A/N: Hey! Remember me? I got inspiration to write this story again after rereading it. I really want to finish this one. I also really want to start writing again because I miss it. Thanks for baring with me and my terrible update schedule.

When I went to sleep that night, I had three messages in my inbox; one from my back and forth with Artie's mother about his constantly changing condition, and two from retail stores offering coupons that I intended on using. That was before I sent a lengthy E-mail to nine people, people I haven't talked to in years, about Artie. In return: a full mailbox. Shock, concern, excitement, and more than I could ever ask for from people I lost contact with years ago. I sat down and read every single word until I cried; tears were falling down my face and the hand over my mouth caught the waterfall before it plummeted onto Artie's MacBook. What Quinn, Puck, Finn, Kurt, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, or even Rachel had to say wasn't particularly emotional or critical, but to know that so many people were behind us – it made me feel okay for the first time in weeks. People were praying for us, praying for him to walk again. Now, I'd never tell him that, but I'd take all the help we could get.

I responded in the hospital lounge while drinking stale coffee and picking at an onion bagel. Promises of pictures, videos, and an eventual webcam conference spilled from my fingertips. It was even hard for me to believe that Artie Abrams L4 could wiggle his toes. And it was only week one.

The clock in the lower right hand corner of the screen flicked to 2:30. Artie would be out of his daily physical therapy. That damn therapist saw him more than I did. I missed him. I missed making dinner for two, sharing a bed, and feeling less guilty when a single bottle of wine is gone in a day. All I wanted to do was take him home, but I knew that was out of the question. I closed the laptop, tucked it under my arm, and began my uneventful trek upstairs

"Right on time," Artie grinned as I pushed the door with my shoulder.

"My time with you is limited," I said, sitting on the edge of his bed and kissing his cheek. "I wouldn't waste a second."

He smiled up at me before glancing down by my side, "what's that?"

"Your laptop," I said placing the computer on his nightstand.

"No, not that."

I look at the box in my other hand. I almost forgot about its relevance and contents. "Your tap shoes"

"Oh."

I placed the box next to be on the bed and opened it up. Inside a dusty, but perfect, pair of black leather dance shoes. "Wanna try them out?"

"I-I don't know, Tee. I'm really drained from therapy," he sighed.

"Okay," I said, patting his thigh. "But at least try them on for me? See if they still fit?"

"Alright. But you're helping me up again."

I chucked, "okay, Artie."

From his side, Artie began to push his torso up with his arms before aiding his legs over the side of the bed. For the most part, he could move his legs on his own, but I think he still couldn't believe it. Artie slowly pushed himself up and I brought an arm around him for support; his back was weak. Suddenly, with a whimper, he collapsed in my arms. My heart rate skyrocketed and for a second I stopped breathing before noticing my hand in the middle of his back over the long incision that held his skin together.

I snapped my hand away, "Oh God, Artie, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

He nodded against my shoulder. I sank into the bed remembering the time I banged up with lower lip, how I needed stitches, and how much it hurt when something even remotely grazed it. The difference is that I needed three, and Artie had over fifty down the center of his back. I rubbed his forearm soothingly until he began to rise away from my side.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, gently kissing the side of his head.

"My morphine's wearing off, that's all," he said, sitting up fully. "Now lace those babies on me."

"No, maybe you should rest. We'll take it easy today."

Without argue, he lowered himself back down to the bed and wrapped one of his arms around his pillow. My guess was that a new dose of medicine was kicking in, for his eyes began to get heavy. With a soft grin, I stroked his prickly cheek before standing up to let him sleep.

"Hey, no," he slurred, reaching an arm out and lacing his fingers with mine. "Lay with me."

"Oh, Artie, no…"

"Lay with me."

I bit my lip, but eventually nodded. Limb by limb, Artie shifted to the right, and I shortly followed; my movements stale and carefully thought out. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him again. Once I was settled on my back with my ankles crossed at the foot of the bed, Artie snuggled into my side like a kitten desperate for attention. I looked down at the heavy head on my shoulder and a smile formed across my lips.

"I miss you," he signed, looking up at me with his pools of blues.

My smile got a little sadder, "I miss you too."

"I can kind of almost stand up," he said proudly. "Maybe I can come home soon."

"Oh Artie…"

"Only with help, though," he sighed. "It's not that impressive."

"Not that impressive? Artie, that's amazing, that's – I'm so proud of you," I beamed, rolling onto my side of face him and cupping his face between my palms. His cheeks pressed up against my hands as he grinned. Tilting my head I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. Magic, I still felt it. I still do.

Closing my eyes, I scooted down the bed, folded my arms in half, and cuddled into his chest. It still wasn't just him, a brace still separated us, but it felt thinner and softer than before. He was getting better, stronger. I sighed happily and stretched my legs forward.

"W-what are you doing, Tee?"

I stopped what I was doing and opened my eyes to assess. My legs were tangled with his, something he wasn't used you. Something I wasn't used to.

"My feet get cold," I shrugged. "It's something I've always done."

"News to me," Artie said.

"I can move…"

"No, I – I kind of like it. I really like it. I can feel your legs and I…where's your foot going?"

I giggled, "Just kidding, sweetie."

"I didn't say stop."

I started laughing into his chest. Truthfully, I didn't want to stop. This is why I needed him home.

"Don't leave tonight," he sweetly requested.

"What?"

"Don't leave. Don't go home. Stay here with me."

"Artie, you know the rules."

"Fall asleep with me."

"Okay," I sighed.

The best he could, Artie wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. Even though the brace, I could hear his heartbeat – his real heartbeat, not the artificial pulse from the monitor. I let it sing me to sleep. My last thought before falling into slumber was the hope that I wouldn't have to be disturbed. Home would have to wait – if you could even call it home – because my heart was there with him.