Come on and stand! Up again! Stand, you're gonna run again!
"Why does it feel like the Dalton Academy Warblers are trolling us?" Sam wondered aloud, with a glance at Artie and Quinn, their chairs parked in the open spaces on the row, as everyone sat to watch the first performance at Regionals.
He and Kurt turned towards Blaine, who just held up his hands. "I swear I didn't tell them anything!" he said. "The theme is inspiration, right? And this song is inspirational. For... lots of people."
"Who's that extra smiley guy?" Kurt asked, pointing out one of the guys close to their notoriously obnoxious leader, Sebastian. "He's kind of cute."
"Now who's trolling who?" Artie asked, with a chuckle, as Kurt's grin spread across his face, clearly enjoying teasing Blaine.
"That's Trent," Blaine said, as he relaxed a little, now that no one was accusing him of being a Warbler spy. "He always looks that happy. Kind of a breath of fresh air, huh? A Warbler who can actually stand out in the crowd."
"This song is going to take up permanent residence in my brain," Sam commented. "Damn them, they're the kings of catchy."
It was then that Finn jumped to his feet and started clapping along. A member of the team from Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow was seated by him and promptly leaned over, asking, "Why are your cheering on your competition?"
With a glance at Quinn, he said, "Life's too short. You should try it. Come on!"
And that was how Finn led the crowd in giving the Warblers a standing ovation. Artie just flashed a cheesy smile at Quinn, who lifted her hands in the air as he did the same next to her, mouthing: "Stand!"
It had been a rough week. Ever since Quinn had promised the entire choir room that she would be walking by the time they got to Nationals (if they made it that far, or course), he hadn't known what to say about that. A natural avoider, he didn't bring it up again. But Quinn knew him pretty well by now. He didn't have to tell her something was bothering him.
Finally, on Friday, she'd dropped by the gym where Artie had been shooting baskets with Sam and Finn before school that day. Even though he still wasn't sure if he was playing wheelchair basketball that spring, he enjoyed shooting hoops and being one of the jock guys.
Quinn surprised him by appearing in the doorway just as they were getting ready to go back to the locker room and change before class.
"Hey... I know you're probably in a hurry, but... can you hold up a sec?" she asked, as he coasted to a stop in front of her. The other guys shot them both curious looks but said nothing as they headed into the locker room.
"Sure, what's up?" he asked her.
She took a deep breath, smoothing out the skirt she was wearing with thick tights and tall boots, which must have been crazy difficult to put on by herself. He assumed her mother had helped.
"I owe you an apology," she admitted. "What I said to the group made it seem like being in a wheelchair isn't good enough for me. And – it is. If the doctors had told me I'd never walk again, well, I would have been okay. Just like you're okay."
"Sure, I'm okay, but my plumbing probably doesn't work," he couldn't resist adding.
She looked properly ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said, looking miserable. "I know that's another struggle for you, and I know it's not something you want to talk about in front of everyone in glee club."
"Not top of the list, no," he said, trying to decide when he was going to give her a break. He had been mad, at first, so he'd given himself time and space to cool off. He'd made an excuse not to go to therapy with her all week, just because he'd wondered if she even genuinely wanted him there to begin with.
"I'm so sorry," she said again, and he finally cracked a smile, showing her he wasn't upset. Though he still had to say what he'd been questioning all week.
"I'm not mad at you," he said, "Not anymore, but I am confused. Your doctor never gave you a hard, fast timeline on when you could expect to be walking again. So why'd you promise everyone you'd be out of the chair by Nationals?"
Quinn sighed. "Because I just..." And she trailed off, in a way that told him she was choosing her words carefully, trying not to say anything offensive. "I just... when I picture myself at graduation or this summer or even when I'm heading off to New Haven in the fall, a wheelchair doesn't fit with those plans."
"I understand," he replied. "A wheelchair didn't fit with my plans to play soccer in high school either. But you're not me. This isn't your life. Except... it is, for awhile, so you might as well do what I suggested, remember?"
"A day at a time," she recalled, nodding and sighing. "I know, I know. I should be patient. It's just going a lot slower than I thought. But like you said, it's not forever."
"I didn't say you're not allowed to be upset," he clarified. "Just because it's not forever. You can still be frustrated. You're allowed your feelings."
"But I want to consider yours," she said, moving closer and angling her chair awkwardly for a hug, something that they both always found amusing. As they shared a laugh, the first in awhile, he felt considerably lighter.
"All forgiven," he assured her. "Just promise me you won't push yourself to do too much before you're ready. Just be smart about it."
"I can promise that," she said.
Because they'd finally had that conversation to clear the air, he could relax now that he was seated next to her for Regionals. It would had even been fun to have someone else utilizing the handicap bus right along with him, only there was no need for a bus this year. McKinley was hosting Regionals.
"I don't like this one as much," Quinn was saying, as the Warblers launched right into 'Glad You Came' by The Wanted. Artie nodded in silent agreement. Though this song was definitely in their wheelhouse, he found it lacking in energy, compared to their opening number. He also couldn't figure out what was supposed to be inspirational about all of this.
And then – it was like the Warblers had heard the question he hadn't even asked out loud. What, afterall, was more inspirational than a disabled person? Artie immediately recognized the black guy they'd met a couple of years ago, from the Haverbrook School for the Deaf. Sure enough, they recycled 'Imagine,' complete with spoken song and signing, all of the Warblers backing up their newest member.
"Whoa," Finn settled back in his seat. He gave Blaine a sidelong glance, and the former Warbler looked just as stunned as the rest of them. "Did you know about this?"
"You know I didn't," Blaine said.
As the Warblers finished up, they were immediately followed by The Golden Goblets from Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow, which was more like perpetual boredom. As the audience tried not to fall asleep, Artie tried not to get worked up. He already suspected what some were thinking.
They all headed backstage to get ready as the Golden Goblets finally finished their third and final sleepy ballad.
"Those Golden Goblet madrigal singers were way better than I thought they'd be," Puck lamented, inconsequentially, as he touched up his stage makeup.
"Are you high?" Brittany wondered aloud. "I couldn't hear their instruments at all."
"You know who else couldn't hear anything at all?" Santana countered, with an exaggerated eye roll. "Seriously, they have a lot of nerve, going out and recruiting a deaf dude just so they can call themselves inspirational."
"But we're inspirational, too!" Mr. Schue said, and Artie shot daggers in his direction. "We've got... Finn's dancing!"
Everyone relaxed a little then, as Mr. Schue's recycled joke effectively broke the ice. Their teacher fixed Artie with a supportive grin, absolutely assuring him that he would never. Artie relaxed a little. He didn't mean to be so on edge.
"Thanks, everyone," Finn said, putting a hand over his heart. "I like to think I'm just an ordinary dude, but I guess I am pretty inspirational."
"Show circle everyone!" Artie felt a surge of confidence, then, as he realized that no one in this room saw him that way, as someone whose purpose was purely to inspire others. As they all put their hands in, he motioned for Quinn to join in. She smiled nervously and pushed forward to join the circle with the others, adding her hand.
"Ah-mazing!"
"Hey... Artie," Quinn said, and held up a moment, as the others rushed to get into their places backstage. "I'm nervous. I should have never agreed to let you guys work me in. I..."
"Hey hey," he said, cutting her off. She dropped her eyes to her lap. "You're gonna be great out there. And inspirational. And not because of your chair."
"Well, and same to you," she said, looking pleased. "You're mostly gonna be inspirational because you're a white guy singing R. Kelly."
They both shared a laugh over that, and Artie was momentarily distracted by Mr. Schue pointing at his watch and gesturing for him to hurry up. "Seriously, though," Artie went on. "It's just one song. It wasn't that hard to work you in. It's important to all of us that you're here. I mean, you know Rachel wants you on stage with us if she's willing to turn her solo into a duet with you."
Quinn laughed lightly at that. "She does need my tremulous alto," she quipped. "Alright, I won't hold you up. Do I say 'break a leg?'"
"I'd be mad if you didn't."
"Okay, then. Break a leg."
"You too," Artie said, and before Mr. Schue could wildly gesture for him to join the others again, he did a quick pivot and found his place behind the curtain.
Quinn, who wouldn't be joining them until the third and final song, sat off to the side backstage and gave them all a thumbs-up and a grin, then crossed her fingers and bowed her head in a quick prayer.
They launched right in with Rachel center stage, starting off with "I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive, I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise..."
As the couples sang "fly..." they danced across the stage, the smoke machine effectively making them look like they were gliding on air. Artie hung out in the back until the part where he took center stage, the fog machine making him look weightless as well, his chair nearly hidden altogether.
"I used to think that I could not go on..."
"I wish today it would rain all day, maybe that would kinda make the pain go away," Santana rapped, grinning as she locked eyes with him.
Artie loved performing. Sure, he was supposed to love directing, and he did, but there was nothing like being onstage and having all eyes on you. And actually wanting all eyes on you. Like the song said, they'd come to win. And as he noticed Sebastian Warbler's face in the front row, it was already pretty clear that they were poised to do so that day. Artie also loved competing. Winning a show choir competition was equally as thrilling as scoring the winning goal for your soccer team.
When the mash-up ended, Artie and the rest of the guys headed off-stage. The next number was the one the Cheerios joined them on, the group-within-a-group now known as the Troubletones. Artie sat by Quinn backstage as they both watched the rest of the girls from the wings.
The girls were absolutely killing it, and the fact that there were so many of them – all of them talented – made a difference. Vocal Adrenaline sometimes won their performances, just by the sheer force of their number.
"I better go so I don't miss your big moment," he said, after a couple of minutes had passed and they were nearing the end of the song. "Break a leg, Q!"
He didn't wait for the second number to finish because he wanted to get to the opera box he was supposed to share with Mike quickly. Of course, the other guys could head up the stairs to get there. Mike politely waited on the elevator with Artie.
"Ugh, we need to hurry or we'll miss the duet," he complained, drumming his fingers on his armrest. It opened and several members of Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow took their dear sweet time getting off.
"Move, move!" Artie had no time to be polite about it as they jumped out of his way. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind he and Mike.
"So..." there were just two floors and not a lot of time for elevator conversation. It was still enough time for Artie to blurt out: "You and Tina doing the long-distance thing next year, when you're in Chicago?"
"Oh, uh, y-yeah, that's the plan..." And Mike scratched the back of his neck and stared awkwardly down at Artie, who nearly forgot he was the ex-boyfriend sometimes.
They were both saved by the elevator door opening and the need to hurry up, if they didn't want to miss the third number. Thankfully, they made it to their place just in time to see the two girls take the stage together.
"We could just go home right now or maybe we'll just stick around for just one more drink..."
Rachel graciously shared the stage with Quinn, whose tremulous alto did indeed compliment her bold soprano. The wheelchair was an afterthought, or hopefully not even a thought at all, as the two girls harmonized perfectly. And as the song built, the rest of the girls returned to the stage and the guys also joined in, appearing and singing loudly from their respective balconies. Quinn looked up at him and caught his eye as they finished 'Here's To Us.'
Moments later, Mike and Artie finally came back down the elevator and rejoined the group for a celebratory battle cry of: "We did it! We did it!"
They returned to the choir room, as planned, to celebrate with lemonade that Puck promised wasn't spiked and some cookies. They'd left the door open, which prompted Trent Warbler and a blonde Warbler to stop by and peek in curiously.
"Trent? Jeff?" Blaine hurried to greet them and the three exchanged manly hugs as Kurt nonchalantly edged his way over. "Oh, uh, this is Kurt. And this here's Tina... Sam... Artie..."
Blaine went through the names of everyone around him, even though Trent and Jeff weren't going to remember. He promptly invited the two in for lemonade and cookies. Pretty soon, a couple more Warblers wandered in. And a few more after that. It was just good that someone had brought a lot of store-bought cookies, because before they knew it, the whole team had assembled.
"What are you guys–?" Sebastian and the black deaf guy were the last to find the rest of the group. Their leader stopped short when he realized there was an impromptu show choir party going on.
The other guy laughed and signed something. Jeff, who had his mouth full of cookies, translated anyway. "He says 'are we the last to know?'" He paused, as the other guy signed something else, then swallowed his mouthful. "He says, 'say it, don't spray it.'"
"Please - have - some cookies with us," Artie said, stiffly, attempting to sign as he spoke. He leaned over to Quinn, saying, "I knew the sign for 'cookies' so I went for it."
The guy gave an appreciative nod – possibly for both the cookies and the sign language – and then went over to their snack table. Sebastian held back, folding his arms across his chest.
"You're welcome to our snacks too, Sebastian," Blaine offered.
"Thanks, but I'm doing low carb, he said, as he surveyed the New Directions, stopping his gaze on Quinn and Artie. "Let's see, deaf show choir singer or two wheelchairs, tough call," he said, pretending to weigh the invisible options in his hands. "If it was just one wheelchair, I'd say we were the clear winners..."
As he smirked at Artie, who met his stare and stared right back, Santana stepped forward.
"You may look like the villain of a cheesy 80's high school movie, but you should know that I am fully prepared to go all Danny LaRusso on your ass!"
Santana's rant was cut off by Mr. Schue, as he stepped between she and the Warbler's leader. "Okay, okay, that's enough..."
Santana wasn't quite finished. "Admit that you recruited a deaf dude to be your team's inspiration porn," she demanded.
Artie looked over his shoulder. The deaf guy was busy watching Tina try out all the sign language she knew from when they'd taken ASL 1 together as freshmen. He had his back to the scene and had no idea anyone was even talking about him. Artie turned back around to see Sebastian looking slightly ruffled by Santana's accusation, as he straightened his tie.
"Not that I have to justify anything to you," he shot back. "But no, we didn't recruit Michael. That's his name. Michael transferred to Dalton after Sectionals, we found out he used to be in a show choir, and the rest is history."
"You let him in?" Blaine looked stunned.
"Sure, he deserved to get in."
"Someone paid someone off, it's obvious," Sugar suddenly announced, as everyone turned to look at her. "Sorry, Asperger's."
"Anyway –" Artie raised his voice, sparing one more glance in Michael's direction. He'd stopped trying to converse with Tina and was now signing aggressively to Jeff, trying to figure out what was going on. Artie turned back to address Sebastian. "Sebastian Warbler. I'm Artie, formerly known to you as Wheelchair Kid Number One. Nice meeting you. Good show. We'll see you on stage."
The Warblers took that as their cue to leave, with Jeff grabbing three more cookies in a stack, plus another cup of lemonade on his way out the door.
"That deaf guy was yummy," Sugar said, not even sparing a look for Rory, who pouted. "Tina! Teach me something I can say to him in sign language."
"Okay," Mr. Schue motioned for them to gather around once more. "Listen, before we go out there and they announce the winners, I just wanna say that this year has been even better than the last two. Quinn's accident notwithstanding... but nevertheless... a great year so far."
Rachel started to fan herself and looked teary-eyed just then. "I'm so anxious, I could faint," she said. "If-if we don't win this, I don't know how I'm ever going to get into NYADA..."
As Finn hugged and reassured Rachel, Ms. Pillsbury ran in relaying an announcement for everyone to come back to the auditorium. As everyone hurried out, Quinn hung back. At first, Artie thought that she was just letting the others out ahead of her, but he quickly realized she was frozen on the spot.
"Hey..."
"If we don't win, I let Rachel down," she said, with tears filling her eyes. "I should have never said I'd do that duet. It would have been better if she'd solo'ed."
"Q..."
"And if we do win, I-I told everyone I'd dance at Nationals." That did it, and her tears spilled over, but the comment made Artie laugh, and soon she was laughing, too.
"Quite the dilemma, I'd say," he mused. "C'mon... race you to the stage."
They made it back just as Svengoobles, the local late night talk show host and vampire, came out of his coffin to announce the winner.
And now... the moment you've all been waiting for!" Svengoobles said, adding dramatic flare by producing the envelope from behind his cape. "The 2012 Midwest Regional Champion... from McKinley High, the New Directions!"