"Good morning," he said, setting down his toothbrush on the bathroom countertop and picking up his phone, not surprised that he was getting an early call that day.

The night before, Sunday night, he'd been texting with Quinn and she'd been growing increasingly anxious about returning to school on Monday. He reminded her he'd been there before and told him to call him if she needed anything.

"Morning," she said. "Well... today's the day. I just finished wrestling my new pants on and putting on my bright yellow sweater in hopes that I look like it's the happiest day of my life."

"And why do you think you have to pretend everything's great and you're happy?" he challenged her. When she didn't respond, he continued, gently. "Just take it a day at a time, Q. That's what I told myself."

"Yeah, and you didn't make it a week." There was a pause. "Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

He put her on speaker, so he could multitask and continue messing with his hair. "It's fine," he assured her, honestly not phased by her comment. She was stressed, so he wouldn't be holding anything she said against her now. "But, just for the record, I did make it a week. Then I dropped out. But I was just an overwhelmed little kid. You aren't that. You are Lucy Quinn Fabray."

"I feel like an overwhelmed little kid, but okay..." he could imagine her looking at herself in the mirror and taking a deep breath. "... I'm Quinn Fabray. Let's leave Lucy out of it."

"You got it, Q," he said. "I'll meet you in the parking lot, okay? You'll never wheel alone. Hey, that sounds like a great song title."

Quinn giggled, and he'd succeeded in easing her tension. At least for a moment, he supposed. As he hung up with Quinn and finished tidying up his hair, which was in need of a trim soon, he couldn't help thinking of his own return to school, nearly nine years ago.

Nine Years Ago

Amy wasn't pushing Artie but she did hold one handle of his chair kind of protectively. They'd tried to be early, so that the halls wouldn't be crowded, but everything about getting Artie off to school just took longer than anticipated. They ended up arriving at school right before the second bell rang, as the halls filled with people.

The seas parted though, for Artie and his chair, as kids and even adults stopped mid-conversation to stare as he passed by. "The novelty should wear off soon," Amy muttered, though Artie couldn't figure out what she meant. He saw her shoot a particularly nasty look at David Karofsky and follow up with, "What are you looking at?"

"Amy!" Artie admonished her, wide-eyed, as he doubled down on his wheels to get by the biggest kid in their class quickly. "You can't say stuff like that, especially to Karofsky."

"I'll say whatever I want," Amy said, indignantly. "They shouldn't stare at you like you're a freak show."

"I am a freak show."

At this, Amy stopped and moved in front of him in the hall. She knelt in front of his chair. Artie turned even redder, knowing that they were in the way and everyone was trying now to work their way around them.

"Don't say that," Amy urged. "And don't start believing that either. You're the same kid you were before this happened, you just look different now. You don't have to change."

Present Day

His heater on full blast, Artie waited in his car for Quinn, who needed to hurry if she was going to be on time today. He was riding solo this morning, since Sam caught an early ride with Finn to hit the gym for basketball.

Finally, her mother dropped her off close to the ramps. He watched as her mother did way too much for her, everything from retrieving the chair from the trunk to helping her in it. Of course, as he had to remind himself regularly, that was okay for Quinn. Quinn wasn't like him. She was gonna walk again. He had to learn skills for independence because the chair had been both the present and the future for him.

He shut off the car and expertly transferred himself from car to chair, ensuring that he was ready when she was, so she wouldn't have to wait in the cold.

"You're wearing the new pants I got you," she pointed out, as she pulled her jacket closer to her body and shivered.

"Yeah, and they're nice but not very thick," he told her, with a glance down at the new straight-legged brown pants that he quite surprisingly didn't hate. "Come on, let's get you inside. I'm just glad it didn't snow this weekend."

"Me too," she agreed, as she followed him to the door, her pushing motions effortful and cautious across the sidewalk.

She let him lead the way as they entered, almost as though she wanted him to block her, offering protection from all the stares. People were used to Artie. They no longer parted the seas for him, and in fact, he ran into no less than three people everyday because they just didn't see him coming. Not so for Quinn Fabray. The seas parted for her. They kept going, all the way to Quinn's locker, which Artie wished he'd advised her to swap for another. Hers was a top locker.

"I don't think I breathed once," Quinn said, quietly, as she deposited the books she'd been keeping at home in her locker.

They both noticed that the hook for her backpack was out of reach. But no matter, since the brand new floral backpack could just stay on the back of her chair all day. Artie helped by retrieving books from the bag and handing them to her. She did have to cram her jacket in the bottom of the locker though.

"The novelty wears off," Artie assured her. "Pretty soon, people don't even notice you..." And he ignored the sad, quizzical look from Quinn. "Anyway, um, you did it! You made it inside. Wasn't that one of the things you were worried about?"

"One of the things, yeah," Quinn muttered, as a few Cheerios passed by and waved but said nothing. Their pitying looks said plenty. She sighed and forced a smile. Artie knew she was probably trying not to complain too much about what was expected to be a temporary situation for her. Not to him.

"You just look different," he said, figuring it didn't hurt to recycle Amy's words to him, since they'd stuck with him all these years. "You're the same girl you've always been. You don't have to change. Now come on. Get beside me."

"Why, so we take up twice as much space in the hall?" Quinn arched an eyebrow.

"Exactly." He grinned at her, before raising his voice and yelling the next part for all to hear. "Because you're Quinn Fabray and you'll take up as much space as you damn well please!"

Artie had succeeded in getting a laugh for that, which was his goal. "You're like my big brother, Artie," she said, after he'd wheeled her all the way to her first class, cinching the fact that he'd be late for his own. "The big brother who watches out for his little sister."

He'd never been the "big brother" before. It was nice to be regarded in that way. It was too crowded for a hug, so he settled for a fist bump and a smile. As soon as he'd watched her disappear through the door, the bell rang, signaling the fact that he was indeed late. Oh, well. It was one of those few and far between perks of being a brainy kid in a chair. No one really cared that he was late.

Quinn was nowhere to be found at lunch, so naturally, he knew where she had gone. She'd eaten there countless times during her pregnancy, especially towards the end when the stares got intense. He found her parked beside the alcove in the hall, using it as a makeshift table for her tray instead of sitting in it like she used to.

"Less or more stares than being pregnant?" Artie wanted to know, startling her briefly before she glanced over her shoulder and smiled as he approached.

"Actually, it's more like people try really hard not to look at you..." Artie was already nodding and now she was the one wearing a pitying expression. "Artie, I'm sorry."

"Me too, people suck." Artie placed his lunch tray beside her as she made a little more room for him to pull his chair up to their makeshift "table" with no actual knee space. "Almost as bad as this... was it supposed to be lasagna?"

"I think that's a noodle in the meat and cheese slop, yeah," Quinn commented, rolling her eyes. "I think I'll be bringing my lunch the rest of the week."

Artie tried to start with the fruit and broccoli but changed his mind and dug into the entrée, figuring it would be worse if it got cold. As they both tried to eat what they could of the cafeteria's cooking, pretty soon they were joined by someone who had also come looking for Quinn.

"Quinn! What are you doing eat alone? I- we missed you so much," Rachel stammered, as Finn stood his post awkwardly beside her, doubling her height and positively towering over the others in their chairs. Times like this probably made him feel like the odd man out.

"I'm not alone, Artie's here," she pointed out, sparing him a glance and a smile as he wiped his chin to make sure there wasn't any sauce on it. "Anyway, I just... felt like getting out of there. But don't worry about me, I'm doing just fine."

Quinn had added that last part because of the dashed expression the brunette wore as she took in the sight of her former competition for Finn now seated in a wheelchair, eating her lunch alone. (Well, ahem, Artie was there...)

"Fine but not great, right?" Rachel said, her lower lip quivering. "I mean, of course you're not... happy."

Artie tried to recall Rachel's reaction to seeing him in a chair for the first time. He did remember. She'd been in his class that year. She'd annoyed him Before but even more After. And especially now, as she stood there implying there was no possible way for a person in a wheelchair to be happy.

Nine Years Earlier

When it was time to line up for their class picture, all the boys stood on a riser on the back row and all the girls stood on the floor, on the front row. Artie, of course, had no choice but to be down in front. He wheeled himself to the end of the riser, and pretty soon, Rachel's hand was in the air.

"Are there stools?" she wanted to know, speaking without even waiting to be called upon. "It looks weird with Artie sitting on the end. It throws off the composition of the picture. Maybe all us girls should sit, too?"

In the end, Rachel lost the argument about the composition of the photo. Artie remained on the end of the front row with the girls. Finn had tried to be supportive and attempted to stand in the front next to Artie, but as the tallest boy in class by a whole head above everyone else, he had to be in the back.

Artie had wound up right next to Rachel, who was on one of the ends, being that she was the shortest in the class. Well, second shortest. That title now belonging to Artie.

Present Day

Years later, Rachel Berry would be searching for a co-captain of the glee club to take a photo with her for the yearbook. Artie would subtly remind her of that moment by telling her that she'd be standing and he'd be sitting, thus throwing off the composition of the photo. She seemingly had forgotten the whole thing then, only countering that she'd just lean over. Artie had ended that conversation by telling her flatly that it would look like she had stomach rolls.

He wondered if she remembered now.

"No, I meant to say, I'm great," Quinn insisted, her voice nearly breaking as she said this. "Really great. I could have been one of those creepy memorial pages in the yearbook, but by the grace of God, I'm here."

Rachel had teared up as Quinn said this and couldn't look her in the eye, as Finn put a protective arm around her. "It's not right," she said.

"It's not right but it's the way it is," Quinn said, and Artie caught Finn's eye, as Finn just gave a knowing nod, wordlessly apologizing for Rachel's theatrics. "My accident does not define me. I'm not going to dwell on this and neither should anyone else. In fact–" she glanced at Artie. "– Artie and I have a little number to show you just how happy I am to be back."

Over the weekend, he'd talked Quinn into preparing something, insisting that it wouldn't take more than three minutes away from rehearsal for Regionals and that it would be a great way to break the ice on her first day back. She'd agreed to rehearse with him, but the last time they'd talked about it was Sunday. And on Sunday, Quinn had told him she'd changed her mind and no longer wanted to do it. Now it seemed they were on once again.

"Oh!" Rachel looked surprised, as Quinn ignored Artie's confused look. "Well! I... can't wait to see it in Glee club then. Uh, do you want to sit with us?"

"That's okay, I'm going to finish lunch and then stop by the nurse's office to use the bathroom before class," Quinn told her.

Rachel used to be the one the teacher had picked to accompany Artie to the nurse's office to use the bathroom. That was a small part of the reason he'd only lasted one week back in third grade. She finally looked at him then, and he couldn't suppress an eye roll. Oh, so that's what you remember.

Nine Years Earlier

"Is he still in there?" Artie heard Rachel Berry asking the secretary, right outside the nurse's door. "Mrs. Duncan sent me to get him and bring him outside to the playground."

"Still there," he heard her confirm. "You can have a seat, Ms. Berry." Of all the people she could have sent, she picks Rachel?!

Artie finished up, washed his hands, and let himself out of the nurse's office quietly, not quite able to make eye contact with Rachel as he wheeled over to where she had been waiting on him. She stood up and grabbed hold of his chair, because Mrs. Duncan now had everyone under the impression he both needed and wanted that.

"Please don't push me," Artie said, trying to be polite but firm. He realized this was the first time he'd actually spoken up for himself. He was usually talkative and outgoing, but now he felt like clamming up instead.

"Very well," Rachel said, shoving her hands into the pockets of the weird overall dress thing she was wearing with knee socks that made her look like a giant four-year-old. Not that Artie supposed his baggy khakis were much better. She strolled slowly alongside him as he pushed himself. "You don't need to feel embarrassed about your chair, you know."

"Who said I was embarrassed?" The question was not rhetorical. Artie actually wanted to know who said it, not that he could do anything about it.

"I'm just exceptionally sensitive," Rachel said, serenely. "My dads are gay."

Artie didn't know how that had anything to do with it, but he just let Rachel say whatever she was gonna say. He followed her out to the playground in stony silence as he tried to think of something to do out there. The mulch prevented him from doing much of anything, so he wound up watching.

Present Day

"You really still want to do the song with me?" Artie asked Quinn, as Finn and Rachel headed back to the cafeteria, leaving them alone in their little spot again.

"More than ever," she assured him. "Because... because Artie, I'm really sorry you had to hear all of that. Why don't we show people what we can do? Because we're true survivors."

Three hours later, they blared this message across the choir room, loud and clear. He'd shown her all his usual moves, but reminded her a few times with hand gestures and pointing, making it all the more playful.

"I'm still standing, better than I ever did, looking like a true survivor, feeing like a little kid..." They sang their anthem to the uncomfortable expressions that sat before them, unsure of how to react to such a performance. As Quinn and Artie finished their song, back-to-back, wheels-to-wheels, they were met with thunderous applause.

"There's a lot of rumors floating around, so let's clear the air," Quinn said, addressing the group with her head held high as Artie watched curiously. She hadn't said anything about giving a speech. "First of all, my plumbing still works, which is awesome."

Finn's eyes went wide at this. He then glanced at Artie, who wanted to crawl under the piano.

"But my spine was severely compressed in the car accident," Quinn continued. "Which basically means, I can't move my feet or legs. But the good thing is, I'm starting to regain feeling so with a lot of physical therapy and with your prayers, I stand a good chance for a full recovery. So no tears. That means you, Tina."

Tina, who was wearing her cry face, just nodded miserably and sniffled. She, too, looked at Artie then and then immediately averted her gaze.

"Oh, and I apologize for the number," she added, with a chuckle. "My dance moves aren't as smooth as Artie's yet."

Artie managed to find his voice and, per usual, pretended nothing was wrong. "With practice, they will be," he said.

Quinn dropped her gaze to her lap. "I can't wait to see what you all have for Regionals. I know it'll be amazing and I'm really sorry not to be joining you on that stage..." she trailed off, and for a moment, Artie was afraid she might cry, sort of defeating the purpose of their number.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, just to take all the pressure off of her. But it was then that she lifted her chin and looked at them. Her eyes were bright but she wasn't letting any tears fall. "I promise that by the time we go to Nationals – I mean, if we go... I promise I'll be out of this chair and dancing on that stage."

The rest of them burst into applause at that. Sugar rose to her feet. Santana jumped up to give her a hug, followed by Brittany, and then several others followed suit. As Artie watched his unfold, a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

He wondered what prompted her to make a promise like that. There was no guarantee she could do any such thing by the time they went to Nationals – if they even made it past Regionals. Was it the same pressure she'd always put on herself to be perfect? If she was gonna be like him – at least for the time being – she would have to let that go.