Disclaimer: I don't own HA! C. Bartlett does. Or the song "U Remind Me," by Usher.
-oOo-
"You Remind Me"
Story by: Inuyasha-loves-Kagome
Written by: VirgoMaiden
He was an old man. He's known that for a while; ever since Helga punched him on his ailing shoulder and said "Way to go, Gramps, you're seventy-four" at his birthday party in front of all of his grandchildren (tragically, he never got as much respect as Helga did after that day).
But he's never felt older than when Helga died, because he knew then that the carefree life that he had lived – skipping out on eating his greens, coming up with elaborate plans with Helga on ways to meddle into their children and grandchildren's lives (Grandpa and Grandma would be proud) – was over. All of a sudden, his children were coming over at all hours, asking if he needed any errands to be run for him, if he remembered to take his pills, and to take a look at rewriting his will, since he left everything to Helga in it.
Helga. His wife Helga. Even now, two years after her death, he still feels as if she's on an errand, or is about to go to Elizabeth's parent day performance because her dad – their son – and his wife are having some issues and so she will be right back. Or that she is just around the corner, writing poetry and short stories and sending it into magazines. They still publish her stuff, and whenever they do, a check finds its way into a bank savings account for their grandchildren.
And he still finds her stuff around the house. Helga was not one for "Clean, house, clean mind." In fact, she was exactly the opposite. With every scrap of paper that she wrote on that she didn't put to use immediately would find its way under a sugar bowl, or under their toilet paper stash. ("For getting back at those pesky neighborhood kids," Helga would say, an evil glint in her eye, and he would find it best to not ask, even though she might show up at the front door, having forgotten her key, dressed all in black, at some obscure hour in the morning.) He remembers days when he would be home from work, on vacation, and she would suddenly need the scrap of paper that she had written on six months prior, and would then force him to help her look for it. Not that she needed to force him, of course; he would do anything for her, and she knew it. She knew it very well.
-oOo-
He's an old man. That much is for certain when Lila sees him. He's very weary-looking. Tired. But happy. And she recognizes him right away, too. Not because she's seen him before when she goes to the park to feed the geese and sees him standing at the railing with a blonde child at his side. Or two. Or three.
But because he's Arnold Mann, and she hasn't seen him in forty-six years.
Her Arnold. The one who, in fourth grade, always had a smile for her, time for her. But after eleventh grade, when he began to focus on his oncoming expedition to San Lorenzo, he changed.
But when she sees him on her rounds at the hospital early Tuesday morning, it feels as if he hasn't at all.
"Arnold?" she asks quietly, stunned. "Is that you?"
He looks over at her barely from his position in the bed – he looks so fragile, so pale – and smiles his million-dollar smile at her.
"Hello, Lila," he says. "You look fine this morning."
She blushes – she hasn't since she met Nick, and that was before the divorce – and begins tidying up while taking notes on his well being.
"I am fine," she says. "Now, what's this about you not eating your greens? Didn't Mrs. Petrelli have a talk with you about this?"
He shrugged. "I told her that I was old, and that I'd do whatever the hell that I wanted," he said simply, gazing out of his window.
Lila, despite her better judgement, laughed loudly, suddenly, and at the unexpectedness of it, clamped her hand over her mouth at it, blush filling her pale cheeks.
He smiled at her and said quietly, "You're just like Helga, you know that?"
Behind her, the door opened suddenly, and a young, handsome man rushed in, carrying a tray of coffee.
"Sorry that I'm late, Dad," he said, "but the line in the cafeteria was so long. I've got some extra cream for - Criminey! I forgot it! I'm going to run downstairs for it, will you be okay?" his son, having sat down, stood up just as suddenly as he had come in.
"Yes," Arnold said patiently. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere yet."
After his son gave him a kiss on the forehead and left, Arnold said knowingly, "My youngest, Jared. He's just turned forty-five. He's a novelist and has a wife and two kids."
"How many children do you have?" Lila asked politely, although she didn't think that she wanted to know.
"Five," he said simply. "And eleven grandchildren."
"That's…nice," she said. Her voice faltered slightly.
"It's great. How many children do you have?" he asked.
"One," she said quietly. "Just one. A boy – Michael. He's married too. Two kids."
"Sounds like a nice time."
"It is. I just worry about him spoiling his kids."
"All parents do that some time or another," he said. "But it's your job as the grandparent to do it more often."
She smiled and tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. "Noted," she said. Then, on another note, added, "I'll be back after noon. It was ever-so nice seeing you, Arnold."
"You too, Lila," he said, giving her what she had a feeling would be her last Arnold-smile.
As she left the room, she finally allowed herself to cry, remembering what he had said to her:
"You're just like Helga, you know that?"
-oOo-
He's suffered from an attack. Or a stroke. He can't keep it straight. But either way, he's well enough to talk and function on his own, but not well enough that the doctors decided to keep him under their care for a bit longer.
Which is how he finds himself staring at Lila, whom he had not seen in forty-something years.
She seems to be a nurse. Or an assistant. Either way, it figures. She's always talked about helping others. What better way to do it at a hospital?
"Arnold?" she asks quietly, obviously stunned. "Is that you?"
He gives her a smile. She's still so quiet, after all of those years. "Hello, Lila," he says. "You look fine this morning."
She blushes briefly, and he convinces himself that he imagined it before answering, "I am fine." Then, while tidying up and marking up on how he's been, remarks "Now, what's this about you not eating your greens? Didn't Mrs. Petrelli have a talk with you about this?"
Good old Lila, always the mother hen.
He shrugged and gave an answer that Helga practically lived off every time that they came home from the doctor. "I told her that I was old, and that I'd do whatever the hell that I wanted," he said simply, gazing out of his window. He misses Helga so much.
Lila laughed suddenly, loudly, and as she clamps her hand over her mouth, he remembers Helga, and how when she was mad and he'd make a joke, she would do the same, apparently disgusted at the fact that her sense of humor would betray her.
He then smiles at her and says simply, quietly, "You're just like Helga, you know that?"
And then after that his son rushes in the room, complaining about the line for coffee – he is truly his mother's son, as he can live perfectly well without coffee – and realizing that he forgot the cream. Then, when he rushes out again, he quickly explains to Lila, so she won't be confused, "My youngest, Jared. He's just turned forty-five. He's a novelist and has a wife and two kids."
She then asks how many children he has, and he answers five. A big number, but a healthy one. He's wanted a big family to mirror the boarding house, and Helga wanted a big family so there would be "less room for a repetition of her childhood." (He doesn't ask)
Then she discloses the fact that she has a son who's name is Michael, and how she has two grandchildren. Not to be compared to the eleven that he and Helga shared (share?), he nods and comments how good a time that it must be.
They then wrap up the conversation and she leaves, and he gives her what he knows will be one last smile.
-oOo-
He knows that his time is soon. Helga's being gone for two years hurts as much as it did when it was only a few days after her death, and he can't bear to be alone. Not anymore.
He remembers a random memory from the fourth grade. If he remembered so correctly, it was Rhonda's Halloween party. He had attended as a pirate. Helga as Lila. What he said has been stuck in his mind for all of those seventy-odd years.
"Let's go and get some punch, Lila."
He screwed up, calling her that. A temporary slip of the mind, he thinks at the time, but he knows that that's just an excuse, as he sees the look of hurt on her face as she asks if he really did call her that. And he knows that she knows, but he can't help but make excuses. Years later, it sickens him, especially being married to Helga. And he knows that their marriage was more than happy enough, but it had always bothered him, that one screw-up. That one time that he had treated Helga differently – nicer – and he had called her "Lila."
He smiled and as his son stands up to leave, promising to be back with Whitney and Sarah and Gerald and Phoebe – all of the rest of his children – tomorrow, he gives him a kiss, a hug, and "I love you," and thinks, But only Helga would be able to give me all of this.
You remind me of a girl, that I once knew.
See her face whenever I, I look at you.
You won't believe all of the things she put me through.
This is why I just can't get with you.
-oOo-
A/N: This idea was supplied to me by Inuyasha-loves-Kagome, so if you have any compliments towards the idea, tell her, not me.
I hope that this wasn't too depressing or morbid for y'all. But a part of me is really good at writing angsty stuff.
Questions, concerns, comments, love is all accepted. Just press that little white button : )