Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

ICYMI: Too fast? Too soon? Who knows?

Anyway, the new chapter beckons!

4. Now What?

Helga post-coitus felt conflicted.

She and Arnold shared what was to be one last – admittedly heated – goodnight kiss before she asked to be left alone inside the walls. Then it was a matter of using a fair amount of Kleenexes and quickly wiping Arnold out from within her. Next, she'd dressed herself and gathered any incriminating evidence before sneaking out of the Sunset Arms. She employed every stealth technique to make it back home undetected, during which she also found the time to dispose of the evidence.

During her retreat, the little twinges of conflict began: guilt over leaving Arnold in the lurch. Sure, the sex was…it was OK, despite Arnold being completely in over his head. Though what he lacked in technique and experience, he compensated with earnestness. That redeeming quality turned out to be enough to make her feel guilty about cutting and running, for he was such a sweet boy and it broke her heart to know that there was so much she was hiding from him.

She promised herself more intimacy with him in the future, more honesty, more openness. Then her guilt really spiked, as she realized that these were the same resolutions she'd made almost daily since Pre-K. For Arnold – one who always wore his heart and soul on his sleeve – her behavior was especially abhorrent.

Helga arrived at an indifferent home. Bob was fully invested in a baseball game, while Miriam made a bare-minimum attempt at greeting her. With her brusque movements and greetings, Helga conveyed how unwilling she was to engage her family. Not too big a problem, as Bob didn't even turn her way, though he did offer an obligatory-at-best attempt at a greeting. Miriam, on the other hand, nodded and smiled at Helga, seemingly content that her presence had been acknowledged and treating it as a victory of sorts.

Helga used the solitude to bathe herself and rid herself of her residual exertion. From there it was to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, to a container prescribed to Miriam. One that the Pataki matriarch didn't know her daughter knew of: the bottle containing Miriam Pataki's birth control pills. Quickly, Helga helped herself to one of the pills before heading over to her room.

Having accomplished that prime directive, she felt the adrenaline and oxytocin levels in her brain subside to be replaced by her current physical reality. In particular, she was duly reminded that she was a slightly younger version of the girl who'd had a sexual relationship with Arnold in another universe. So while her mind and spirit were conditioned to such actions, her body was a different story. In particular, her younger pelvis had taken a bit more strain from her tryst. As she made the slog from the bathroom to her room, only then could she fully appreciate the relief afforded by her awkward bow-legged gait.

None of the preceding inconveniences prevented her from smiling contentedly as she climbed into bed, closed her eyes, and dreamt another sweet dream of her and her beloved.

Arnold's morning routine was no different than before. He woke up, he showered, he dressed and groomed himself. Only he was doing all of those under a haze he'd never before experienced.

Last night.

He and Helga.

Wow.

It had been something different, something new. Something…totally out of this world.

Perhaps that was why every step that Saturday morning felt that bit lighter and his skin felt that bit tinglier. Even his smile felt that bit more natural and unforced. All because of Helga.

Helga who disappeared not long after they were done having sex. Recalling that one aspect almost entirely undid his giddiness as he wondered if the sex may have been a self-serving act for Helga with him a mere accessory. It was a doubt which Arnold carried with him to the breakfast table. He arrived in time to witness a heated argument in progress. It was another spell of Mister Potts and Oskar bickering, with his grandfather and Mister Huynh occasionally weighing in listlessly with their comments. Ordinarily, such activity would have been par for the course and he'd have no trouble tuning out the noise while tucking into his breakfast fare.

But his attention was particularly piqued this time by the heat of the argument, and the subject matter.

"I'm telling you, Old Man!" Oskar insisted, not for the first time judging by his frustrated tone. "You've got ghosts in this building!"

Mister Potts was having none of Oskar's theorizing and so tore into the Czech expat: "Oskar, what crock of shit are you talking this time?"

He then quickly and contritely turned Arnold's way with: "Sorry Arnold! Sorry you had to hear that. Oskar's having another one of his loony rants."

"It's not a loony rant, Arnold!" rebutted Oskar. "I heard them myself last night! Ghosts! Coming from inside the walls! They were even moaning and groaning, it was so creepy!"

Oh shit!

Arnold felt the color drain from his cheeks at that revelation. Despite their best efforts, it was now possible that he and Helga might not have been as discreet as he thought they'd been.

"Bullshit, Oskar!" countered Mister Potts, before turning briefly back to Arnold. "Sorry again for the language, Arnold."

To Oskar, he continued with: "Admit it! You're just trying to weasel your way out of paying this month's rent! Last month it was bad electric wiring. The month before, bad plumbing. You must be getting desperate to start believing in ghosts!"

And their argument regained its back-and-forth trajectory, which it maintained until Phil intervened with: "Enough, you two! There'll be no more talk of ghosts in this building!"

"But Old Man—" Oskar tried unsuccessfully to resume the debate.

"No buts, you bum!" Phil cut him off. "If you know what's good for you, you'll pay the rent like everyone else. And look what you've done!" – Phil then pointed out Arnold's pale humor – "You made my grandson worry about something that doesn't exist!"

And even Oskar knew that as soon as the old man invoked his grandson, any argument was as good as over.

"OK, fine," Oskar muttered under his breath before moodily stomping away from the table.

"I gotta admit," said Ernie to the rest of the table once Oskar was out of earshot, "his excuses are getting more and more creative."

"Ghosts!" scoffed Mister Huynh. "So unbelievable, right Arnold!?"

Arnold found himself once again in an awkward place, not wanting to betray any additional insights into the ghost allegations.

"Leave him alone, Huynh!" admonished Phil. "Bad enough that Oskar wants to bring up ghosts, now you want to bring Arnold into it too!"

He turned to Arnold with: "That's right, isn't it, Short Man? You got more important things on your mind right now, don't you? Like how you're going to enjoy your Saturday!"

He then gave Arnold what the young boy worried could have been a knowing wink.

"And by the way, Short Man, your fly's open."

The day continued with Arnold not wanting to be much of a participant. He found himself in one perpetual haze as he spent his late morning and early afternoon pounding the pavement, being guided on a whim. The end of the journey found him seated on a bench somewhere inside City Park. Not that he was aware of it, but his route had led him downtown, to the harbor, then back alongside the Skookumchuck River.

He liked walking; it allowed him to think. And Helga had given him a lot of pause for thought. Always top of the list was where he stood with her. Why did she want sex with him? Him of all people? And why did she bolt after the act? She'd gotten what she wanted, so had he worn out his usefulness?

"Jesus, Footballhead! You sure can walk when you want to!"

Helga's voice from behind him cut through the park's serenity, easily gathering his attention. So too did the coquettish kiss she planted on his cheek as she casually seated herself beside him. He didn't know why he was surprised by her sudden appearance when she already had a history of being able to sneak up on him. Yet here he was, caught off guard once again.

She resumed in a neutral voice tempered with some humor. "You must have had a lot on your mind to have walked so far, Better be careful. Too much on your mind and before you know it, you'll be winning medals in the Old Iron Man with no effort."

Arnold took some time to examine Helga's expression and saw a visage conveying conviction to a cause. And as though having read his conclusion, Helga added: "Let's not kid ourselves. There's so much to unpack after last night. So what's your first question?"

And without hesitation, Arnold asked: "Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?"

Oh, how she wanted to tear into him for that one! But no, there was another layer to his question.

"Because…I think there's more to this than you just being beaned."

Helga's surprise at this was as clear as the midday sun was up high. But Arnold was not yet done, with another layer to follow.

"I mean… I don't know…the ball could have hit the part of your brain that makes you hate me. Your wiring gets scrambled while you're out of it, and when you come to, there's no part left telling you to hate me anymore. I can still…sorta get behind that."

"Footballhead!" interjected Helga. "I know you're suspicious. I know it's one hell of a flip-flop on my side. But trust me when I say I meant every word I told you last night! This was never a mental condition. If you don't believe anything else from me, at least believe that!"

She paused for him to assess her expression, hoping to god it came across as sincere. The longer he studied her expression, the more she fretted. The longer his expression remained unyieldingly indecipherable, the more she fretted.

So when he spoke, she knew not what to expect.

"You know, Helga," he began too dourly for her comfort. "I've seen you many times at your absolute worst."

If she had any justifications for those past behaviors, she either chose not to use them or was denied that chance to contest Arnold's claims entirely. Either way, he continued without much resistance.

"But…I've also seen you at your best. Despite everything, you've got the most beautiful heart I've seen. You're capable of such kindness, you've come through for your friends many times in a pinch. It just feels like you're…I don't know…ashamed to be capable of doing any good."

Well, she should have been relieved that he was holding out hope for her, but somehow she wasn't setting off the internal fireworks just yet. He then smiled another one of his patented good-natured smiles as he continued. "Y'know, it's almost…kinda fun…watching how you'd spaz out when someone complimented you on the good you'd do."

OK, that one was unexpected enough to bypass Helga's reply algorithm completely and render her so red-faced that any reasonable passer-by would think she'd developed a rash on her cheeks. Surely enough, she fought back in righteous indignation.

"Oh, how dare you? Me, spazzing out? Why not paint me as a total loon while you're at it?"

"Says she who just confessed to following me halfway around town," Arnold drily countered, not relinquishing his smile.

A spike in Helga's already formidable indignation spurred her latest response: "Oooh! Look how bold the footballhead has become! Bet you'd never get this cocky with me if not for last night's sex!"

Next either of them knew, Arnold and Helga turned toward each other for another staring contest. All banter gave way to stark silence as memories of the previous night came flooding back. Floating above the couple was a sense of foreboding as if Helga's last utterance might have been spoken too loudly for comfort.

"Maybe you don't want to talk too loudly about that in public, Helga," Arnold cautioned.

Helga didn't respond immediately; she first scanned the adjacent vicinity for any prying eyes and ears. She answered once satisfied that none were present. "Yeah. Sorry, Footballhead. I guess I still can't get last night out of my mind, not that I'd want to! I mean, I can only speak for myself, but…I can't think of anyone else than you that I'd want to do it with."

"But why me, Helga?" Arnold resumed his questioning. He saw her straining for a suitable answer, and so followed up more considerately. "Look," he resumed, looking her directly in the eye, "I can see that there's a lot you want to say, but today, if you can only answer this one question, that will be good enough for now. Why me, Helga? If it wasn't the beaning, then why the change of mind?"

"Hey now! That's two questions, Footballhead," she responded with a weak smile. Her tone was resigned when she resumed: "But if I tell you the whole truth, you'll hear me out, right? Can you make me that promise? There's just so much you need to know," – she gathered his hands into hers and brought them to her chest – "but I need you to listen and I need you to believe me because what I'm about to say is 100% the truth."

And Arnold, too caught up in her earnestness for any physical reaction, assured her: "Helga, I'd trust you with my life if I have to."

She told him almost everything. She omitted the matter of his parents, figuring he was still too fragile to handle any mention of them.

Anything else, though, was on the table.

The different worlds and the stories within them, the hidden details. Arnold and his deeply rooted abandonment issues, his latent resentment: the cracks and flaws beneath the genial mask.

Their relationship in another world. Their transcendental love and passion.

Having it all ripped out from under her by whatever merciless, vindictive cosmic entities having it in for her. A new world where up was down and left was right and Arnold wasn't hers.

Her struggle to escape the hell of that world, just to be with Arnold. Fuck it, just for a shot at being with Arnold again.

Her laughter and tears punctuated her stories. Laughter at how moody and angsty he could be when pushed. More laughter at how much alike to his cousin Arnie he could be. Yet more laughter at how in another world the stars would align for him to find happiness with Ruth McDougall (down to the private swims). Then tears as she realized the impact of losing him, a love nurtured through caring and faith. Tears that continued as she realized that she didn't know her place in this and any other universe.

Then…she was done.

"And that's my story, Footballhead…"

She waited. And waited.

He was deep within himself. Thinking. Considering. Ruminating. Weighing.

Looking as if he'd suffer no distractions. She left him to his thoughts until he was ready to answer.

Finally…he was.

He answered first with the softening of his eyes. "Andorra," was all he said, much to her immediate confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were so relieved when I was able to find it in the atlas?" Arnold followed up. "I mean, that's how you came across. You seemed just a bit too relieved to know it existed. And the other one…San Lorenzo, wasn't it?"

For a moment, Helga froze in fear that San Lorenzo would trigger him into mentioning his missing parents. But no, he still seemed more interested in her role in the story.

"So…as far as you know, you've ended up in a world where you've already been. Kinda like redoing a grade at school."

"Yeah, something like that," she plainly answered, though her hopes were rising inside. Is he beginning to believe?

"Which is why you've been acing the tests at school, right? Have you even told this to Phoebe? You got any idea how riled up over that she is behind your back? You might even push her into becoming the crime lord she was in your previous world."

At that, she had to chuckle, if only lightly.

"And the sports," he continued. "Since you lived in this world before, you must have known all of Wolfgang's plays and tricks. That's why we won so many times! Because you already knew what they were going to do!"

Oh my god! He believes me! My beloved believes me!

"And that's partly why I believe you," Arnold unwittingly confirmed her inner soliloquy. "You always go on about taking care of Number One. Then you go and help others achieve the impossible. That's the Helga I'd like to see more of. Because that's the true Helga."

True to Arnold's earlier words, the result was a spazzing and sputtering Helga trying for a non-existent explanation. Arnold would have a good chuckle at the mini spectacle.

"Well…maybe you didn't intend it that way. Maybe you were in it for yourself."

She wanted badly to nod in the affirmative. Those were exactly her intentions. Fuck Wolfgang and his goons! Fuck her useless, idiotic friends! Fuck them all!

But…the reality…

"But look at how things worked out!" Arnold continued waxing. "We all succeeded, not just you! We all came through because you decided to do something about it!"

Helga was beginning to bask in the light of her beloved's praise when she recalled a specific word uttered by him. "Wait a minute! 'Partly'? Why only partly?"

Arnold was now the one to blush. Clearly, he'd been hoping Helga wouldn't have caught on to that aspect of his reply. Now it was Helga's turn to be relentless.

"Did what happened last night also play a part in your decision?" she smirked.

"We-ell…" Arnold havered, his blush intensifying.

"Arnold," Helga resumed in a playfully serious voice, "after last night, you'd think that there'd be no more secrets between us anymore. Criminy, you were inside me! Think about it! No one else has been there. Well, in this universe at least…But then again, it was still you in the other universe…so six of one, half-a-dozen of the other anyway!"

She had to shake herself out of the rambling back into focus and to give him a chance to answer. Which he did with his cheeks no paler and his words: "It's just…I never got the feeling you were out to hurt me or anything. I mean, I was a bit sore and I did feel a bit – how did you put it? – funny after. But I liked it."

Did he say he liked it? He liked it!

"And after what you just told me…I kinda understand why last night happened. You must've been scared that you may be taken away from this universe at any time."

Helga sighed in admission: "The thought did occur to me. I mean…this may still not be the universe I'm meant to be in…but so what if it isn't? I'm gonna make it work for me, goddammit!"

"Hey, if you're planning on staying here, I'll have you!"

"I'm afraid you already did, Footballhead," Helga reminded him with the ultimate smirk, "Or is last night already a distant memory?"

Arnold in response did a vivid impression of a ripe tomato before stammering his counter.

"Hey…for good reason! You're kind and considerate…when you want to be. And…and…"

"And what, Footballhead?" demanded Helga, willing and able to milk him for all possible praise. So eager was she that she was leaning toward him in anticipation, wholly unprepared for the upcoming bombshell which he delivered with an inexplicable spike in confidence.

"And you've got great legs..!"

Helga was floored by that statement: the shock caused her to recoil away from Arnold and topple backward on the bench with a yelp. Doing so caused her skirt to ride up one side, exposing the leg.

"Helga!" Arnold instinctively called out, reaching for whatever he could to prevent her from toppling off the seat and onto the ground. His action proved unneeded. She didn't.

"Criminy, Footballhead!" scolded Helga. "Don't go saying stuff like that out of—"

She paused the instant their situation became apparent to her.

Helga: still on the seat; on her back; her one leg raised.

Arnold: leaning over her; somehow between her legs; holding the raised leg by the ankle.

The boy and girl felt their heart rates quickening with their situational awareness. Their breathing becoming shallower, their mouths drying.

Helga ventured first with: "OK, so I've got great legs. Now what?"

What indeed.

And that's it for this chapter, dear readers. Glad you made it this far. In fact, I'm glad to have been able to present this chapter at all. It turns in the real world that COVID ain't the only thing that can kill you. Mine was heart-related and required a week's hospitalization, but thankfully no surgery. Regardless, to hear my doctor talk (and I do believe him) I was standing at the edge while staring into the abyss. But that's done and dusted. I'm at least a million times better and here we are.

Despite the general paucity of reviews for this work, the traffic stats have been climbing nicely and consistently. So thanks firstly to those who've been reading the story. Extra thanks to those who've been enjoying it so far. Always appreciated.

And to the Guest Reviewer for the previous chapter with your in-depth questions, I have this to say. I don't necessarily see sex in fiction as a reward or ultimate goal for which a couple must first go through hell. I find it more interesting if sex, or any act of affection, happens more closely to the beginning as it establishes at least a physical bond between the couple on which they can build. I find that getting it out of the way allows for better interactions between the couple, otherwise they'd be chasing something shallow.

Likewise, I also don't subscribe to the notion that a couple must first work things out and things must first be perfect for them to become a couple. I feel such a narrative undermines the relationship itself, portraying it as fragile and intrinsically weak. If it's so much effort just to establish in the first place, why even bother?

One inspiration for Arnold accepting Helga's story can be found in the movie: The Terminator. After Kyle Reese tells his story to Dr. Silberman, the latter exalts about how the story "doesn't require a shred of proof". So I tapped into that line and reckoned that Helga, by dint of her actions and Arnold's total trust in her, wouldn't require any physical proof for her story.

And finally. this chapter's Tidal List:

Choose – Color Me Badd

If You Could Read My Mind – Gordon Lightfoot

Cry For Help – Rick Astley

If It's Love – Sting

And there we go, the end of another chapter. Until next time, stay safe and take nothing for granted.