[A/N: Hello all! The inspiration fairy struck once again and here I am with a new fic XD I was inspired by a few different movies and decided to weave their storylines together. If you figure out what the movies are (which it wouldn't surprise me if you did) then that will be cool. The story is set when the characters are 25 and everything aside from that, I'll be revealing in time. Also, in this story, FTI happened but TJM did not, just FYI.

I don't own Hey Arnold]

Present Day

Another late night in the office, the soft, warm glow of a floor lamp illuminating the otherwise darkened room. Rain outside pelted against the window with a contradicting gentle yet urgent rhythm. The bluish glow of her laptop illuminated her face and she sighed, taking a sip from her take-out coffee cup as she perused her email inbox.

The murmurs of coworkers outside her door and passing through the hallways were faint echoes as they bided their colleagues a good night. Lights off. Lights off.

"Go home, Pataki," Her supervisor said, gently knocking against the paneling of her doorframe. "I'm not payin' you overtime for all these late nights," He gave a good-natured grin, expecting some sort of response from the woman at the desk but pursed his lips when she shot him a look, never moving anything but her eyes.

Several notifications caught her eye and the sound of her boss's footsteps eventually fading away was easily forgotten.

GOLD.

Another email. They didn't come frequently but it sparked her curiosity every time they did. Another tip. Another lead. This had been going on for the past year and this time it was a tidbit of information about a local CEO embezzling money from his corporation. It wasn't enough to nail him but it was something. She starred the email, saving it for later, and before she clicked out of the window, she pondered the peculiar nature of this informant. She had others, surely, but this one remained hidden – anonymous to even her. Their information had always checked out, though, so she trusted this person –to some extent, at least. As well as she could trust another person. Not that it really mattered anymore.

She rested an elbow on her desk, supporting the weight of her head with one hand as she finally opened the other email that had caught her attention. A different informant. This one she actually knew. Distantly, at least.

Hillwood Donor Wait List

She cocked her head to the side, slouching down in her chair the slightest bit as she skimmed through a list of names, diseases, prognoses, and numbers. She sipped her coffee. It was getting cold but she didn't really care. She downloaded the full document from the email and sent it to the printer on a shelf under her desk. She loaded a fresh stack of blank white computer paper into the paper tray and waited. The stack of papers was thick but she managed to get a staple through it and breezed through the document, freshly printed, one last time before slipping the sheets into her messenger bag and taking the final swig from her coffee cup.

She gathered her things and stood up, slipping into her coat and slipping the messenger bag over her head and one shoulder. The rain continued to pit-pat against her window incessantly and she groaned thinking about the walk to her car. Heels weren't proper in such weather and she hated the feeling of getting the bottom of her pants wet. She reached up inside the shade of the lamp and pushed the little button, enveloping the room in darkness sans the remaining light from the hall.

She grabbed an infrequently used umbrella from the canister by the door and tossed her empty cup into the wicker trash can next to it before beginning her trek home.

. . . . . . . .

Flashback - 7 Years ago - The Summer After Graduation:

"I'll be there in ten, Pheebs," Helga said into her cell phone as she pulled out of her parking space and made her way through the streets of Hillwood to get on the main interstate.

A week ago, and on the night of their high school graduation, Gerald had proposed to Phoebe. They'd been dating for the past five years and everyone had seen it coming from a mile away. Phoebe was abuzz with excitement and had surprised Helga with her fervor for planning. However, on second thought, it didn't surprise her that her best friend would be ready to plan, organize, and contemplate every detail of her wedding almost immediately. Helga had agreed to meet Phoebe in the next town over at a small bridal boutique. It was only window-shopping but Phoebe wanted the opinion of her best friend – the maid of honor.

Helga paused at a stoplight just before the on-ramp to the highway and took a sip of her coffee from her portable cup as her phone dinged. A text from Phoebe.

Do you want to get lunch while we're in Belleview?

Sure.

Helga quickly finished typing her response and hit send as the light turned green and she continued on her way.

Time had seemed to pass by like a brief blip across her eyes. A snippet of a memory. High school was over. Arnold had been dating Lila for the past year – since Junior Prom – but Helga tried not to think about that too often. She hadn't had a class with him since they were sophomores and even though she felt pangs in her heart whenever she thought of him, somehow the distance made it a little bit easier to numb the pain. Or at least ignore it.

Of course she hadn't gotten over him. Why would she? She hadn't met a single person who could compare and it wasn't for lack of trying. Between 8th and 10th grade, Helga had tried desperately to move on. She'd long since thrown away all of her shrine-related paraphernalia but by the middle of eighth grade she'd also locked away her poetry books and even her precious locket in the attic of her parents' house. Yes, her parents' house. She didn't give them the satisfaction of referring to that place as 'home'. Home is where you're wanted, where you're loved. She had simply resided in that house. Her heart belonged elsewhere.

The radio was playing an upbeat song, perfectly meshing with the carefree spirit that wafts in the summer air fresh after graduation. All things considered, Helga was okay with where she was. She was going to Hillwood University in the fall to pursue a degree in English and she was currently in the market to replace her part-time job at the grocery store with something more substantial – something that could help her support herself and get out of her parents' house.

Helga merged onto the highway. It was a Saturday and there were several others cars on the road, though not so many that she couldn't cruise at a comfortable speed. She turned the radio down when a particular song came on and pushed the memory away, deep down inside of her where it festered like an open wound.

She'd danced with Arnold to this song at the winter dance in the eighth grade. It had meant everything to her – the soft, dim lighting of the gymnasium, Arnold's hands at her waist, swaying back and forth to the gentle melody. She could remember his scent – some cologne that sent a rush to her brain and made her want to swoon – and the way the hair on her arms stood on end every time they moved together. It had been so simple. They weren't dating; they'd been sitting along together at a table, both of them bored as they watched their friends out on the floor, and he'd asked her to dance. It may not have been a big deal to him at the time but the butterflies in her stomach had fluttered and beat their wings against her insides as her head spun.

But that memory was tainted. It meant nothing. By the end of that night, Helga was alone. Arnold had danced with Lila a few times afterward - closer, longer; they smiled, they laughed, and Helga sulked, willing herself not to care. But she did, and when he kissed Lila's hand at the end of the night and escorted her out of the gymnasium, Helga had had enough. So many years spent pining and for what? She couldn't compare.

Lila had changed somewhat over the years since. She had disappeared between ninth and eleventh grade and no one was sure why – she wouldn't talk about it. Her dad remained in Hillwood but no one knew where Lila had gone during that time. She reappeared in Hillwood for the beginning of their junior year of high school but she seemed different. She was still polite, still kind, and just as beautiful as she'd always been but something was different. There was a darkness in her eyes, like a scar of a memory that had shaken her. She was a little less bubbly and, to many classmates' delight, she dropped the mannerisms of her childhood – the "ever so's" and the "oh so's".

Helga's phone dinged from its place in the first cupholder of the center console. An abbreviated message from Phoebe popped up on the screen.

My mom thinks we should –

Helga glanced down at the message before merging into another lane. She was four exits away from the one she needed to take.

Another ding.

I'm going to see if we can find –

Helga huffed as she ended up behind a station wagon driving five below the speed limit. She honked her horn and passed them, shaking her head as she did so. With some space ahead of her, she reached for her coffee but misjudged the distance and knocked the cup over, splashing her phone.

"Shit!" Helga exclaimed, quickly darting her eyes back and forth between the road and the center console. She tried to pick the cup up but the lid popped off and spilled more hot coffee on her hand. She jumped at the pain and nearly swerved into the next lane. She grabbed her cell phone and was trying to pull some napkins out of the center console when traffic ahead of her had slowed. With napkins finally in hand, the last thing Helga saw was someone's license plate before she slammed into the vehicle in front of her. The impact caused her car to flip and roll upside down as the sounds of metal crashing into metal – scraping, grinding, crunching, compressing – was a cacophony to her ears. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a flash of green as a Packard, unable to stop in time, slammed into the passenger side of her car.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Clad in a thick pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized pink T-shirt, Helga sat cross-legged on the couch in her apartment. She lived on the third floor in an old building in with hardwood floors that creaked and layers upon layers of white paint on the walls. The apartment was in a city called Columbia, a few towns away from Hillwood. She had a desk in the corner of the small living room that was overflowing with papers and folders and a half-empty bottle of wine sat on the wooden coffee table in front of her. The room was set in darkness aside from the faint starlight coming in from a large window and the smoldering embers of a lit cigarette nestled between her fingers. Helga breathed a cloud of smoke as she surveyed the list of names in front of her, her eyes focused and compensating for the lack of light.

She took a swig from the wine glass in her hand and sighed as she studied the names. There were several pages to go through so she knew she'd have to narrow it down. She was just reaching the bottom of the second page when her cell phone began to ring. Helga leaned forward, setting her glass down and grabbing her phone before pressing it to her ear. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" She answered in a bored voice as she leaned back against the couch cushion, reading through the list once again as she puffed on her cigarette.

"Hi, um, Helga?" A deep voice asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," She responded in a slightly impatient tone. "Who's this?"

"Hey," The voice said, relaxing a little bit. "Uh, I'm not sure if you remember me but it's Rich,"

"Rich?" Helga asked, taking one final puff from her cigarette and leaning back toward the table to butt it out in the ashtray.

"Yeah," Rich said. "We went to school together," He paused. "Maybe you remember me as Peapod Kid?"

Helga's eyes widened in surprise. "Um, okay," She nodded, settling back into her couch again. "Yeah, I remember you. What do you want?" She thought for a second. "How'd you get my number? I barely talked to you,"

"Oh," Rich started. "Sorry. I was hoping to ask you something and Rhonda gave me your –"

"The hell?" Helga interrupted, grumbling to herself. "Why would she have my number?"

Rich's voice clearly conveyed how awkward this was becoming. "I'm not sure exactly. But you remember Rhonda, she has access to just about whatever she wants,"

"Mhm," Helga replied, unimpressed. "So what do you want?" She repeated.

"I'm sorry to bother you; I was just hoping to ask for your help," Rich explained and Helga raised an eyebrow as she listened. "Well, really it's for my grandfather. You're all over the newspapers; you really seem to have been doing well for yourself," Helga chuckled sarcastically to herself as she looked around at her tiny old apartment. "My grandfather's niece, I guess she would somehow be my cousin? – Anyway, she disappeared a long time ago and he was hoping –"

Helga sighed, picking her wine glass back up. "I'm not a detective, Peap-, uh, Rich," She corrected. "I'm sorry about your cousin but –"

"Please," Rich said. "I know it's a lot to ask and we barely know each other but… well, it's terribly important to my grandfather. I'm doubtful myself but he's been talking about her disappearance since I was a kid. If there's anything you can do –"

"I'll think about it," Helga cut him off.

"O-okay," Rich conceded. "Thanks, Helga,"

"Yup,"

After hanging up, Helga tossed her phone onto the couch cushion next to her and rested her hand back against the cushion, picking up her list and continuing to read.

. . . . . . . .

Flashback – 7 Years Ago - The Summer After Graduation

"… the accident … interstate … "

"… wasn't your fault… "

"…Arnold?"

"… don't… hospital … afraid … die…"

Phoebe? Helga exclaimed in her head. Gerald? Indistinct voices echoed around her. Someone she didn't recognize.

"… prognosis … brain damage … recovery … touch and go…"

What happened? Helga wondered. What are they talking about Arnold for? Oh god, is he okay? I was driving… no, no, no this can't be right. Please, god, no.

"Helga… right here… sorry… friend…" Phoebe's voice was punctuated with quiet and trying to focus made Helga feel dizzy. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't and when she attempted to move her arms or sit up and nothing happened, she could have screamed. But she couldn't even do that.

Phoebe, are you crying? Helga willed herself to speak but nothing happened.

"… wake up …"

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Helga was on page four of the five page document. She'd used a pen to circle several names on the list and was biting the tip of the pen. She reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table but stopped. After a moment's hesitation, she set the document down and picked up the almost-empty pack before walking over to the kitchen and dropping it into the trashcan.

No more of this. She thought to herself. She couldn't do that anymore.

Helga sat back down on her couch and gazed out the window. The rain had stopped and the clouds had drifted, partially covering the waxing moon. The weight in Helga's chest felt like it could crush her at any moment. Her body felt heavy and she fought to keep her memories at bay for they plagued her night and day.

She'd finally gotten her life together three years ago when she started community college classes. After the accident she'd been in a coma for about eight months and the subsequent physical therapy had set her back in terms of career progression. She never attended Hillwood University but she got her Associate's at Belleview Community College and landed a position with the local newspaper shortly before graduation. She worked furiously, staving off the gaping hole that threatened to consume her if she didn't attend to her tightrope act. She couldn't look down. But in her dreams, she had no choice.

No one had known how long Helga was going to be unresponsive or if she'd ever pull through. Gerald and Phoebe had moved to the west coast to attend university and Helga spent several months after the coma learning how to talk, walk, and even go to the bathroom all over again. It had been a great surprise to her to find that her family had been visiting her during the coma but it was Olga who helped her through the re-learning process. It was humiliating and embarrassing not being able to care for herself and barely being able to communicate aside from crying and an assortment of sounds. She was adamant about not receiving visitors while she learned how to function again. Phoebe had tried to call shortly after Helga woke up but she didn't want her best friend to hear her talking like a toddler and had refused to speak with her.

That was in the past, though. She'd come through, yes, but for what? The burden she carried on her shoulders was enough to hold her in place as if her ankles were shackled to two boulders. She cut herself off from that life and moved to Columbia to start something new. However, much to her chagrin, her past haunted her.

Maurice Loenstein, Cindy Loenstein, Jimmy Loenstein, Brianna Loenstein, Thomas Anderson, Maria Gutierrez, Ar—

Helga took a sip of wine and zoned out into the darkness. It was going on midnight but she was wide awake. She sat still and the apartment became silent. She could hear the steady beat of her heart, she could feel the gentle flow of air in and out of her lungs. Everything working as it should with no respect for the past. No respect for those who couldn't. No respect for the dead.

She glanced down at the list in her lap and flipped to the final page. They had to be good people. They couldn't be liars of thieves or criminals or abusers or anything like that. She'd find out somehow.

An eye for an eye. For what she'd broken, she'd replace somehow, even if it was too late for the others – someone else may have a chance. And when it was all done, she'd be gone.

Her shame and regret ate away at her like acid, dissolving her into nothing. But there was hope. Hope for someone. Hope to have a purpose. To atone for what she'd done. She had to make things right, even if they'd never be right. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't. She couldn't live with herself regardless.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

He'd gotten used to the quiet by now. They barely spoke to one another and they hadn't had sex in a little over a month. The last time before that, he couldn't recall. He watched her, sitting with both legs tucked under her as she leaned against the air of the sofa and wrote in her diary. She was always writing in that thing and he found himself constantly wondering what she was writing. What was she thinking about?

She'd changed a lot since they were kids. He always thought they had so much in common. She was sweet and nice and sociable just as he was. He got over her for a while after she rejected him countless times in elementary school but when she came back to Hillwood in the middle of high school, she'd begun to display a curious interest in him. She'd always been pretty but he was mesmerized when she showed up in his biology class in eleventh grade. Her long auburn hair tied into a braid that swooped around and rested on one shoulder, her chocolate brown eyes with flecks of gold that shimmered when the light hit them. He always wondered why she'd disappeared for those years after eighth grade but she never wanted to talk about it so he didn't push her. But she was a little less innocent than he remembered, a little more withdrawn, yet bold with some of her actions. Sometimes he caught her staring off into space and he wished he could step inside her brain and understand what changed. She was still sweet but somehow it didn't feel real. She was still beautiful but somehow it felt like she wore a mask that hid the inner machinations of her being. She was still friendly when they were out in public but when they were at home, they were strangers.

It hadn't always been that way, though. They'd gotten married two years after their high school graduation and had moved a couple states north to go to school. Arnold was interested in anthropology and pursued a minor in computer science while Lila studied business. He hadn't expected her to choose that route so it didn't surprise him when over the next year she changed her major three times. They were both working part-time jobs at the time to support the quaint little apartment they shared. For a while things were nice. They enjoyed each other and Arnold was happy.

Things started to change three years ago, however, when Arnold's grandpa got sick. His kidneys were failing and he didn't have much time left. This coincided with Lila losing her part-time job at the library and the two of them made the decision to move back to Hillwood and stay at the boarding house for the remainder of Grandpa's life. Arnold's grandma had died while he was a freshman in high school and over the years the boarders had slowed moved on, leaving Grandpa alone. They figured they'd pick up the pieces eventually: go back to school, start their careers, start a family. But it didn't work that way.

After Grandpa passed a few months later, Arnold hadn't been sure how they were going to proceed. He wanted to sell the boarding house but they needed jobs so they could get a new apartment. By sheer dumb luck, Arnold had run into Brainy at a local Chinese food carry-out. Many of the old neighborhood friends had moved away from Hillwood or had otherwise become engrossed in their own lives so it was pleasant to catch up with a childhood friend, albeit a distant one. Brainy, who went by Brian these days, had even offered to help Arnold get a job at the company he worked for doing tech support. It didn't pay much but at least it was full-time and that's what they needed right now. Over time, working alongside Brian, Arnold had learned quite a bit that added to his IT background.

But at home, things were steadily crumbling. Lila was distant and Arnold wasn't sure why. Most of the time she didn't seem to want much to do with him and he felt the wedge between them deepening every day. Sometimes she seemed distant, sometimes she seemed angry but he could never figure out why and she wouldn't tell him. Arnold tried to talk about what was going on but Lila would snap at him or ignore him. Sometimes she even left the house for a few days without a word as to where she was going or when she would be back. After the third time, Arnold stopped calling the cops.

He'd done some things he regretted and even if Lila wasn't aware, he still felt bad. His character was solid but he was no saint and no foreigner to mistakes. But that was no excuse.

Arnold studied his wife as she wrote fervently in her journal, eyebrows furrowed and her gaze set. Arnold pretended to be reading the newspaper as he periodically peered over its edge at his wife.

What happened to you? He wondered. How did we get here?

When she finally stopped writing, got up from the couch, and walked into the next room, Arnold sighed and turned his focus to the newspaper in front of him. A familiar name caught his eye and he smirked.

He often wondered how Helga was doing, more so now that he was back in Hillwood, surrounded by memories of childhood. Everything was so chaotic after the accident and she'd been in the hospital for almost a year. He'd visited her a couple times during that first summer but there was no way she could have had any idea he was there and when she finally woke up, he was afraid to see her. Gerald had told him that she wouldn't even take calls from Phoebe during her recovery which lasted another year and a half or so. He doubted she would be receptive to seeing him. Toward the end of high school she'd seemingly done everything in her power to avoid him and on top of that, he struggled with the guilt of his part in the accident.

He'd gotten a concussion, a broken wrist, and an assortment of cuts and bruises from the impact but it wasn't until the paramedics were cutting her out of the overturned blue sedan that he realized Helga had been involved. He'd wanted to visit her but when the doctors had finally checked him over, that was when he came to find out that Helga had gone into a coma.

Time seemed to have slipped right through his fingers and he often wondered if it was simply too late. Too late to contact Helga. Too late to save his marriage. He wondered every day where he was going to go from here but nothing ever seemed to change.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Helga had taken a break from her document to fix herself a cheese sandwich and get ready for sleep. As she lay in her bed, a small table lap casting light over her, she held the list in hand with her pen poised.

She quirked her head when she came to a familiar name.

Richard Bauer.

Peapod…?

[A/N: And there we go! I wasn't planning on starting another story until I finished this semester but... you know... XD I do intend on working on my unfinished fics (Say Something, Olga's Diary, and Hearts of Glass). I have notes written for all of them - I just was really excited about this particular idea and needed to get it out lol. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Any thoughts, predictions or questions yet? This is gonna be a fun ride weaving this story together and TRUST ME, things WILL get intense and dramatic so don't say I didn't warn you ;) Take care and please review.]