Title: What a Good Boy
Author: justtowrite/ ARPfics
Characters: Artie and family
Rating: K+
Author's notes: Written for hiatus_glee #79 - Nightmares
Summary: Artie's so done with his stupid wheelchair. Post-Wheels.

A/N 2: I kinda want to write more about Jess and Artie in the hospital now. :(

The nightmares were back. Artie Abrams was curled up in the back seat of his mother's van, fast asleep. His uncle had been severely injured in a house fire about three months ago. He'd been a brave firefighter and now he was fighting just to stay alive. His mom said it was a bad year for everybody. The young boy had asked her what that meant and she said he would understand when he got older. She said that a lot of bad things had happened in 2001. Artie just nodded because he'd seen those scary pictures on TV. It wasn't the smoking buildings he saw when he closed his eyes though; it was his uncle. His mother told him that Uncle James needed a machine to help him breath. In his childish innocence, Artie imagined his uncle lived in a huge monster robot that controlled his every movement. Suddenly, a huge crash interrupted his nightmare.

If it had happened to anyone else, that car crash could have left Artie's life a nightmare.
==

Artie groaned and forcefully flipped his limp body over. He gasped and shook himself awake. He'd been having the nightmares again... Thank god it was Saturday. Most of the time, he could fake happiness, but not today. Today, he couldn't bare the thought of going to school. He pushed himself up until he was sitting and grabbed his glasses off his night stand. The ugly monster of a wheelchair was his first sight. He sighed hard. Even though his friends had done a wheelchair number for him, they would never totally understand what it was like. The girl who he'd thought was his best friend didn't understand, so why would anyone else? He'd heard about Finn's little wheelchair freak out and his later wheelchair fight with Puck, but that was old news by now. Artie was stuck with his own damn wheelchair forever... and right now, he was so done with it.

He had long since outgrown the LED light-up wheels, the cushion that raised him higher and those stupid red footrests. While he'd really prefer no wheelchair, he wished he could at least go for one of those sleek low-riding deals with thick chrome sides. Their insurance said no new wheelchair until he turned 18 or until they could pay for it out of pocket, which was pretty much out of the question. Maybe he could just pretend it didn't exist... Artie leaned over the best he could and turned around wheelchair and flipped up the small lock in the back. He was rewarded with a small click as the wheelchair folded in on itself. He pushed the chair up against the wall and covered it with an extra blanket. There, if you didn't look very closely, it was almost as if there was nothing besides loose linens. He knew he would have to get up eventually... He rolled over and went back to sleep.

"Artie?" He felt a sharp poke in his side and pushed himself away. That didn't dissuade his pursuer, who just poked him again. Artie finally opened his eyes and pushed himself up til he was sitting. He snorted and pulled his cockeyed glasses back onto his face.

"Urgh, what do you want, Jessica?" He squinted at his older sister.

She just smiled at him and held out a small tray of food. "Mom said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you breakfast in bed."

"Aww," Artie smiled a little despite himself. "How the hell did she know?"

Jess nodded at the tall pile of blankets next to his bed. She carefully balanced the food on Artie's lap. He took hold of the tray with one hand. "I think the last time you tried to hide your wheelchair you were about 10," she smirked. "And don't curse like that. Mom's in the next room."

The boy winced. He knew all three of his older siblings were home this weekend. Andy and Jess had driven up from Columbus together while Jenna was surely hard at work some 12th grade science project. "How'd you draw the short straw of visiting your cripple little brother?"

Jess ignored him for the moment, pulling down the blanket and setting up his wheelchair. She turned to him and sat on the end of the bed. "Eat the oatmeal," she encouraged.

Artie only had to take a whiff of brown sugar and his stomach started growling. The clock said it was after 11. He shoved a few mouthfuls down before he looked up at his sister. "What?"

Jess studied her little brother and shook her head. "You're gonna have to face the world eventually."

"Why?" He asked between bites. "I just want a day off, you know? I don't want to talk to anyone, not mom, not any of you guys." His phone vibrated, as if on cue. It was a message from Tina. "And definitely not her."

Jess snuck a peak at his phone. "I thought she was your friend."

Artie shrugged, "that's what I thought." He focused on the plate in front of him, avoiding her piercing blue eyes, so much like Artie's own eyes.

"Artie..."

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it." He looked up suddenly, daring her to object. He put the tray of oatmeal on his nightstand and started to push himself off the bed. "You know, you're right. It's stupid to stay home all day. I'm sure you guys are just gonna take turns visiting the sick or whatever."

Jess stood up suddenly. "You're never like this." She shook her head and stood between Artie and his wheelchair. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't think you should just roam the streets of Lima."

"That's what Andy did when he was 16," Artie rolled his eyes, thinking of his prodigal oldest brother, who somehow always got away with his reckless behavior.

"You're not Andy and I wouldn't want you to be." She shook her head. "You're such a good kid, not like Andy. I thought you were happy with your life, now that you're in glee club and jazz band."

"I don't care about that stuff, not anymore." He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and balanced himself precariously on the edge. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"You think I'm letting you go that easy? I'll get Jenna in here if you don't talk."

Artie had to smile. Jenna was only two years older than him, but she acted like she was 25 sometimes. She had tons of energy and would make a great Cheerio, if she cared about school spirit at all. She said cheerleading was for little kids and she was too busy focusing on her school work for many extra-curriculars. Out of the four of the Abrams kids, Jenna was also the bossiest and would tell you exactly what she thought of you, no matter how much that might hurt. The truth hurt, she said, but you've got to be able to handle it. Artie had taken her advice numerous times, but while people always seemed to love Jenna's honesty, they almost always turned away from Artie's blunt attitude. Artie's gaze fell on the wheelchair before him... No, he had been right about Tina. No one understood what it was like.

"Look," Artie finally sighed, realizing that he wasn't getting past his older sister. Besides, Jess had always been his favorite sister. She always made everyone smile because she was just so easy to talk to and never judged anyone. They had something intangible in common - she had been in that car crash with him. Jess still badly limped on the leg that had been propped up against Artie's door. "This really sucks, OK? Remember how I told you our glee club was doing a song in wheelchairs?" Jess just nodded, scared to interrupt. "Well, that was pretty cool, but at the end of the day, they could get up and walk away. Maybe now they understand a little bit what it's like, but at the end of the day, they get to be normal again. All of them," he sighed, Tina's face occupying his mind. He shook his head hard, trying to rid himself of the image. What she'd done was unforgivable.

"Would you really wish it on any of them?" Jess glanced back at his wheelchair. The quick movement made her stumble a bit on her weak right leg. "I know I was back on my feet while you were still in rehab, but I know what it's like. Heck, I had to go to middle school all hunched over like this." She did her best impression of trying to hobble around awkwardly on crutches. Artie had to laugh despite himself. "Middle school! Can you imagine the horror?"

Artie snorted, shaking his head. "I guess it's good the kids in my grade sort of got used to me before they hit puberty."

Jess nodded frantically. "And if you think you have it bad, you should have seen how worried Mom was about me."

"What about me?" Their mother picked the perfect moment to peak her head in the door.

"Oh, nothing," Jess smiled. "We're just reminiscing. I think it's time," she nodded, rumbling Artie's hair before heading towards her mother. As she reached Mrs. Abrams, she pulled her mother close and whispered something in her ear. The woman just nodded.

"Time for what?" Artie looked between them, confused.

Mrs. Abrams looked up at Artie, her eyes moist. "I agree. It's time for you to meet Uncle James."
==

"Are you sure about this?" Mr. Abrams looked back at his son sitting behind him in the family's big accessible van. "I could tell your mother we got a flat tire or something."

Artie just nodded, rolling his eyes. "You know, that excuse only works in the Honda."

Mr. Abrams couldn't help but chuckle. "You're right." He turned the corner and pulled into a large parking lot behind a unremarkable institutional building. He parked in one of the handicapped spots and turned off the car.

Mr. Abrams got out of the car while Artie bent over and unbuckled his wheelchair. The van was completely useless now that Artie could get in and out of their Honda himself, but they'd needed it when they'd had two kids in wheelchairs. Mr. Abrams flipped open the rear door and let down the manual ramp. Artie pushed himself down the steep incline carefully. "Let's roll," Artie said, once he was safely on the ground.

His father laughed as he locked up the van. They made their way to the front entrance slowly. Artie paused a minute, looking up at the big entrance. "I always kinda wondered about him, you know?"

"Yeah," Mr. Abrams said softly. "We just didn't think this was a very good place for kids."

"Well, neither is rehab," Artie sighed and looked around the facility. It was more of a long term care facility than a rehab center; it didn't have that hospital smell that Artie hated so much. This place was warmer; the plants were real and some of the patients were actually smiling. Not a lot, but some. He knew the more independent patients lived in suite-like apartments on the lower floors. His uncle apparently had one of the best. Artie didn't ask what that meant. He felt too much like a patient here himself. He felt that any moment, a nurse would try to take him back to his room. Thankfully, they boarded the elevator without incident.

The hallway on his uncle's floor was adorned with wallpaper and old fashioned pastel prints. It still felt like an institution, but somehow, it felt like maybe people could actually live here. There was nobody out in the halls, but Artie wasn't surprised. That was one of the things he remembered most about rehab. He never really saw anyone, unless he was in group therapy or whatever. He'd only been eight, so that was probably part of the reason, but it had been such a lonely place. Artie wondered if this place was like that...

Mr. Abrams pushed open Uncle James' room and Artie awkwardly rolled himself through the wide door. The room was empty. Mr. Abrams knocked loudly on the door as father and son moved into the room. Artie heard movement from the hallway just out of his sight and slowly, a tall man moved down the hallway and into the living room where they stood. "Oh, sit down," he said, smiling widely at both of them. Artie moved back a little so he was next to the chair that his father now sat in. Uncle James sat down slowly on a recliner before them.

The older man had scars all over his face and wore thicker glasses than Artie's. He seemed to squint even through these thick lenses. He had a ventilator tube that went through a tracheostomy, but other than a loud hissing every few seconds, it didn't seem to have much affect on the man. He could obviously still talk, but Artie watched the artificial rise and fall of his chest curiously. This man could walk and talk, but he wasn't really free... He was stuck in this hospice, needing help just to get around. Thankfully, Artie could do most things by himself. Maybe he would never be able to dance like Mike Chang or get into fights like Puck, but did it really matter?

As his Uncle James proceeded to tell them all about his daily life and how he got along on a daily basis, Even though he couldn't live at home right now, he was happily married and hoped to rejoin his wife and kids some day soon. It turned out that he'd gone back and forth over the years and was currently recuperating from a bout of pneumonia. Artie nodded at this; just last year he had also been sick with a case of pneumonia that landed him in the hospital. Artie had been able to go home after a few weeks, but James had been in respite care for almost two months. He had high hopes of going home... he smiled at the mere thought of his young girls waiting for him. Artie couldn't help but notice just how happy the man was.

His life could be horrible, Artie thought, but it's not. And neither was Artie's. He knew he had good friends who had raised money so he could go to Sectionals with them. He was enjoying their crazy little club and how they had really come together lately. And as for his best friend? She had trusted him with a secret that she obviously was ashamed of... Maybe he could forgive her and maybe they could be happy... maybe one day.

In the meantime, the nightmares were gone.