Finding the Lost Journey
Composed By ~*Silver Kitten*~
A/N: Hello! Wow, I would just like to thank everyone who read/reviewed my story! So, thank you ArNoLdFaN, BellaMay76, Briana LFBH, Dracos One And Only, Roxynomekop1288, EJ, beady, Bonnie Yang, Ruby, chelsey, Lexi, aNGELa, BJ, wyldheart, and Rachel ^_^ I appreciate your interest and comments. I hope this next part maintains that interest (or better yet elevates it). I'm really excited about this story. Hopefully this part isn't too boring, it has a lot of explanation in it though. In the next part I'm striving for more hints of romance and a greater sense of adventure (which…yeah, next chapter…pretty adventurous—but you have to read this to find out why lol).
Disclaimer: Sure, I own Hey Arnold!…Nickelodeon just doesn't know it yet…
(I'm just kidding)
"Gotta find a way
Yeah I can't wait another day
Ain't nothin' gonna change
If we stay 'round here
Gotta do what it takes
Cuz it's all in our hands"
Fly Away From Here-Aerosmith
Finding the Lost Journey
Part Two: Family Ties
~*Helga's Point of View*~
I screamed but all too late—a shot had been fired…
"Arnold!" I called out into the semi-darkness. I felt his body encompass mine with such force as to push us both to the floor in an attempt to dodge the bullet. I blinked my eyes open to the giant glare of light upon the wooden floorboards, noticing Arnold had his arm around me in precaution for another attack. However, I think both of us examined ourselves and the other, and neither of us was wounded. In fact, the gun wasn't even aimed at us, as I looked up at the strange gunman, an intruder of sorts, his face masked with shadows.
I then looked to the window, the curtain still swaying heavily, and just above the sill was an arm hanging over it, a knife tightly in hand. I could barely hold in another scream.
With the echo of the gunshot still reverberating inside my head, as it droned out to the immaculate whirr of a clock ticking nervously on the wall behind us, a deep, unsettling silence was etched within the shadows. I didn't know what I should do, or say, or if I should attempt to stand. I don't think Arnold did either, as he simply stared at the figure, awaiting some kind of an order of what to do next.
"You may get up now. I avow no harm shall come to either of you, by my hands or another's," the unidentified man spoke solemnly, pulling his gun back into the shadows where he stood.
"But you…you killed…that person, in the window…" Arnold said, overcoming a perplexed state of shock.
"Yes…killed him, and saved both of your lives. What do you think they were doing outside your window?" The man questioned. I helped myself up, remaining on my knees along with Arnold.
"Maybe you should tell us, since you're the one with the gun," I exclaimed. I did not want to have another lapse of silence that only further instilled fear in me.
"That man in the window, and his partner who got away, were sent here to find and kill you."
"So…who are you?" Arnold asked, now fully standing. As the man slowly stepped into the light steaming from streetlights outside the window, Arnold helped me to stand, pushing me somewhat behind him.
~*Arnold's Point of View*~
"My name is Smith. Sigmund Smith. But you, Arnold, would perhaps better recall me as simply, Mr. Smith." He said, now standing in a bit of light where his long, tan trench coat was distinguished along with a black top hat with a red band. The collar of the coat seemed to touch the brim of the hat, discarding most of his face to mystery.
I searched my thoughts to remember.
"You lived in the Sunset Arms, about twelve, thirteen years ago?" I asked him now.
"Yes, room sixteen, with the secretive, special treatment. Do you remember?"
My thoughts were now verified by his answer. He was the infamous Mr. Smith, a former boarder of the Sunset Arms who mysteriously vanished.
"Yeah, I remember…but…why are you here? How do you know these people are out to kill me?" I couldn't seem to find a reasonable question to ask, considering the circumstances.
"Because I was sent here to protect you," He suddenly stopped and his eyes peered around the room. There was another whipping of sound in the air, and the next thing I knew Helga collapsed—I caught her just in time.
"Helga!"
A couple more gunshots came from Mr. Smith's gun, pointed out the window.
"Quick, we need to get out of here," he stated calmly but firmly. I could only stare momentarily at the seemingly lifeless body of Helga in my arms. "She was shot with a tranquilizer. She'll live, so long as we get out of this apartment." He said, more hurriedly now. He grabbed her from my arms and slung her over his shoulders to carry her, heading out the door. I followed him with confused panic.
We stalked the halls of the apartment building, readying ourselves for more attacks of some kind. He kicked open the apartment front doors, pointing his gun side-to-side, all the while keeping Helga from slipping.
"In the car," he said, tapping his gun on the front hood of a black Mercedes Benz, as to inform me which one he was referring to. He then slid Helga carefully into the backseat and shut the door. I got into the front passenger seat of the car, waiting for Mr. Smith to get in. After he got in, shut his door and locked the rest, he turned the ignition and it started in an uproar. A few more gunshots were heard. I looked out the window and saw three men running down the street to catch us, but luckily we sped off just in time.
"Where are we going?" I asked him between constantly peeking behind me at Helga.
"We're going to an old, abandoned warehouse where they shouldn't be able to find us, at least not soon," Mr. Smith answered, checking his mirrors to make sure no one was following us on the empty highway.
"What about Helga? What can we do to help her?"
"She doesn't need help, she just needs sleep. She'll overcome the drowsiness of the tranquilizer on her own, so there is nothing we can do but wait," he told me knowingly.
"What were those bastards thinking anyway? Why were they trying to…sedate her?" I questioned, expecting him to know just as he seemed to be one step ahead of me this whole night.
"They probably weren't expecting me to be there. It was more likely an alternate plan put into action, and had they been quick enough they would have gotten you, and myself, as well,"
"But Helga is completely innocent, and for that matter so am I, so why are they trying"—
"Not trying," he interrupted, "Going to. They will get to you, one way or another. It's what they were trained to do," he explained gravely.
"Trained by whom and what for?" I now asked.
"It is truly difficult to explain,"
"As far as I know…I have all night,"
There was a brief moment of silence with nothing but the distracting murmur of the car driving on the highway, hitting a couple rough spots once in a while. I was waiting for Mr. Smith to start talking, waiting for Helga to wake up, and just waiting to awake from this nightmare. Finally, he began to speak.
"Do you remember when your father and…mother left nearly twenty years ago?"
"Vaguely…I remember pretty much what I've been told by my grandparents. All I know is they left to help save some mountain people from some kind of illness…and that they were supposed to be back that next week…and we'd…go to the park…" I told him, now looking out the window at the dark and desolate field we seemed to past too quickly to focus on one isolated object.
"There is more to that than what you might think, Arnold." He said to me grimly, enough to pull my attention from the blurry spectacle outside the window.
"Like…what?"
"The illness those mountain people were suffering from was no coincidence. In my traveling I had heard rumor of rival tribes exchanging hateful war tactics. One of the group's leaders began using viral warfare, an unheard of chemical too easily transmitted and too late diagnosed—as this disease has wiped out whole villages. The man goes by the name of La Sombra, who had purposely and secretly infected the mountain people your parents went to go try to save. All of it was planned. La Sombra wanted not only to cause damage to the mountain people, but at the same time he wanted revenge on your parents for taking the Corazón out of his reach." He explained.
"La Sombra? Yes…I recall that name from my dad's journal…"
"Of course, your father had no idea of La Sombra's capabilities or connections. You see, La Sombra knew your parents would come to the mountain people's rescue."
"But…how could he know?" I asked.
"A secret contact. Someone betrayed your father and mother…" he said, wincing a little.
"My parents…they were such great people…who could betray them?"
"A so called "friend of the family"…a man by the name of Eduardo," he clarified; his hands clutched the steering wheel firmly.
"Eduardo! But…from what I'm told my father and he were friends…how could he…why? Why did he betray my parents?" I questioned angrily. Could I really believe Mr. Smith? What could I go against to justify Eduardo…I didn't know him either…
"I know it makes absolutely no sense, does it? People are greedy, Arnold, don't forget that. People will do anything for money; power; control—and La Sombra was just the man to offer that to Eduardo. Eduardo wasn't easy to break though…I hear La Sombra had a few tricks up his sleeve. So, naturally, Eduardo betrayed your father and mother…and they were wrongly persuaded to come to the rescue when really…they were going to meet face to face with…" he paused.
"With…with what?" I inquired hastily.
"With…death,"
I swallowed my heart back into my chest but I could not keep my body from flinching nor my mind from racing back and forth between memory upon memory upon memory—simply searching for truth, an answer to my most humbling and vital of questions, what ever happened to my parents? —but I was not ready to find the truth and I was not ready for the answer…they were…dead..
"No…" I could barely allow the word to escape from my mouth. "How do you know? How do you know all this!" I demanded of him now. Who did this stranger think he was? This stranger…this intruder…barging into my life, acting as if I've known him forever, like everything was okay…and then telling me my parents were dead. And I was supposed to accept this? I was supposed to believe him?
"Answer me! Now! How the hell could you know?" I asked; feeling hysterics override my composure, and the anger welled up inside me was finally erupting.
"Because!" He sharply cut in—his tone matching my own. "Because," he repeated now, a little calmly, softly, as if he didn't want me to miss what he was saying. "Because your mother, Stella, was my…sister." He stated. I saw his gloved hand go up to his face, shrouded by his tall collar, to perhaps wipe a tear away. My rigid position melted back into the seat. My hands and arms went numb, and I was just a puddle of irregular rhythm.
"That…that would make you my…my uncle…" I said, partly to him and partly to myself.
"Yes, Arnold…Stella Smith was my sister. We were more like best friends than brother and sister…but sometimes that's what siblings are—best friends. She was always more into the outdoors, nature, the public, while I myself was more reserved, more of a loner who enjoyed reading in a quite room with little light. As we grew up, it was only natural for her to go into a career that allowed her the freedom she loved so much. She loved to travel, to be out with people, to learn new things every day. She became…so much. She was a doctor, an explorer, a scientist—just anything she put her mind to she did. I, of course, had other occupational goals. Which is why I am what I am today—an agent of a reclusive agency that keeps tabs on other elite and potentially dangerous groups, rebel groups. And that is why I am here…to protect you." He said earnestly while I listened. He paused but then continued before I could speak.
"So," he went on, "I was informed of some sources debating whether or not a cure for the illness that seemed to die out years ago had been found. Just so happens the same time the notes on the cure were found, so was another case of the illness. I could give you the bulk details, but for simplicity's sake, let's just say all roads led to Miles, your father. Studies showed similar effects of his and your mother's serums to work on the illness; however they lacked certain necessary steps to perfect it. Steps only known by your parents. Well…since your parents are no longer an option, all that was left was…you."
"Me? But what could I know?" I asked, a little dejectedly.
"Oh, no one knew what you might know. Most theories I suppose were…they may have left notes, or…journals, containing such valuable information. Ergo, news of this somehow spread to the enemies, and it was decided to go after you to make sure the cure wouldn't get out. Now, normally, when I heard of this, I would go through a number of different steps to handle the matter. I wasn't actually supposed to come inform you of this…but…I knew time was precious, and I had to act fast. After all…you're…my nephew." He said.
I still couldn't grasp what I was hearing. I didn't know how to respond.
"Well, we're here," he said quickly, slowing down and pulling in to an empty lot just before an even emptier looking warehouse.
I'd helped him carry Helga inside where we put her on a few stacked boxes with a couple sheets. He sat down on another box while I couldn't help but stand. There were minutes of silence and neither of us spoke. But I had to talk to this man. If he really was my mom's brother…he was family.
"Um…so…why didn't you ever reveal who you were to me? You're my uncle after all…why weren't you ever there?" I asked. He took his hat off and flipped down his collar, revealing an almost football shaped head, much like my mothers, and a head of burgundy hair slicked back. He had dark eyes that looked at me genially, almost remorsefully.
"I wanted to be there…so much. But with my job, you have to understand…keeping a low profile is imperative. Do you know what could have happened to you or to your grandparents, had someone I tracked down come after me? In vengeance they'd come after those who were close to me. Do you…understand?" he wondered. I saw the look in his eye, the solemn and sincere expression on his face. Any mystery or inkling of distrust I felt with him was now replaced with vague understanding and…a strange obligation to trust him, in hearing and seeing the resemblance that he might just be my family.
"I…sort of understand…I guess…I just wish things were different, that's all,"
"So do I," he said, and then looked down at the dusty cemented floor, cracked in some places. "I loved your mother…I respected her decisions, hey, your father was a great guy. They were perfect for each other. It killed me when I heard the news…and it brought me back to life and killed me again to hear I was too late, that I couldn't save them. I would have…but it was just too late…
"I can only imagine the look on their face…when they discovered Eduardo betrayed them…and even with our intelligence top of the line, we couldn't track Eduardo or La Sombra down. They seemed to vanish…and as far as we know, they did." He informed me. I now sat down on a box beside Helga.
"Is La Sombra the one coming after me?"
"Of that I'm not sure…he might be dead, it could be an heir, or another follower of him. But I knew I had to find you and tell you all of this myself…"
"If you hadn't…then by what you're telling me…I guess I'd be dead, and so would Helga…thank you…" I told him. He seemed as if he wanted to smile.
"Well…that's what family is for," he replied. I half smiled.
"Yeah…it is," I said back, and then I looked behind me at a sleeping Helga.
"So, this girl, Helga, you say? Are you two…?"
"Oh," I paused to force a laugh, "No, we're…just friends," I stated frankly.
"You say such as if it disappoints you," he told me. I bit my tongue and turned away, feeling my face flush.
"You're beginning to sound like my friend, Gerald," I said, mostly to myself. He stifled a laugh.
"I remember him, I think. You two chased me around town like crazy. Never before had my cover come so close to being revealed," he remarked.
"Yeah…he's my best friend…and he's getting married in three weeks…and now, all of this is happening…"
"I have no solid answers for you, but I do offer my sincerest promise that…sometime soon every question you had will be answered, and every crime of those you loved will be justified. Just keep faith…and don't lose sight of that infallible hope of yours. Your parents are with you…they always have been and always will be," he exclaimed genuinely. Just then, Helga began to stir.
"Oh, my head," she moaned, placing her hand to her forehead. "Where am I? What's happened?" she asked.
"Helga! Oh I'm so glad to see you're awake!" I said happily. I think I saw Mr. Smith smile in the corner of my eye, but I ignored it.
"Arnold! Are…are we alive?" she asked, innocently. I gave a small laugh.
"Yes…very much so…Helga, I'd like to introduce you to my uncle…Mr. Smith," I said, gesturing to him as he now stood up to shake her hand.
"Aren't you that guy from Arnold's apartment?" she now asked.
"Yes…but don't worry. I can explain everything I know…" he said.
And he did, again, as I interjected other parts of the story so it could make as much sense to her as possible. She was mystified by it, by everything. And she, just as I, was trying to put every piece together like an impossible puzzle.
"La Sombra killed your parents? I can't believe it…" she commented.
"Neither can I…" I said, and then Mr. Smith stood up.
"As unbelievable as all this might be, we've got to decide on something. Exactly whoever these people are who are looking for you will not stop until they get you. Now, Helga, you're involved as well…I mean not to be so abrupt but I have a favor of you to ask…" he began a little nervously.
"What? What is it?" I inquired.
"Recently, another case of that mystery illness has been diagnosed, somewhere in the southern region of Central America. People need a cure and they need it fast. We are not sure if the illness is being spread by means of intent or just by accident. Either way, I would ask that…you would send anything of your parent's that might lead to that serum to put a stop to the threat of this illness once and for all. The only catch is…you would have to send yourselves as well…"
"We have to send ourselves? Why? Doesn't the postal service extend to Central America?" Helga now questioned, feeling as apprehensive as I was.
"The man you need to seek out confirmed he would only see Miles, Stella, or you Arnold…you're all that's left, and he would see you only. I know it is a hefty burden to place on you, but I assure you will be back here in Hillwood in time for your friend's wedding. And my men and I will go further into stopping the enemies. Because Helga is no safer here than you…I'm afraid she should accompany you," he added. Helga gulped.
"No, I will not put Helga's life in danger. Can't she stay with you? You must have all that secretive protection stuff, right?" I implored of him.
"Not for civilians. This isn't my jurisdiction, remember? All I can offer you are two tickets to Central America, a map, and a contact to make. I know this is difficult…but these villagers need your help. Your parent's would have helped them, I know that…" he said.
I looked over to Helga who nodded in some reluctant sense of approval.
"We can do this, Arnold. We could help these people and you could maybe find out more about your parents. Don't you want that?" Helga asked with her words trying to find the courage deep inside of me below my worry and doubt.
"…Yes…more than anything,"
"So accept this…he even said we'd be back home for Gerald and Phoebe's wedding. What have we got to lose?"
"All right…I'll accept this mission," I told Mr. Smith. A smile eased across his face.
"Thank you, both of you…what you are doing will go down in history," he exclaimed.
~*Helga's Point of View*~
"So, what's the game plan?" I asked, wanting to affirm exactly what I was getting myself into.
"Tomorrow, when it's light out, we will go back to your place, Arnold. The enemies don't act during the day, I know that for certain. You'll get packed there and hopefully locate a journal of your father's. Then, you may say goodbye to friends and family, but by tomorrow night there will be a plane waiting for you that will take you to Central America. I have contacts there that will be waiting to assist you. All travel expenses will be taken care of for the both of you," he explained as I made a mental list of everything he'd said.
"What about the enemies? Will they follow us?" Arnold questioned.
"They shouldn't. I have informed my men to track these enemies and find out who they are and who they work for, and then immediately apprehend them. I don't suspect they'd know you were planning on leaving to Central America. The enemies will be taken care of here, while your job lies there." He said. Both Arnold and I understood, I think.
I looked over to Arnold, whose constant placid nature was corrupted with remorse and tragic conception. He was so optimistically challenged now, but I knew he was trying to hide it. I can only imagine the pain he's going through in finding out the basic truth about his parents, but he's hiding it almost too well. Then again, that's just the way he is…He wouldn't be Arnold if he let everything and anything get him down for too long. I just hope that by keeping his true feelings fastened between his quiet aspirations for helping the village people and his let-in-and-lock-up mentality, that he doesn't overstress himself and…snap.
I don't want what happened to me to happen to him…
"Well, I suggest you two try and get some sleep out of what's left of the night," Mr. Smith had said. I raised an eyebrow.
"Sleep? But I just woke up…" I mentioned, and Arnold laughed lightly.
"You need all the rest you can get. Tomorrow will be a very busy day," he reminded me. I sighed.
"I'll stay up to be on guard. Sleep peacefully you two," Mr. Smith added. With that he walked into another department of the warehouse and shut the door, leaving Arnold and I and a giant room cluttered with boxes. There was an entire row of windows that bordered the ceiling—all of which depicted the night darkness.
"My first day back in Hillwood…and I'm spending the night in a warehouse…" I remarked dryly.
"I'm really sorry about all of this, Helga," Arnold said sympathetically. I gave him a quizzical look.
"You don't have to apologize, Arnold. None of this is your fault. You didn't ask for it any more than I did." I explained, brushing some trash and wrappers off of a box.
"I know but…still…anyway, I am really glad you're with me…I doubt I'd manage to keep my sanity if you weren't here…" he said in a serious but light tone.
"I'm glad I'm here too…" I told him with all the honesty I possessed. Regardless of the circumstances I was pleased to simply be in the same room as him.
"You know…you've changed…a lot," he said almost capriciously. I wasn't certain he meant such in a good way or a bad way, but I took it as a compliment and could feel my face warm with redness.
"I…I have? Why do you say that?" I simply had to ask.
"You just seem…so much calmer. Things don't seem to agitate you as much as they did when you were younger. You're less…I don't know…aggressive, less bullying. And you haven't called me Football Head at all," he paused and let out a laugh. "I kind of miss that…"
I laughed with him now.
"I guess…finally breaking away from my "home" I could deal with stress a lot better—because it wasn't with me twenty-four seven, you know? But…I can still be the old Helga, you know, Arnoldo," I said coyly.
"Whatever you say, Helga," he replied with a grin—the first true grin I'd seen him flash since our world tipped a little on the crazy side, that being an understatement.
"So…I need to ask…what's going through your mind?" I questioned him, and his grin faded away to a blank, thoughtless expression. Perhaps I'd asked at the wrong time…but would there ever be a right time?
"I'm not sure, really…" he answered, twiddling his fingers. "I guess there's so much information being piled up inside my head that it hasn't had time to really settle in yet. You know?"
"Yeah, I know," I put in. He sighed heavily.
"I'm unnerved a little to hear about my parents…but at the same time I'm sort of happy that Mr. Smith found me, I mean, he's my uncle. I finally have another part of my family I didn't even know I was missing…and it feels pretty good. Well, it feels as good as it is overwhelming, but…eventually everything will calm down, right? Eventually this will all be dealt with and life can go back to…well, life."
"Very well put," I told him with a smile. He was beginning to show that sunny side of his again; he could always do that, even when things were as cloudy as they were now.
~*Arnold's Point of View*~
"Thanks," I said back to her, returning her smile and admiring how she listened to me. I actually almost admired myself equally, how we could act like mature adults, considering our past.
"I suppose we really should try to sleep," Helga suggested unenthusiastically.
"Yeah, well…good night, Helga," I said, springing myself up on a large box and lying down, looking at the hanging, dim lights above.
"Good night, Football Head," she responded. I could hear her smile. I mentally laughed as I smiled widely.
I closed my eyes and tucked my arms behind my head as thoughts and memories dangled above me in my unconscious mind. I saw visions of my parents, a picture of theirs in a gleaming frame—it then broke and shattered, and fell to my imagined bedroom floor. Tiny pieces of it reflected images of planes and maps, black top hats with red bands, pink ribbons, and a single blue hat—I then saw guns firing, a hand hanging over my window sill, a long, unwinding road ahead leading into further darkness.
Then all the cluttered images cleared away until one was left. She stood in a room of pure light until she focused, with her pink ribbon the first thing I saw above a head of golden hair and sapphire eyes. Helga…
I quickly opened my eyes upon her illuminated sight in my dream. I looked over to where I thought she was supposed to be and she was gone.
"Helga?" I whispered. I sat up and looked around but saw nor heard her anywhere. The room was rather large and filled with boxes and plenty of hiding spaces. There were two doors on either side of the room, and both were unopened. Had she left? Where could she have gone?
Suddenly I heard someone scream—none other than Helga, her voice elevated in a terrified manner.
"Helga!" I yelled out while barely hearing myself through the echoes of the scream. "Hang on, I'm coming!" I called to her, and immediately sprinted to where I thought the sound was coming from. But would I get there in time?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Here it is people, the end of chapter two but the start of…well, more…lots more…and I bet it'll get more interesting, at least that's my goal. Oh look at that…another cliffhanger…will I ever stop?
Well, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. By the way, I hope it wasn't too far fetched to make Mr. Smith turn out to be the sister of Arnold's mother, Stella, and therefore his uncle. (Do you even remember him? That secretive guy who lived at the boarding house, the one with the package delivered that Arnold and Gerald tried to get to him before the other boarders got a hold of it, and later he disappeared in a helicopter??) I was really just trying to be creative and at the same time make it as plausible and believable as I could. By the way, as to his name, Sigmund, I really don't like that name…but I saw in this one part of my dictionary it meant "Victorious Protector", and I thought that was cool and…it inspired to me name him that…ya know, with the whole protection thing.
Well, thank you so so so much for reading this, and I implore of you to review, please and thank you. ^_^ Until next time, take care,
~*Silver Kitten*~