quinn.
She'd actually kept her promise, the one she'd made a bit too soon. When their set finally came to a close, he was the first one she came and found backstage.
"Starting together, ending together," she said, as she carefully took a seat on hips lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him in for a tight hug. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Santana was there to roll her eyes, of course. "That's my line."
A/N: Well, we all know what happened next, right? Or do we? Hahaha! Hopefully I can have a new installment ready in less time than it took me to finish this. I just might have a co-writer ready to help ;-) Thanks for reading!
