Hey everyone, yes, it's me. Don't know if you remember me...I haven't posted anything for over 7 years. A long hiatus, if I do say so myself...I used to be heavily involved in the online HA! scene when it was going on, and...well, anyway, I've been on a bit of a Hey Arnold! nostalgia kick lately, and was reading all the old fics I used to love...and I got inspired.

This is just a short first chapter for a story I hope to continue. My computer's on the fritz at the moment, so updating will be sporadic. I wanted to get it out there, though, and here it is. Perhaps I'll even try to finish Helga Gets Rich! some time soon. Anyway, read and enjoy.

EDIT: I was writing more of the story, and realized that what I was writing still belonged in chapter one. So, I just made it longer. Chapter two will come soon.

CHAPTER ONE
in which there is an old friend

A step.

Another.

A third.

Pause.

Shit.

She smoothed out the front of her dress. Every slight movement forward took a monumental force of will. Muffling screams, strangling sobs, she trudged through invisible, thigh-high swamp water towards her destination. Fifteen thousand possible excuses ran through her mind in an instant, and she became uncomfortably aware of every door, every window, every means of escape available. There was still time...

This is the dumbest thing I have ever done, she thought, and I know that, so why can't I stop myself? Things could stay as they are. Status quo, and all that. I might not be happy, but I won't run the risk of being exposed. I don't need this!

Wrong.

I don't need this...right now.

Wrong again.

I need this. But I don't want this.

Close enough. For another step, anyway.

I need...to calm down. Breathing. Breathing is good.

Nothing can hurt me here...nothing is attacking me, I don't know any of these people. This is a trial run. If I can't do it now, how the hell am I ever going to do it for real?

Everyone could see her by that point - their kind, friendly stares burned into her skin. It would've been easier had they not seemed so...supportive. At least then she'd have adversaries, something to prove. The acceptance, the eager waiting...she couldn't look them in the eye. To look them in the eye would be to connect, and a connection might unnerve her, might distract her enough that she'd bolt out the door and back into routine.

No more running. Isn't that what Phoebe said? Isn't that the whole reason I'm doing this? For her?

Another step.

No...that's backwards. Pheebs isn't here, I'm on my own. This is for me. This is for peace of mind. This is for him. Good God I want to get the hell out of here.

Step.

Oh. She had reached the stage. Now or never time. Too bad 'never' freaks the hell out of me. Here goes, ol' gal.

She dragged over a chair, and looked out above the sea of faces. The lights focused on her made it close to impossible to discern a single detail of the room, a fact for which she was intensely grateful. But through the windows on the other side of the room she caught a glimpse of the outside - street lamps, concrete, neon signs, a cool night aura hanging over everything...not home, but enough like it that she was able to take a moment and allow her heart to stop beating so furiously. It was on streets like this that she used to find her only moments of happiness playing baseball, cracking open fire hydrants, chasing after some shred of hope. Simpler times.

"I don't sing," she blurted out into the void. There were a few chuckles. Stalling, she continued. "So...sorry if you were, y'know, expecting that. I just...don't." Opting to quit while she was ahead, or at least while she was still on course, she finally took her seat.

'Home is where you can do what you feel without remorse,' right, Pheebs?

Helga placed her fingers on the keys, a foot on the sustain pedal, and slowly, tentatively welcomed the crowd into her home.

Everything turned pink and gold. Everything was rain. Everything was pain, release, catharsis. She stared down at her hands and belatedly realized that she was playing the baby grand in front of her. She'd forgotten...it was as if every time she sat down at a piano, the sounds that came out reconciled themselves into images before she heard them. Like playing a dream.

So she played the audience a picture of her childhood. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't melodic, but it was passionately truthful, and sad. More than a few of the listeners felt their own pasts resonate with her song that night, finding a kindred spirit in the disheveled sixteen year old artist on the stage. Most of them had never seen her before, and never would again, but they could all pick up on how important this was for her. The first time she opened up to complete strangers, and possibly anyone. It was beautiful because it was real, and because it was real, it had weight.

When she finished, there was no applause. Everyone let out the breaths they didn't realize they were holding tight in their chests, and Helga just sat and stared at the piano, unsure of what to do.

They hated it. She was numb, frozen to her chair. They hated it. Well...at least I know. No hope, no talent, no -

"Ice cream." a voice by her ear whispered. She jumped, and a warm hand landed on her shoulder.

"What?" She mumbled.

"I'm taking you out for ice cream," the voice said. It seemed less like an offer and more like a description of events set in stone. Helga, weak and wobbly after her performance, saw no other option but to follow this strange woman. At least it would get her out of the Open Mic, and away from all of those blank eyes.

The hands guided Helga out the back door, and a rush of cold air reminded her how late it was, and seemed to cut through the haze that had been clouding her thoughts since she walked into the club.

"Look, lady," she said, "I'm all for free ice cream, but I don't even know you, and I'd like to get home. I kind of just bombed a performance, the least you could do is let me wallow."

"You didn't bomb, and you're not the wallowing type. It was incredible, Helga," said the woman.

"Excuse me, were you even there? They didn't even clap for me."

"They didn't clap because they didn't know what to do, Helga. You touched them."

"That sounds like a whole lot of - "

Wait.

Helga stopped walking abruptly and the woman stopped as well, turning to face her.

"I didn't use my real name tonight," Helga said, clenching her fists. The woman just smiled and said nothing. "Who the hell are you, lady?"

A car passed, and in the flash of its headlights, Helga finally saw the face clearly. A face she hadn't seen for years. Her knees went weak, and threatened to collapse as she recognized Dr. Bliss, who pulled her into a tearful hug.

They walked along in silence, enjoying their ice cream cones and their own thoughts. Helga was unsure of what to do - their conversation had thus far been devoid of anything serious or personal. Helga asked about Dr. Bliss' life, where she'd been, what she'd been doing, and in return she told her about how school was about to start up again, how she was going to be a junior in high school, et cetera. Surface level.

It had begun to rain, and so they ducked under a covered bus stop and sat together on the bench, finishing off their ice cream. As the sound of the raindrops hitting the metal above their heads raged on, Dr. Bliss finally spoke.

"You know, it's perfectly fine."

"What? What is?"

"Using me as a therapist tonight. It's fine, I don't mind."

Helga shot her a glare and crossed her arms. "I don't have anything to get off my chest, okay? Sheesh, I thought we were just getting ice cream."

"Okay."

After a prolonged pause, Helga sighed and looked over into Dr. Bliss' smiling face. "I'm still way too transparent, aren't I?"

"Some things never change. You were never a good liar. So are you going to tell me what tonight was all about, or should we just walk you back to your car?"

"It's a bit of a long story, really."

"I like long stories."

Damn she's persistent, Helga thought. Oh well...no harm done here, I guess. By way of answering Dr. Bliss' question, she reached under the front of her dress and pulled out a heart-shaped locket that was hanging on a chain around her neck. Dr. Bliss let out a slow breath as she stared at it. Popping it open, Helga revealed a picture of a teenaged Arnold.

He'd gotten more and less attractive as he got older. High school is a hard time for most guys, it's when they look their strangest and most awkward. He still had the football-shaped head, he still wore the hat, and he had the same messy cornflower hair, but he was taller now, and a bit gangly, like his body had stretched upwards too fast for it to fill in sideways. But the optimism and inner strength still exploded out through his eyes, and Helga felt herself get warmer just by looking at the picture.

"After all this time?"

"Of course."

"So...you never told him?"

Helga squirmed. "No. I kind of...went to a different high school, and...and...I haven't seen him for two years." She replaced the locket into its hiding place.

"Trying to forget about him?"

"...or something like that, yeah. Running away is more like it."

"Well how about that? Look at you, Helga, you've grown up so much...it takes a lot of strength to admit you were a dirty coward." This earned an extra strong glare from Helga.

"Yes. Thank you so much. Criminy, what a shrink you are..."

"I'm off duty. I get to poke fun."

"Right...well anyway. I'm transferring."

"Back to his school?"

"Yeah. His and Phoebe's."

"Do you still see her?"

"Yeah. We still hang out a lot...just not as much as I'd like." Helga let go of the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders and stood up, storming out into the rain. "God, I just miss her. I miss them. I miss everyone in the whole goddamned school that I used to see every day, and I miss Arnold! I haven't been able to write one line of poetry that was any good since I pushed him out of my life, and it hurts. It hurts every freaking day...he was the only thing keeping me sane and grounded to anything, and without him...without him it's like...it's like...well I don't even know what it's like! I can't tell you what it's like because I have no poetry anymore. I had to start playing Olga's piano for an outlet, which just isn't enough, because it's not mine! I need words!" She suddenly realized she was rambling, and soaked with water, and went back to sit on the bench.

"Sorry."

"No, you needed that. But, for what it's worth, even without words, you really expressed yourself tonight."

Helga stopped squeezing the water out of her pigtails and looked at her. "You really think so? You weren't just saying that?"

"Of course. You touched everyone in that club tonight. Best thing I've seen in there for ages, that's for sure. You haven't lost it...I think you're keeping it from yourself. I think maybe you've blamed yourself for leaving Arnold, or perhaps you just don't want to be inspired by anything else. But you've still got it, as you proved tonight. Just trust yourself, and I'll bet the flow will come back."

Helga didn't look convinced. Staring off at the long line of street lights, she tried to change the subject. "So do you go to Open Mic often?"

"Every week. It relaxes me. This is your first?"

"Yeah."

"And so that's why you drove here from Hillwood to do it...so that you wouldn't chance seeing someone you know?"

"Sure, for all the good that did me."

"Hey, it could've been worse...'Cecile.' Nice stage name. Apropos."

"Maybe." Helga smiled. "Look. I know I don't need to hide from you...tonight was a test. Phoebe got me to do it. Something about building up to it...like if I can start sharing myself with strangers, maybe I can, you know...work up to it. With everyone else."

"And Arnold."

"Hey, one step at a time, Dr. Bliss - "

"Call me Molly, please, we're not in my office. Plus, I think we've spent enough time together that you've earned it."

Another silence. A bus stopped in front of them, and Molly waved it away as Helga brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. They sat there for quite some time, the atmosphere between them full of unasked questions. Molly Bliss quietly finished her ice cream cone, and threw the paper away in the garbage as she broke the silence.

"So, are you excited to go back to - "

"I wish you hadn't left, Molly."

It was a simple statement, but so much bottled up emotion was packed in behind it that it seemed to silence the rain around them. Molly suddenly saw Helga as not a self-assured teenager but a small child curling in on herself, warding off the world.

"Oh, Helga...I didn't have much of a choice. The money was better here, it was a better choice for me and my family. And besides...you didn't need me anymore."

"What? I did! I've needed you every damn day for the last four years!"

"No, you didn't. There's only so much I can do to help someone who only uses therapy as a means to vent, at least as far as Arnold is concerned. I taught you to be constructive with your feelings, and I was an ear when you needed someone to talk to. But until you take this into your own hands, you'll never move past it."

Helga caught herself starting to cry and bit back the tears, breathing deeply. She said bitterly, "I think I need to get home, Molly. My parents might get worried if I'm not there when they wake up. If they even notice."

Molly took out a small notebook from her jacket and wrote something on it, tore off the page and handed it to Helga. "This is my cell phone number. I want you to call me any time if you need it."

Helga took it, and her anger vanished as quickly as it had come. While entering it into her phone, she got a text from Phoebe: "How did it go?" I'll answer her later...when I've figured it out, she thought. The girl and the therapist stood up to begin the walk back to their cars, arms around each other. After saying their goodbyes, Helga got on the freeway and headed back to Hillwood...she had a lot to think about before school started on Monday.