A/N- Thank you, QuinnAbrams, for your large contribution to the middle!
It was a gorgeous spring day. The kind of day that you didn't just spend sitting in a classroom, not if you could help it. Artie sported his light jacket. Quinn was dressed in a navy polka dot cardigan over a sunny yellow silk blouse, and despite her wheelchair, looked healthy and carefree as she wheeled along beside Artie, with gloved hands to match his and a bike helmet balancing in her lap.
All around them, kids with various physical differences conquered ramps on skateboards and in wheelchairs. Any sort of wheels were fair game around here. Neither physical defects nor disabilities presented barriers here. As Quinn buckled her helmet in place, she exchanged a timid glance over at Artie. He hoped she was still glad he'd brought her here.
Without hesitating, he took off down the largest ramp. Quinn, after taking a moment to watch him, gathered herself briefly and then followed suit. She squealed with delight as she coasted down and back up, meeting him on the other side of the sloped pavement, perching precariously at the top on his right.
"Thank you," she said, as they both began pushing wheels alongside one another, heading across the level ground. "This was a really great senior ditch day. You were right."
"I just wanted you to meet a cool group of people having a great time in the same situation as you," Artie said, shrugging and motioning to others nearby, to the inexplicably massive group of people like them gathered in the middle of the day at this random skatepark in Lima.
At this, she paused, causing him to do the same. He glanced over in time to catch the doubtful look she'd cast in his direction. "Yeah, but I'm not... this is only temporary... the doctor said it's just a matter of time before..."
"Look, I've been where you are," he cut her off, turning and coming to a stop in front of her chair. "I know how it feels but you can't keep denying–"
"I'm not denying anything," she interrupted, causing him to stop in the middle of his speech, silenced by her sudden outburst. "You're not me, okay? I'm not like you. This isn't my life. I'm going to Yale. I'm getting out of Lima. I'm gonna walk again."
"And what if you don't?" he asked her back, as she pushed on past him, ignoring his question. "When are you gonna stop pretending that this isn't really happening to you?"
What am I saying? Artie wondered, feeing more like he was on the outside watching than actually participating in this conversation. How the heck do I know, I'm not her doctor. Artie, shut up.
"Artie, shut up..."
"I'm curious about any dream that ends like this."
Artie's eyes fluttered open and he startled a bit to see his sister perched on the edge of his bed, smirking down at him. He squinted up at her, as he made a grab for the glasses that sat on his bedside table.
"I didn't even mean to fall asleep..." he said, replacing his glasses and checking on his lower half, noting a pillow he didn't even recall putting between his knees earlier.
"I put that there for you when I passed by your bedroom door and heard you snoring," she said, by way of explanation. "But if we don't leave now, we might miss our chance to see her tonight. I had to come wake you. I almost didn't. You seem really tired."
"No, I'm glad you did," Artie said, quickly. "I'm okay now, the nap helped. I wanna see her. She'll... wanna hear all about Sectionals."
Artie was tired because they'd all gotten up while it was still dark that day, to head to Sectionals. He and Sam had packed up their little white tuxedo coats and pants and left to head to the school before the sun was up. Being that it was late November – not a gorgeous spring day, like the one in his dream – it was a tad icy outside, rainy, and cold. They'd all waited in their warm cars for Mr. Schue to bring the handicap bus over from the bus barn.
He'd tolerated the cold with difficulty as he waited for the ramp to lower, the rest of his headspace dedicated solely to Quinn. All he could think of was how much he wished she could have been there. Had there not been an accident, he was sure they could have convinced her to rejoin Glee at some point. He would have loved to see Quinn doing Santana's part in 'Control.' And he hated that she was going to miss his solo in 'Man in the Mirror.' They'd show her a video, sure, but it wouldn't be the same.
It had been three weeks now, since the accident, and Artie was exhausted from frantically rehearsing their last-minute Michael Jackson setlist every day after school, before heading straight to the hospital to keep Quinn company for the duration of visiting hours. Others took turns going with him – even random people, like Joe Hart or Sugar Motta – but Artie was the only one who went daily. He knew all too well how lonely a hospital stay could be without visitors.
Quinn's recovery was off to a very slow start because of her broken neck. She had to remain in a stiff brace for about six weeks – she'd done half the time so far, and with any luck, she would potentially have it off before Christmas. Consequently, it meant the only rehab she could really do right now was passive exercises in bed. Artie brought her things to pass the time. He even helped her do homework so that she could keep up with school. (She didn't need help with the content, of course, but due to her immobile position, she required a scribe.)
Anyway, it was a relief now, to have won Sectionals, just in time for the week-long Thanksgiving break. He intended to spend most of that with Quinn.
"So, what kind of dream was that?" Amy wanted to know, as Artie transferred into his chair. "Winning any big games?"
Amy knew a lot of Artie's usual dreams involved things he couldn't do in real life, like winning soccer games, dunking baskets, and killing lions. She would have been shocked to learn that this one involved his chair.
"Kind of," Artie replied. "I was at the skatepark?"
He let the last comment come out like a question, hoping that Amy would get the hint to drop it at that and not ask him to elaborate. (She did.)
"Where's Sam?" Artie asked his sister. Given that Sam and Quinn had dated last year (and now that he was living with them), it made sense that he liked to tag along on their visits to go see Quinn. Artie hadn't seen him since they got home from the competition though, before he had fallen asleep.
"He went to Blaine's house," Amy told him. "He said to tell her 'hi' from him and that he'll come with you when you head over tomorrow."
Artie smiled and nodded. He liked that by now everyone just rightfully assumed that he'd be visiting Quinn each day. Every now and then, someone would give him a gift or message to pass along to their friend. It made him feel special, like he had a job to do.
Sometime over the course of the last three weeks, Artie (and Amy) had become surprisingly desensitized to the hospital environment. The first few times they'd come to visit, just the nauseating smell of the hospital had Artie's heart rate quickening and his hands clammy. It took two or three visits, but the shock of seeing Quinn in the hospital bed wore off too. Most of her facial cuts had healed and she was beginning to look like her old self. Amy had her own fair share of trauma stemming from the aftermath of Artie's accident that they didn't really address, but she seemed to be doing better too. They were both doing what they needed to, to help Quinn recover as only they could.
"I didn't think you'd make it today because of the competition!" Quinn said, a bright smile appearing on her face when Amy and Artie reached the doorway of her room.
"Oh, come on, we wouldn't leave you high and dry," Artie assured her as he wheeled closer to her bedside and parked himself beside her. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine," She answered.
"You don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not lying! I'm good!"
That had become some sort of a routine, too. Artie would come in and ask how she was, to which Quinn would reply with some one-word, nondescript answer (which he would scold her about, but not press further).
"Sam says hi," Artie reported. "And also that he's going to come by tomorrow. Don't say I didn't warn you."
He added an eye roll and a smirk with that last comment for some dramatic flair, which Quinn seemed to appreciate. Hospitals tended to be dull and lifeless, but Sam Evans seemed to bring a party with him whenever he went. It was always a performance whenever he dropped by, complete with impression after impression, meant to cheer Quinn up. He'd been shushed by a nurse too many times to count.
"Also, I got you this," Artie said, holding up a t-shirt from today's competition that said 2011 WESTERN OHIO SHOW CHOIR CHAMPIONSHIPS on it in red block letters before placing it gently on her lap. "You were out there with us in spirit, and we couldn't have won without you."
"Thank you," Quinn replied in a small voice. Artie could tell that she missed being on stage with the rest of them. It only confirmed what he already knew in his heart, that she'd had intentions of returning to Glee Club after all. "What was the setlist? Did Mr. Schue actually come up with it in advance this time, or was it last minute like always?"
Artie smirked and Quinn copied his expression, seeming to already know the answer.
"We started working on it last week. Buuuut this might have been our best one yet. We decided to go with an overarching theme when choosing our songs," Artie explained. "Tina got her long-awaited solo in 'ABC' by The Jackson 5, then Santana and Blaine sang lead on Janet Jackson's 'Control'-"
"Hey, you sang lead on that one too!" Amy butted in, calling Artie out on the fact that he always downplayed his own accomplishments.
"Okay, yes, I was in that one too," Artie finally acknowledged. "And a bunch of us guys closed it with Michael's 'Man in the Mirror'."
Quinn listened and seemed to be thinking over the information he'd relayed to her. She raised her eyebrows upon realizing that something– or rather, someone– was missing from that line-up.
"Rachel must have thrown a fit."
"Oh, she did," Artie confirmed, squirming in his seat a little as the excitement of sharing all about the competition seemed to get the best of him. "She was mad as hell. As were Mercedes and Kurt. But Mr. Schue thought back to last year's Sectionals performance, when we won, and what had worked out so well then. We'd used some of the Glee Club's under-utilized voices, remember? The unsung heroes. Sam's, yours, Santana's… mine…"
He blushed. Without fail, just the thought of how vulnerable he'd been on stage when performing 'Safety Dance' last year made him flustered every time. He had no problem actually performing on his own (thanks to the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins)– as proven by his solo parts in not one, but two of this year's Sectionals numbers– but talking about it after the fact was almost too much to bear.
"Anyways, it worked out so well for us last year that Mr. Schue wanted to do it again. Mike Chang even sang some lines in 'ABC' as well, showing how much his voice has improved since Glee Club began, which was neat. And Sam insisted on inserting some of his…"
Stripper moves was what Artie wanted to say. But he'd promised his friend that he would never tell another soul where Finn and Rachel had found him in Kentucky that night, so he kept his mouth shut.
"... new dance moves he'd learned after he moved. He said we needed to 'use our assets' if we wanted to win and showed us guys how to body roll, which looked kind of ridiculous, I'll admit, but it seemed to catch the judges' attention. Here, ready?"
Artie unlocked his wheels and rolled back a pace before promptly setting his brakes again and doing his best impersonation of their blonde friend's newest signature move. For Artie, this meant moving his upper body in a circular motion as best he could, with an over-exaggerated bite of his lower lip.
Okay, maybe Artie's hospital visits could be somewhat of a performance sometimes, too. A nurse poked her head into the room just as Artie demonstrated Sam's signature move and promptly walked right back out, causing Amy to muffle her laughter into the pillow she'd been fidgeting with.
Just as intended, the silly move made Quinn smile, which was all he could ask for. Unlocking his wheels, Artie coasted back over to her bedside and picked up her hand, holding it in both of his.
"It was fun to compete, and yes, winning was great, but it wasn't the same without you, Quinn," Artie told her truthfully.
She was still working on her strength, since she had yet to even start the majority of her physical therapy sessions, but she was still able to squeeze his hand gently.
"I'll be dancing at Nationals, when the time comes, you can bet on that."
"You can bet I'll be there to see it when you do."
A new voice came from the doorway, and Artie and Amy turned to see who it belonged to while Quinn – in her still-immobilized state – could only avert her gaze. A wide grin spread across her face when she saw her new visitor. That expression was followed by a sudden look of alarm, explained by what she asked next.
"You didn't bring Beth, did you?" Quinn's pitch rose as she questioned Shelby. Shelby – who had only visited a couple of times in person but called often – shook her head and then remembered to say 'no,' in case Quinn couldn't see her gesture properly. Artie knew that Quinn was adamant that Beth not see her in her present condition. She had said it before; she didn't want to frighten the toddler.
"No, she's with my sister," Shelby assured her, taking a seat on the couch next to Amy, smiling amicably at her. "What's new with you guys?" And Artie held up the t-shirt he'd brought for Quinn. "Oh, Sectionals champs? Congrats, that's fantastic! Ours were last week. I guess this means we'll be facing off at Regionals again."
Shelby was the (albeit reluctant) leader of Vocal Adrenaline still, because even though she was was much more interested in raising her daughter than heading up a high school show choir, she still had bills and a mortgage on her new house to pay. She didn't even have to explain that they'd won Sectionals; Vocal Adrenaline always did.
"If I could join you at Regionals, too, I would," Quinn spoke up, wistfully. Artie noticed her eyes looked bright and wheeled over to retrieve a box of tissues off the table. He always knew where it was. "All this time, I could have been in Glee... and Cheerios... and I chose not to. And now... I can't."
Artie wanted to keep Quinn as cheerful as possible but he knew that wasn't always possible. She was alone with her intrusive thoughts for a better part of every day, immobilized and left with not much else to do but think. She could shut those thoughts out and distract herself with mindless entertainment. But otherwise, she'd dwell on the reality of her situation for far too long and become inconsolable. Artie knew that you kind of tended to go back and forth between those two options. Even at the tender age of eight, that had been his experience.
But she isn't me, he reminded himself. Her prognosis is better. Yet, to look at her now, it didn't seem possible. And it really didn't seem very likely that – if the New Directions went to Nationals – that she'd dance on that stage by then.
Shelby brushed some hair out of Quinn's face as Artie passed her the box of tissues, since Shelby could reach Quinn's cheeks better than he could. She dabbed Quinn's wet eyes with a tissue for her as Quinn gave her a tearful smile in return.
"And yet another reason I'm glad Beth isn't here," Quinn commented. "Even though I'd love to see her..." she trailed off. Talking about Beth wasn't making matters any better.
"I'll bring her when you get this thing off," Shelby said, then amended herself quickly: "Just as soon as you say it's alright." And then Shelby seemed to think of something else. "When... when you go home... whenever that is... um, where will you... go?"
Artie and Amy looked from Shelby to Quinn. They didn't ask the "tough" questions right now, as a general rule. Artie kept it light, only talking about serious things if Quinn herself brought it up. And usually trying to then divert the conversation back to something less loaded. Artie knew that, before her accident, Quinn had been staying with Shelia. He knew she would need quite a few things, at least temporarily, when she went home, and didn't want to pry. But he'd been thinking for awhile, that if worse came to worse, he had an accessible bedroom and bathroom that he'd be willing to share. Of course, nobody would actually see that as appropriate, including Artie himself.
"To my mom's," Quinn answered casually, as though putting all the pain of the past two years was an easy thing to do. They all knew better. "We have a room downstairs with a bathroom. And hardwood floors. It's made to be a room for an aging grandparent, should one ever come live with us, so it's accessible. I think."
So it's accessible, I think was the story of Artie's life for the past... nearly nine years. So many times people thought their homes were "accessible" and told him to come on over, but when put to the Artie test, it didn't work out. He could feel Amy cast a doubtful glance his way but he avoided her eyes. He preferred not to give Quinn one more thing to worry about for now. Besides, she wasn't going to be like him forever.
Sensing the need to move on from this topic, and quickly, Amy jumped in with, "So, Shelby, got any plans for Thanksgiving?"
"Well, my sisters are coming the day before," Shelby started. "And I have to work Monday and Tuesday. On Thursday, I thought I'd come here and see Quinn and leave Beth with her auntie again..."
"You're welcome to come by our place that evening for dinner," Amy said. Then she cast an apologetic glance at Quinn. "After we all celebrate with you here first."
"Hospitals usually try to, um, provide... something special for the holidays, too," added Artie, who could still remember feeling happy about his chocolate pie at Christmas, even if it did come on the same old tray that he got tired of seeing day in and day out, back when he'd been the patient. The nurse had brought him seconds, no questions asked.
"I'm sure I'll like it," Quinn said, as her eyelids dropped slightly, indicating she was getting a little tired. This was usually when someone turned on the TV, and Amy did just that, so that they could keep her company without wearing her down with endless small talk in the process.
This year, Thanksgiving was falling on the anniversary of his accident, and with Quinn in the hospital, it was going to be impossible not to talk about it. Amy seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he glimpsed his sister's expression. She twisted her frown into something resembling a smile for him.
Nearly nine years ago, he'd just been riding in a car on a Sunday, expecting to go to a soccer tournament. He'd stopped focusing on all the what-ifs a long time ago, but his mother was still deeply affected by the traumatic memories of nearly losing her son, especially when the day rolled around. Artie could only hope she'd be distracted by the hustle and bustle of the holiday this year.