For Her

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A sequel to "My Muse", written by Miss Matched

Dedicated to Starry Nights, for being so encouraging.

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All standard disclaimers apply. Characters from "Hey Arnold" are copyright Craig Barlett and to whomever else they're copyrighted to. Original characters are original, and the author would like sole use of them, unless contacted for permission. All poetry/music in this fanfiction are also original, and once again, may only be used with permission. Thus ends this huge disclaimer.

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AN:

I'm learning as I write this story.

1. Just because I think an idea is good, doesn't make it good.

2. Switching back and forth from times and people is HARD.

3. Who cares about reviews!?

The latter being my biggest epiphany, lol. If no one chooses to read this, I'm still gonna be writing it.

Stacy: No worries, I like Nick too! lol

Snow Lane: Thank you for telling me. I've added a little information about the points of views when I switch them. I hope that helps.

M. Silvermane: you're right... I'm reposting this chapter minus the explanation. However, I sorta have to leave the point of view stuff, because people kept getting confused, and I'm evidently not doing good enough in showing that the views change by myself. I've seen similar things in books, so I assumed that it didn't look bad. If some other people review in saying that the point of view things suck, I'll take 'em out...

Well, now to tie up loose ends, hopefully!



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Chapter Thirteen: Player

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Point of View: Nick

Time: Present

Location: Altered timeline

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"Hi, You've reached Nick Samson's personal phone line. Yeah, I know, I'm lucky, right?! {chuckle} Well, I'm not home now, go figure, so leave a message and your phone number after the beep, and I'll call you back. Okay, later!" A beep rang out, and I groaned.

"I sound like a retard." I mumbled to myself.

"Takes one to know one." A younger me retorted back smugly. Funny how I'd grown to hate myself so. I remember recording that message around the end of sixth grade, when I'd first gotten my answering machine. Actually, come to think of it, I never did record a new message on it until I got into college.

"Um, hi Nick..." The new message sounded. It was a girl, Phoebe, I could tell. The younger me loved her, something I know I never had before at this age. Perhaps it was because I spent time with her now, though I personally wasn't attracted to her. No, I was with her only to tick Gerald Johannson off. And a ticked off Gerald can say things he may regret, even ruin a friendship.

"I can't say that I haven't enjoyed being with you..." Phoebe started, her voice wavering over the answering machine. "It's just, I haven't been completely honest. I'm in love, Nick. In love with someone else. I'm so sorry... I really am, but... but we're through. It's better this way, I know you'll agree."

"I know, Phoebe. I'm sorry." the younger me answered while I pounded my desk in fury.

"I still want to be your friend..." she continued.

"As do I" the younger me answered back.

I growled. "Shut up, she isn't talking to you!"

"Oh, my bad, you're right. I'm not a player like you."

"I am you."

"Well then, wouldn't that mean she's talking to me?" Funny how I don't remember being a little snot nosed brat when I was in 7th grade.

"Anyway," Her voice was still shaking, "Forgive me, please. And if you can't, well, I understand. Goodbye, Nick." And then the line went dead.

I cursed under my breath.

"And you should leave her alone. Don't even talk to her." My younger self advised. "You're not here to ruin her life, so just leave her out of it from now on."

"I'm just glad to know that you've finally conceded that I'll succeed, eventually."

"Not it I have anything to say about it."

"Don't worry." I chuckled to myself, leaning back in my chair, "You don't."



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Point of View: Helga

Time: Present

Location: Altered timeline, Manhattan

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Standing outside in nothing but a sleeveless pink dress on a frigid Manhattan evening was not on the top of Helga's "to do" list. And yet, there she was in front of a quant coffee shop, looking down at her watch.

"Forget it." she muttered "He was supposed to be here thirty five minutes ago." She couldn't believe a blind date had stood her up. "It's not like I was aching to come tonight anyway." She knew that wasn't true, she really had been looking forward to it, but what had she been thinking anyway? The only person she had ever fallen for was miles away, and it was pointless for her to try and fill that void. With a sigh and a wistful smile, she began to walk that mile long walk back to her family's apartment. At least she'd been saved from a huge mistake, one she'd never again repeat.

The sidewalk was almost silver in the moonlight, which shone high above all the tall buildings. It peeked in between skyscrapers, and shone down on everything it's illuminating beauty. Whoever believed the beauty could not be man made was clearly mistaken in Helga's eyes. She sighed, there was a half a mile left to go.

"Criminy, why couldn't I have at least brought a shawl?" Helga muttered to herself. "Or a coat, or a pair of pants..." She sighed. Only a few more streets left now. A bright blue man flashed as a walk signal as she began to walk across the busy street. It was the last thing she would ever see.



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Point of View:Arnold/Helga

Time:Future

Location: The Oblivion

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"Mind you, I'm not suicidal." Helga countered, smearing tears off her face. "I lost control of my body, just for a moment. Sort of an out of body experience, I suppose." she sighed. "I'm sorry I blamed you, Arnold, it was all for the better. It wasn't real."

Arnold was crying fitfully, clinching his fists for lack of anything solid to take his anger out on. "It was real. I was an idiot, and it was real. I had no right, Helga. I don't know what..."

"Shove it, Football head." She whispered in his ear, and lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure..." She took a ragged breath "That Phoebe and Gerald are trying to help now."

"And what makes you so sure?"

"How football headed can you be? They're our best friends, and creators of the time machine. Even though it wasn't their fault, there sure as heck going to feel responsible, and they don't even know half the story yet."

"And the worst part is" Arnold sighed, "it isn't over yet."

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AN: The action picks up next chapter, so don't touch that dial! Wait... um... okay, forget that.



Miss Matched