Chapter 10: All I Have Left
A/N: From this point out I stray from Arnold's POV just to give you a little more of Helga, and even some of Sara, who will become a more important character later.
The hospital was quiet. Naturally it was very dark, but now most of the patients were asleep.
Sara Ivory was sitting on a blanket against the wall, dozing lightly. She had a small child in her lap who was clinging to her in a fitful sleep. Her legs were stretched out before her and being used as a pillow by a slightly older child, and a little girl was curled up against her.
Knowing that she would soon slip off onto a peaceful cloud of slumber, Sara forced her almond brown eyes open one last time to scan the darkened room and make sure all was well. Dr. Brandon had gone somewhere and left her in charge with Helga there to help. But since the few people that were there was either sleeping or close to it, Sara allowed her muscles to relax and hoped that sleep would take her as quickly as it was threatening to.
Just as her eyes were closing though, a high-pitched little whine floated suddenly to her ears. It came from the duffel bag that was sitting just at the foot of the nearest cot. But it was too far for her to reach even if she hadn't already been covered with children.
"Helga?" Sara whispered a plea for help, but Helga was already heading that way. She picked up the entire duffel bag, not wanting to bring the baby out into the damp air just yet.
"Thanks." Sara said tiredly, and Helga cast her a soft smile before returning to the cot she'd been sitting on. It was occupied by the young boy who'd escaped the dragon yesterday, who'd just fallen asleep not but two minutes ago.
Helga reclaimed her seat on the far edge of the bed and set the duffel bag in her lap. But when her attempts to sooth the baby didn't work, she wrapped the infant girl securely and lifted her from the bag.
Now wrapped and feeling a pair of strong, tender arms supporting her, the infants cries slowly ceased, and her bright little eyes gazed up at Helga curiously. Helga, in turn, looked down at the fair-skinned little bundle with an almost equal curiosity. What had Dr. Brandon said? They were watching her until her father could find a proper place for them?
Helga hoped a place could be found. Ernie had stopped making apartments and started working on a project that he had yet to explain to anyone, not even Arnold. Helga figured it helped him pass the time and keep him sane. Many people had found such hobbies.
Even in the natural darkness, Helga could tell that this baby was of mixed ethnics. Her thin hair was extremely dark, and her skin was slightly darker than that of your average Caucasian baby. She was obviously half African-American, but it was beyond Helga what the other half could possible be.
She sat quietly holding the baby close. The baby's eyes searched Helga's face, and for a brief moment, recognition sparked in the back of Helga's mind. She started slightly at the thought, but it passed as quickly as it had come, and she was left with nothing but a baby in her arms and a question that lingered, floating somewhere in the darkness.
When Helga awoke, she found the baby gone from her arms and a few of the hospital's occupants awake. She couldn't remember having laid down with the baby, or the father coming back for her, but somewhere during the course of the night the baby disappeared and Helga fell asleep. And judging by how tired she still felt, Helga knew she hadn't slept nearly long enough.
"Helga?"
She glanced up at the owner of the voice and saw Dr. Brandon, who appeared to have been standing there for a moment before he spoke.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah, just a little tired still, I guess." Helga coughed a little.
"Well, that's understandable. I don't think you slept more than an hour or two, if that. You were still awake when I came back to get the baby."
Helga only nodded at the doctor, not completely listening to what he was saying. And she wasn't about to admit that she didn't remember him coming back at all.
Brandon smiled at her sympathetically. "Why don't you go home and get some rest."
Helga looked up at him and, with an apologetic smile and a nod, she agreed to do just that. Brandon leant a hand to pull her to her feet, and then sent her on her way.
With her body on autopilot, Helga made her way to the alcove that she and Arnold had shared with Grandma.
Grandma... Helga could feel her gut wrenching at the thought. Arnold's Grandma was gone.
Have I even been back home since then? Helga couldn't even recall having gone back home to sleep the night before last. She'd been at the hospital with Sara and the kids.
She shook her head to clear it a little, doing her best not to bump in to anyone as she walked. A little more sleep was just what she needed to clear her head. She wondered where Arnold was.
"Finally! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Helga found herself suddenly wrapped in a pair of strong arms that belonged to someone she didn't know, but who was obviously glad to see her. When she pulled back, she found herself staring into a familiar, yet implacable face. It took a moment for her mind to register what she was seeing.
"Curly?" Helga hoped beyond hope that she wasn't dreaming.
Here was someone she'd somehow formed a friendship with over the past few years before the attack. One could say that their reputations as outcasts had driven them into friendship.
Upon realizing that her mind was not just playing tricks on her, Helga threw her arms around her friend in a tight embrace. She knew right away that he'd probably come in with that small group of survivors, but she had to ask, "What happened to you?"
He brought her to arms length and looked at her, a sad sort of smile on his face.
"I'll tell you sometime...but not now. You have no idea how good it is to see you."
They talked as they continued down the tunnel path, but Helga later could not recall anything they discussed; only that Curly was a completely different person.
That and he never mentioned where he'd been or what he'd been doing, and avoided the subject completely.
"Yeah, and now Gerald and I are staying with you and Arnold." Curly was saying, but the sudden mention of a familiar name caught Helga off guard.
She wasn't able to voice a question about it at that moment, though, because they were already to the alcove and walking through the curtain doorway.
There Helga stopped.
Arnold had been milling about the room and paused when he saw her, but he wasn't the one that made her stop.
Gerald was looking back at Helga from across the room and had been about to greet her until he caught the look in her eyes. Lupita was in his arms, sucking on her little fist contentedly.
And somehow, though nobody said a word, the recognition clicked and Helga knew whose baby that was. But she wasn't sure if she believed it. She looked back and forth between father and daughter, matching the similarities, then compared them to the mental image she still carried of her best friend. She knew Phoebe and Gerald had been seriously crushing on each other once upon a time, but...
Curly remained quiet as he stood beside Helga. He sensed the sudden tension immediately, but had no idea what had caused it.
Arnold, on the other hand, did.
"Helga-" He tried to say, but she cut him off.
"Where is she?" Her tone was so calm that is made Arnold nervous, as well as Gerald. "Where's Phoebe?"
When no one answered right away, Helga screamed, "Where is she?"
"She's gone, Helga!" Arnold exclaimed a little more harshly than he'd meant to, and bit his tongue.
Helga's desperate expression drifted back and forth between Gerald and Arnold, as if Arnold had had something to do with it. Then, without a word, she turned and fled.
"Helga, wait!" Curly called out, turning to go after her, but was stopped by Arnold.
"Let me go."
Curly almost asked why, but the question faltered when he saw the look in the blonde man's eyes. He knew Arnold had spent all this time living with Helga, and that he probably knew her now better than Curly ever had. Arnold probably knew her better than either he or Gerald could possibly imagine, and though Curly would have rather gone himself, he nodded in compliance.
Arnold placed his hand on Curly's shoulder for just a moment before hurrying out after Helga.
Curly watched him leave, and then turned toward Gerald, who'd taken a seat on the bed Arnold had set up for him. Lupita had begun wailing softly just a few seconds ago, and Gerald held her close in his arms. His blood-shot eyes remained unfocused and aimed toward the ground as they misted over.
Curly's stomach twisted in pain as it did every time he saw his friend hurting. He walked over and sat beside Gerald on the bed, offering his finger for little 'Pita to suck on, which calmed her some. He knew better than to try and take her from Gerald. The young father always wanted, or needed, to have her close in his arms during times like this when he missed his wife the most.
Curly placed his other hand firmly on Gerald's shoulder, comforting him as he'd done all those other times when they lived in the darkness of Mr. Greene's basement.
Curly knew then that Arnold had made a wiser choice than he knew. Curly was once good friends with Helga, but he probably barely knew her now, and Gerald needed him.
I guess time can turn anything backwards, he thought idly regarding his and Arnolds switched roles.
No matter how hard he ran, Arnold just couldn't seem to catch up with Helga, who was already a good distance ahead of him. He weaved his way between people and anything else blocking his path, just barely being able to see the blonde girl each time she turned a corner. As they got further and further from the Main Hall, Arnold grew more and more concerned.
Please don't be going there...please don't...please...
But she was.
At last she stopped running, but only so she could start climbing.
Going outside in her state spelled certain death. Was that her goal?
"Helga, no!"
She was a third of the way up the 30-foot ladder by the time he reached it, and fortunately he was a much faster climber than she was. After all, he'd been up and down the ladders numerous times. He couldn't recall if she'd ever gone back outside since he brought her in.
Within seconds Arnold had reached her and climbed up so that he was right next to her, going fast enough that she didn't get a chance to kick him off. Being much stronger than she was, he grabbed her around the waist forcefully. He'd felt sorry for her before, but now it was time to draw the line.
"Let me go!" Helga screamed, trying to fight him without falling off the ladder.
Arnold tried to pry her fingers off the ladder, knowing that he could probably carry her down with one arm if worse came to worse.
Helga's knuckles were turning white as her death-grip on the ladder held firm, and all the while she screamed at him.
"Just let go!" Arnold demanded, but she would not. "I'll throw you off, if that's what it takes!"
"Go ahead, Hair-boy!" The nickname was spat out like a curse, and before Arnold knew what he was doing, he lurched backwards and to the side, the weight of his body ripping them both from the security of the ladder.
A/N: So what did you think? A little too dramatic? I was trying my best to convey the loss Helga is feeling over Phoebe, who was, as we all know, her best and only friend growing up.