A/N: Very grateful for the contributions of my co-author, QuinnAbrams. I sort of mixed our work all together, and I'm pleased to say that even I find it hard to tell whowrote what. Enjoy!

Artie had found a new love interest, so unsurprisingly, Tina Cohen-Chang had to make it her business.

A week had passed since Mack had pounced on him right after Sugar's humiliating rejection in the middle of Homecoming. They'd left soon after, to find a more private place, and Artie found out exactly how much Mack liked him. (A lot.)

Mack didn't seem to be eager to define what it was they were doing, with their pre-government class coffee runs and daily makeout sessions after school, and he was just fine with that. But in any case, thanks to his rendezvous with Mack, he'd found himself hanging out with The Skanks.

He'd even put his pride aside and asked Amy to take him shopping for some clothes to win the Skanks' approval. Today, for instance, he'd opted to pair black ripped jeans with one of his black button-downs. He didn't know if he could bring himself to commit to a full-blown Skank look right away, so he was taking baby steps to make-over his wardrobe. Even though the progress was slow, it was definitely still a drastic difference from his usual self-imposed uniform of pleated khakis, collared shirts, patterned knit sweaters, and saddle shoes.

A week had gone by since their first encounter. He was amazed it had taken Tina so long to corner him about this. Unsurprisingly, she'd brought Mike along for moral support.

"Artie, I can't stand to watch some girl use you like this," she said, making sure that she'd stopped him in the middle of a crowded hall, so he'd be hard pressed to make a quick get-away.

"Have you considered looking somewhere else?" Artie asked, coolly, getting his books and pretending she wasn't bothering him at all. "For instance, if you look to your left, you'll see Rory, who looks like he just realized Sugar never stops talking for two seconds and he's now regretting the very ill-informed choice he made to steal her away from me."

Mike stifled a laugh, earning a dirty look from Tina, whose hair whipped around sharply as she turned back to address Artie after silently reprimanding Mike.

"Artie, you know I care about you," Tina began, in that tone that wasn't meant to sound as condescending as it did. "Do you even eat lunch anymore? Every time we look for you, you're behind the bleachers with her again."

"I eat," Artie said, defensively. "She made me a sandwich that I'm about to go eat right now."

Tina scoffed. "You sure?" she said. "I thought all the Skanks did under those bleachers was smoke. Artie, please, please tell me you aren't smoking. That can't be good for a guy in a wheelchair."

Artie's eyebrows went way up. "I think I'm pretty well versed by now in what is and isn't good for me," he said. "And, not that it concerns you, but no, I'm not smoking. And anyway, neither does Mack. It's only Shelia and Ronnie that do. Quinn tried but she quit."

"Speaking of Quinn," Tina went on, unrelenting. "This isn't just about getting to her, is it? Are you just using that poor girl?"

Artie chuckled. "Wait, now I'm confused. I thought it was the other way around. Suddenly I'm the one using her?"

Tina was, for once, at a loss for words. Taking advantage of a rare opportunity, Artie shut his locker and casually pushed past them, as the space was finally cleared for him.

"If you'll both excuse me, I have a date waiting for me under the bleachers. See you guys at rehearsal! And don't be late, Riff, your scenes are up first."

Mack did have a sandwich waiting for him, and it was kind of like when Sam Evans gave him something: it meant more, coming from someone who didn't have much. He'd recently learned a bit more about this mystery girl from his past.

Mackenzie Bates lived with a foster family now, because her great-grandmother who had cared for her most of her life was now in the early stages of dementia and just couldn't care for her anymore. She loved her granny, though, and had since become her caregiver, always running errands and taking care of things for the woman who raised her, in lieu of her family that either couldn't or just didn't. The foster family Mack lived with now was what they called a therapeutic home. And yet the many kids (the "strays," she called them) that came and went created just the opposite environment. It sounded to Artie like a highly stressful way to grow up, but Mack claimed she was used to it.

She didn't have much in common with a sheltered boy who grew up coddled by everyone around him, protected because he was so very fragile and helpless himself. Though he wouldn't have wanted to endure the hardships she'd had, sometimes he longed to be more resilient himself. His mother always praised him for "adapting," but deep down, he didn't think he would have made it, were it not for his loving parents who built him all the ramps he needed, took him to doctors and therapy, and even let him drop out of school for a year when it was too much for him.

"Peanut butter and banana?" he double-checked, with a grin.

"Yup," she said. "Thanks for bringing me a seat."

And this was how they enjoyed lunch, with Mack sitting atop him while they dug into the sandwiches, a bag of barbecue chips, and two Dr. Peppers.

"Disgusting." The comment came from Ronnie, who had been saying this all week, with the kind of wry grin that actually indicated she liked it more than she was ever gonna admit.

"You're growing on me, kid," said Shelia, who didn't even realize he was older than her by a couple of years. "Smoke?"

"No, thank you," Artie said, as he always did. It was a running joke now, for either Shelia or Ronnie to offer him a cigarette, since they'd initially done it to scare him.

Quinn startled him by approaching from behind. "They're kind of growing on me too," she mused, as Artie twisted and craned his neck to see her face. The way she studied him with Mack made him nervous. He remembered how well they had once known each other. "Artie, did you know you have holes in your jeans?"

Artie laughed appreciatively. "They're intentional," he said. "Um, but thanks for looking out for me? I probably wouldn't have known, if it was an accident."

They all had a hearty laugh at that. Ronnie and Shelia promptly started coughing, and Mack ruefully reminded them both that smoking could kill them. No one would have ever known that the so-called Skanks were really just a group of hilarious and often-misunderstood girls, who had yet to find another group to accept them into their fold.

His initial opinion of The Skanks remained true: he still liked them and thought that they were widely misunderstood. They'd recently decided to hang out under the bleachers full-time, now that Artie was around, considerate of the fact that he couldn't join them on trips to the roof after lunch. He even thought he saw glimpses of the old Quinn now and then, too, such as just this week when she ditched the pink locks and dyed her hair back to blonde. He learned that Shelby had invited her to spend Halloween with her and Beth, which had prompted her to return to her natural hair color. She'd even playfully called him out when he started dressing differently, citing that this was the first time he'd even switched his look up for a girl (Amy had said the same thing, which reminded Artie of the good old days of yesteryear when Quinn and Amy had been nearly joined at the hip whenever the older girl was home from college). He wasn't sure if things between himself and Quinn would ever get back to the way that they were, but he was grateful that she was slowly starting to become comfortably friendly with him again.

...

The last few weeks of rehearsals had been some of the most exhausting – yet exhilarating –weeks of Artie's life. After coming up with the idea for the show back in September, he'd spent countless sleepless nights poring over every inch of the script. As a result, the margins of his copy were decorated with notes to himself and helpful stage directions in several different colors of ink. He'd dedicated the better part of this school year so far to this production, and tonight it would all pay off. Or so he hoped.

West Side Story's opening night would begin momentarily, and Artie could not have been happier or prouder of himself, his cast and crew, and even his co-directors. When a man finds his calling, all is right in his world. It was only his directorial debut, but Artie had been bitten by the show business bug for sure. He was exhausted, yes, but also riding a high he could picture himself on for the rest of his life. He'd been enlightened.

"Five minutes!" Artie called, pushing confidently on his wheels through the backstage area where the hair and makeup stations were. His tattered copy of the show's script lay in his lap as he passed his leads, tossing out what would end up being his final pieces of direction to them prior to the curtain rising: "Rachel, darken your eyebrows. Blaine, tone down the blush."

He continued on past them, heading towards the stage where members of the crew were making their final adjustments to the sets and props. Artie approached the red velvet curtain and apprehensively pulled it open, taking a glance out into the audience, which was way more full than he was expecting.

At first glance, he spotted his parents and his sister, who had come home from college for the weekend to see her brother's show. His mother spotted him immediately, giving him a wave and blowing him a kiss. Artie felt his face turn red as he gave her a small wave back. He even saw a few of Blaine's friends from The Warblers, who stood out since they were wearing their Dalton Academy blazers.

The two people he was looking to see, however, were nowhere to be found. Artie had set aside two tickets at the box office (which was actually just Coach Beiste at a plastic fold-away table in the school lobby) for his new-ish flame, Mackenzie, and Quinn. With he and Mack's budding relationship... or was it even a relationship? Artie still wasn't totally sure what to call it.

Mackenzie and Quinn had promised to be in attendance tonight for his big show, and he was looking forward to showing them what he could do as an artist. Their carefully hand-selected seats in the house were empty, however, and Artie felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew that if they weren't here by now, they probably weren't coming.

Artie closed the curtain and wheeled back a pace as he began to get a little lightheaded. As he glanced around the stage at everyone doing their jobs, his world felt like it was spinning in slow motion. The sudden urge to throw up plagued his stomach. Nothing is right!

His outward facial expression must have matched the inner turmoil he was experiencing because Ms. Pillsbury was by his side in a hurry.

"Artie. Artie, are you okay? You look upset," the redheaded teacher said, worry present in her voice.

"Everything is wrong," Artie stated simply, causing the guidance counselor to glance around to try to see what he was talking about. "The scenery, the costumes, the staging. You know, I thought if I just pretended like I knew what I was doing, I could lie my way through it," Artie confessed. "But in five minutes, that curtain is going to go up, and everyone is going to know that I'm a fraud."

That last part came out as a whisper, and it was taking everything in him not to fall apart. What was he doing?! He didn't know a thing about directing anything. Why did he think he could pull this off? And most importantly, given Mack and Quinn's track records, why did he count on them to show up on what was supposed to be his big night?

"Artie, you were brilliant. Really, this show is absolutely amazing, and that's all thanks to you," the wide-eyed teacher insisted, to which Artie stubbornly shook his head.

"It's awful," Artie said, putting his hands behind his neck and ducking his head between his knees, hoping to regain some semblance of dignity. "I let everybody down."

"Hey, Artie. Some of the cast needs to talk to you before we go on," Tina said a moment later, placing a hand on his shoulder as he sat back up and glanced at her before turning his head back to Ms. Pillsbury.

"See? It's mutiny," he said in a quiet voice.

"Dude, we have a problem," Puck said as he stood in front of him, causing Artie to automatically roll his eyes in response.

More of his cast members started to crowd around just then, and Artie's stomach dropped. Clearly, his actors had met without him and were finally coming forward to tell him what a disaster this show was about to be. He braced himself to hear the worst.

"We haven't officially thanked you for everything that you have done for us," Santana said just then, coming up from behind him with a broad smile on her face as she handed him the biggest bouquet of yellow roses he'd ever seen.

He stared at them for a moment before taking them from the former mean girl, who was slowly turning into his friend. Since Artie was kind of a small guy to begin with, the bundle of flowers took up his entire lap. Mystified, he glanced around at his friends, who were now all applauding for him.

"All of us were so nervous, and we didn't know what we were doing, and you were like the lighthouse that led us through the way," Tina told him, a smile gracing her face as well. Being the blunt and opinionated one that she was, she had been the most vocal critic of his and Mack's new fling and his subsequent new look. Hearing this from her now, however, felt like the old T was back.

"But I didn't know what I was doing either!" Artie insisted, glancing around at his friends. Taking in all of the admirable looks they were casting in his direction at the moment, Artie let out a soft sigh as he dropped his gaze to his lap.

"When you're in a chair, it's hard to…" He sighed again. How could he accurately convey his lived experience to this group of people who he loved so much, but would probably never fully understand? "Ever feel like you've grown up."

Artie dropped his gaze again as he fidgeted with one of the holes in his new ripped black jeans. He subconsciously allowed his fingers to pick apart the opening and pull at a loose string in the denim material.

"Everyone's always doing stuff for you, and they get freaked out about saying the wrong thing, so they coddle you. Sometimes it's hard to ever imagine a life of being totally self-sufficient," Artie confessed, surprising himself with how open and vulnerable he was being, especially while in front of a group that he had quietly worked tirelessly for years in order to make sure that they saw him as a normal guy and not just as their disabled friend.

"But directing you guys… The way you trusted me. The way you looked at me and listened to me. It's the first time in my life that I've ever… felt like a grown man." Artie couldn't hide the smile that appeared on his face then, and it was met with some identical ones from his friends. They were hanging on to his every word. It almost seemed as if they were all beginning to actually get it.

"It's the best gift that you could give a guy, so thank you. For the flowers, and for everything," Artie was still grinning as he bashfully looked down at the flowers again for a minute before perking up, clapping his hands together, and changing the subject. "Alright! Show circle!"

As everyone put their hands in the middle, Puck addressed Artie.

"May I, chief?"

Flattered at the mohawked boy bestowing upon him a nickname that wasn't derogatory, Artie quickly nodded, giving Puck his blessing to take charge of their pre-show ritual. And, in true Noah Puckerman spirit, his rallying cry included some minor profanities.

"Let's kick some ass!"

To Artie's great excitement, the show went off without a hitch. He'd been nervous about a few creative changes he'd made to the original script, such as weaving the Jets into "America". It was a risky artistic choice, that was for sure, and Ms. Pillsbury had tried to stray him away from the idea, but he'd insisted. Luckily, the audience went with it, and Artie was thrilled.

Throughout the show, though, those two empty seats in the crowd mocked him. He couldn't dwell on it for long, though, as he had a job to do. He stayed busy backstage, making sure everyone came in on cue and hit their marks. It went off much, much better than last night's dress rehearsal. In fact, it was better than he'd ever expected. Even he could take a metaphorical step back and see that.

"Artie, that was without a doubt, the best musical that McKinley has ever done!" Mr. Schue said, as they were congregating backstage in celebration after the show.

"Well, it's the only musical McKinley's ever done," Artie reminded him, staying true to his self-deprecating nature.

"You've set the bar high for years to come," Ms. Pillsbury told him, placing a caring hand on his shoulder.

Artie had now been given more flower bouquets than he had any idea what to do with. He had not expected so many people would appreciate the hard work he'd dedicated to this show, but now the proof was piled in his lap.

The flowers didn't matter all that much to him, though. He was more concerned with the way that the two people he wanted to be here the most, didn't show.

He finally checked his phone and realized he'd gotten a text he somehow never saw, five minutes before show time. "On our way," read Quinn's message.

On our way? But they hadn't showed. Artie had looked at those seats all night long, and they'd remained empty. Unless they sat somewhere else maybe? Perhaps they'd misunderstood that Artie comped their tickets. Maybe they'd snuck in, true to the Skanks motto that you never paid for something you could get for free...

'Were you here?' Artie texted back.

He then had a million tasks to tend to backstage before he could actually leave for the night. As Blaine and Rachel finally led them out the door, each of them carrying a garment bag of costumes, Artie reached for his phone to check for a text. As he did so, it rang.

"Hello?"

"Artie?" The voice on the other end sounded vaguely familiar but definitely wasn't Quinn.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, slowly. "Who's this?"

"It's Frannie," she said, her voice shaking, providing no further explanation, other than to dissolve into heavy sobs on the other end of the line.

"Frannie?" Both Rachel and Blaine stopped in their tracks and turned to stare, catching the way Artie's voice rose in alarm. "Where's Quinn?"

"There's been a- an accident," Frannie struggled to say. "Quinn and-and her friend."