AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Are e-mail notifications back?! I sure hope so! If this is the first you're hearing from me in a while, go ahead and check to see if you may have missed a chapter or two. I have been posting, but I believe the part of the website that notifies readers who follow a story was down for a bit. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

Chapter 44: New Haven, Part One

ARTIE

"I haven't been to New Haven since I was little," Quinn was saying to Artie as they sat by the gate waiting to board the plane that would take them to Hartford, Connecticut. "My dad's sister lives close by with her family. We visited them when I was in middle school, and we went to a Yale football game while we were there. I remember falling in love with the school, and that was the moment I decided to make the grades I needed to get accepted there."

"Well, I hope your memories still hold up," Artie told her, hoping that the comment didn't come off as blunt. "And that it's everything you remember it being and more."

"You and me both."

The weekend of her college orientation had arrived, and since her mother was away with her boyfriend for the weekend, Artie got to be her plus one. After all, it did make sense for him to see the school as well. His grades were definitely Ivy League competitive. If he set aside the fact that he'd dreamed of going to film school his whole life, maybe Yale could be the place for him, too. It was worth seeing the campus, even if he could already hear the ten different ways his brothers would berate him for following a girl off to college.

"I'm so happy to have you here with me," Quinn told him, placing her elbow on the armrest of his chair and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"And I'm happy to be here," Artie replied honestly. "Even though I know you only invited me because it means that you get to be the first to board the plane."

He tried to keep his face stoic as he said that, but he knew he was doing a terrible job. The inevitable smirk broke through the surface, though, as he just couldn't hide how thrilled he was to accompany her to Yale for the weekend.

Even if it meant boarding an airplane.

While the original plan had been to take a road trip from Lima to New Haven, they'd managed to find flights that were relatively decently priced once they used some airline points. Once he had done some rough math to determine how much gas and other road trip necessities would cost in the current economic climate, it became a no-brainer. Even Artie, who had grown to despise flying and all that came with it, couldn't argue that a few hours on a plane beat traveling ten hours by car– especially when it was the cheaper option.

Air travel– like snow– was one of the many things that Artie had loved before becoming a paraplegic that he no longer cared for. Once a child who was fascinated by planes and the hustle and bustle of an airport, the Artie of today loathed the experience from the moment he checked in for his flight until his luggage was safely retrieved from the baggage claim at his final destination.

Going through security, for example, was a bit more inconvenient (especially for someone who liked to be as punctual as Artie) than it was embarrassing, but still an unpleasant experience overall.

"I'll meet you at the gate. It's A3, right?" Artie had told Quinn earlier that day. He had just put his carry-on and backpack on the conveyor belt but quickly reached for his wallet out of the smallest pocket of his backpack. He pulled out a handful of dollar bills and tried handing the cash to Quinn. "Here, take this. Why don't you go get us something to eat? I'll be there soon."

"What?" Quinn had shaken her head, refusing the cash, which Artie just shoved in his pocket since his bag had already been pulled through the x-ray machine. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Are you sure?" Artie had asked, glancing up at her skeptically. "It might be a while."

It was Quinn's turn to walk through the metal detector then, and when she reached the other side, she collected their bags and waited nearby as he knew she would.

The process was a lot more tedious for Artie, who had to wait for a TSA agent to become available to experience his own sort of security clearance. Since he couldn't very well go through a metal detector, Artie had no choice but to endure a very thorough pat down. A burly officer snapped on latex gloves before frisking Artie's chest, abdomen, lower back, hips, legs, and ankles. The process drew even more stares than he would typically garner, which caused his face to grow hot. Once it was determined that he didn't have any weapons on his person, the agent had to swab the frame and wheels of his chair to detect any sort of trace explosive residue.

Just as he'd warned, it took quite a bit of time before Artie was granted clearance through the checkpoint. Quinn had waited patiently for him the whole time, however, and didn't seem bothered at all by how long the process took. That made one of them.

On their way to the gate, they stopped at the appropriately travel-sized kiosk of a chain sandwich shop they liked to frequent in Lima and picked up a lunch to eat before they boarded. After eating, Artie had made his ceremonial final trip to the restroom where he completed all the necessary tasks to prepare himself for the flight ahead. He'd then rejoined Quinn where she sat with their bags as they waited for the announcement granting passengers needing additional assistance the ability to pre-board.

"Not true." Quinn slugged him gently on the arm as she replied to his sarcastic comment about her only wanting to travel with him to take advantage of his pre-flight perks. "All summer we've been talking about getting the chance to go away together, just us. And I know that a school visit isn't exactly the most romantic getaway in the world, but it will be just the two of us."

"I know," Artie told her, the smile returning to his face. "I'm excited about that too. No siblings to interrupt us, no friends, or parents, or teachers…" Quinn stared back at him dreamily. Her expression was so pure and optimistic that he couldn't help himself from messing with her a little bit. "Just you and me… and whatever ghosts linger around New Haven and that creepy old campus."

"Ugh, don't say that, Artie," Quinn complained, her face switching quickly from a content expression to one filled with horror, which made him snicker.

"What? It's supposedly Connecticut's most haunted city, you know. You're telling me that you committed to Yale without knowing that?"

"Stop it, I mean it." She plugged her ears and shook her head. "You know that kind of stuff totally freaks me out."

"We are now going to begin our pre-boarding process for flight 421 to Hartford by inviting guests traveling with small children and those with disabilities who need extra assistance to board at this time."

Quinn was saved from further ghost talk by the gate agent's announcement over the speaker just then, which allowed Quinn and Artie to board. After getting their boarding passes scanned at the door, they made their way down the jet bridge where the flight attendants were standing by with the aisle chair, ready to assist Artie with his entrance to the plane. He could have done without their hovering as he tried to focus his attention on transferring to the narrow aisle chair, but he knew they were just doing their job, trying to spot him in case he misjudged a movement and began to fall. That was why, once he was safely seated and his feet had been adjusted, Artie allowed them to complete the task of strapping him in as he verbally walked Quinn through the task of dissembling his chair.

"I'd like for the chair to be stowed in the cabin, please," Artie told the flight attendants, who exchanged a look amongst one another.

"Wheelchairs are typically stored under the plane with the rest of the luggage," one of the attendants told him.

"Federal aviation regulations state that airlines have space to accommodate one adult-sized manual wheelchair on board in that cabinet up front by the cockpit," Artie calmly told them, internally cringing at the way he sounded like his mother with all of the lawyer speak and advocating. He wasn't arguing, per se, but was definitely stern as he asserted his known rights as a traveler. "Being that it seems that I'm the only wheelchair user on this flight, my chair gets priority of that space over, let's say, a stroller or a car seat. If you could ensure that that space is available before I board, I would greatly appreciate having my chair in the cabin with me."

He wasn't always so vocal about this– if there was an elderly person with a walker or wheelchair on his same flight, he usually allowed them to claim the coveted compartment. But situations like this were different. Up until this point, his experiences traveling without either of his parents alongside him were pretty much limited to Glee Club trips. And even then, he'd had Mr. Schue to help him out. But should anything go awry today, he'd be handling it on his own. He wasn't looking to start his getaway with Quinn by having to deal with a lost or damaged wheelchair. It wouldn't just be an inconvenience– it would mean the complete and total loss of his mobility and independence. At the risk of causing a scene, Artie would continue to metaphorically stand his ground and advocate for himself when he had so much on the line.

As one of the flight attendants went to check the availability of the space, Quinn tucked his chair's cushion under her arm, preparing to bring it on the plane as she'd had the good sense to assume that he'd need to sit on a more forgiving surface for the two-hour flight to avoid developing a pressure sore.

Sure enough, the cabinet was available, and Artie and Quinn hung tight as the attendants got his frame and wheels settled before returning to the human-sized dolley (also known by its more common name: the aisle chair) to board Artie onto the plane.

At their seats, Quinn stowed their carry-on luggage overhead and Artie's trusty backpack beneath the seat in front of her before setting Artie's cushion down. After she'd stepped out of the way, Artie transferred from the aisle chair, scooting over until he'd made it to the window seat where his seat cushion was waiting for him. When he was settled, she slid into the seat beside him, and they each let out a sigh of relief.

"Nice work," Quinn said. "Back there with the flight attendants. I didn't even know that there was room for your chair on board."

"Yeah, well, most flight attendants don't know that either," Artie told her. "Passengers traveling with mobility aids get priority when it comes to that bulkhead up front, but I think it's often used for miscellaneous storage. They ought to put a disclaimer sticker on it or something." He rolled his eyes. "Did you know that an average of thirty assistive devices are lost or damaged by airlines every single day? That'd be like if airlines broke thirty people's legs or something! It would be absurd, right? The workers often don't dissemble them properly or are too rough with handling them. It's a wheelchair that costs thousands of dollars, not a piece of luggage! It's part of what makes me so hesitant to travel."

Quinn shook her head, frowning. "Artie, I'm sorry. I… had no idea."

"No, please don't apologize," Artie told her, instantly feeling bad about the rant he'd inadvertently gone off on. "I just wanted to explain why I was being a diva just now. Flying kind of brings out the worst in me sometimes."

As the other passengers began to board the plane, Artie busied himself by shifting his position slightly. He hadn't meant to bring down his girlfriend's chipper mood at the start of their trip. The process of all that it took for him to travel by plane now just took much longer and was much more stressful than it was for the average person. He had much more to worry about losing than just a suitcase.

The flight was just under two hours long, and after the forty-five minute cab ride, they made it to New Haven with a few hours to spare ahead of the welcome party that evening. The mixer event was scheduled to kick off the weekend's activities for all of Yale's newest Bulldogs, and Artie was looking forward to the chance to settle in and rest a bit beforehand.

They were staying at a hotel on Yale's campus for the next few days, as opposed to Quinn staying in the dorms like the incoming students typically do. Apparently after explaining their need for accessibility, the school had given Quinn a voucher for a discounted nightly rate. Because of that, Artie didn't feel so bad, but he still wished that certain things could be easier sometimes. Being disabled was very expensive. He was just grateful that he had a girlfriend who consistently planned ahead as much as he did and had anticipated all of the accessibility measures he'd need. By taking that off his plate, Quinn was vastly improving what was an already stressful weekend spent outside of his comfort zone.

Their accessible hotel room was perfectly up to Artie's standards– complete with a lowered queen-size bed, sink, and countertop, a spacious bathroom, a shower chair, and assistive handrails on the walls. Both more than satisfied with their home away from home for the weekend, Quinn got right to work unpacking for the both of them, hanging up their clothes, and organizing her toiletries in the bathroom as Artie stretched out on the bed to get some relief for his tight back and hips.

"Ha! I texted Watson to see how Warbler Camp is going, and listen to this text I just got back," Artie announced. "It says, 'Your bro is spending more time coddling the new guys than he is trying to make their lives a living hell. Word around camp is that Smythe's gone soft'."

Artie and Quinn shared a laugh at that, remembering everything that Seb had put the New Directions through last season.

"Well, in Sebastian's defense, who he is today is a far cry from who he once was," Quinn said, surprising Artie, as it had taken her a notoriously long time to come around to Seb's constant presence. She hung a sundress on a hanger, put it in the closet, and smoothed the wrinkles out of the fabric before moving on to the next. "Maybe this summer has changed him for the better."

Artie's mind immediately went to the night of the wrap party. The way Sebastian had defied Artie's requests had certainly been characteristic of his typical self, but the state Artie had found him in the next morning and the way that he had opened up to him about his inner turmoil had not been. Perhaps he really was turning a corner.

"Yeah, you're right," Artie agreed, solemnly nodding. "He's still got a ways to go, but he's good. I'm proud of him."

…

"Is it just as you remembered?" Artie asked Quinn, glancing up at her as he noticed the way she was taking in their surroundings in awe.

Quinn nodded, smiling to herself and then to him. "Exactly as I remember. Isn't it gorgeous?"

"It is."

After leaving the hotel, both Artie and Quinn were taken aback by the beauty of New Haven on their walk across campus. Yale's Ivy League charm was palpable. It looked exactly like the photos Artie had seen in the brochures and online– like something out of Harry Potter. It was easy for Artie to see how a thirteen-year-old Quinn had been won over after just one visit, and he was excited to get the chance to explore more of the grounds by himself tomorrow while Quinn was busy participating in the scheduled orientation activities.

Tonight's welcome mixer was being held on the grassy quadrangle by the Old Campus dorms, where Quinn had told Artie that most students live their freshman year. Plenty of Quinn's future classmates had already gathered and begun to mingle with one another. Glancing over his shoulder, Artie could see Quinn hanging back.

"What's up?" he asked. "You gonna go say hello?"

Quinn gave a half-hearted shrug. "I'm a little nervous." Seeing Artie's disbelieving face, she went on. "It's been so long since I was the new kid. Do I even remember how to make friends? I mean, after all, it's not like Lucy had many. Then, in high school, pretty much all of my friends were either from Cheerios or Glee Club. And even those friends I blame on forced proximity, not my superior social skills."

"Oh, come on." Artie laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement. "You? Quinn Fabray?! Nervous? I don't believe it for a second. You've never been nervous a day in your life. Are you forgetting that you used to, like, part the school hallways like Moses parted the Red Sea?"

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, Artie," she replied doubtfully with a small shake of her head. "Before Beth, before The Skanks, before–"

"Well, now's as good a time as any to find that part of yourself again," Artie told her, not willing to listen to another excuse. She was one of the greatest friends he'd ever had. Surely everyone else would think so, too, once they got to know her. "Just pick a group of people and go up and introduce yourself."

"I don't think it's that easy…"

"Sure it is."

Artie scanned the crowd that had assembled out on the quad, his gaze landing on three students– a guy and two girls– huddled together holding (what were, presumably, non-alcoholic) drinks in red Solo cups.

Bingo.

"Follow me."

As he used his biceps to make big strides across the grass, Artie was secretly proud. After all, he had a shy side, too. There were plenty of circumstances where he wouldn't be bold enough to go up to a group of people he didn't know and introduce himself. But being that going about his daily life inconspicuously and blending in wasn't exactly an option, he'd learned to embrace his extroverted side. That included moments like now, suavely venturing over to a group of preppy strangers and introducing himself and his girlfriend. Artie wanted Quinn to start off her Yale experience on the right foot.

"Hey," Artie greeted them, immediately receiving three surprised looks, followed by up-down glances as they took in his presence. Ignoring this, Artie stuck his hand out toward the guy in the group. "I'm Artie Abrams. Nice to meet you."

Taking his hand out of his back pocket, the dirty blonde guy returned his gesture. "Cal Marlowe."

Cal Marlowe looked like he could have been a recent graduate of Dalton Academy: visibly wealthy, sophisticated, and self-assured. He was wearing boat shoes, salmon-colored shorts, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. Artie privately admired the look, mentally cataloging it for outfit inspiration. He didn't know how he felt about the pink shorts (he did know, however, that Seb would be all for them), but the rest of the look was a more age-appropriate, relaxed version of what he typically wore anyways. Maybe he'd give it a shot.

The girls– a serious-faced one with long blonde hair tied back in a braid, and a tall brunette in a Polo shirtdress– introduced themselves as Vivian and Cassidy.

"And you are?" Cal asked, turning his focus to Quinn. His gaze was full of desire– like a dog that drools upon seeing a turkey come out of the oven. Artie, ever the experienced one when it came to his girlfriends being the subject of someone else's affectionate glance, knew those signs all too well. He'd have to keep an eye on this guy.

"Quinn," she answered, meekly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before she followed Artie's lead by shaking the three of their hands.

"Nice to meet you all," Artie told them. After glancing at their surroundings, desperately searching for his golden ticket to getting this conversation off the ground, Artie was forced to settle for a boring subject instead. "Nice place, huh? I've never been to New Haven before. We're from Ohio."

"Sure," Cal said, shrugging. "I mean, I'm from Greenwich and my parents and my siblings all went here, so I'm used to it. But, sure, yeah, I guess it's nice…"

"You've never seen the school?" Vivian asked, tilting her head to the side with confusion. "But you're going to be a student here?"

"Ah. Great question. I can see why you might think that, seeing as I'm here at this event for incoming undergrad students," Artie awkwardly acknowledged, fully aware that he was embarrassingly dancing around the point he was trying to make. "But, uh, no. I'm not. You see, I'm still a senior in high school. I'm here with Quinn."

"Oh, so you are a student here," Cal said to Quinn in such a flirty way that it told Artie that, even in his position beside her, he was invisible. "Where are you living in the fall?"

As the four of them then got to talking about which dorms they'd be moving into and the orientation groups they'd been assigned to for the weekend, Artie was pleased with just sitting back and listening. However, just when Artie was about to pat himself on the back for swiftly integrating Quinn into Yale's student life, things began to go south.

"My uncle is confined to a wheelchair," the tall brunette girl with the pearl necklace– Cassidy– told him somewhat randomly, seemingly by way of making conversation.

Artie felt himself visibly cringe at the outdated language this girl was using. Why was it that every time he met someone new, they felt the need to tell them about some random connection they had to a disabled person? As if they all knew each other, or like Artie was going to give her a prize for not having only able-bodied acquaintances. It was a weird interaction that he'd been on the receiving end of countless times since he'd started using a chair.

"He was in the Army," she continued. "What happened to you?"

Artie was stunned by the bluntness of her question. He caught Quinn's eye and could see that she was thinking the same thing. What was up with people always assuming they had a right to know all of his personal medical information? Just because his chair was visible didn't mean that he owed them an explanation for how he'd landed in it. It'd taken him two years to broach that topic with Tina, and she's his best friend. Artie had come a long way since being that shy freshman who'd overshared by assuring her that he still had the use of his penis, but that didn't mean he was ready to go around rehashing his childhood trauma with every stranger he came into contact with. He didn't even know this girl.

Quinn seemed to feel the same way.

"He doesn't have to tell you that," she challenged, narrowing her eyes at Cassidy. "Why do you think you deserve to know? That's none of your business."

"It was just a question." The girl shrugged, seemingly unaware of the way she'd made Artie uncomfortable and unbothered by Quinn's justified reaction as she sipped on her iced tea. "Who are you, his mom?"

"I'm his girlfriend."

Cal, Vivian, and Cassidy weren't even being subtle as they exchanged a surprised glance amongst themselves. Upon seeing this, Artie tilted his head again, just slightly, to meet Quinn's gaze. She just rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Is there an issue?" she asked, exasperated by a conversation that hadn't even happened yet, but one that she and Artie both knew was coming.

"I mean, you two look so cute together," blonde-haired Vivian began, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "But…"

"'But…'?" Quinn repeated, standing with her arms akimbo, daring the girl to finish her sentence. "But, what?"

"You're, like, so brave to be in a relationship like that at our age."

"Ha, well, I know my taste in fashion isn't for everyone, but I don't think she's that brave to be seen with a guy in khakis and saddle shoes," Artie joked, putting up a front and trying to win them over by being self-deprecating. While dealing with unwarranted opinions on his interabled relationship was a new experience, Artie was used to being overlooked and underestimated. He knew how to use himself as a punchline.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn, who'd been nothing but charming and polite up until that point, was suddenly unafraid to speak her mind.

Vivian shot a sorrowful glance in Artie's direction as if he were a pitiful animal in an ASPCA commercial and not a functioning, breathing human being right in front of her. "Just that you're, like, devoting your whole life to, like, take care of him. You're so nice for that. I couldn't do what you do, Quinn."

Well, that was certainly one Artie hadn't heard before. "Oh, she doesn't–"

"I don't–"

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way," Cal said, placing an unwelcome arm around Quinn's shoulders, "but you're way out of his league."

Cal punctuated his statement with a grin of blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth. He seemed to think that by smiling, they'd ignore his wildly ignorant comment.

"How the hell else would I interpret that?!" Quinn retorted, shrugging his arm away and crossing her arms over her chest. "Aside from you being an asshole."

"Whoa, listen to the mouth on this one!" Cal turned to the girls on either side of him, holding up his hands in surrender, acting as if he hadn't said anything to deserve the name-calling.

"Listen, I know I don't look like much," Artie quipped, trying again in vain to make them laugh and put this conversation to rest. As the minutes went on, it was becoming more difficult for Artie to summon even a fraction of the courage and self-confidence he'd possessed just minutes before. "But my sexual prowess is legendary among the Great Lakes states."

'Sexual prowess'? Artie internally chastised himself for the strange selection of words he'd chosen. Artie, what?!

It was no use. Nobody was paying him any attention. Quinn was giving Cal a murderous death stare, as he stood unapologetically smug across from her. The two girls– Vivian and Cassidy – both seemed entertained. It was as if Artie wasn't even there. All he could do was sit there and watch the almost unbelievable conversation play out above his head.

"You," Quinn said, addressing the three of them sternly through gritted teeth, ignoring Artie's attempt to cut in and de-escalate with humor, "are way out of line."

"Hey, whoa, no need to get all worked up. I'm just saying you can do better, is all," Cal doubled down and laughed with a wink. "Wait until the fall and you'll see what I mean."

Artie tried to act unbothered by what was being said as his gaze flickered once again from Cal to Quinn, but his heart was subconsciously racing and his face was growing hot. What affected him most, though, was when he realized how upset Quinn had become.

"I don't need to do any better," Quinn huffed, her green eyes welling up with tears. "I already have the best there is."

And with that, she borrowed a page out of Rachel Berry's book. Turning on her heel, she stormed off in a flash, leaving the three preppies and Artie behind.

Artie couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, even though the comments fired at him and Quinn by Cal had been uncalled for, his presence had been what sparked the conversation in the first place. Quinn was just defending him. This was her orientation, filled with the people who would be her peers for the next four years. Artie couldn't help but feel like his presence was ruining that experience for her. Though, if the way she'd handled herself just now by shutting down their invasive questions and defending their relationship was any indication, it was obvious she didn't feel that way. She wasn't embarrassed by him, and she was sure to let everyone know it.

"I think we're going to go grab something to drink," Artie told the group, gripping the push rims of his wheels to keep his hands from trembling. "It was, uh, really nice talking with the three of you. If you'll excuse me."

Artie pushed across the bumpy terrain of the grass over to where Quinn stood on the outskirts of the group with her back to everyone, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

"Quinn?" Artie called gently, coming up from behind her and resting his hand on the small of her back. "Are… are you okay? I can see that they upset you."

"I'm fine," Quinn answered, turning around to face him as she wiped her eyes, trying not to smudge her makeup. "I'm sorry, Artie. About what they were saying back there and for leaving you with them like that. I just couldn't bear to hear anything else they had to say. I–"

"Hey, look at me," Artie interrupted her, holding his hands out for her to take. "It's okay. I'm good. I don't care what those idiots think about me. I mean, I've heard worse from Sebastian and Puck."

He could laugh at that, and it wasn't long before she joined in, too. Artie's heart fluttered. There was the girl he knew.

"Listen," Artie began, squeezing her hands before dispensing some of the knowledge he'd acquired long ago for dealing with closed-minded individuals. "Yeah, what they said back there was unexpected and rude, but it doesn't mean anything to me. They don't know anything about me aside from what they can tell at first glance. They don't know that I'm currently tied for class Valedictorian. Or that I'm still addicted to Angry Birds." A small smile appeared on her face, despite the state she was in. He went on. "Or that I have some serious dance moves."

He took a moment to demonstrate that, putting his pride aside and performing some goofy moves for Quinn's eyes only, even though they were still surrounded by plenty of strangers. His risk paid off, though. He'd gotten her to laugh.

"And those snobs certainly don't know anything about us or our relationship and how amazing it is," Artie continued. "They don't know any of that, okay? So I try not to give their judgment any weight. Because how can they form an accurate opinion on someone they haven't yet spoken six words to?"

Spotting an open cooler filled with soda cans, Artie wheeled closer, selecting a Sprite for Quinn and a Coke for himself.

"Come on, let's make the best of tonight. You've worked so hard to make your dreams come true by getting accepted, and we came all the way here. I'm not going to let some group of losers ruin this experience for you. Let's go back out there and find some different people to talk to," Artie suggested, taking a sip of his soda before tucking the can between his knees. "Surely not everyone is as stuck-up, ignorant, and backward-thinking as those guys, right?"

He offered Quinn a smile. After taking a moment to collect herself, Quinn took a deep breath and nodded, returning his optimistic expression. The last thing Artie wanted was for one conversation to ruin their special trip, and he was glad to see that Quinn felt the same way.

As they left the buffet table and set off toward the other side of the quad, the comments that had been made were still ringing in Artie's ears. He was determined to push them away, though. He'd bottle them up for now and revisit them after Quinn had gone to sleep tonight. This was her weekend, Artie reminded himself. It wasn't about him.