Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or certain situations pulled from the show. Hey Arnold is owned by Craig Bartlett and probably partially by Nickelodeon.

Chapter 1 – Moonage Daydream

A cold chill blew through the trees as a thin figure rushed down the cobblestone path. The trees danced in the wind, moving their branches wildly like clawed hands reaching for the dark sky. The street lamps were the travelers only company on the deserted path way. The usual bustle of the city had given way to an unearthly silence but Arnold hardly noticed. He had to get home as quickly as possible. The reason was lost to him but he knew the dark, twisted knot in his stomach wasn't for nothing.

Stepping onto the street, the looming silhouette of a dark turn of the century mansion sat at the end of the block. The sight of the house made Arnold break into a sprint. Every light in the house as on making the windows shine brightly, almost vibrating in the distance. He could hear the whisper of a small voice in the back of his head questioning his movements. Why are we running? Where are we? That's not our house… But every muscle in his body propelled him forward as if he was no longer in control of where his legs were carrying him. His common sense kept trying to tell him something wasn't right but the adrenaline coursing through his veins pushed any question out of his mind as his natural instincts took over. He had to make sure they were okay. No one was answering the phone now. He only hoped he was not too late.

Slamming into the door, he started banging on it wildly with his fists. "Dad! Dad! Answer the door! C'mon, Dad, it's me!" He screamed into the wood of the locked door. The frame of the door had started to vibrate. Though he could feel the hard wood vibrating under his beating fists, he couldn't register anything other than the fact he needed to get into the house. Backing away, he looked from side to side, hoping to find something to ram the door down with. Before he could grab anything, the door swung open. He was momentarily blinded by the sudden rush of bright light.

Shick! Shick!

Arnold slowly looked up. A dark figure pointed a loaded shot gun directly at his face. The barrel trembled as the figure tried to steady their hands on the gun.

"You… you've come for me!" The figure yelled at him "I knew… the moment I saw… that… what…"

Arnold squinted as he tried to make out who was speaking. He didn't recognized the voice but he knew his father was in the house. He spoke as he tried to see past the end of the barrel. "Dad…?"

The figure moved forward, jabbing the end of the gun into him. Arnold winced at the cold metal. The danger of the situation was becoming more and more real but he knew he had to find out what was happening.

"Dad, it's me!" He said, desperately trying not to panic but unable to stop his hands from shaking as he held them up. He could feel the metal through his t-shirt as his legs started to shake. "I was worried. Please, you wouldn't answer my calls and I…" Tears stung hot on his eyes.

What is going on? Why is he doing this? Doesn't he recognize me? What happened to…

The man took a few steps forward, bringing his features into the light. Arnold felt his stomach hit the ground when he saw the face of the man.

"I've had enough of your twisted words, creature! You are no child of mine!" The football headed man spat madly at Arnold before steadying the shotgun. His steel blue eyes flashed with fear and madness. He had the look of a man driven to the brink with nothing left to hold on to. Arnold closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable…

Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold!

Arnold woke up immediately, gasping and panting for air as he looked around the room wildly. Arnold wrenched his shirt up and looked down at his stomach. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realized it was all just a dream. He reached over and unplugged the alarm clock before throwing his head back onto the pillow.

Covering his eyes, he concentrated on calming his breathing while he tried to hold on to the details of the dream. It almost felt like a memory but he knew it couldn't be. A house… A man… A gun… Well, it wasn't an original dream or something really scary but the emotions he felt about the situation were what bothered him. The man… he looked like… And before Arnold could completely grasp onto his mental pictures of the man, it was gone.

Shaking his head, Arnold rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. He reached to the remote on the floor, pressed a button that rolled the blinds away, revealing the skylight windows. The new morning light flooded the attic bedroom.

Swinging his legs to the retro yellow and orange carpet, Arnold looked around his room. The attic that his grandparents renovated for him as a child remained more or less the same. A faded cherry Gibson ES-335 guitar sat next to his red couch, unfolded from the wall. Sheets of music scattered on the couch, seemingly in some order that only the one working on them could make sense of. A black keyboard sat in the only free space someone could sit to work. A few new posters hung on his wall, paying homage to the likes of musicians like Kurt Cobain and John Lennon as well as his prized original Evil Dead movie poster. A tall book shelf stocked full of every book Arnold had ever read was shoved in the corner by his computer desk. Philosophy and poetry had become cherished volumes scattered among his quintessential horror and science fiction collection.

Looking down on the floor, he noticed a book sprawled open on the floor. He must have fallen asleep while he was reading last night. Grabbing the book, he shook his head at himself and scoffed at himself.

"I should probably not read Lovecraft before bed anymore…" He said to himself, setting the heavy volume on his bed.

He glanced over at his record player sitting between his bed and the vintage iron heater. Gerry Mulligan was still on the turn table. Placing the stylus at the beginning of the record, the warm crackle of the somber notes echoed through his room. Arnold closed his eyes and sighed. Jazz and the blues had always held a special place in his heart. Though he was now 15 years old, his tastes stayed the same for the most part. Sure, he started to gravitate to more rock music just like any teenager but the crooners of yesteryear held fast as one of his favorites.

Walking back over to his desk, Arnold passes by his mirror. Noticing a blemish on his chin, he rubbed his stubbly skin and leans closer to the mirror. He had grown considerably over the last six years. Still a little lanky, he was growing out of his awkward stage and starting to look like a young adult. Stretching his face with his hands, sighing, he thought about all the things he had to do before Monday night. He knew he had to make this something she would never forget.

He still remembers the day that started his new life. They had been running through the jungle in an attempt to get away from La Sombra and his men. After running through brush for what felt like hours, they crawled over a large fallen tree to take refuge on the other side. Arnold's eyes darted around in panic, looking and listening for any movement outside of their panted breathing. "Do… you… see… anyone…?" Arnold looked into the face of the girl that had been torturing him, as well as loving him, ever since he was 3 years old.

"I don't… think so…" Helga G. Pataki's face was scratched with dirt and fresh red marks from running through the tree branches, not bothering to dodge every little branch in a mad attempt to get far away from the men chasing them. Her blue eyes were starting to water and a sad shadow of fear started to cloud her eyes.

"Helga, no. Don't cry. We'll be okay. I promise." whispered Arnold as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. He felt her stiffen slightly from his touch but didn't pull away. Arnold muttered to her, "I'm so sorry you are caught up in this. I never wanted anything to happen to you."

Helga pushed back from him.

"Yo… you have nothing to be sorry about, Hair boy. I followed you… it's not like you made me." Helga said, trying to put on her usual bully airs but her voice fell as she looked away from him. She pushed him away, hugging her knees to her chest.

Arnold moved himself in front of her vision, forcing her to look at him again. Her skin was cold and shivering when he touched her. He grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her. "No, don't do that! I am tired of you looking away from me!"

Arnold shuddered with adrenaline, fresh anxiety spreading in the pit of his stomach. She had avoided his eyes for months. A true friendship started to blossom between them at long last after three years of Helga's hateful charade. He knew what she said that night was true and he couldn't forget her words. Each rush confession and vow was burned into his mind. But the words didn't burn with discomfort or disgust. He felt warmed by the words, felt awakened by them. The more he thought about her, the more he remembered… everything. How she was always trying to protect him or help him, even if it was painful for her. She was always there just below the surface and he could now just feel the ripples of the real her.

And she now finally let him in. But she was terrified. He held her back to talk alone after a night bowling with Pheobe and Gerald. He was tired of the walls she kept placing in front of him. He wanted to tell her everything but she stopped him. She rushed away in a panic and then didn't speak or look at him for months. It hurt him deeply. But now, he knew he had to tell her. She couldn't run from him here. The guilt for cornering her was gone in an instant; he was forced to play this hand or risk dying without telling her.

"I have… to tell you something. I have to tell you… how I…" Arnold trailed off, losing his voice, not believing what he was about to say out loud to the girl he had been thinking about for the last three years. The girl whose hair smells like lavender. The girl that makes him feel like he is both alive and dead in her presence. The girl he dreamed of, night and day.

Arnold grabbed Helga's shaking hands within his own and took a deep breath.

"I know that night at the FTI building I said that we would forget about what was said. We just chocked it up to nerves and excitement and I said we could forget about it." Arnold looked up, meeting her eyes, "Well, I'm sorry but I really can't do that anymore."

Helga's eyes grew as big as saucers, staring unblinking at him. She anticipated what he would say and she wanted to run. Arnold saw it in her face. He held fast on to her hands to prevent her from bolting away from him.

Arnold looked into her eyes, locking her gaze. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me and the more I thought about it, the harder it was for me to get it out of my head. I thought about all the things you've done to me over the years. All the spitballs in my hair, the pudding, the constant ridicule and calling me names like geek-bait, yutz, or football head. I couldn't believe that you could seriously mean all those things that you said."

Helga looked away from him with tears in her eyes. Her tears hot trails down her cheeks as she shut her eyes tight, trying to shut Arnold out.

Arnold let go of one of her hands and wiped away her cheeks. The sudden gentle touch caused Helga to snap open her eyes in surprise. She was cemented within his gaze once again, fixed on his face. Arnold smiled into her eyes, thinking that even though she had been running through the jungle, dirty and scared, she was still so beautiful.

"But then I thought more and I remembered all the nice things you have done. I remembered when we first met when we were 3 years old. It was so long ago but I remembered. Sitting in Grandpa's Packard, wondering if anyone would want to be friends with me or talk to me. Then I saw you. You were walking alone and you had no coat, no boots and you were soaked from the rain. I hopped out of the front seat and opened my umbrella. You looked so sad and I didn't think anyone should ever look that sad. I remember your bow…"

Arnold's face blushed. He was fidgeting with Helga's hands within his own, his palms getting clammy. Anxiety started percolating in the pit of his heart, creeping throughout his body. He breathed out trying to calm his heart rate.

"I also remember how you made me feel. I instantly felt drawn to you, even at that age. I felt as if there was some thread that connected us, that I had almost known you somehow. I remembered that feeling when you told me how you really felt. I remembered and felt like I almost always knew. I just never fully realized until…"

Helga's cheeks started to blush red, her cerulean eyes gleaming. Arnold felt his own cheeks flush hot on his face, knowing what he now must say. Now or never.

"Helga… I want you to know… that…" Arnold was losing his nerve so he did something he never thought he would have the guts to do. He kissed Helga G. Pataki.

Arnold opened his eyes, letting the memories from years ago slip through his fingers as newer, happier ones played in front of his eyes. So much had changed.

They had found his parents and brought them home. He remembers his grandfather, Phil crying as he hugged Miles, over joyed to see his son that he thought he had lost 12 years ago. His grandmother, Gertie, stood on the stoop frozen in her shock. Staring at her long lost son and daughter-in-law, unable to believe her eyes. She wasn't sure if what she was seeing was real or one of her many hallucinations. Arnold's mother, Stella, ran up the stoop to Gertie and enveloped her in a hug, crying on her shoulder. The hug melted all Gertie's doubts about what was in front of her and she sobbed into Stella's shoulder. Both women sunk to the ground, embracing and crying. Arnold watched with tears in his eyes, elated to see his family reunited.

Once everything calmed down and the new tenants were settled, everything in Arnold's life started to fall into place. With his parents finally back, Arnold finally knew what it felt like to have a real family. The empty spot he had always felt in his heart was beginning to feel full. Arnold started helping his long lost father fix up the boarding house, bringing back the beauty of the old generational home. His dad also started telling him stories about the fascinating adventures he had over his extensive career as an anthropologist.

Arnold's favorite stories were the ones focused around the region's mythology. The Green Eyes were always a favorite but he started asking his dad to tell him the most frightening and ominous things he had experienced. Miles was a man of science and always tried to find the logic in what he had seen but he admitted that some of the acts that he bore witness too had left him unable to find any explanation. Arnold was fascinated with what his parents experienced deep in the jungle and couldn't get enough of their stories.

Every moment he wasn't with his dad, he was with Helga. They saw movies, talked about poetry, listened to Arnold's growing record collection and shared everything with each other. Everything felt effortless now that the truth was known between the two of them.

As he daydreamed about Helga, he sat on his bed and absent mindedly playing his guitar. His grandpa gave him his mother's guitar before they found them in San Lorenzo. It had been one of the few things that she had brought with her to the boarding house when Arnold was just a baby. Playing it came naturally to Arnold. He went through a few lessons with a private teacher. The lessons didn't last long before Arnold knew his guitar like he would know his own arm. It became an extension of himself.

With an exasperated sigh, he walked over to the couch, picking up one of the music sheets. He shook his head in annoyance. Reaching over, he grabbed his phone and dialed. After a few rings, a voice thick with ignorant cheer sang through the receiver.

"Good morning! Pataki residence!"

"Hi, Olga." Arnold grimaced at her sweet tone. "Is Helga awake?"

"Oh hi, Arnold! Well, gee, I'm just not sure. Let me see if she is and I'll get her for you!"

"Okay, thanks."

Seconds later, he could hear Olga singing up the stairs for Helga. Before long, he heard the sullen yells from his girlfriend to her sister before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Helga! Um, I didn't wake you up did I?"

"Nope, I've been up for a bit. Figured I'd get some writing in since I was up."

"Oh, cool!" He was glad she continued to write. She was a beautiful writer, far better than himself for sure, and he hoped she would never give up on it. "So you wanna come over today?"

"Sure, hair boy, I'll come over. What time are you thinkin'?"

"Whenever you want. I don't have any plans or anything…"

"Wait…" Helga said suspiciously. "Do you just want me to come over to help you with the song again?"

He could hear the slight annoyance in her voice but knew she was only half serious. "Of course not but… maybe you could… look at it for me?"

She was amazing at just about any creative subject she got her hands in. She played violin in the school symphony and played expertly. He could ways ask her for her honest opinion on anything he wrote and she would actually be able to give him a thoughtful answer. "Only if you want to… but you are kind of the best soo…"

"Fine, fine, fine stop graveling. Of course I will. Let me take a shower and get around and I'll be over in an hour and a half. How's that?"

"Awesome! You're amazing! Hey!"

"What now, football head?"

"I love you." He smiled into the receiver, picturing her warm smirk.

"I love you, too, Arnold. See you soon!"

"Bye!"

Arnold put down the phone, a love sick grin plastered on his face. The memory of the bizarre nightmare that woke him that morning officially faded into the background of his now all-consumed mind. He thought about how good it will feel to wrap his arms around her, feeling the velvet smooth of her skin on his own. The serene look in her eyes when she looked at him. The way his name flowed off of her lips. She had rippled her way into his life and now crashed like rolling ocean waves at his shore. Enveloping and taking him with her. Anywhere and everywhere.