My Angel
A Hey Arnold FanFic
Authors note: Special thanks to AdventureGirl6. I do not own Hey Arnold and make no attempt to profit from it.
Chapter Three: The Angel
Helga sat numbly. The bone chilling rain had eased for now; however, dark clouds hung suspended above her with watching eyes for the perfect moment to strike at her once more. Eyes transfixed on the stone, she tried to think but couldn't. Last year had been the same; she had been alone, unable to move away from the graveyard for hours. Nothing around her could remove the connection her soul had with Phoebe at this moment. No matter how many times she told herself this would become easier, Helga always felt the same surging numbing pain in the very depths of her soul.
Time had long since passed her by, her escape into her own world shattered as Arnold joined her, Gerald squatting down next to him as they talked quietly about Phoebe and all the time they had together. Vaguely in the distance of her mind Helga could hear them, but it was as if they were worlds away, the time between them fleeting and insignificant as their voices faded out to nothing. For the time she had spent with Phoebe, Helga wondered if she had ever really known her at all. Sure, they had spent their school days together discussing the ins and outs of relationships, spent many nights watching movies and discussing ice-cream, but she couldn't remember them ever really discussing too much about her personal life, or for that matter her daily activities outside of school time. She knew beyond a doubt the feelings Phoebe had for Gerald; the prom had revealed it to everyone, but no one had guessed it would be over before it had begun.
Glancing at Gerald, Helga's heart wept with deep sorrow for the tall haired boy; they should have been celebrating their time together, reminiscing the courtship during high school and talking of the future they were to have together. Instead he was placing not a ring on her finger, but flowers on a grave that would now forever contain a constant reminder of their close friend. Clenching her hands tightly, Helga tore herself away from the tomb stone and looked out over the graveyard, deciding that above everything else she wanted to leave. She had said her farewells to Phoebe once more; there was nothing left to say or do. But she couldn't leave Arnold behind, especially with Gerald mourning Phoebe more than she ever could. Arnold looked to her half desperately and she sighed, wondering how long Gerald might be like this.
"Gerald?" she asked softly, earning a tired and distraught look from the young man. "Would you like to go and get some ice-cream?"
Gerald's face seemed to pale before nodding at the suggestion, his eyes void of recognition at who Helga was. Arnold helped up his friend gingerly, trying to keep him as warm as possible after the onslaught of rain earlier. He already had Arnold's jacket wrapped around him tightly, and with Helga's help, the trio bid their farewell the headstone, saying their last words before setting out for the shops. For a while they walked on without uttering a word, however all silently praying one of them would speak and fill the absence of Phoebe. Saturday seemed to have the strangest effect on everyone in the town however; while they could move through without questioning, the odd stare or look would worry Helga, their almost disapproving looks suggesting they were analysing her every move, watching her closely for any sign of joy on this painful day.
Trudging through the remains of the weather from earlier, they arrived in the store to find it nearing empty; save a few staff who were casually wandering the aisles pretending to work, Helga could have sworn it was either a day off for the city or the town had simply ceased to exist. In a few minutes, they were out of the store, carrying their spoils and hastily making their way to the boarding house. No sooner had they entered the near ancient boarding house, Helga heard the wise cackling of an old man, his bald head and pointy chin the perfect complement to the push ups he performed on the ground with an older lady sitting on his back.
"Hey Shortman, where's the party at?" he cackled, the older lady on his back yelling out happily in joy as he pushed up once more. Helga had never seen such an athletic old man, but then again nothing in Arnold's life had ever exactly been ordinary.
"There isn't a party Grandpa; we're just heading up to my room to eat some ice-cream."
The old woman with purplish hair jumped off the back of Grandpa and made her way towards Helga, eyeing her closely before pulling out her magnifying glass. "And just who might you be slick?" she asked, pushing the magnifying glass into Helga's face.
"My name is Helga," she mumbled out from beneath the glass now being shoved into her mouth.
"Looks like a double agent; I'd keep a close eye on her if I were you," she nodded to Arnold, who shrugged and tried to move on.
"Why so glum though Arnold? And Gerald, wasn't it? Why are you both so down in the dumps?" Grandpa asked as Gerald, unaware his name had been mentioned, continued heading upstairs, leaving Helga speechless and Arnold rubbing the back of his neck.
"Do you remember that night Grandpa? The one with the…accident," he whispered, earning a pale reflection from Grandpa.
"Oh dear…you don't mean…oh Shortman I'm sorry. Why don't you go tend to Gerald upstairs? Pookie and I won't disturb you till dinner if you like."
Arnold nodded his thanks and left, hastening up the stairs to try and catch up to Gerald. As Helga began to move, Grandma saddled up beside her, her movements surprisingly fluid and fast for one so old. Turning to face her, Grandma whispered "It's nice to see you again Helga."
Confused, Helga looked at her strangely as Grandma nodded and waved her towards the stairs. Never needing to be told twice, Helga marched up the stairs quickly, passing the doors of the various tenants before arriving at the base of the stairs to Arnold's room. Sobbing ahead slowed her progress, knowing that Gerald was likely to be confiding in Arnold something personal that she did not want to hear. She felt odd coming to a halt near the door of Arnold's room; all those times she had spent trying to rescue her deep secrets from Arnold and now here she was, walking into his sanctuary willingly and in it, she may reveal to him some of her childish notions. On second thoughts, maybe she would hang onto those thoughts for a little longer.
Pushing aside the partially open door, Helga's eyes first came upon Gerald, whose weary body lay on the couch, hands clutching the blanket around him and shutting his eyes tightly. She pitied him and patted his shoulder as she walked past, following Arnold's gesture for her to join him at the computer desk. She could tell Arnold was trying to keep his positivity going, despite his best friend weeping openly on the couch. Opening the ice-cream tub on the desk, Helga proceeded to eat without hesitation; she was always a sucker for chocolate. But Arnold's unwavering gaze nerved her; he hadn't stopped trying to break through her mask for any signs of hurt or grief.
"What is it foot-ball head; see something you like?" she glared half-heartedly, the old venom from previous encounters creeping back to the front of her mind. She had to hide; he couldn't see her as being weak.
Arnold appeared taken back and froze for a few moments. Shaking his head, he opened another of the tubs and began to eat away at the peppermint ice-cream. Whatever had caught his attention was gone. Helga smirked to herself, resuming her devouring of the ice-cream without a second glance.
"How long do you think he will be like this?" Helga asked after a while, enjoying yet repelling the chill she got from eating so much ice-cream.
"I don't know; last year was pretty bad for him. He didn't speak for a day at least. He just lay sobbing on the couch. I wish there was something I could do for him though; I hate having to watch him go through this."
Helga wanted to tell him to not worry, but watching Gerald remain lifeless and numb, she only wanted to move over to him and hug him tightly. What she would give to simply remind Gerald that everything would be alright and that all this heartache would end. But, how could it? She herself was on the brink of tears with each passing minute and all because she hadn't known what to do. Damn it Phoebe; why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it be someone else? She thought bitterly. Arnold seemed to take her silence as a gesture for not speaking and allowed her that luxury.
The two deaths in Helga's life had come too close for her liking; in another week, she would be mourning her mother's passing. And yet she did not pity the dead, rather her anger fuelled her memories of them until all that remained was the frustration and annoyance for those still alive, those who could yet make a difference in the world yet sat still, ignoring all before them. She would mourn her mother like she did for Phoebe, but she would not be tied to this life for much longer.
"Why don't you get Gerald to tell us one of those ramblings?" Helga asked in between ice-cream scoops being shovelled into her mouth, the coldness making the insides of her mouth numb.
"You mean urban legends Helga," Arnold corrected, Helga earning a half glare of annoyance and…teasing? Helga moved it to the back of her mind.
"Exactly; I'm sure it would take his mind off the whole thing."
Arnold shrugged, unsure of how Gerald might react but decided it would be better than nothing. Moving over to Gerald, he whispered softly to him. Helga moved back and watched as Gerald gingerly sat up, wiping his bloodshot eyes and taking some of the ice-cream offered to him. Arnold stifled his laugh through firmly shut lips as Gerald scoffed it down in haste, licking away any remains and starting to look like his normal self once more.
"My man, this is some fine ice-cream; remind me to buy some more tomorrow. Anyway Helga, you wanted to hear a tale of mystifying brilliance and tragic love, correct?" Gerald smirked, earning a laugh from Helga at the sight of Gerald trying to be smooth with her.
"Whatever floats your boat hair boy."
Standing up, Gerald cracked his fingers and turned the lights off, Helga moving to the floor and grabbing a pillow as Arnold followed suit with a blanket. Torch plucked from the wall, Gerald stood above them, menacing and ancient, like a stone carving warning of dangers ahead. Trying to clear his throat, Gerald appeared lost in thought as he stretched and readied himself for the tale. "As keeper of the tales, it is my duty to report them in the exact manner to which I was told. This story was passed down to me on the eve of our graduation; legend has it that a woman haunts this earth… known only as 'The Angel'…"
Upon a cold starry lit night many winters ago, there lived a young woman, her beauty unsurpassed throughout the land. Many men from all lands would venture from near and far, their travels leading them to simply gaze upon this fair maiden's face, hoping to attain that greatest of prizes: her hand in marriage. One by one however, the men fell at her side, pushed into the background of her life as she continued through her rather comfortable and easy life. And so, it was that life remained the same for many years for this dear fair maiden.
But one day, a young man appeared in town, dressed strangely yet appropriately for one travelling. Now this young man was no finer than the most handsome of men, but the young woman instantly fell in love with this stranger. It was thought witchcraft played a part, but this was love like no other. Before anyone knew what had happened, the young couple were engaged, pledging themselves to live throughout the time they had here on earth together as one.
Now legend tells us that this was no ordinary man; some say the man was a god brought back into human form, others a devil in disguise, planning to pillage and rape the town before descending back into the fiery classism below. Me? I think he was just an old hobo from out of town. But this man was something more than that. On the eve of their marriage, the young man confided in her his secret, the reason he was here: he was a fallen angel.
Contrary to popular belief, the young man did not kill his soon to be bride for finding out his secret. In fact, the young man set out for his home across the local town bridge. But that was when disaster struck; for months, the young woman had been campaigning to have the old rickety bridge fixed, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. As the carriage came upon the bridge near midnight, the wheels came loose on his carriage and before he could react and find a way out, his carriage tumbled over the side, his horse racing into the darkness as the carriage sunk into the muddy pool of death. He struggled against the locked door, but as the water seeped in, he knew there was nothing left for him.
The morning returned and the young woman watched in horror as they managed to drag the carriage out from the muddy depths, the horse gone without a trace and leaving behind only the foul-smelling carriage. Opening the locked door carefully, wave upon wave of water tumbled out from the carriage, an amount not possible for any normal drowning. However, the fair maiden peered in, desperate to comfort her soul with the knowledge he would be there and be alright.
But there was nothing. There was no sign of the body. She jumped in and looked around, unable to understand where he could have gone. Nobody had come out of the river and the doors had been locked tightly. No one could swim through the murky water. She collapsed on the seat and cried. The poor girl's heart was broken beyond repair. She left the carriage shortly after and never returned to it, unable to face the cruelty life had dealt her. For weeks, she spent her time inside her house, no one seeing more than a face through the windows. And then one morning, she simply left the town, vanishing without a trace. People checked through her house and found only a single note with four words written on it with dark crimson: I will find him.
Over time people throughout all the towns noticed a stranger amongst them, but before they could identify her she would vanish, gone with the wind once more. Some say her ghost haunts us today, others say that she died and her body marks the final resting place of her lover. However, some say she still searches for him to this day, wandering through the wilderness to find her fallen angel…
Night had fallen upon them. Helga sat motionless, unable to think clearly as Gerald finished, lowering himself down onto the couch once more, his eyes weary and body shaking as Arnold wrapped the blanket around him securely. She could feel her heart being torn apart…but why? She wasn't trying to forget Phoebe or her mother…but maybe she had been trying to forget him. Helga gazed up and watched Arnold for a while, who soothed his tired friend and helped him to sleep, the music in his room playing softly and causing her mind to drift away on the ease of blues.
Arnold was beside her, helping her towards his bed, her feet numb and legs heavy with wear and tear. She tried to fight back against his hands, but his gentle feel and soft skin only made her comply even more with his movements. Falling onto the bed rather than sitting, Arnold removed her shoes and socks, picking her legs up and turning them towards his bed, like a father would to a child before sleeping. Helga couldn't help but feel empty, her heart pounding numbness throughout her body at the thoughts of not being able to see her again. Phoebe was her friend…
"Are you warm Helga? I can get you another blanket if you want it," he asked soothingly, tucking her comfortably and safely underneath the bed spread.
"…I'm fine Arnold; are you sure you don't want your bed? I can head home- "
"Nonsense Helga; I wouldn't have you leave now, not when you've been struggling with today. Rest and I'll look after you."
Helga motioned to nod but felt her neck tighten in pain and thought better against it. Arnold slowly trudged to get the spare blankets, grabbing a sleeping bag from out of the closet and opening it up on the floor. Helga watched him pass and move, eventually lying down and pressing a button to turn the lights off. Watching in awe as the dark clouds above vanished from view, window shielding in the form of curtains began to rise against the sides of the windows, blocking out any light and plunging the room into darkness.
She tried to calm herself down and focus on sleeping, but the sudden stillness of night was only broken by the first drops of rain splashing against the windows. Before long the downpour had begun, her mind only able to focus long enough on the rain before drifting into the slumber of sleep.
D & F
Her heart was pounding beyond relief; Helga wasn't about to give into it. The smell was tantalising to her; all she had to do was lean in and experience the delight her soul yearned for. But she couldn't do this. It was all wrong; he wasn't meant to be here tonight. She was meant to be alone, watching the news go by and dreaming away the night with her movies and chocolate. But how could he be here now?
"I don't understand," she mumbled, his eyes focused intently on hers.
"You don't have to try Helga," he whispered back.
Leaning in further, Helga's mind was in panic before she felt them; pressing against her lips firmly but gently, Helga's body turned to jelly, responding to the simplest of touches as his hands brushed against her arms, rubbing them as he deepened the kiss. Soft gentle pokes from his tongue against her lips only made her weaker; how she had yearned for this moment, the soft tender kisses and gentle embrace as she moulded against him. Her heart fluttered as he moaned softly, kissing her passionately before pulling apart from her lips.
Smirking at her with pleasure and delight, he squeezed her arm playfully, moving his lips over her neck, causing Helga to moan deeply as he kissed it softly. "Oh Arnold…"
"Helga?"
"Oh Arnnn… don't sneak up on me like that!" Helga yelled, eyes shooting open and body twisting the sheets around her, falling onto the ground as Arnold stood over her amused.
"Something you'd like to tell me Helga?" he smirked.
"Nothing you need to know football head. What time is it?" Helga murmured as she gingerly made her way back onto the bed.
"Eight o'clock; you were moaning for a bit so I thought I'd bring you breakfast," Arnold smiled, gathering the tray from the door and handing it too her. Helga had heard about the cooking of his Grandma before and was expecting something dangerous. She dared to open her eyes and saw not a bean curdling contraption of doom, but bacon and eggs, pancakes to the side and a cup of coffee. She looked up at Arnold who laughed, having worked out the puzzlement in Helga.
"I made breakfast this morning; Gerald's downstairs eating with Grandpa and he'll be gone soon."
Gratefully accepting it, Helga began to work her way through the cooking. It was better than she thought; it certainly wasn't the best meal she had ever had, but this was near the top. Not bad for a football head. "Where did you learn to cook?" she asked in between mouthfuls.
"Over time mainly; it's not hard to make these you know. Besides there's something I must ask you Helga," he finished, causing Helga to nearly gag on the food in her mouth. Something he had to ask her?
His nerves were getting the better of him, she could tell. He was starting to rub the back of his neck, he was avoiding her gaze and she could swear she could see his…eyes up here Helga, she thought mentally, trying to avert her eyes from wandering any lower than his lips. Could it be he has realised his feelings for me after all these years? Am I about to become Mrs. Arnold…what is his last name anyway?
Helga made a mental note to ask him this; it would do no good to marry a boy she didn't even know the last name of. Arnold seemed to churn the thoughts in his stomach in trying to ask her this question. Once it came out, he stuttered in between each word, unable to clearly speak it. "I just wanted to know if you would – "
Her heart caught itself in her throat as the phone next to the bed roared to life. Arnold seemed glad to be rid of the moment and answered it, leaving Helga to continue her breakfast silently. She watched casually as he moved around the room, greeting, laughing and frowning far more deeply than she had ever seen him do before.
"No, I'm not going to…how could you even say that? After everything you've done…No I'm not covering for you…we aren't even…I may have years ago," he whispered darkly, looking over quickly to try and reassure Helga, "But you've changed…why we are still…don't say that."
Helga tried to tune out; her breakfast was now exquisitely the greatest thing she had ever eaten, not to mention the most interesting. Dread was creeping over her as the conversation continued. "…for someone who is supposed to care about me, you're doing a lousy job. Regardless of how I feel, this is over…no I don't want to talk…fine, if it will shut you up come and see me in a couple of hours. You won't change my mind though."
Whoever the person was on the other end, Helga was worried; Arnold was starting to talk louder, as if arguing a point, she had no right in hearing. Perhaps this was best; he hung up dismissively and stormed back to the bed, causing Helga to become fearful. She knew well enough the anger in his eyes, a far too familiar sight that had been placed on the features of another man. It was enough to convince her it was time to go.
"I'm sorry about that Helga. Where were we?"
"Who was that?" she asked carefully, fearful he may respond unkindly.
"No one," he mumbled, his muscles twitching as he looked away.
"They didn't seem like no one."
"I would rather not say who they are Helga," Arnold replied coldly.
Helga wanted to try and push it, but the anger in his voice was enough to make her weary. She had seen this before: the tightened knuckles, nearly bulging vein and the fury…no, venomous anger that seemed to radiate form within him was scaring her. He was only one step away from…she had to avoid this now.
"I've got to go Arnold," she whispered more to herself.
Arnold froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she said. "Are you sure? You don't have to go yet- "
"No, really I have to go," she replied, gathering her belongings and walking down the stairs, leaving him bewildered in her wake. She wasn't meant to be here; passing Gerald in the kitchen, Helga opened the door and left quickly. The bus trip home was going to be a long one, her slumping form welcoming the backseat cushions with relief. She had avoided the anger, but what would cause him to react like that?
Helga had never seen Arnold so angry before, but she tried her best to squash the memories of the other man, the man whose fists had found their way onto the walls, whose seething anger had spoken words she dared not repeat, whose face burned within her like the red moon of the night. Preferring to listen to her music, the trip was surprisingly fast. For a while she stared out the window, but began to move once the street came into view. Pausing at the front of the bus, Helga groaned and smacked her leg in frustration: what was he going to ask her?
