Ripples
A fanfiction by CrimsonSorrow
Disclaimer: We don't own Hey Arnold! We're just borrowing the characters. ^^
Note: Helga's thoughts are prominent in this chapter, just because I felt like trying something different. She talks in first person, so they're pretty easy to pick out. They're also the sentences amid the paragraphs. ^_^
~~~chapter three.............fire and rain~~
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend But I always thought that I'd see you again
Won't you look down upon me, Jesus You've got to help me make a stand You've just got to see me through another day My body's aching and my time is at hand And I won't make it any other way." - James Taylor, Fire and Rain
Helga padded down the stairs, her long blond hair fluttering behind her. She was wearing a black GAP T-shirt, a loose flannel over shirt, and the smallest pair of Arnold's jeans she could find. He'd offered her a pair of his shoes, but his foot was almost five sizes bigger than hers.
Gerald had already gone to his hotel, which was a few blocks away. He apparently didn't wait, but when she found Arnold in the kitchen, he pointed to the note on the kitchen table. It had an address and said something about dinner, and a phone number was listed below in Gerald's trademark scrawl. Arnold was rooting through the fridge, and finally pulled out two cans of soda.
"You want something to drink?" he implored, holding the two cans and shrugging. Helga gaped. She hadn't had soda, let alone solid food since she had been at the place where everything was white, including the doctors who worked there.
Intravenous feeding was the team's choice of sustainment. Needles. Tubes. Hideous...
Breakfast of champions... I almost laughed...
"Helga?"
"Yeah," she responded, somewhat detached. He handed her one of the cans and popped open his own, taking a long drink as soon as he did.
Helga pulled the tab and found that the can opened much easier than she had expected. She raised the can to her mouth and took a small sip. The familiar sweetness almost knocked her over backwards, her mind reeling with the diversity of the liquid. It brought back precious memories that she still held on to. It wasn't bitter and thick, but the thin bubbly drink that she had loved when she was young.
...blank, glassy blue eyes... a disgustingly beautiful array of red... black feathers...
"I gotta go to the corner store," Arnold said, glancing out the window. The sun had set, and the streetlights were flickering to life. Moths flocked to the porch light on the stoop. "We're out of milk, so I need to grab a few quarts. Want to come with me?"
"Sure," she said, smiling. Her intuition was crying out to her that something was wrong, but she chose to ignore it.
He hastily shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding his head towards the door.
"It'll only take a few minutes, so we won't be long," he said, shrugging again. Then he smiled for the first time that day. It made the cold steel glint of his eyes soften considerably, and his whole expression seemed to lighten, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. She marveled at how he still resembled the little kid who she had fallen in love with.
"Let's go then," she offered, breaking the comfortable silence. Then she laughed, staring at her feet. She had no shoes.
...black feathers...
About fifteen minutes later, after raiding every possible closet that didn't belong to a boarder for a matching set of shoes, Helga found herself walking to the store with Arnold in a pair of golf cleats, reminiscing about old times.
Most of her sentences began with "Do you remember the time...?", and they both dredged up memories that had been long-buried. She could see the corner store ahead, and then she glanced back at Arnold. He seemed to be studying the grains in the pavement as they walked together, and looked a little distant. His hands were still in the pockets of his well-worn Cubs jacket.
"Something wrong?" she asked, feeling a little strange. Only two hours ago he had been holding her like she'd always wanted him to, while he asked her the exact same question. She felt guilty, especially when he looked over at her.
The chips of blue ice that were his irises reflected something she couldn't put her finger on, but it disappeared before she could identify it.
"Nothing's wrong," he replied, smiling. But the smile was so forced that it almost made her cry again.
They approached the store, but the air was unusually quiet.
"Are you sure it's open?" Helga said, tugging on the arm of his jacket.
"It always is," Arnold said, trying to sound reassuring, but confusion was bluntly evident in his tone. Almost in a protective manner, he stood a few inches in front of her, but she wanted to get a better look.
The lights were on, and the television set that the clerk had probably been watching was blaring loudly, echoing off the walls. No one could be seen from outside.
"Do you think something happened?" Arnold asked her, his whole body rigid with anticipation and confusion. Helga could only wonder as she walked closer, peering through the dirtied Plexiglas. All appeared normal to the hapless glance of a normal person.
It wasn't until Helga noticed the large blotch of red on the floor inside that she jumped to conclusions. Her eyes widened, and she took a shaky step backwards.
"Someone's hurt," she said, her lip trembling as she pointed to a bloodied body on the floor. It was visible through a small nook where the counter couldn't block a person's view. Helga took a few more steps back, and Arnold watched her out of the corner of his eye. The sensitive hairs on the back of his neck had raised as a chilling shiver made its way up his spine.
"Do you think there was a robbery?" she said, her tone very subdued and frightened.
"Possibly," she heard him say.
"God, we have to call the police. What if he's still alive? It couldn't hurt us to help him," she remarked, trying to keep calm while her voice showed hints that she was on the edge of hysterics.
The bell that would normally alert the clerk to a patron jingled cheerfully as a burly man that sported a black ski mask pulled open the door and dashed out, halting at the sight of two witnesses.
It seemed that fate was not without a sense of irony.
The man stared at them for a brief second, then smiled menacingly under his mask.
"You know what they say," he coughed, his voice like sandpaper against rough wood, "dead men tell no tales." He cocked a black revolver that he was carrying, and clicked the safety off. They didn't have time to run before the gun went off.
A sickening sound of metal entering flesh broke the eerie silence after the gunshot. Arnold's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in shock, and he stumbled, clutching at his side. Crimson was spattered out behind him, forming a lopsided V. The man turned and fled, thinking better of killing them both. It wasn't worth the effort, should the police catch him. But then again, all criminals don't think like him, do they?
Helga stood in complete shock, watching Arnold for the seconds that followed. He took a weaving step towards her, resulting in blood seeping between his fingers and splashing in a puddle on the sidewalk. More of the dark liquid dripped onto the cement, soaking in immediately. His irises seemed strangely drained of their color as blood gurgled into his throat. He coughed once, only succeeding in having red dribble down his chin into his beard, staining the dirty blonde hair a deep and grotesquely beautiful burgundy.
"Oh my God... oh my God! Arnold!" she gasped, panicking as he dropped to his knees and fell on his uninjured side, grimacing. Her intuition had been right...
He can't die after I've just found him again...
Arnold lifted the hand that was acting as if to hold in his blood, and looked blankly at his dirtied palm as his fingers trembled. He smiled weakly, but the expression did not touch his eyes. His clean hand lightly touched her cheek, his cold fingers quivering.
"At least I got to see you again," he said, his eyes holding a strangely empty look as his dying gaze faltered.
"I'm... I'm so tired..." he muttered, before his head fell forward onto his chest, his eyelids drifting shut. His bloodstained hand fell limp to his side. A large puddle of foreboding red was already starting to collect under the exit wound.
She felt tears stinging her eyes.
My life is doomed to be this way...
... people always die around me and all I can do is watch.
"Someone help me! Someone, please, help me!" She cried, her shoulders shaking with dry, suppressed sobs. The gunshot from before had already attracted some of the occasional passersby.
He was still breathing, but it was labored. An expression of intense agony was crawling slowly across his visage. His skin was getting colder and the draining blood seemed to have no intention of letting him live as it left his body quicker.
That was when she noticed the hands on his wristwatch slowing down.
"What?" she said incredulously, despite the current turn of events.
The hands stopped completely.
The temperature dropped several degrees, making Helga shiver.
This must be some strange kind of phenomenon, she thought to herself, her eyes filled with tears as she rocked back and forth slowly, cradling Arnold's upper body.
His life was staining her hands and all she could do was watch...
...it wasn't meant to come to this...
...if only they hadn't found me...
Then she looked up, and around at her surroundings. She could see dim shadows of people, but they looked frozen...
...like Arnold's watch.
Her green eyes detected drops of rain. They hung in the air, as if suspended on cables. Even the tears that fell from her face halted like the rain had once they plunged from her reddened cheek, glistening like eerie snowflakes.
"No..."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Don't die on me," she whispered, hoping he could hear it. A few of her fingers brushed stray wisps of his messy blond hair out of his face. She wiped the blood from his thin lips with the heel of her palm, feeling her heart break. He had probably been the only person, the only thing that had kept her alive all of those isolated years...
"Let him die," a gentle but stern voice commanded.
Helga glanced up, her mouth a perfect "O."
On a stoop not ten feet away from where she kneeled sat a tall man, hidden in shadows. Eidolons obscured his features and danced upon his body, which was only partially visible from the moonlight above her.
"Why?" she demanded, losing her wits. She had always tried to be strong, but now she was finding it hard.
"Death is his only way out," the deep voice concluded, "because death for him will bring peace and closure."
"He doesn't have to die!" she shouted at the man, wanting him to take back his stupidly offensive comments. Why was this stranger suggesting that she let him pass away in her arms?
"Think about it," the man said, his pitch changing from a deep, luscious jazz tone to a voice which she had just recently heard...
"He's always alone. Even though he had friends, that particular loneliness never went away."
The man started to come out of the shadows. Helga's heartbeat quickened when his face came into view. The stranger had Arnold's face... had stolen his features...
"No!" she said venomously, wanting to make the bastard change his mind. He was never alone and always the optimistic idealist, the adorable blond guy that everyone had been friends with... he had never been alone... or...
...or had he?
"He's never had the luxury of real parents. His grandparents, even though they loved him like a son, could never give him true parental love," the man said said emotionlessly. "You disappeared, and you don't how much it affected everyone, especially Arnold. For him, death is the only way to make it better. And it will make it better for you as well."
"What?" she was lost in utter confusion, feeling a strange wave of familiarity wash over her subconsciousness.
The stranger's features grew sad for a moment, then contorted into a grimace.
"I have done away with so many," he said softly, "and yet, you two always manage to make me feel a perversing sadness. For you to have just found each other again..." He glanced off to the side, a faint whisper of a name rolling off his tongue. "Razeal... my brother..."
In the corners of her mind, the faint recognition of that specific name began to puzzle her. But she had no time for things that seemed to be part of a memory that was long gone.
...if only they hadn't found me...
...maybe there would be no pain...
The man's pale hand stretched out, his palm facing her. Her sight was overtaken by a strange vision that was abrupt and disturbing, and all images that her eyes should normally see were blocked by this strange movie.
Arnold was standing on the roof of his home, poised to jump...
His face was sad as a he pushed up a long sleeve, gazing at several scars that lined his forearms...
The dreamlike picture ended as soon as it had begun. The stranger was silent, but she now knew his purpose. He was going to take Arnold away from her.
"No..." she murmured, a warm tear cascading down her cheek. She was a contributing factor to his depression? Helga didn't want it to be true, but the thought tugged at her heart.
...maybe there would be no pain...
...for the both of us...
There was a tense silence.
"Are you convinced?" the man asked, a look of insane and psychotic triumph crossing his features... the features he'd taken from Arnold...
"He's been fighting alone for his entire life. It would be considered an act of kindness for you to let him pass on."
Alone? How the word echoes in my mind.
Nobody could ever know the true meaning of such a word, because it defines my past so well...
I will always be alone, because I always have been. And watching him and holding his cold body as he dies makes me realize that my future will always remain the same...
Because a life without someone is lonely. And a life like that isn't worth living.
I still love you. I always have, because you made me feel like I had something that no one had ever given me.
You're not alone, because I will live to see your life end.
Only one who has to endure what I have had to can see my pain.
It's a sad existence. But I live it, and maybe you'll understand...
I want you to live.
See, Arnold? You can't be dead...
...because I love you.
"Is he so sad?" she whispered after a moment, wondering why all those years ago she had never seen it. She had never even paused to think if he had anything that he kept inside, away from the prying world.
He had never shown it. Not to anyone.
It was one of those things that no one was supposed to know.
"I'm going to stay by him," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm going to be with him now."
It's our pain...
I can help him.
I can.
The man who had been watching her took another step out of the blackness that surrounded him, revealing the likeness of Arnold to her. He tilted his head and smiled at her, his hands now shoved into the pockets of the Cubs jacket.
"I want to be with him," she said, her composed tone wavering, "I want him to live."
Even if he doesn't help me...
...I will help him if it's the last thing I do...
...I want to do something for him in exchange for the love I have...
...even if I have to give up my life for him.
Arnold doesn't know what I am.
I have some faint idea... and this man seems so familiar...
The Arnold that stood in front of her nodded slowly, though somewhat reluctantly. "For you, L'eau."
L'eau...? My name... it was my name...
He did not speak again, but did something unimaginable.
Helga stared as the man stepped out of the shadows, his entire body bathed in a faint white glow from the moon. Behind him stretched two fathomless black wings, each individual ebony feather shining in the luminescent moonlight. He offered her one last smile, and spread his wings as black feathers floated down, and glossy ravens flew around him.
Then he was gone.
Did he hear me?
The hands on Arnold's watch started ticking again. The world seemed to come alive slowly, like watching a flower open up to the early morning sun's warm rays.
That man knows the definition of alone. He's lived it for eons...
...I guess even the angel of death can feel pity.
And an ambulance, with it's sirens wailing, screeched to a halt in front of her.
Author's Notes: Erin: Sadness! Angst! YAY! oO; Sorry. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (oooo... a cliffhanger) and please come back to read some more! ^_^
Steph: *suddenly pelts Erin with her manga books*
Erin: *dodges books* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! *catches her Paradise Kiss book and flips it open* Oooo...I remember that part!!! EEP! *tosses book over her shoulder to dodge more flying manga* WHAT'S THIS FOR?!
Steph: YOU POSTED THE LAST CHAPTER WITHOUT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Erin: I COULDN'T KEEP ALL THE READERS WAITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Steph: *while pelting books* TAKE THAT! AND THAT! AND THAT! AND...oh wait...I'm outta books...
Erin: o_O
Steph: ^_^
Erin:o_O;
Steph: ^_^;
Erin: o_O;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Steph: ^_^;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Erin:...I think you get the point.
Steph: uh...heh...yeah...
...CrimsonSorrow...
A fanfiction by CrimsonSorrow
Disclaimer: We don't own Hey Arnold! We're just borrowing the characters. ^^
Note: Helga's thoughts are prominent in this chapter, just because I felt like trying something different. She talks in first person, so they're pretty easy to pick out. They're also the sentences amid the paragraphs. ^_^
~~~chapter three.............fire and rain~~
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend But I always thought that I'd see you again
Won't you look down upon me, Jesus You've got to help me make a stand You've just got to see me through another day My body's aching and my time is at hand And I won't make it any other way." - James Taylor, Fire and Rain
Helga padded down the stairs, her long blond hair fluttering behind her. She was wearing a black GAP T-shirt, a loose flannel over shirt, and the smallest pair of Arnold's jeans she could find. He'd offered her a pair of his shoes, but his foot was almost five sizes bigger than hers.
Gerald had already gone to his hotel, which was a few blocks away. He apparently didn't wait, but when she found Arnold in the kitchen, he pointed to the note on the kitchen table. It had an address and said something about dinner, and a phone number was listed below in Gerald's trademark scrawl. Arnold was rooting through the fridge, and finally pulled out two cans of soda.
"You want something to drink?" he implored, holding the two cans and shrugging. Helga gaped. She hadn't had soda, let alone solid food since she had been at the place where everything was white, including the doctors who worked there.
Intravenous feeding was the team's choice of sustainment. Needles. Tubes. Hideous...
Breakfast of champions... I almost laughed...
"Helga?"
"Yeah," she responded, somewhat detached. He handed her one of the cans and popped open his own, taking a long drink as soon as he did.
Helga pulled the tab and found that the can opened much easier than she had expected. She raised the can to her mouth and took a small sip. The familiar sweetness almost knocked her over backwards, her mind reeling with the diversity of the liquid. It brought back precious memories that she still held on to. It wasn't bitter and thick, but the thin bubbly drink that she had loved when she was young.
...blank, glassy blue eyes... a disgustingly beautiful array of red... black feathers...
"I gotta go to the corner store," Arnold said, glancing out the window. The sun had set, and the streetlights were flickering to life. Moths flocked to the porch light on the stoop. "We're out of milk, so I need to grab a few quarts. Want to come with me?"
"Sure," she said, smiling. Her intuition was crying out to her that something was wrong, but she chose to ignore it.
He hastily shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding his head towards the door.
"It'll only take a few minutes, so we won't be long," he said, shrugging again. Then he smiled for the first time that day. It made the cold steel glint of his eyes soften considerably, and his whole expression seemed to lighten, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. She marveled at how he still resembled the little kid who she had fallen in love with.
"Let's go then," she offered, breaking the comfortable silence. Then she laughed, staring at her feet. She had no shoes.
...black feathers...
About fifteen minutes later, after raiding every possible closet that didn't belong to a boarder for a matching set of shoes, Helga found herself walking to the store with Arnold in a pair of golf cleats, reminiscing about old times.
Most of her sentences began with "Do you remember the time...?", and they both dredged up memories that had been long-buried. She could see the corner store ahead, and then she glanced back at Arnold. He seemed to be studying the grains in the pavement as they walked together, and looked a little distant. His hands were still in the pockets of his well-worn Cubs jacket.
"Something wrong?" she asked, feeling a little strange. Only two hours ago he had been holding her like she'd always wanted him to, while he asked her the exact same question. She felt guilty, especially when he looked over at her.
The chips of blue ice that were his irises reflected something she couldn't put her finger on, but it disappeared before she could identify it.
"Nothing's wrong," he replied, smiling. But the smile was so forced that it almost made her cry again.
They approached the store, but the air was unusually quiet.
"Are you sure it's open?" Helga said, tugging on the arm of his jacket.
"It always is," Arnold said, trying to sound reassuring, but confusion was bluntly evident in his tone. Almost in a protective manner, he stood a few inches in front of her, but she wanted to get a better look.
The lights were on, and the television set that the clerk had probably been watching was blaring loudly, echoing off the walls. No one could be seen from outside.
"Do you think something happened?" Arnold asked her, his whole body rigid with anticipation and confusion. Helga could only wonder as she walked closer, peering through the dirtied Plexiglas. All appeared normal to the hapless glance of a normal person.
It wasn't until Helga noticed the large blotch of red on the floor inside that she jumped to conclusions. Her eyes widened, and she took a shaky step backwards.
"Someone's hurt," she said, her lip trembling as she pointed to a bloodied body on the floor. It was visible through a small nook where the counter couldn't block a person's view. Helga took a few more steps back, and Arnold watched her out of the corner of his eye. The sensitive hairs on the back of his neck had raised as a chilling shiver made its way up his spine.
"Do you think there was a robbery?" she said, her tone very subdued and frightened.
"Possibly," she heard him say.
"God, we have to call the police. What if he's still alive? It couldn't hurt us to help him," she remarked, trying to keep calm while her voice showed hints that she was on the edge of hysterics.
The bell that would normally alert the clerk to a patron jingled cheerfully as a burly man that sported a black ski mask pulled open the door and dashed out, halting at the sight of two witnesses.
It seemed that fate was not without a sense of irony.
The man stared at them for a brief second, then smiled menacingly under his mask.
"You know what they say," he coughed, his voice like sandpaper against rough wood, "dead men tell no tales." He cocked a black revolver that he was carrying, and clicked the safety off. They didn't have time to run before the gun went off.
A sickening sound of metal entering flesh broke the eerie silence after the gunshot. Arnold's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in shock, and he stumbled, clutching at his side. Crimson was spattered out behind him, forming a lopsided V. The man turned and fled, thinking better of killing them both. It wasn't worth the effort, should the police catch him. But then again, all criminals don't think like him, do they?
Helga stood in complete shock, watching Arnold for the seconds that followed. He took a weaving step towards her, resulting in blood seeping between his fingers and splashing in a puddle on the sidewalk. More of the dark liquid dripped onto the cement, soaking in immediately. His irises seemed strangely drained of their color as blood gurgled into his throat. He coughed once, only succeeding in having red dribble down his chin into his beard, staining the dirty blonde hair a deep and grotesquely beautiful burgundy.
"Oh my God... oh my God! Arnold!" she gasped, panicking as he dropped to his knees and fell on his uninjured side, grimacing. Her intuition had been right...
He can't die after I've just found him again...
Arnold lifted the hand that was acting as if to hold in his blood, and looked blankly at his dirtied palm as his fingers trembled. He smiled weakly, but the expression did not touch his eyes. His clean hand lightly touched her cheek, his cold fingers quivering.
"At least I got to see you again," he said, his eyes holding a strangely empty look as his dying gaze faltered.
"I'm... I'm so tired..." he muttered, before his head fell forward onto his chest, his eyelids drifting shut. His bloodstained hand fell limp to his side. A large puddle of foreboding red was already starting to collect under the exit wound.
She felt tears stinging her eyes.
My life is doomed to be this way...
... people always die around me and all I can do is watch.
"Someone help me! Someone, please, help me!" She cried, her shoulders shaking with dry, suppressed sobs. The gunshot from before had already attracted some of the occasional passersby.
He was still breathing, but it was labored. An expression of intense agony was crawling slowly across his visage. His skin was getting colder and the draining blood seemed to have no intention of letting him live as it left his body quicker.
That was when she noticed the hands on his wristwatch slowing down.
"What?" she said incredulously, despite the current turn of events.
The hands stopped completely.
The temperature dropped several degrees, making Helga shiver.
This must be some strange kind of phenomenon, she thought to herself, her eyes filled with tears as she rocked back and forth slowly, cradling Arnold's upper body.
His life was staining her hands and all she could do was watch...
...it wasn't meant to come to this...
...if only they hadn't found me...
Then she looked up, and around at her surroundings. She could see dim shadows of people, but they looked frozen...
...like Arnold's watch.
Her green eyes detected drops of rain. They hung in the air, as if suspended on cables. Even the tears that fell from her face halted like the rain had once they plunged from her reddened cheek, glistening like eerie snowflakes.
"No..."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Don't die on me," she whispered, hoping he could hear it. A few of her fingers brushed stray wisps of his messy blond hair out of his face. She wiped the blood from his thin lips with the heel of her palm, feeling her heart break. He had probably been the only person, the only thing that had kept her alive all of those isolated years...
"Let him die," a gentle but stern voice commanded.
Helga glanced up, her mouth a perfect "O."
On a stoop not ten feet away from where she kneeled sat a tall man, hidden in shadows. Eidolons obscured his features and danced upon his body, which was only partially visible from the moonlight above her.
"Why?" she demanded, losing her wits. She had always tried to be strong, but now she was finding it hard.
"Death is his only way out," the deep voice concluded, "because death for him will bring peace and closure."
"He doesn't have to die!" she shouted at the man, wanting him to take back his stupidly offensive comments. Why was this stranger suggesting that she let him pass away in her arms?
"Think about it," the man said, his pitch changing from a deep, luscious jazz tone to a voice which she had just recently heard...
"He's always alone. Even though he had friends, that particular loneliness never went away."
The man started to come out of the shadows. Helga's heartbeat quickened when his face came into view. The stranger had Arnold's face... had stolen his features...
"No!" she said venomously, wanting to make the bastard change his mind. He was never alone and always the optimistic idealist, the adorable blond guy that everyone had been friends with... he had never been alone... or...
...or had he?
"He's never had the luxury of real parents. His grandparents, even though they loved him like a son, could never give him true parental love," the man said said emotionlessly. "You disappeared, and you don't how much it affected everyone, especially Arnold. For him, death is the only way to make it better. And it will make it better for you as well."
"What?" she was lost in utter confusion, feeling a strange wave of familiarity wash over her subconsciousness.
The stranger's features grew sad for a moment, then contorted into a grimace.
"I have done away with so many," he said softly, "and yet, you two always manage to make me feel a perversing sadness. For you to have just found each other again..." He glanced off to the side, a faint whisper of a name rolling off his tongue. "Razeal... my brother..."
In the corners of her mind, the faint recognition of that specific name began to puzzle her. But she had no time for things that seemed to be part of a memory that was long gone.
...if only they hadn't found me...
...maybe there would be no pain...
The man's pale hand stretched out, his palm facing her. Her sight was overtaken by a strange vision that was abrupt and disturbing, and all images that her eyes should normally see were blocked by this strange movie.
Arnold was standing on the roof of his home, poised to jump...
His face was sad as a he pushed up a long sleeve, gazing at several scars that lined his forearms...
The dreamlike picture ended as soon as it had begun. The stranger was silent, but she now knew his purpose. He was going to take Arnold away from her.
"No..." she murmured, a warm tear cascading down her cheek. She was a contributing factor to his depression? Helga didn't want it to be true, but the thought tugged at her heart.
...maybe there would be no pain...
...for the both of us...
There was a tense silence.
"Are you convinced?" the man asked, a look of insane and psychotic triumph crossing his features... the features he'd taken from Arnold...
"He's been fighting alone for his entire life. It would be considered an act of kindness for you to let him pass on."
Alone? How the word echoes in my mind.
Nobody could ever know the true meaning of such a word, because it defines my past so well...
I will always be alone, because I always have been. And watching him and holding his cold body as he dies makes me realize that my future will always remain the same...
Because a life without someone is lonely. And a life like that isn't worth living.
I still love you. I always have, because you made me feel like I had something that no one had ever given me.
You're not alone, because I will live to see your life end.
Only one who has to endure what I have had to can see my pain.
It's a sad existence. But I live it, and maybe you'll understand...
I want you to live.
See, Arnold? You can't be dead...
...because I love you.
"Is he so sad?" she whispered after a moment, wondering why all those years ago she had never seen it. She had never even paused to think if he had anything that he kept inside, away from the prying world.
He had never shown it. Not to anyone.
It was one of those things that no one was supposed to know.
"I'm going to stay by him," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm going to be with him now."
It's our pain...
I can help him.
I can.
The man who had been watching her took another step out of the blackness that surrounded him, revealing the likeness of Arnold to her. He tilted his head and smiled at her, his hands now shoved into the pockets of the Cubs jacket.
"I want to be with him," she said, her composed tone wavering, "I want him to live."
Even if he doesn't help me...
...I will help him if it's the last thing I do...
...I want to do something for him in exchange for the love I have...
...even if I have to give up my life for him.
Arnold doesn't know what I am.
I have some faint idea... and this man seems so familiar...
The Arnold that stood in front of her nodded slowly, though somewhat reluctantly. "For you, L'eau."
L'eau...? My name... it was my name...
He did not speak again, but did something unimaginable.
Helga stared as the man stepped out of the shadows, his entire body bathed in a faint white glow from the moon. Behind him stretched two fathomless black wings, each individual ebony feather shining in the luminescent moonlight. He offered her one last smile, and spread his wings as black feathers floated down, and glossy ravens flew around him.
Then he was gone.
Did he hear me?
The hands on Arnold's watch started ticking again. The world seemed to come alive slowly, like watching a flower open up to the early morning sun's warm rays.
That man knows the definition of alone. He's lived it for eons...
...I guess even the angel of death can feel pity.
And an ambulance, with it's sirens wailing, screeched to a halt in front of her.
Author's Notes: Erin: Sadness! Angst! YAY! oO; Sorry. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (oooo... a cliffhanger) and please come back to read some more! ^_^
Steph: *suddenly pelts Erin with her manga books*
Erin: *dodges books* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! *catches her Paradise Kiss book and flips it open* Oooo...I remember that part!!! EEP! *tosses book over her shoulder to dodge more flying manga* WHAT'S THIS FOR?!
Steph: YOU POSTED THE LAST CHAPTER WITHOUT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Erin: I COULDN'T KEEP ALL THE READERS WAITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Steph: *while pelting books* TAKE THAT! AND THAT! AND THAT! AND...oh wait...I'm outta books...
Erin: o_O
Steph: ^_^
Erin:o_O;
Steph: ^_^;
Erin: o_O;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Steph: ^_^;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Erin:...I think you get the point.
Steph: uh...heh...yeah...
...CrimsonSorrow...