Ripples
A fanfiction by CrimsonSorrow
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! does not belong to us. We're just borrowing the characters. ^^
~~~chapter one............concursion~~~
"Some day out of the blue
Maybe years from now
Or tomorrow night
I'll turn and I'll see you
As if we always knew
Some day we would live again, some day soon..." -Elton John, Someday Out Of The Blue
A college student sat on a bench in Hillwood City.
This bench wasn't entirely important to him, but he sat there whenever he wanted to think.
Next to him rested a backpack, but it wasn't really a backpack. It was a messenger bag, and it was the kind of backpack that you carried over one shoulder, across the body, almost like a purse, except it was a backpack. Inside was a shiny laptop, with the words VAIO across the back of the screen. It was new, and it held all of his college papers from the most recent semester. You know, the long papers that college professors give when they can't think of any other assignment to occupy a student's time. It held pictures of him and his friends. Most of his friends, anyways. It also contained his thoughts.
But enough about his laptop, don't you agree? After all, it is just a piece of machinery.
He often sat there on weekends, with his laptop, watching people scurry past him. Perhaps they were late to their job, or an appointment, or something else of the matter, but no one really cares about what anyone else thinks anymore.
A cool breeze wafted by, ruffling his unruly blond hair and making him blink a few times. A piece of paper rolled along with the wind, catching on his leather workboot. It fluttered helplessly, stuggling to get free, before it flew off down the sidewalk with a stronger gust of wind.
What was he doing here again?
Oh yes. Waiting for a friend...
A friend that had been living near him since childhood. The student smiled briefly, reliving memories over the course of five seconds. A hand reached up and rubbed his neatly trimmed beard, which only traveled along the middle of his jawbone. Hillwood City was always hustle and bustle this time of year, especially when it was so close to Christmas.
Even though he was close to graduating from college, he still eagerly anticipated the first snowstorm of winter. He closed his eyes and relaxed a little, leaning back on the bench. A lazy smile stretched across his lips, and he was almost ready to fall asleep...
"Hey, Arnold!"
The blond jumped out of his restful position and stood, a pink hue immediately flooding his cheeks. An African-American student by the name of Gerald Johanssen stood there, snickering.
"You looked about ready to fall asleep, Arnold," Gerald laughed, holding onto both of his backpack straps, as if it would steady him.
Arnold raised an eyebrow, faking a yawn and scratching under his eye with only his middle finger. Gerald punched him playfully, but marveled at how Arnold towered over him.
"What have you been drinking man?" he asked, looking up at his best friend, who stood at a healthy height of six feet and ten inches.
"How're you doing?" Arnold said, not answering the question. Instead he sat back down on the bench. Gerald sat down next to him.
"I'm doing well, in school and everything else," Gerald responded, waving his hand nonchalantly.
"What about your girlfriend?" Arnold inquired, smirking.
"You mean Phoebe?" Gerald grinned and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "We're good, we're good. But what about you? Have you found anyone yet?"
The blond leaned forward like his friend and placed both hands under his chin. "Nah. It's too hard. Besides, I guess I should wait 'til I'm done with school..."
There was a prominent pause.
"Arnold, you know she's never coming back. They've pronounced her dead. I know it's not the nicest thing to say, but let go, man. You guys were never an item anyway."
"I know Gerald," Arnold replied testily, dropping his hands into the space between his legs. He stared at his best friend. "I know that perfectly well, and I don't mean to sound mad or anything, but I get this feeling that she's still out there somewhere."
"Let's go to the boarding house," Gerald offered after a few tense moments of silence, shrugging. "We can get organized or whatever, and get something to eat around here."
They stood up in unison, and walked through the busy streets, dodging cars and surly business men whenever possible.
The sun hid itself behind gray clouds that menacingly threatened rain. Umbrellas of every color were already being opened by wary people who threw their caution to the wind. Rain started to fall within minutes, soaking the streets and sidewalks.
"Hey, I don't know 'bout you, but I'm running ahead," Gerald said, half- drenched and poised to gallop to the boarding house.
"Go ahead. I like the rain," Arnold called ahead, as Gerald had already begun to sprint. He shook his head, laughing softly at his friend's odd quirks. Then his thoughts fell back to her...
Helga G. Pataki.
Damn, when did she disappear?
10 years ago?
Yeah, that's it.
He absently stepped in a puddle. He remembered how, as a child, she was quite...well...ugly, and how she suddenly blossomed at the age of thirteen. Arnold even remembered eyeing her once or twice. He smiled at that.
But, she had never been the one to follow the crowd.
She was always going against the flow.
When everyone mourned, she would smile.
When everyone laughed, she would cry bitterly.
There had always been something different about her.
But what?
There was always something of a mysterious air surrounding her, even if she did threaten to knock you out for staring.
The wind was blowing against him, and rain was falling sideways into his face. It was just one of those fickle weather days where the sun might be shining on you one moment, and the rain might be pouring on you the next.
Then again, he recounted, shrugging to himself, she did have her times when she was calm.
But the one day when they had gone to the beach for that class trip...
She had looked a bit distant that morning, and everyone was too busy with their own affairs to notice her.
Then, when they were about to leave, the roll call concluded that she wasn't on the bus.
The students had combed the beach for a little more than an hour, before the police and then the F.B.I. were brought in. They had searched for more than a week, and turned up nothing.
Rumors had started, and one student even had the guts to claim that she had committed suicide. For what reason, no one knew.
Helga had disappeared into thin air when she was only fourteen. Though she hadn't seemed like much of a friend, everyone was deeply saddened. Including himself, and a heavy lead weight of guilt had been dropped on his shoulders in the process. When it occurred, Arnold realized that life was too short to waste precious feelings on anyone else. After she vanished, he had promised to never love again. Somehow, he felt that this did her fading memory some justice.
The rain had begun to clear up some, and it was no longer making mini- rivers that flowed into the street drains. It was just a few more blocks to his home, and he thought he was safe, until someone collided into his back.
All he could remember in that split second was falling and hitting the ground, and feeling something land on top of him. He opened his blue eyes, a bit dazed at first. But then his jaw fell a few inches. Lying on top of him, staring right back, was an extremely pretty young woman with soaked blond hair and depthless green eyes. And she was almost totally nude except for a wet towel.
"Oh my God," he said, scrambling to get out from under her. She hastily stood up, looking around frantically. Then she grabbed the collar of his shirt.
"Please help me," she pleaded, holding the towel closed with one hand. She seemed to look into his soul with a puzzled expression on her face and he felt as if she were staring him down. As he returned her gaze, he realized that there was something funny about her eyes, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized that she had no pupils.
"What the hell are you?!"
"Never mind that! I'll tell you later! Just hide me!"
"What? From who? And why should I?!" Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw men in black suits. "What the -- the FBI?! What the hell did you do?!"
"Nothing!" She was close to tears. "Please, I don't want to go back."
Arnold's eyes darted around the street, and they fell on an alleyway that led to a labyrinth of back roads that only he could navigate.
"Come on!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards it.
They ran down the back alley, his messenger bag thumping painfully against his thigh as she stumbled along next to him, trying not to fall behind. Footsteps echoed behind them as they twisted and turned through the maze- like streets.
"Shit," he heard her mutter, and she immediately slowed.
"What happened?" he said, gaspong for breath as he slowed to a stop.
She lifted her right foot up and pointed to the bottom, where the head of a nail was poking out of the soft skin underneath.
"Can you pull it out?" he asked. "We need to keep going."
She grimaced, but closed two delicate fingers around the nail and yanked it out, stifling a small cry of pain.
"I can't walk, let alone run on it," she said, her gaze falling to the ground.
Despite just meeting this young woman, Arnold already felt a sense of obligation and pity.
"Okay," he replied, his tone somewhat gentler than it had been, "I'll carry you."
She didn't have time to object, because he bent down and picked her up in his arms. She held on tightly to his left shoulder as he raced through the alley. It wasn't everyday that someone offered to carry you because of a minor injury, especially in Hillwood City. She could feel his heart beating and his lungs expanding against her chest. But it was the familiar scent of his hair that made her jerk back slightly.
It couldn't be...
Not even with all the luck in the world could she have achieved a coincidence like this on purpose. Not even with all the luck...
But it was him, and even though she had tried to bury her emotions, fearing she'd never see him again, here he was, saving her from her captors. This was one vision she had never even dreamed of...
It made her dizzy with delight just to be there, but it must have somehow been a fantasy, because this could never happen, could it? Could her entire escape be a simple vision that plagued her while she still slept in the tank in her prison?
She reached down and pinched herself very hard, and found that it hurt... alot.
They finally came out of the back alley a few minutes later, and Arnold caught sight of the boarding house.
"We're going through the back, so try to be quiet, okay?" he said, putting her down. She gingerly placed her weight on her bleeding foot, only to find that it wasn't painful anymore.
"Sure, whatever," she agreed, still not believing her good fortune. He opened the door quietly and slid in. She followed just as stealthily, with surpassing grace. Arnold slinked past the kitchen, where Gerald was sitting at the table. He was on the phone with someone, presumably Phoebe, as they ran up the stairs.
"I'm home!" he shouted, then sprinted down the hallway to his room. He tugged down the old ladder, and she scrambled up after him. She was, after all, wearing only a towel, and nothing else. It wasn't her style to flash someone who might be departing their room to take an afternoon stroll, but it didn't matter at the moment.
Arnold locked the door after her, and put his back to it, panting. Then he looked up at the girl who seemed alien and out of place in his room.
She glanced around at the room which she had been in only a few sacred times, and noticed the definite changes to the atmosphere. The wallpaper was different, and the room had a sharper look to it. A Sony VAIO desktop computer rested on the elegant escritoire, it's screen blank and dark. Even the shelves held different things, and the potato alarm clock that had once lived on the night table was probably in a box somewhere.
"Who are you?"
She turned to face Arnold, who was still trying to catch his breath. Perspiration had collected at his temples and was dripping down both of his cheeks.
"Then I guess you don't remember me," she sighed, her blond hair falling in wisps around her face.
"I've never met you before," Arnold said, but then he mysteriously doubted his words. His gut told him something was familiar about this woman. Her green eyes seemed to touch him in a place that he never wanted to touch again, and somehow, it was gratifying.
She stepped forward, and he didn't know what to think. Her right index finger gently trailed down his left cheek, and then her hand fell to her side again.
"You've changed so much... Arnoldo." She smiled a little as she said that.
A frantic expression of disbelief crossed his visage -- it wasn't possible for ...her... to be here, after she was supposed to be dead, but still, he wanted to make sure...
He mustered up his courage to break his speechlessness, only resulting in a hoarse whisper.
"He....Helga?"
Author's Notes:
Erin: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Steph: The second chapter should be up soon! *Runs off all happy-like* Erin: No flaming please, and have a nice day! ^_^
...CrimsonSorrow...
A fanfiction by CrimsonSorrow
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! does not belong to us. We're just borrowing the characters. ^^
~~~chapter one............concursion~~~
"Some day out of the blue
Maybe years from now
Or tomorrow night
I'll turn and I'll see you
As if we always knew
Some day we would live again, some day soon..." -Elton John, Someday Out Of The Blue
A college student sat on a bench in Hillwood City.
This bench wasn't entirely important to him, but he sat there whenever he wanted to think.
Next to him rested a backpack, but it wasn't really a backpack. It was a messenger bag, and it was the kind of backpack that you carried over one shoulder, across the body, almost like a purse, except it was a backpack. Inside was a shiny laptop, with the words VAIO across the back of the screen. It was new, and it held all of his college papers from the most recent semester. You know, the long papers that college professors give when they can't think of any other assignment to occupy a student's time. It held pictures of him and his friends. Most of his friends, anyways. It also contained his thoughts.
But enough about his laptop, don't you agree? After all, it is just a piece of machinery.
He often sat there on weekends, with his laptop, watching people scurry past him. Perhaps they were late to their job, or an appointment, or something else of the matter, but no one really cares about what anyone else thinks anymore.
A cool breeze wafted by, ruffling his unruly blond hair and making him blink a few times. A piece of paper rolled along with the wind, catching on his leather workboot. It fluttered helplessly, stuggling to get free, before it flew off down the sidewalk with a stronger gust of wind.
What was he doing here again?
Oh yes. Waiting for a friend...
A friend that had been living near him since childhood. The student smiled briefly, reliving memories over the course of five seconds. A hand reached up and rubbed his neatly trimmed beard, which only traveled along the middle of his jawbone. Hillwood City was always hustle and bustle this time of year, especially when it was so close to Christmas.
Even though he was close to graduating from college, he still eagerly anticipated the first snowstorm of winter. He closed his eyes and relaxed a little, leaning back on the bench. A lazy smile stretched across his lips, and he was almost ready to fall asleep...
"Hey, Arnold!"
The blond jumped out of his restful position and stood, a pink hue immediately flooding his cheeks. An African-American student by the name of Gerald Johanssen stood there, snickering.
"You looked about ready to fall asleep, Arnold," Gerald laughed, holding onto both of his backpack straps, as if it would steady him.
Arnold raised an eyebrow, faking a yawn and scratching under his eye with only his middle finger. Gerald punched him playfully, but marveled at how Arnold towered over him.
"What have you been drinking man?" he asked, looking up at his best friend, who stood at a healthy height of six feet and ten inches.
"How're you doing?" Arnold said, not answering the question. Instead he sat back down on the bench. Gerald sat down next to him.
"I'm doing well, in school and everything else," Gerald responded, waving his hand nonchalantly.
"What about your girlfriend?" Arnold inquired, smirking.
"You mean Phoebe?" Gerald grinned and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "We're good, we're good. But what about you? Have you found anyone yet?"
The blond leaned forward like his friend and placed both hands under his chin. "Nah. It's too hard. Besides, I guess I should wait 'til I'm done with school..."
There was a prominent pause.
"Arnold, you know she's never coming back. They've pronounced her dead. I know it's not the nicest thing to say, but let go, man. You guys were never an item anyway."
"I know Gerald," Arnold replied testily, dropping his hands into the space between his legs. He stared at his best friend. "I know that perfectly well, and I don't mean to sound mad or anything, but I get this feeling that she's still out there somewhere."
"Let's go to the boarding house," Gerald offered after a few tense moments of silence, shrugging. "We can get organized or whatever, and get something to eat around here."
They stood up in unison, and walked through the busy streets, dodging cars and surly business men whenever possible.
The sun hid itself behind gray clouds that menacingly threatened rain. Umbrellas of every color were already being opened by wary people who threw their caution to the wind. Rain started to fall within minutes, soaking the streets and sidewalks.
"Hey, I don't know 'bout you, but I'm running ahead," Gerald said, half- drenched and poised to gallop to the boarding house.
"Go ahead. I like the rain," Arnold called ahead, as Gerald had already begun to sprint. He shook his head, laughing softly at his friend's odd quirks. Then his thoughts fell back to her...
Helga G. Pataki.
Damn, when did she disappear?
10 years ago?
Yeah, that's it.
He absently stepped in a puddle. He remembered how, as a child, she was quite...well...ugly, and how she suddenly blossomed at the age of thirteen. Arnold even remembered eyeing her once or twice. He smiled at that.
But, she had never been the one to follow the crowd.
She was always going against the flow.
When everyone mourned, she would smile.
When everyone laughed, she would cry bitterly.
There had always been something different about her.
But what?
There was always something of a mysterious air surrounding her, even if she did threaten to knock you out for staring.
The wind was blowing against him, and rain was falling sideways into his face. It was just one of those fickle weather days where the sun might be shining on you one moment, and the rain might be pouring on you the next.
Then again, he recounted, shrugging to himself, she did have her times when she was calm.
But the one day when they had gone to the beach for that class trip...
She had looked a bit distant that morning, and everyone was too busy with their own affairs to notice her.
Then, when they were about to leave, the roll call concluded that she wasn't on the bus.
The students had combed the beach for a little more than an hour, before the police and then the F.B.I. were brought in. They had searched for more than a week, and turned up nothing.
Rumors had started, and one student even had the guts to claim that she had committed suicide. For what reason, no one knew.
Helga had disappeared into thin air when she was only fourteen. Though she hadn't seemed like much of a friend, everyone was deeply saddened. Including himself, and a heavy lead weight of guilt had been dropped on his shoulders in the process. When it occurred, Arnold realized that life was too short to waste precious feelings on anyone else. After she vanished, he had promised to never love again. Somehow, he felt that this did her fading memory some justice.
The rain had begun to clear up some, and it was no longer making mini- rivers that flowed into the street drains. It was just a few more blocks to his home, and he thought he was safe, until someone collided into his back.
All he could remember in that split second was falling and hitting the ground, and feeling something land on top of him. He opened his blue eyes, a bit dazed at first. But then his jaw fell a few inches. Lying on top of him, staring right back, was an extremely pretty young woman with soaked blond hair and depthless green eyes. And she was almost totally nude except for a wet towel.
"Oh my God," he said, scrambling to get out from under her. She hastily stood up, looking around frantically. Then she grabbed the collar of his shirt.
"Please help me," she pleaded, holding the towel closed with one hand. She seemed to look into his soul with a puzzled expression on her face and he felt as if she were staring him down. As he returned her gaze, he realized that there was something funny about her eyes, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized that she had no pupils.
"What the hell are you?!"
"Never mind that! I'll tell you later! Just hide me!"
"What? From who? And why should I?!" Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw men in black suits. "What the -- the FBI?! What the hell did you do?!"
"Nothing!" She was close to tears. "Please, I don't want to go back."
Arnold's eyes darted around the street, and they fell on an alleyway that led to a labyrinth of back roads that only he could navigate.
"Come on!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards it.
They ran down the back alley, his messenger bag thumping painfully against his thigh as she stumbled along next to him, trying not to fall behind. Footsteps echoed behind them as they twisted and turned through the maze- like streets.
"Shit," he heard her mutter, and she immediately slowed.
"What happened?" he said, gaspong for breath as he slowed to a stop.
She lifted her right foot up and pointed to the bottom, where the head of a nail was poking out of the soft skin underneath.
"Can you pull it out?" he asked. "We need to keep going."
She grimaced, but closed two delicate fingers around the nail and yanked it out, stifling a small cry of pain.
"I can't walk, let alone run on it," she said, her gaze falling to the ground.
Despite just meeting this young woman, Arnold already felt a sense of obligation and pity.
"Okay," he replied, his tone somewhat gentler than it had been, "I'll carry you."
She didn't have time to object, because he bent down and picked her up in his arms. She held on tightly to his left shoulder as he raced through the alley. It wasn't everyday that someone offered to carry you because of a minor injury, especially in Hillwood City. She could feel his heart beating and his lungs expanding against her chest. But it was the familiar scent of his hair that made her jerk back slightly.
It couldn't be...
Not even with all the luck in the world could she have achieved a coincidence like this on purpose. Not even with all the luck...
But it was him, and even though she had tried to bury her emotions, fearing she'd never see him again, here he was, saving her from her captors. This was one vision she had never even dreamed of...
It made her dizzy with delight just to be there, but it must have somehow been a fantasy, because this could never happen, could it? Could her entire escape be a simple vision that plagued her while she still slept in the tank in her prison?
She reached down and pinched herself very hard, and found that it hurt... alot.
They finally came out of the back alley a few minutes later, and Arnold caught sight of the boarding house.
"We're going through the back, so try to be quiet, okay?" he said, putting her down. She gingerly placed her weight on her bleeding foot, only to find that it wasn't painful anymore.
"Sure, whatever," she agreed, still not believing her good fortune. He opened the door quietly and slid in. She followed just as stealthily, with surpassing grace. Arnold slinked past the kitchen, where Gerald was sitting at the table. He was on the phone with someone, presumably Phoebe, as they ran up the stairs.
"I'm home!" he shouted, then sprinted down the hallway to his room. He tugged down the old ladder, and she scrambled up after him. She was, after all, wearing only a towel, and nothing else. It wasn't her style to flash someone who might be departing their room to take an afternoon stroll, but it didn't matter at the moment.
Arnold locked the door after her, and put his back to it, panting. Then he looked up at the girl who seemed alien and out of place in his room.
She glanced around at the room which she had been in only a few sacred times, and noticed the definite changes to the atmosphere. The wallpaper was different, and the room had a sharper look to it. A Sony VAIO desktop computer rested on the elegant escritoire, it's screen blank and dark. Even the shelves held different things, and the potato alarm clock that had once lived on the night table was probably in a box somewhere.
"Who are you?"
She turned to face Arnold, who was still trying to catch his breath. Perspiration had collected at his temples and was dripping down both of his cheeks.
"Then I guess you don't remember me," she sighed, her blond hair falling in wisps around her face.
"I've never met you before," Arnold said, but then he mysteriously doubted his words. His gut told him something was familiar about this woman. Her green eyes seemed to touch him in a place that he never wanted to touch again, and somehow, it was gratifying.
She stepped forward, and he didn't know what to think. Her right index finger gently trailed down his left cheek, and then her hand fell to her side again.
"You've changed so much... Arnoldo." She smiled a little as she said that.
A frantic expression of disbelief crossed his visage -- it wasn't possible for ...her... to be here, after she was supposed to be dead, but still, he wanted to make sure...
He mustered up his courage to break his speechlessness, only resulting in a hoarse whisper.
"He....Helga?"
Author's Notes:
Erin: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Steph: The second chapter should be up soon! *Runs off all happy-like* Erin: No flaming please, and have a nice day! ^_^
...CrimsonSorrow...