Hello and welcome to chapter five! I'm sorry that this is rather behind, but my teachers have started piling on the homework. God it sucks being in AP classes. Second semester starts and all of your teachers whip out their shoves and start in with the homework. I have had little time to write over the past week, and I'll say right now that I'll update once a week. (Sighs) But that's how school goes, right? And I hate it.
And I know, that last chapter was shorter than usual, but hey! They're still good, right? Well here's the continuation of the chapter, just like I promised. Hope everyone enjoys it like they normally seem to do (I honestly hope all those reviews aren't just meant to pacify me or something . . . Reviewer: Let's just tell her she's good so she won't kill us!) and let's get this show on the road! Don't forget to keep answering those questions from way back in chapter three! I love hearing your answers!
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
PS. Disclaimers still apply! Yes, they do, and they will continue to do so forever! I won't ever own Hey Arnold, that will belong to a brilliant man by the name of Craig Bartlett, and Nickelodeon. His characters are being used to serve a purpose in my plot, woo.
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A Rainy December
Chapter Five: Helga, the Reluctant Nurse
Part Two
By: pottergal
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About twenty minutes after calling Olga, Helga was opening the door to the boarding house for her big sister, who was carrying a duffel bag stuffed full of things. Right behind her was an elderly man with a rather large bag, and Helga recognized him as Dr. Smith, the same man who had examined her a while ago. As she let them in, Olga explained things and as Dr. Smith went upstairs to examine Arnold, she brought the duffel bag into the kitchen and laid out everything. Olga had brought several changes of clothes for her and some detergent and quarters in case she needed to do her laundry. That wasn't any problem for Helga, who normally did her own laundry; she wouldn't let Miriam get within ten feet of her clothes, not with the memory that woman had.
"And I brought you a list of things you can do for your little friend in cases of emergency, like if he starts throwing up everywhere or something." She set a thick stack of papers on the kitchen counter before returning to the duffel bag and taking out several little pill bottles. "And here's what's left of your medication from when you were sick, in case he starts having the same sort of symptoms as you did." She set out the three orange plastic bottles beside the stack of paper.
"Thanks, Olga. Did you work out what you're going to tell Dad?" Helga asked as her sister pulled out her school books and things. "Oh, joy. You just had to bring those over, didn't you?" Helga poked her math book absently and Olga nodded with her customary smile.
"We can't have you falling behind so I called your teacher and requested your work for the last day of school. Everything has been taken care of, little sister, so you don't have to worry one bit." Olga said and Helga looked at her with slight disbelief. "And don't you worry one little bit about Daddy. I worked it out so you're staying with that friend of yours . . . Phoebes . . . Phoeba . . . ah . . ."
"Phoebe." Helga said in exasperation. "So I'm staying at Phoebe's; did you already talk to her mother about it?" Olga nodded with a smile. "And she was actually going to play along?"
"I told you not to worry, little sister! I have everything worked out so you'll be home a little before Christmas. I'll tell Daddy that you're doing a project where you have to stay at Phoebe's house for a week. That should give you plenty of time to get your friend better, shouldn't it?" Olga asked and Helga shrugged a little.
"I hope so."
"Well, if it's not, just give me a call. I'm going to be home until after New Years." Olga then picked up her purse and after rummaging around for a moment, handed Helga a credit card. Helga stared. "I'm giving this to you as a backup. Don't you dare use it unless you really have to, and if the bill comes back with a huge amount, I'll make sure you pay it." Helga grinned.
"Sure thing, Olga." She took the card, not doubting her sister for a moment. "I guess that means no sudden trips to Hawaii, doesn't it." Olga gave her a look and her grin widened.
"No, I'm sorry, no sudden trips to Hawaii. I left you some cash as well, but this is in case you don't have enough on you. Use it for supplies only, okay? And that means food and medicine, no shopping sprees." Olga said sternly and Helga nodded.
"I know, Olga. I swear I won't use it irresponsibly." She said and Olga raised her eyebrows. "Okay, okay, I swear I will only use it if I really have to, and only on things that I really need. Happy now?" Olga's smile returned and she nodded. "Yeesh, my own sister expects me to run off to the Caribbean or something." She muttered with an eye roll.
"I know you'll be fine, Helga, but if you really need anything, help, you name it, be sure to call. I'll be over as fast as I can." Olga said as Dr. Smith appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
"It seems your little friend has the flu. His fever may come and go over the next few days, but once it finally breaks, he will be fine. I suggest bed rest and plenty of fluids, with fever reducers taken every four to six hours." Helga nodded as the doctor spoke and Olga moved to stand beside him. "It's nothing too serious, and I'm sure you can handle it. Olga here tells me you're quite good at these sort of things."
"Sure." Helga said a little weakly and managed a smile.
"Yes, she's the one who always takes care of our family when someone gets sick, isn't that right, Helga?" Olga said and Helga nodded numbly. The three of them began to walk to the door as Olga continued on for a moment longer. When they reached the door, Helga opened it and gave her sister a genuine smile. "Take care, okay, little sister?"
"You too, Olga." The two embraced and with one final ruffle of Helga's hair, Olga hurried out to her car, Dr. Smith right behind her. Helga waved until Olga was out of sight and then she shut the door with a sigh. Now that her sister and the doctor were gone, the whole place felt empty and creepy again. After locking the door, she walked back to the kitchen and put her books and clothes back into the duffel back. The medicine and pile of papers could be moved to Arnold's room, she decided, so she took those upstairs before she did anything else.
I wonder if he's still asleep . . . She thought as she pushed the door open cautiously. Her gaze landed on the huddled lump that was Arnold, and since he couldn't see her, she smiled gently. Still sleeping like a baby. She walked in as quietly as she could and set the papers and the medicine beside the other bottles of pills on his desk. She rearranged them slightly, checking to see which of her medicine Olga had brought. The antibiotic . . . the nasal decongestant . . . and the cough syrup. Well, these were helpful if Arnold had a cold or something.
"Ugh . . ." The quiet groan from Arnold nearly scared Helga half to death and she turned to him, her heart pounding against her chest. He was lying on his back, his arms spread out and his blankets in a tangle around his ankles. His eyes were squeezed shut tight and he was grimacing. "No . . . rain, cold . . . go . . . don't . . ."
He's dreaming again. Helga walked cautiously to his side, a concerned frown on her face.
"NO!" He shouted suddenly, making her jump a second time. "Ugh . . ." He rolled over on his side and curled into a ball, his whole body shivering. "Cold . . . Grandpa? So . . . hot . . ." Helga frowned. Why was she shivering if he was hot? With a confused sigh, she grabbed the blankets and pulled both over him, but he didn't stop shivering. She touched a hand to his forehead and blinked. Was it just her, or had the fever gotten worse?
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Arnold felt a small bubble of air leak out from his mouth as he lazily opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful blue he'd ever seen. It was the sky, unblemished by white clouds. In part of his mind, Arnold realized he was underwater, silently floating with the current of the ocean, but mostly he was in awe of how blue the sky was. How . . . how did it get that way? How could it possibly be so very blue?
He watched fish swim past, blinking their eyes at him but not giving him a second thought as they continued on their way. Arnold continued to drift with the waves, the water sparkling around him with the sunlight. He felt no desire to move or try and fight . . . he just continued wandering without a care in the world. It was a wonderful feeling, to be so relaxed . . .
He remembered being so hot for so very long; it had been as though he'd been trapped in an oven, with no means of escape . . . For that reason, the warm, yet cool waters of the ocean were a welcome relief. It was refreshing, a small reminder that things wouldn't stay bad forever . . . things would get better, and now he was floating gently where ever the water decided to take him. It was . . . nice.
After a while, Arnold realized he'd been washed ashore. He lay on his back on the wet sand, the small waves breaking soothingly around him, caressing him with tenderness and relief from the heat that had plagued him for so very long. He continued to stare up at the blue sky lazily, his fingers curling absently around the wet sand. The sun moved slowly across the sky, and Arnold blinked a little as the waves began to retreat from him, abandoning him to the rays of the sun.
"Hot . . ." He murmured as the sun beat down on him, slowly burning his skin and stealing every shred of moisture from him. Part of him knew it would be wise to move, to move out of the direct path of the sun, but he lacked the energy to do it. For some reason or another, Arnold just couldn't muster enough strength to get himself to.
"Why should I have to move?" He murmured, his throat parched. "I was here first. The sun should move. Or something should block it out." He knew that it didn't make sense, as it was impossible to get the sun to move instantly, but right now nothing mattered much. All he remembered was how wonderful the water had felt, and he wished that it hadn't left him here, on the burning sands.
For what seemed like an eternity, the sun bore down on Arnold, who continued to lie on the beach, his arms spread out beside him. After a while, he noticed something. The blue sky that had held not one single cloud now held several. But they weren't the puffy white marshmallow kind; these were dark and angry, and moved and multiplied quickly, blocking out the sun with their blackness. Arnold watched curiously as thunder rumbled in the distance and a loud crack of lightning lit up the sky.
"Wow . . ." He said, his eyes wide in awe. He'd never been able to watch a lightning and thunderstorm before, at least not like this. Several more flashes of light illuminated the heavens and were accompanied by close following booms of the thunder. Arnold didn't flinch once; he barely had the energy to keep his eyes open, much less to be frightened of a storm.
It's . . . beautiful . . . He thought absently as little rain droplets began to fall from the black storm clouds. They hit his face gently, cooling the burn from the sun and bringing him relief. He shut his eyes with a smile as the water fell down on him, quenching his thirst and soaking him with their coldness.
When he opened his eyes again, the rain had stopped and the sun was out once more, but it didn't have quite so harsh a feel to it. Feeling as though the rain had given him strength, Arnold pushed himself up slowly. He saw the waves were beginning to creep tentatively towards him again and soon they were sloshing around him playfully, as though asking forgiveness for abandoning him.
"I feel better now, thanks." He said with a laugh and looked out at the horizon. Everywhere beyond him was a vibrant blue of varying degrees, the sky and the water meeting at some undefined point in the distance. It was a flash of white off to the side that brought Arnold's attention from the vastness before him and made him focus on a point closer to himself.
It's her . . . the girl from before . . . He thought as he stood shakily. She stood on a rock out at sea, not far from him. Her beautiful golden locks flashed in the sunlight as the breeze tossed them back and forth. It also toyed with her sundress, rippling the white material gently. He started to move towards her, but the waves suddenly began to push him back, away from her.
"Hey, you!" He called to her, waving an arm to get her attention. Just as she seemed to hear and started to turn to face him, a giant swell rose up between them, knocking Arnold back to the beach. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tight as the waved crashed into him; the salt water had begun to sting his eyes horribly.
He felt himself hit the sandy beach, and the wave pulled away, leaving him on his back. He waited for the water to drain completely before he rubbed at his face and opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry about that. Are you hurt?" He blinked up at the girl, who was standing over him, her blonde hair hanging over her shoulders. He swallowed the disappointment; with her back to the sun, it cast a shadow over her face such that he couldn't see it to place it with the frustratingly familiar voice.
"I'm sure that it didn't mean to do that, but the ocean can be tricky sometimes. It's like the heart, in that sense." She mused. "When you're not looking, it can change in an instant." He could make out her lips as they curved in a smile. "Do you want to hear the poetry I thought up as I stood out there?"
"Li . . . Lila?" He managed to get out and watched her smile fade slowly, making him blink in confusion.
"Of course you'd think of her." Her voice was even more familiar now, and as Arnold blinked a second time, things suddenly changed. No longer was he lying on his back in the sand; now he was in his classroom, lifting his head lazily from his desk. He blinked around at everyone, who were watching him with amused smirks and smiles.
"Hel . . . Helga?" He choked as his gaze landed on the girl. She was sitting on Mr. Simmons' desk, her arms folded over her chest and her ankles hooked around eachother. The jumper was back with the white shirt, along with the pigtails. She rolled her eyes and hopped down before smacking one of her hands down on his desk. He jumped, suddenly fully awake.
"We've been trying to get you up for the past fifteen minutes, bucko, but it seems your dream was far too good." She said with her sneer. "What was it about, anyway? Little Miss Perfect over here?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the redhead, who looked slightly worried.
"Arnold, I told you . . ." He sighed as Lila started her 'ever so' familiar line. "I like you, but . . ."
"I don't like you, like you." They finished together and Arnold rolled his eyes. "I know, Lila, forget it." He stood from his desk and stretched, yawning. "So where is everyone else?"
"Lunch started fifteen minutes ago, Arnold. We were just waiting for you to wake up." Gerald said and they started out of the classroom. Helga and Lila walked ahead of them slightly and were the ones to open the cafeteria doors. "Man, when you told me you hadn't slept well last night, I didn't believe you. But now I do." Gerald said as he followed Helga and Lila into the lunchroom, but before Arnold could follow, the doors slammed shut in his face.
"What the . . ." He muttered as he started pulling on the door handles. "Hey, what gives? Let me in!" He pounded on the door a couple of times, but no one came to open it. Frowning, he pressed an ear to the door. His frown deepened when he heard nothing. "Gerald? Helga? Lila?" He called as he pounded on the door again.
Huh? He watched in shock as the orange doors before him burst into flames beneath his hands, a suffocating heat suddenly blanketing everything. He coughed and fell to his hands and knees, red and yellow flame surrounding his body. So . . . hot . . . It pressed down upon him, nearly unbearable.
"Arnold . . ." He looked up, and through the dancing flames, he saw Helga looking down at him. Flames, too, licked at her, but she seemed unaffected. All her attention was focused on Arnold. "Why did you leave me? Why did you abandon me while you ran free?" She asked, her voice full of cold anger, making Arnold shiver despite the heat. "You're so selfish, you know that? I'm trapped, and you get to run around, free as a bird! It's not fair!"
"What are you talking about?" He asked, confusion running though him. "You're not trapped and I'm not free. What's going on?"
"I've been trapped for six long years, and you . . ." She trailed off, her voice a low growl. "You! I hate you!" She shouted and Arnold felt slightly stung by her words, though they weren't anything new. "I hate you, Arnold!" She shouted and tears filled her eyes. "I hate you." A few trickled down her cheeks as the flames burned higher for a moment, and then . . .
She was gone.
"Helga!" He shouted as the flames died away, leaving him alone in the darkness. "Helga, come back, I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry!" Why did he feel so horrible? She always said those words. What was it about them this time that made him feel awful? Perhaps because it seemed like she actually meant it?
"Come back . . ."
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Over the next few hours, darkness came quickly and Helga struggled to keep herself calm. She'd never have to deal with a sick person before, which was one of the reasons seeing Phoebe puke all over the nurse's office had unnerved her so much. Helga read and re-read Olga's list of instructions, so to speak, and did her best to battle Arnold's fever. She had only dim memories of what her mother had done when she'd been sick, so she tried hard to emulate that.
His fever, it turned out, had gotten worse. Last time she'd checked, it had been at about one hundred and two, and a half. According to her sister's list, at one hundred and four, she needed to fill the tub with ice water and dunk him in. But that, Olga said, should only be used as a last resort, because it was incredibly uncomfortable for the person being dunked.
At about nine in the evening, Helga's stomach gave a loud grumble, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything since noon. Dipping her washcloth into the bowl of ice water she'd brought up a while ago, she gently sponged off Arnold's forehead. He was lying on his back again, but she'd pulled the covers up to his chin. He groaned softly and drew a few deep breaths as Helga looked at the clock. At nine thirty, she needed to give him some more medicine and said a silent 'thank you' that he wasn't throwing up.
What should I make for dinner? Or maybe I should just order something, I can't afford to be cooking and have Arnold need my attention. She stood and stretched; she'd been sitting for a while now. Shaking the feeling back into her legs, she walked downstairs to find the phone book. What should she order? Pizza, or what else? There wasn't much selection, that was for sure.
She finally settled on pizza; she'd rather be safe than daring right now. Flipping through the book, she finally came across her favorite pizza parlor and ordered a small cheese pizza. When the man had asked for her address, she'd had to run outside for a second and check; she may've known how to get there by heart, but she couldn't remember Arnold's address right off the top of her head.
"It'll be about twenty-five minutes to half an hour. And don't forget there's a delivery charge and a tip." The annoyed sounding man said before giving her a total and hanging up. Helga hung up the phone, muttering about lousy service, before heading back upstairs to check on Arnold. She sighed when she saw that all the covers were once again around his ankles and he was curled into a shivering ball.
"What am I going to do with you?" She muttered in a motherly sort of way, and then caught herself. Gah, what was she becoming? "Crimeny, you'd think I actually enjoy doing this sort of thing." Helga said as she tucked the blankets around him for the umpteenth time that evening. Kneeling beside his bed, she wrung out the washcloth before placing it tenderly on his forehead. "I wish I could move you downstairs somehow . . . but then I'd have to carry you back up, and I'm really tired, so chances are, I'd drop you." She rested her elbows on the edge of the bed, her chin in her hands. "And I doubt you want to be dropped." Without thinking, she reached over and began to toy with a lock of his hair.
"Ugh . . . who?" She blinked as his green eyes opened slowly and focused on her lazily. "Who're . . ." He said, his speech slurred from sleep. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. "Helga . . .? Why are . . . what're you . . ."
"You're sick, remember? There's no one to watch over you, so I got stuck doing it." She said with an eye roll. Now that he was awake again, her customary character was back. "And since you're awake, this gives me the perfect opportunity to give you your medicine. Can you sit up?" She asked as she got the tylenol and the glass of water.
"I . . . don't know . . ." He said as he rolled onto his back and focused lazily on the ceiling. Helga pursed her lips in thought before putting the little white pills on the bedside table. Sitting beside him on his bed, she slid an arm beneath his neck and helped him sit up enough to drink some water.
"Don't swallow just yet, okay?" She then swapped the water glass for the medicine and gave them to him. "Okay, now you can swallow." He gulped down the water. "Do you want more to drink? The doctor said you should have plenty of fluids." Arnold nodded and she gave him the rest of the water in the glass. "Do you want some more? I know you need it."
"Yes." He said with another nod.
"Then I'll be right back with some. I hope you don't mind that it's tap water." She said as she stood and he grunted. His arm was once again draped across his eyes. "I'll take that as a no." She said before walking out of the room. Just as she reached the bottom stair, there was a loud knock at the door that made Helga nearly jump out of her skin. She set the glass down on the last step before peering through the peek hole. It was the pizza delivery guy.
About time. She thought as she opened the door and handed the pimply teen fifteen bucks. Taking the pizza, she shut the door and locked it again. Retrieving the glass, she took both it and the hot pizza to the kitchen and set them down on the table. Refilling the glass, she then started back up the stairs to give Arnold his water.
"You still awake?" She asked softly as she entered the room. There was another grunt as he peered up at her. "Here's your water. Can you sit up this time to drink it, or should I have brought you a straw?" She watched as he managed to push himself up to his elbows and she handed him the glass. "Drink it all, football head. It seems like your fever has come down a little." She said as she touched a hand to his forehead.
"You're still dusty, you know." He said as he finished off his water. "What time is it?" He asked as he looked at the clock. "Wha . . . how'd it get to be nine-thirty?" Helga took the empty glass from him as he stared at the clock.
"Well, Arnoldo, you have been sleeping for most of the day. Let's take your temperature right now, okay? I want to see where you stand right now, whether your fever has indeed come down a little." He nodded and managed to push himself up the rest of the way. She walked over to the desk and opened the little plastic case, shaking the thermometer a little to ensure it was clear. "Here." He opened his mouth and she placed it beneath his tongue.
"Who was that the door?" He asked, though most of it came out odd due to the thermometer in his mouth. Helga had to think a moment before she understood what he'd said.
"I ordered some pizza because I didn't feel like cooking. If I'd decided to make something, I couldn't leave it unattended. What would I have done if you'd needed my attention or something? I could've started a fire." Helga said as she focused on the digital clock across the room. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Arnold nodding. "Okay, time." She took the thermometer from his mouth and twisted it a little to read it.
"I'm surprised you thought that far ahead." Arnold said and she noticed he'd wrapped a blanket around himself. "So what does it say?" Helga frowned a little before shaking the thermometer.
"It says you're down to an even hundred." He looked a little surprised. "But don't get your hopes up just yet, bucko. Dr. Smith said your fever would come and go in varying degrees for the next couple of days. He recommended lots of bed rest and fluids, with things like tylenol and motrin taken every four to six hours or so." She said as she replaced the thermometer in its little case.
"Who's Dr. Smith?"
"My family's doctor. My older sister Olga got him to come over and take a look at you." She turned back to him. "Listen, I'll explain more, but I'd like to go down and eat something. I'm sure you're hungry too." Right on cue, his stomach grumbled. "So let's find your slippers and then we can talk more in the kitchen." She opened his closet and pulled out a pair of matching blue slippers. Handing them to him, the two started downstairs.
When they finally got to the kitchen, Helga set Arnold up on a kitchen chair, his spare blanket wrapped around him tightly. He put his head down immediately after sitting, and groaned softly. Apparently it took a lot just to walk down two flights of stairs, especially since he was sick. After making sure that he was going to be all right, Helga began rummaging around in the cupboards. She'd put the pizza in the refrigerator, deciding to save it for when she really needed it. Now that Arnold was downstairs with her, she could make them both something without fear of letting it burn.
Soup . . . soup . . . where does his grandmother put the soup? She finally opened a cupboard and smiled when she found two cans of hearty vegetable soup. Carefully reading the simple instructions, she found a saucepan and dumped in the contents, along with some water and a little milk. Soup is easy to make. I should probably cut up some bread as well . . . She thought as she placed it on a burner and put the lid on.
"Hey, Arnoldo! Do you have any bread?" She asked and he lifted his head so that his chin rested on the tabletop. "Well, do you?" She put her hands on her hips, expressing her impatience.
"I don't know, Helga. I don't usually do the cooking." She heaved a small sigh and rolled her eyes. "What are you making, anyway? I thought you had pizza." He asked as she turned back and started searching for some bread. What she finally found was some uncooked biscuits that came in the container that popped open when she removed the seal.
"I did, but I figured I'll save that until you can have some too." She said, her attention divided between him and finding a baking sheet. After preheating the oven, she carefully laid out the biscuits and checked the baking time. "Ten minutes, perfect." She muttered as she checked on the soup and threw away the containers of the soup and the biscuits.
"You're making soup?" He said with a groan.
"Yes I am, football head, and you're going to eat it. I'll shove it down your throat if I have to." She said as she stirred the soup mixture slightly and replaced the lid. "It's easy to make and it'll help you feel better." The oven light clicked off, signaling that it was now at the proper temperature. She slid the door open and winced at the heat before sliding the sheet of biscuits in. "Okay, ten minutes from now they'll be ready. In the meantime . . ."
"What?" She ignored his question as she got down the largest mug she could find and poured some milk into it. She then placed it in the microwave and set the timer for one minute. "What're you doing now?"
"Hold your horses, bucko." She said as she searched through every cabinet again, looking for the honey. She finally found the little plastic bear that it came in behind a jar of oatmeal. Once the timer chimed signaling that the microwave was finished, she took out the steaming mug of milk with a hot pad and brought it over to the counter. After finding the cutlery drawer, she took out a spoon and began to stir in honey to the hot milk. She tested a small spoonful after a moment and nodded to herself.
"What's this?" Arnold asked as she set it before him with a fresh spoon.
"It's something my mom would make for me when I was sick with the flu. It's warm milk with honey." She said as Arnold sat up slightly, a curious look on his face. "Go on, I haven't poisoned it." She said with a smirk and turned back to the soup. It was now boiling steadily, meaning that it was done. She turned off the burner and removed the saucepan from the heat. Looking over at the clock on the wall, she noticed that it was also time for the biscuits to come out of the oven.
"Hot pad, hot pad . . . where'd I put it . . ." She muttered before finding it and opening the oven to peek at the biscuits. Sure enough, they were a good golden brown, so she removed them and turned off the oven. Setting the sheet on the stove by the soup, she then found a spatula and a ladle, and brought down two bowls and two small plates.
"Do you like butter, hair boy?" She asked as she served up the soup and set one bowl before him. She then placed the biscuits in a dishtowel to ensure they'd stay warm before putting it on the table.
"No, it's okay." He said as she set out the two small plates and got another spoon for him. She was going to reuse the first one she'd dirtied. After taking one final glance around to make sure the stove and the oven were turned off, she grabbed a couple of napkins and finally sat down.
For the first few minutes they ate in relative silence, with Helga eating quickly and Arnold eating more slowly. She went back for seconds before he'd even finished his first bowl, and after a moment, he set down his spoon and stared at her.
"You are Helga, aren't you?" She stared at him, her spoon lifted halfway to her mouth. "Because the Helga I know would never do this. Am I dreaming or something?" She gave him a look as she returned her spoon to the soup bowl. "The Helga I know hates my guts. She wouldn't cook for me, or act this . . . this amazing."
"Really." She said and folded her arms over her chest. "Well, let me remind you of something I've already said, football head. I can be an amazing person when I want to be. So eat your soup and drop it." She snagged a few biscuits from the towel and took a bite from one before dipping it into her soup.
"But . . . but . . ." She looked up at him and he looked so confused as he ran his fingers through his hair. "None of this makes sense."
"Try analyzing when you feel better, Arnoldo, and eat your soup before I have to come over there and force you to." She ordered and he picked up his spoon. "What, you don't like my cooking? Would you rather be stuck with someone like Sid or Stinky trying to take care of you? Because tomorrow morning I can always arrange it."
"No, you're cooking is fine." He said hastily as he took a sip of soup. "In fact, it's very good. I just wish . . ." He sighed as he looked up at her. "You're so . . . perplexing, you know that? No matter how hard I try, you never make sense." His green eyes seemed to be trying to pierce her every barricade, just as they'd done the time they'd met atop the FTi building, and it was making her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
"Don't even bother, hair boy. That's who I am, an amazing, yet confusing person. I don't want to make sense to people." He finished his soup quietly, his gaze still focused on Helga. After watching him warily for a moment, Helga finished her second bowl of soup and ate a few more biscuits.
"You must make sense to Phoebe at least. Why else would she stay your best friend if you treated her like you treat most everyone else?" He said as he set down his spoon and finished off the last of the milk and honey. Before Helga could make a come back about Phoebe, he changed the subject. "You know, I am feeling better after this milk and soup. Thanks for making it, Helga."
"You're welcome." She said automatically, though her tone was bitter. She stood and took the plates to the sink, where she ran them under water. She'd wash them after she finished cleaning up the rest of the kitchen. "If you want some more, I can easily make it for you." He nodded and she took his mug and refilled it with milk before sticking it in the microwave. She then found a plastic ziplock bag for the leftover rolls and put the pots and pans in the sink along with their dirty dishes.
"Do you need any help?" Arnold asked as Helga ran hot water in the sink after pouring some detergent in.
"No, I'm fine. You stay put." As she moved around, she was uncomfortably aware of his eyes following her. She made him his milk and honey and then went back to washing dishes. She focused on her task, trying hard to forget the green-eyed gaze that seemed to be glued to her back, analyzing her. Grabbing a fresh dishtowel, she dried everything off and put it away in its proper place before sponging off the table, the counters, and the stove, leaving it as clean as when she'd first come. She then found a broom and started sweeping.
"You don't have to do that, you know." Arnold said, and Helga noticed he'd finished his milk and his chin was once again resting on the tabletop. She gave him a small glare and continued sweeping.
"So what if I want to, okay? Crimeny!" She said as she swept everything into a neat little pile and then into the dustpan. After tossing the dirt, she replaced the broom and the pan and then took the empty mug from Arnold. "Are you done?" He nodded sleepily and she washed it as well.
"You know what, Helga? You really are amazing. I'd never expect you . . . to be a . . . a housewife type." He said as his eyelids began to droop and she bristled at the term 'housewife'.
"Me? A . . . housewife? Ha!" She gave a small sharp bark of laughter. "I call it more of survival, Arnoldo. Bob can't cook worth beans, but the only time him and me are forced to fend for ourselves is when Miriam can't get herself out of her smoothie high. Which, come to think of it, is most of the time." She said as she picked at a spot on the table absently. "And, oh, guess who gets stuck with all the housework on weekends? Me, that's who. Bob is off doing business and my own mother is too wasted to care."
"That's . . . nice . . ." She looked up to see Arnold had fallen asleep and she sighed a bit sadly.
"You too, I suppose. I must've bored you to sleep with all my petty problems." She walked over and brushed a few strands of golden hair from his face. "I should've seen this one coming . . . now I have to carry you upstairs." She sighed again before sliding him from his chair. "I hope for your sake that I don't drop you."
Helga actually managed to get Arnold up both flights of stairs without coming close to dropping him. Sure, it took quite a lot of effort on her part, but she got him up to his room and back into his bed. She then felt his forehead again and bit back a curse. His fever was back, yet again. She shouldn't have ever asked him to come downstairs; that had clearly taken far too much energy on his part and had made it easy for the fever to reclaim the ground it had lost.
Looks like it's going to be a long night . . .
*~*~*
And there's a good place to stop. Hope no one minds . . . well of course you do, you want to know what happens. Well you're just going to have to wait until chapter six, aren't you? Heh. So what do you think is going to happen? Is Helga going to have a breakdown from dealing with a sick Arnold? Is Arnold's grandmother going to get a clue? Tune in next time for some more crazy dreams, a dancing Helga, and I don't know what else. Don't forget to review, I love getting reviews!
Love forever and ever:
pottergal
