A/N: The first installment of the second part of this story. I will warn you now that, since there is obviously not a lot going on outside the tunnel, this story is a bit slow in the beginning. I did what I could to keep it interesting, but many of these first chapters will just be the group traveling. However, this first chapter does have a little...how would you say..H/A action? Very brief, but still pretty intense. Hope you enjoy it, my two or three loyal fans.

Hellerick: I finally was able to read your last review (my computer's been down for some time). I know what you mean about the Sewer King, and you were right on the money when you said you thought he might not fit in. That was my same thought. I was trying to come up with more ways to draw this story closer to the actual show, and I'm just not having a lot of luck with that. It's very different, I know that. I no longer hope for rave reviews or anything. I'm just going to post the next part so that I don't leave people hanging (I hate that). Personally, I love reading stories that branch out from the norm and give a different view of the people we thought we knew, but I know most peope aren't strange like me (I'm also an English Major...that doesn't help). Anyway...

Thanks for all the advice and help, I really appreciate your honest criticism, you're the best!

And now…

Chapter 1: Helga

Arnold scribbled hurriedly in his new notebook, balancing a jar candle on one folded knee. The large room in which he sat hummed lightly with the peaceful breathing - and the occasional snoring - of the small band of people sleeping all around him.

The room was the untouched basement of a demolished house, which happened to be furnished and carpeted quite nicely, so each couch and chair had been claimed for sleeping. Arnold had been a little slower in calling dibs, but he didn't mind sleeping on the floor. After two years he was quite used to it and almost preferred it. The fact that the carpet was pleasantly soft was a nice plus, though.

They'd taken shelter during the night in many different houses as they made their way through the suburbs of the city, but the houses had all been devoid of anything useful or edible. This basement, however, had remained so well concealed within the ruins of the house above it that everything inside had remained intact and untouched for all these years.

This is where Arnold had found his new notebook, as well as two others, numerous pens and pencils, and a hooded sweatshirt. There was a laundry room in the basement, and though some of the clothes were moth-eaten there were still quite a few things that were wearable and so were distributed among the travelers.

That sweatshirt was the first new, or relatively new, pair of clothing he'd had since they'd gone into hiding. It was a little big and smelled a bit musty, but Arnold loved the feeling of the heavy cotton against his thin frame. He'd also gotten a new pair of socks, an item he'd been in dire need of. It was just a shame he hadn't found any pants. As a child, he never thought he'd ever be sorry about growing taller as he got older.

"Psst, Arnold?"

Arnold glanced up and saw Gerald a few feet away, lounging rather unbecomingly in a recliner.

"What are you doin', man?"

"Just writing some stuff down." Arnold whispered.

"Well, go to sleep. This is probably the last nice place we'll be stayin' at for a while."

"I know, I just want to get this down while it's fresh in my mind."

Gerald sighed. "Alright, but make sure to put out that light when you're done, it's keepin' me awake." And with that, he shifted over and the conversation ended.

Arnold smiled at his friends back, then finished the last sentence and put the notebook away. He blew out the candle, set it aside where it wouldn't get knocked over and spill hot wax, and then laid down on the squishy carpeting, more than ready for a good night's sleep.

Arnold looked all around him with a sense of awe and joy. He was sitting on a patch of soft ground amidst a sprawling landscape of thick foliage and the most gigantic trees he'd ever seen. It reminded him of the dense, uncivilized jungles he'd seen only pictures of. And the jungle, in turn, reminded him of the parents he'd never really known, though they'd always seemed like a part of him.

Sunlight leaked between the canopy of trees and brushed vines and other foliage on its way down, creating a mosaic of light upon the ground. Arnold knew that he was dreaming. He knew not only because he felt clean and healthy and sensed no fear of danger, but more so because he found himself sitting in the middle of a jungle and there wasn't a single hell-spawn insect within eye- or ear-shot.

He sighed and leaned back against the mossy tree. Being in a place like this had undoubtedly been one of his greatest unrealized dreams for a couple of reasons. On one hand, ever since reading his parents journal he'd fantasized about going to the jungle to locate the Green-Eye people and finding his parents.
In addition to this, he knew deep down that he was extremely wild at heart. Growing up in the city, he'd always been able to make the best of his situation, but he often felt similar to a fish out of water.

Sitting here among these sights and smells created solely by his imagination, he found himself wishing that he could stay there. It was almost like heaven.

Almost.

The very moment he realized that something very crucial to his happiness was missing, he immediately sensed a presence nearby and turned. Standing mere yards away, bathed in golden sunbeams and dressed in a simple, fitted sundress, was the one who gave him strength on this journey. The one who'd shown him that he was still needed and loved. The one he was fighting for, and would always be fighting for. His wife, Helga.

Her smile was captivating as she came to kneel before him, and she placed one hand gently on his cheek. Her face was flushed with color and light, and her eyes shone with love for him. She said nothing, only leaned in close to him, and he didn't stay her from doing so. Her sweet scent overwhelmed him and he pulled her into a gentle kiss. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his hair, then to the back of his head as she seemed to grow more eager, and in seconds Arnold pulled her bodily into his lap as their kiss deepened to a more passionate form.

I love you…I love you…The simple, yet life-altering words drifted through his mind spontaneously, being that he was unable to actually form coherent words at present.

"Arnold…"

Helga's voice drifted across his subconscious, but hers was not a tone he would have expected. Her gentle voice vibrated with a mixture of terror, panic, and…remorse?

The hum of her voice and the impression it left him with occurred within a millisecond's time, and it sent a surge of panic through him. His eyes snapped open and in that very moment Helga was gone, vanished from within his passionate grasp.

In addition to this shock, Arnold was met by a dark, foreboding jungle with the trees pitching and swaying in the edges of a coming storm. As his sense of immediate danger went from zero to sixty, his panic kicked into overdrive and he found that he was unable to breath.

Arnold's eyes snapped open and he lurched up into a sitting position, gasping for air. A stream of panicky thoughts flowed through his head, and he willed his heart rate to slow before it broke right through his ribcage. He dropped his head in his hands, trying desperately to calm his nerves.

What in the world…

After a few minutes, when the cold sweat had dried and his heart rate returned to a relatively normal pace, Arnold sighed and laid back down, though his eyes remained wide open.

So much for a good night's sleep, he thought wearily.