Title: His Spot

Author: Lady Wisiaden

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!

Rating: T

Summary: Brainy didn't see just how much the stress there was between Arnold and Helga till it was too late.

Pairings: Arnold/Helga (mentions), Brainy/Helga (one-sided)

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: Well…I don't know. I actually like this, but I feel like it's missing something. I think this gives me an idea for a fifth part. Anyway, I just like to imagine that Brainy will be the one to find Helga—especially since Brainy was supposed to encourage Helga in the movie that never happened.

"So, what are you doing here?"

Brian flinched, but it didn't stop him moving forward to where Helga sat. She was smoking, a cigarette between her fingers, smoke leaking from the end, collecting ash.

"I was looking for you," he replied. Helga snorted and flicked her cigarette into the water, "more like checking up on me, isn't it?"

Brian swallowed. "No, only part of the reason. I really was looking for you."

Helga snorted again, but didn't have a retort. Brian hesitantly came closer. Just as he was about to sit down, Helga snarled at him.

"Not there. Sit on my left."

Brian glanced at the right spot, but understood. It was his spot. Brian held back a sigh and took the seat on Helga's left. His legs were long and that made his feet only a few feet away from the swirling water below. It was a windy day at the pier. Helga didn't look cold at all. She looked rather warm, and she had pulled out a second stick to light and smoke.

"When did you start smoking?"

Helga eyed him suspiciously, "I think you should know. What kind of stalker are you if you can't even get that right?"

"I've been…doing other things," Brian admitted. He was too busy tracking down him, talking to Lila and Gerald and everything was as dead as it could be. Helga laughed.

"Even my stalker's too busy to care. Well, you want to know?"

He looked at her, not quite comprehending.

"Well," Helga demanded. "Do you really want to know, Brainy? I'm a fucking mess! Arnold's off, and even though everyone says that happens—it's normal for there to be tension because we're so far away from each other—oh, fuck!"

Helga cradled her head in her knees, having drawn them up. Her second stick was lost somewhere in the water. The wind was still biting.

"It can work out," Brian said. He loved her, but he didn't want her to be sad. Even if it wasn't him.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Helga snipped. "Like everything's all cream and peaches. Just look at my blow hard of a dad."

Helga snorted again, burrowing further into her knees. Her eyes were closed.

"I said, it can work out," Brian stressed. "Not that it will. God knows that it's not always will. I know it. But I just thought it can work out. More so because it's you two, even if you were dancing around each other all the time."

"Too late for that," Helga muttered.

"Nothing's too late," Brian countered.

Helga looked up at Brian, and he was caught in the mesmerizing blue.

"We broke up," Helga said bluntly. "A month ago."

Brian stared at her. She nodded to herself absently, "yup. A month ago. Thirty two fucking days ago."

The wind continued to howl, and Brian didn't try to offer any words of comfort. It wouldn't be appreciated, and it wasn't wanted. Instead, they just sat there. Two souls looking out onto the blue as the sun set in front of the pier.