An introduction-Hello there fellow Gleeks! As you may have already noticed, I'm new here-not to the site per se, I've been reading fanfic for years-just new to publishing my work on it. I don't consider myself a very strong writer, just a shameless fangirl of Kevin's who has finally decided to show her adoration for (him)Artie in the form of a story. This piece will be a rather angsty two-shot immediately following the commercial shoot in 'Mattress'.

Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. However, since said writers have yet to elaborate on anything more than telling us Artie's Mom is "fine" after the accident and his Dad "drives him everywhere", the rest of the Abrams family and this plot has been solely the product of my overactive imagination.

Training-wheels

Just as he was about to reach the front porch, Artie's phone started ringing for what was about the seventh time today. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and looked down a the screen. Seeing the all too familiar number he let out a soft sigh, hit the end button and tossed the phone into his lap. "I'm home," he called out as soon as he got inside.

Alicia Abrams rushed out of the kitchen, house phone still in hand, just as Artie was shrugging out of his coat. "Oh thank God," she breathed, a little over dramatically for Artie's liking. He couldn't help but smile up at her anyway.

"Sorry I'm so late. Kurt got suckered into driving the majority of us home since he has the biggest vehicle, just so happens I was second to the last on his route."

"You should have said something when I called you earlier Sweetheart," she replied, taking the coat from his grasp and hanging it up in the entryway closet. Which time? Artie thought jokingly to himself. "One of us would have come to pick you up."

"I know Mom, but it was fine," he answered, shrugging off her constant concern with his award winning grin. "I was fine."

Mrs. Abrams did her best to force a genuine smile but it came off more as one of relief. "Good." She gave his shoulder a squeeze with her free hand as she placed a lingering kiss atop his head. "Now go get washed up for dinner. We were just about to sit down to eat."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely true. Artie knew his mom was holding up dinner just for him and he'd be lying if he said her tendency to overcompensate didn't ever-so-slightly, kinda bother him sometimes. It did-sometimes. But that's just how things were. Obediently, he nodded and headed for his bedroom.

A few minutes later, Artie was finally ready to join the rest of the family around the dinning room table. His seven-year old sister Abbey anxiously waiting for him to pull into the open spot right beside her. After a long string of silence while the platters and bowls were sufficiently passed around, Mr. Abrams was the one to start up the typical dinnertime conversation. "So how was every ones day?".

There was another long pause before Mrs. Abrams finally looked over at her husbands awaiting gaze. "Oh sorry. Mine was fine," she answered distractedly, turning her focus back to watching their oldest son who at the moment, was grinning wildly at his mashed potatoes.

He'd pick up on his wife's nervous energy as soon as he got home, but it was this new distant almost sad expression she wore that puzzled him most. He decided to leave it be for now and continue on with his children. "Andy," he called out next, acknowledging his second oldest who was seated next to his mother. "An-dy?"

When she heard her sons name for the second time without response, Mrs. Abrams was pulled from her own thoughts. As she glanced to her left, she found a thin wire snaking down the side of his neck. "Andrew, what did I say about listening to your I-pod at the dinner table?"

Artie's head sprang up at the increased tone of his mothers voice. She never, ever yelled, so when her pitch rose even slightly, something was definitely wrong. He looked cautiously over at his scolded brother who's hand was still clutching where the earpiece had been unceremoniously yanked out. Andy mumbled in reply, "Not to do it."

"Then don't," his mother warned, more softly this time but still a bit clipped. "Now, your father was asking you a question young man. How was your day?"

The eighth-grader just shrugged. "It was alright-I went to school, ate lunch, went to wrestling practice-same as yesterday."

His father wasn't exactly thrilled with the boys lack of detail or enthusiasm, but the reply seemed to pacify him for the moment. He was just about to acknowledge his eldest when Abbey's hand shot up and she began chanting "Pick me, pick me." Artie chuckled at his little sister while their father proceeded to ask her about her day as well. "It was awesome-we had art today and we made leaf collages and then we had pancakes for lunch." Her eyes went as wide as her grin and she giggled. "I got two chocolate milks by mistake." The mood around the table was definitely lightened as the little girl spoke, save for Andy who was rolling his eyes at just about everything that came out of her mouth. "And we couldn't do our math test because Mrs. Morrison couldn't find them and we got to have gym outside-."

"Wow. It sounds like you really did have an awesome day Abbs," Artie concurred, giving her a wink in the process.

She nodded happily but her expression dimmed a little as she continued to poke at her meatloaf. "Yeah we played basketball in gym and it was really great-until Cory threw up all over Amber's shoes."

There were a few groans, a "gross", and even an "eeewww", that followed Abbey's announcement. Mr. Abrams waited for the combined levity and digust to die down before turning his attention to the one person at the table that hadn't gone yet. Never one to beat around the bush, he just came right out and said, "I guess I can judge by the look on your face that your day went well Artie."

A quick yeah was Artie's only reply. After a few seconds of silence, he noticed the four pairs of eyes were still on him. At first he thought that maybe it was because he was still grinning like an idiot, but that wasn't it. Then, the realization of his mistake hit him hard. His family would never buy a one syllable reply from somebody in that good of a mood, especially him. If nothing else, Artie Abrams was a talker. When comfortable and especially with his close friends and family, he was constantly vocal-forever talking, singing, reading aloud, humming. It was the most endearing of the many qualities he had.

Quite aware this fact, Mr. Abrams pressed on. "Just pretty good, hmmm?," There it was, that glimmering spark in his sons eyes, that unmistakable smirk. He chuckled under his breath "Are you going to let us in on what happened today that's you grinning like a Cheshire cat, or do we have to guess?"

"Artie's got a girlfriend?," Abbey shouted excitedly.

Artie lowered his blushing face in embarrassment and laughed. "No Abbs, I don't have a girlfriend." With his head cast down, Artie wasn't able to see how the words he'd just uttered clouded his mothers already saddened expression. Mr. Abrams did. Artie shifted a little before looking back up. "It's just this thing we had to do for Glee club-was really fun."

"So it has something to do with that super important, super long rehearsal you had today," Mr. Abrams deduced playfully while still keeping his eyes trained on his fragile looking wife. Artie smiled bashfully at his dad. "Ahh, it must be some top secret Glee-club-members-only thing us parents can't know about yet."

Artie shrugged. "No, it's not really a secret-or at least it won't be, come tonight during the ten o'clock news." So much for keeping it a surprise until it airs Stupid. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, this was another one of his endearing qualities-the complete inability to be discreet.

The elder Abrams cast each other worried glances. What could their son and his classmates have done to warrant a slot on the late night news?

As if reading his parents minds, Andy snickered from across the table. "What'd you guys do-knock over a convenience store?"

Artie ignored his brothers comment but caught the exchange between his parents, and back peddled. "It's not anything bad. In fact it's really, really good." This revelation just made everyone more curious and more anxious as to what this big news was. Artie inhaled deeply, excitedly. "We, um-well, we kinda shot a commercial today."

"Like a real commercial, on tv?," Andy asked incredulously.

Artie shot his brother a quizzical look. "Yes like a real commercial on tv. One that will air tonight. During the ten o'clock news." He must not have been clear before-either that or his brother was really slow.

"You're famous now Artie," Abbey squealed in delight.

"No, not really Abbs-." Artie was just trying to be totally honest, but when he saw the way her smile suddenly turned into a disappointed frown he leaned over and whispered into her ear. "Okay, maybe just a little famous." The smile returned and even bigger than before.

"Was it something to promote the Glee Club?" The question came from his mother and for some reason that surprised Artie. She hadn't spoken a single word in the past twenty minutes, and when she had previously, it was to reprimand his brother. He could tell her voice still wasn't it's normal tone, it cracked and was tired sounding but at least it was something.

"Well not exactly." Artie chose his next words carefully. "I mean I guess we ended up promoting ourselves anyway, but the actual ad was um-for Mattress Land."

Andy nearly spit out his drink when he laughed. "You guys were singing about mattresses?"

Artie frowned slightly. He knew it wasn't exactly the most exciting sounding part to star in but like Rachel said, at least it was getting your foot in the door. "Well we did sing yes, but not an actual song about mattresses. We did a routine to Van Halen's Jump."

Mr. Abrams nodded approvingly. "Nice. A piece from my generation."

Artie beamed. "It was so amazing." He rambled on for minutes, recounting every single detail from how they got the part, to the pajamas they wore as costumes-and made it a point to mention that they all got to take theirs home and that his were in his backpack-to the lame script they were supposed to read from, and finally to the half-hour power rehearsal they were allotted to learn both song and choreography. "So we're in this warehouse filled with tons of mattresses. I was up on the stack in the back right corner-well right corner from my point of view but if you're looking at your tv screen-"

Artie's voice trailed off as he saw a look of terror come over his mother as she gasped out in utter disbelief. "You were on top of the mattresses, in your chair?"

"Well yeah. But I was safely in the middle of this raise platform that only looks like a mattress, and I had my brakes on the entire time." That piece of information did nothing to quell his mothers concern, nor did what he said next. "It was totally stable, didn't move at all-not even when Santana was jumping next to me."

Mr. Abrams could tell that this might be a good time to step in and redirect where the conversation was clearly headed. "Sounds like you had a lot of fun Son."

"I really did Dad," Artie replied, his smile returning some. "I mean sure, at first I was sorta bummed that I was gonna be stuck in the back waiving a sign that just read "JUMP", but then the gang gave me my own little solo with Tina, Quinn and Mercedes as my backup and that more than made up for it".

"What was it like Artie?" Abbey giggled with delight as she imagined what it would be like to get to jump on her bed without getting in trouble for it.

Artie grinned at his sister. "Well, it was really big in there, and hot, and there was this kind of echo-but the sound guys said they'd be able to fix it before the commercial airs. There were cameras and lights-"

"No, I mean how was it," she interrupted impatiently. "Is it like just jumping on a regular bed or was it like a giant trampoline covered in pillows?"

Andy snickered. "How would he know Stupid? He can't jump," he reminded Abbey. Her only response was the protrusion of her tongue in his direction.

"Actually Andy, it turns out I can jump," Artie countered, shifting excitedly. His hands were becoming just as animated as his voice as he continued with his explanation. "It only took one take to shoot the commercial. Mr. Cusperberg the owner, was so pleased with us that he let us have some extra time on the mattresses. Before I knew what was going on, Puck and Finn carried me back down from the fake mattress and tossed me onto the real one just below. Honestly, I would've been fine to just lay there and take a nap, but then Mike and Brittany came up, one on either side of me, and asked me if I wanted to jump."

Artie grabbed his phone and pulled up the picture as proof and waved it around the table so everyone could see. "I guess it might be considered more like bouncing, but after a while I was getting some pretty good air."

Just as the photo was about to enter her field of vision, Mrs. Abrams cried out. "Arthur, what in the world were you thinking?" The shrillness of her voice startled him, but before he had a chance to form a coherent reply, she continued, "Having your friends lift and carry you without being properly trained and allowing them to jump around you while you're lying right under their feet is dangerous at best-not to mention the liability of that owner for having a minor, in a wheelchair no less, parked on top of a pile of mattresses. Your teacher should be ashamed of himself for letting something like that-."

"Mr. Shue doesn't know," Artie admitted quietly.

"Doesn't know?" she scoffed. Artie shook his head solemnly. "If the school wasn't involved, then how did you get permission to do this?". One step ahead of her, Artie was already pulling the paper out of his backpack. Mrs. Abrams took one look at it and turned to her husband in shock. "You knew about this?"

"What? No, I had no idea," Mr. Abrams assured her.

All eyes fell back onto Artie. He was definitely starting to feel the pressure. "You guys weren't home yet and I was the only one who still needed permission. I didn't want to hold things up and this was the only time we could do it. They had to shoot the commercial today-."

"So you forged your fathers signature!" He couldn't decide if his mothers statement was in the form of a question or not, but considering the tone she used when she said it, it really didn't matter all that much.

"No, not exactly," he replied meekly. "I signed mine-it just so happens that me and Dad have the same exact name." Mrs. Abrams covered her face with her hands in defeat. Artie tried again. "Mom. It was just supposed to be a few speaking parts. You know, look pretty and smile. But then we decided to do this number and by then it was too late to turn back." While he paused to take a breath, a small smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, it was probably the most fun I've had in a really long time".

His words were soft and honest and they tugged at Mrs. Abrams heartstrings. She slowly lifted her her face from her hands. "I understand Sweetheart, but don't you realized badly you could have been hurt if something went wrong? I mean what it someone fell on you, or you slipped off-."

"Mom, I'm constantly getting jumped on," he countered, shooting his little sister a very pointed look, "and it's not like I never fall or bump into things." He was suddenly having a hard time suppressing the laugh that was building up inside of his chest. God, if she only knew half of the things that went on at school-getting knocked from his chair, the patriotic wedgie, the dumpster toss, how the guys had to carry him chair and all, into and out of the auditorium everyday before the new ramps were installed. "And if Finn and Puck would've dropped me on my butt, it's not like I would've felt it anyway."

The jibe was hit, but apparently only with those at the table who were under the age of seventeen. Artie almost didn't catch his mothers muffled "excuse me" over all the noise, as she quickly sprung from the table.

"Nice one genius," Andy taunted, still chuckling.

Artie glanced over at his father apologetically. "It was just a joke Dad."

"I know Ace," he replied, using Artie's nickname as a form of comfort. "Your mom's just been kind of-off today." He looked through the doorway into the kitchen where his wife had retreated mere seconds before.

"No Dad," Artie called out as his father was preparing to stand, presumably to follow his mother. "I'll go." Mr. Abrams nodded and sat back to finish the cooling meal he was suddenly no longer hungry for.

Artie found her standing over the sink, her back to him. "Mom?"

"Oh hey Honey." She did a lousy job of masking her voice as she tried discretely to dry her eyes. It didn't work. "I was just getting the pie."

"But we aren't finished eating yet," Artie reminded her.

A shaky laugh escaped her lips as she walked over to the oven to turn it on, her back still to him. "I know. I just wanted to heat it up a bit. I know how you kids like it when the warm pie melts your ice cream."

Artie pushed forward. "Do you need any help?" he offered coming to a stop near the center island.

"No thanks," she replied, busying herself with getting the dessert plates out of an upper cabinet.

Artie sighed heavily and scanned the room, trying to figure out what he could do to help his mom. He was just about to offer to make the coffee, when he caught sight of the stack today's mail off to his right. He immediately singled out the large white envelope with bold black print, addressed to him. Ohio State Department of Motor Vehicles-You, the Handicapped Driver. Crap. Of all the days, this had to show up today? If it had been any other Thursday Artie would have gotten home after Glee Club rehearsal in time to intercept the mail. Thursdays his Mom always went to the office for the afternoon before heading straight to Abbey's school to pick her up and take her to her ballet class while Dad would go right from work to pick up Andy from wrestling.

It was all starting to make sense now.

"Look Mom, I'm sorry about not telling you guys-."

"I'm sorry too Sweetheart-."

They spoke over each others words. Mrs. Abrams forced out a small smile as she finally turned to face him. Their eyes only met for a second before her gaze fell to his hand, still fingering the corner of the parcel. "You're not really mad about the commercial thing, are you?" Artie asked gently.

"Oh yes I am," she replied quickly and honestly.

"But it's not the only thing that's bothering you. Right?"

Artie was always so good at that-reading people. Mrs. Abrams looked away and reflexively shrugged. It was the only response she could muster considering her throat had seized up and she was fighting hard to control the tears that were threatening to fall. She moved slowly along the island and picked up the envelope, carrying it to the kitchen table where she sat down silently. Artie followed, spinning around and giving one big push to cross the short distance. He pulled up beside her, having first moved the kitchen chair that was in his way. He could have just as easily swung around the table to the open spot that was left for him, but for some reason Artie knew his mother needed him close.

While she sat there, wringing her hands nervously in her lap, Artie took the time to study her. Aside from inheriting his fathers dark hair and bad vision, the rest of him was all his mother-right down to the smile. Right now though, all he saw in her features was pain and sadness. He was watching her so intently that her almost didn't hear her soft voice ask, "Do you remember it?".

Artie swallowed hard. They never talked about it. "The accident?" he asked just to be certain. Mrs. Abrams let out the long breath she'd been holding and nodded slowly. Artie wasn't sure how answer. He knew he couldn't tell her the truth-that he remembered almost every second of that day-so he blurted the first that came to his mind. "Bits and pieces." His mother simply nodded again.

Soon, the silence that filled the room brought back memories that were forcing both of them to relive the events of that fateful day.