Yes, I realize that the beginning pretty much sucks, but it's like this--sometimes I want to get to the meat of the story without too much 'blah, blah, blah', so this is what happened. I don't really do this anymore, preferring to open stories in the middle of the action to get the reader hooked immediately. But nyah, I wrote this a long time ago, and my style has changed somewhat.

So there you have it. Read the first couple paragraphs fast, like taking medicine. Once they're done, you'll get to the real meat.

Enjoy!

Whoops! Forgot to add that Arnold and friends don't belong to me. Nope. Not mine.


FATE

This story takes place a number of years in the future. The kids are all around 15. Phoebe and Gerald are dating, Helga and Arnold aren't. But they all hang around together quite a bit, enjoying each other's company and basically having fun.

Helga is still smitten with Arnold, and she still hasn't told him yet. Arnold has started developing SOME feelings for Helga, but hasn't realized it completely. Basically, they're very good friends who really enjoy each other's company.

The four were walking home from a late movie. Phoebe and Gerald were holding hands, walking slightly in front of Arnold and Helga. They were talking amongst themselves, chatting about this and that. Suddenly, an armed mugger leapt out from an alley, making Phoebe scream.

"Don't try any funny stuff, just give me your money and no one gets hurt," the man said in a low voice. Gerald stepped in front of his girlfriend, who was trembling slightly.

"Okay, man, just calm down," he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. Arnold and Helga had caught up with their friends and were shocked to discover what was happening.

"Hey, man you really don't want to do this, do you?" Arnold asked the mugger. The guy whirled to face him, the gun coming dangerously close to Gerald's face.

"Shut up!" he screamed. Helga had an arm around Phoebe, holding her friend as she trembled.

"Arnold, I don't think he wants to talk," Helga said quietly, trying to pull Arnold back. He shrugged out of her grasp, and continued walking toward the gunman.

"Why don't you just turn around and walk away, huh?" Arnold said softly. "We won't tell anyone about this, and you won't get into trouble." Once he was closer, Arnold noticed how young the guy actually was. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than he and his friends.

"C'mon, you really don't want to do this, I can tell," Arnold was saying. He was right in front of the guy now. "Just put that thing away and go."

The gunman's eyes were darting around nervously. This was not the way these things went. The gun was slowly losing its targets, it was pointing to the ground. Arnold smiled and walked forward.

"We won't say anything about this. Just go on. Get outta here," he said softly. The young man looked at Arnold and smiled weakly. That's when things went downhill.

An old car was passing the group, backfiring. The loud, sudden noise startled the gunman, and the weapon rose again, shaking violently. Arnold reached forward to try and calm the guy, but in his panic, the gunman turned on Arnold pointing the gun at him. The car backfired twice more as it slowly passed, but to Helga, one of the backfire's sounded extremely loud. And very close.

She was still holding Phoebe, and when the car passed the slight teen clutched at Helga's shirt. Gerald had moved over to the girls and covered them with his body as much as possible. The gunman ran. Arnold was no where in sight.

Gerald watched the guy run, then turned to the girls.

"Are you two okay?" he asked worriedly. The girls looked at each other, then did a quick inspection of their own bodies. They nodded shakily.

"Where's Arnold?" Helga whispered. Gerald looked where they had last seen him, searching for his friend. He let go of the girls, then started walking toward the alley. When he got there, his dark skin went pale.

"Oh, my god."

Helga and Phoebe exchanged a worried glance, then rushed over to join Gerald. They followed his gaze and their breath stopped in their throats. There was so much blood.

"Oh my god," Gerald repeated, sounding like he was about to pass out. Phoebe looked sick.

"Dear lord . . ." she breathed. They stood stock still, staring. Helga took action.

"Gerald, go and get an ambulance. NOW!" she said, turning her friend to look at her and away from the scene. "Gerald?" He looked at her, not seeing her. She drew her hand back and slapped him. Hard. His head rocked back on his neck, a handprint appearing on his cheek. His eyes cleared.

"OW! Helga! What . . .?" She shook him, twice. The color was, thankfully, returning to his face.

"Listen to me," she said, speaking clearly, enunciating each word. "Take Phoebe and call 911. Get the paramedics here, NOW." For a second she thought he was just going to just stand there staring at her, but then he nodded and grabbed Phoebe's hand.

"Stay with him, Helga!" he shouted as they ran as fast as they could to the nearest phone. "See if you can keep him talking!"

Helga watched them go, then turned back to the alley. She almost didn't want to go in. But her only love was in there. And he was dying. Her courage was quickly fading.

Arnold was lying on the ground, his back facing Helga. There was blood on the ground. A lot of it. He was shaking slightly and she could hear him straining to draw breath. Her tears were coming, she could taste them in the back of her throat. She went to him.

"Arnold?" she called softly. She summoned her remaining courage and turned him over. Her breath stopped for the second time.

His shirt was covered in blood. There was a hole in it, right over his heart. More blood flowed from the wound as she watched, and she placed her hand over it in an attempt to slow it. She looked up at his face and now the tears DID come. He was so pale.

" . . . Helga . . . . cold . . . so . . cold . . . . ."

She knelt beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. She gently pulled his head into her lap, being careful to keep her other hand over his wound. Her tears dropped onto his face, and she wiped them away with a shaky hand. His eyes were still clear, but very scared.

"Oh, Arnold," she whispered, trying to sound brave for him. "Why do you have to be such a do-gooder? Why didn't you just give him the money and be done with it?" He smiled weakly.

" . . . . I gotta . . . be . . me . . ." He coughed, and Helga felt a surge of warm blood rush over her hand. His face was filled with pain.

"Hang on, Arnold, just hang on!" she ordered. "Gerald and Phoebe went for help. They'll be back soon. Just stay with me, please!" She was crying harder now, and Arnold looked up at her almost lovingly.

". . don't cry . . . . Helga . . . . ." He lifted a trembling hand and tried to wipe away her tears. She cried harder. His hand was so cold.

Their eyes met for a moment, saying things that neither friend could say out loud. Then his lost focus, and he relaxed completely. His hand fell away as his chest rose once, twice, then was still. Her beloved was gone.

For a moment, Helga sat and held him, her hand still covering his critical wound. Then she threw her head back and screamed into the night sky.

"ARNOLD!" she cried, turning back to him. "Don't you leave me, don't you DARE! PLEASE, Arnold! I love you, I can't survive without you in my life!"

Her beloved gave no answer. Helga's heart ached with loss. She held him tighter, and began rocking back and forth. Tears covered her face, dropping into Arnold's hair, and onto his cheeks. Slowly, Helga reached up and gently closed his beautiful green eyes.

"Please God," she prayed. "Please dear God in heaven, please bring him back. I love him too much to lose him. I'll do anything if You'll just bring him back." The rest of her pleas were lost in her sobs.

"It's such a shame," a voice said behind her, making her jump slightly. "He was a promising young man. This is such a tragedy." She turned and saw a man coming toward them. He had a narrow face, with gentle eyes. His hair was light brown and short, and he had a certain glow about him. Sort of like an aura.

"Who are you?" Helga sniffled as the newcomer approached them. She cradled Arnold in her arms protectively. "What do you want?" The man smiled tenderly.

"I'm here to make sure Arnold has a smooth journey," he said as he leaned down over the fallen teen. The glow about him was brighter, and Helga's eyes grew large.

"You're an angel, aren't you?" she whispered. "You're here to take his soul to heaven." He smiled.

"I'm whatever you believe me to be. If you think I'm an angel, then that's what I am. My name is Michael."

"If you're an angel, then you can heal him, right?" she asked hopefully. "You can bring him back?" He looked at her sadly.

"I'm sorry, Helga. I don't have the power to bring him back. But I can tell you that his last moments were happy because you stayed with him. You helped him be brave." She looked at him pleadingly.

"Please. I can't live without him. I love him too much to just sit back and let you do this. PLEASE. There must be SOMETHING you can do." He placed a hand on her tear-streaked cheek.

"I'm very sorry, child. But I MUST do this." She shook her head.

"No, there HAS to be another option. What if . . . " Her mind whirled frantically. Her eyes widened as an idea struck her. "What if I took his place?" Michael looked taken aback.

"Helga, I don't think you realize what you're saying." She nodded rapidly.

"I know exactly what I'm saying. An even trade—me for him. You'll bring him back just enough to keep him going until the ambulance gets here, and I'll be classified as a heart attack or something." Her eyes pleaded with him. "PLEASE, Michael. No one will really miss me. But Arnold could do so much . . . he cares so much for people. He's NEEDED. PLEASE."

Michael looked doubtful for a moment, then looked at her intently.

"Are you SURE this is what you want?" he asked. "I can't really guarantee where you'll go. Not everyone goes to heaven right away. You might be stuck in the proverbial 'waiting room' for a while." She shook her head.

"I really don't care where I go. Just as long as he lives."

Michael looked deeply into her eyes. He saw her love for Arnold. It was such and strong and deep love that he gasped slightly.

"You really love him deeply, don't you?" he asked quietly. She smiled.

"More than life itself," she said softly. He smiled and placed his hand on her cheek again.

"You have a good heart, Helga. I'm very sorry I must do this."

"Can I say goodbye to him?" she asked. "Will I . . . have time?" He looked at her sadly.

"Not much, I'm afraid. But he will recover quickly. You will have a few minutes." She smiled.

"That's all I need. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, my child. I only wish I didn't have to do this," he said, looking sad. "Are you ready?" She took a deep breath, held it, let it out.

"Yes."

Michael leaned forward and placed his right hand on Arnold's chest, over his still heart. He placed his left hand on Helga's chest, over her racing one. The glow around him intensified slightly, and Helga felt a slight draining sensation. Michael's left hand (the one on Helga's chest) glowed brightly, then dimmed as his right hand (the one on Arnold's chest) transferred her life into Arnold.

Michael leaned back, looking a little tired. They watched as Arnold's chest rose as his lungs filled with air once more. He took two deep breaths, then coughed. His eyes fluttered open. A look of confusion spread across his face, a face that was regaining color quickly. He sat up, looking from Helga to this man he had never seen before.

"Helga?" he asked, sounding very confused. She leaned forward and hugged him tightly. "What's going on? The last thing I remember is that car going down the street backfiring, then it's kinda fuzzy. What are we doing in an alley?" He slowly hugged Helga back, and noticed how cold she was, even though it was a warm night.

"It's not important, Arnold," she whispered, sounding a little out of breath. She pulled back and Arnold noticed the blood stains on her clothes. His eyes widened.

"What happened!" he cried, taking her hands into his. "Are you all right?" She smiled. He noticed uneasily how pale her skin was.

"It's okay, Arnold. It's not my blood." He was about to ask who's it was when she placed a finger on his lips. "It's kind of a long story and I haven't much time. Arnold, I have something to tell you. Something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

"What is it?" he asked, sounding worried. She smiled, giving his hands a little squeeze. God, she was so cold!

"I . . ." she trailed off as she felt her heart slow. It was getting harder to breathe. She would have to hurry. "I love you, Arnold. I've loved you since we were little. I just never had the courage to tell you. I love you more than anything, more than everything." He looked at her, his eyes wide. Her fingers were ice cold. Her heart slowed even more.

"Kiss me, Arnold. Please. Just once." He was still looking at her, slightly confused, but when she leaned forward, he did the same. They kissed gently, tenderly. Arnold felt her lips grow colder as the kiss progressed.

Finally, they drew apart. Arnold could hear sirens in the distance, and wondered again about the blood on Helga's clothes. He looked at her pale skin, and noticed how she struggled to draw breath. He placed a hand on her cold cheek.

"Helga, are you all right?" he asked her again. She smiled weakly.

"I'm out of time, I guess," she whispered. "I love you, Arnold. Always."

Her chest hitched once, twice, three times. Then stopped. Her eyes slowly closed as she fell forward, limply. Arnold caught her, his own heart racing wildly.

"Helga?" he called, gently shaking her. He didn't like how limp she was. "HELGA?" He gently laid her down, placing an ear to her chest. He heard no heartbeat. His heart skipped. "Oh no, Helga, no!" He began CPR on her when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It's too late, Arnold," Michael told him gently. "She's gone." Arnold whirled on the stranger.

"NO!" he cried, shaking the man's hand off. "She CAN'T be! There's an ambulance coming, I might be able to bring her back and then she'll be okay!" Michael was shaking his head.

"I'm afraid not, Arnold. She gave her life for you." Arnold looked at the man, eyes wide.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered. Michael held out his right hand, which was curled into a fist. He straightened his fingers to reveal a small bullet.

"You died tonight, Arnold," he said softly. "This is the bullet that killed you. It was a horrible accident. I was here to . . . take care of you, but Helga wouldn't let you go. She gave her life so you could live. Her life, for yours." Arnold's jaw dropped.

"So, you're an angel?" he asked hopefully. "So you can bring her back, right?" Michael was shaking his head.

"I've gone through this already with Helga. I don't have the power to bring anyone back. I'm sorry." Arnold shook his head.

"No, I'm not gonna accept that. There has to be something you can do. There HAS to be! PLEASE!" Michael shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Arnold. I can't bring her back." Arnold's mind raced. A determined look spread over his face as an idea surfaced.

"Then take me to HER," he said quietly. Michael looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"What?"

"Take me to her. You can't bring her back, right?" Michael shook his head. "Can you send me to where she is?" Michael looked worried.

"Arnold . . ."

"CAN YOU?"

"Yes," Michael sighed. "But you might not be able to make it back. You both could be trapped there for all eternity." Arnold shook his head.

"I don't care. Just do it, please," he said as he took Helga's limp body into his arms. He leaned forward and kissed her cold forehead. "Hang on, Helga. I'm coming."

Michael looked at Arnold for a long moment, then sighed and placed his hand on the teen's head. Arnold jerked, gasping as his heart slowed. Slower. Slower. Finally, for the second time that night, Arnold's heart stopped. He slumped forward, his head coming to rest on top of Helga's. Michael looked from one teen to the other.

"Good luck, Arnold," he whispered as he slowly disappeared. Gerald and Phoebe arrived seconds later, leading the paramedics to the alley.

"He's in here, hurry!" Gerald called as he rushed into the alley. He stopped short when his eyes found his friends. He had just enough time to utter a curse, then catch Phoebe as she passed out.

End of Part 1


Are ya hooked yet? ;)