Greetings Readers!

Here's a new Hey Arnold! story - it's a little different from the other stories I've written, so hopefully it's come out all right. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! or any of its characters.

As with most of the stories that the group of friends had gone through over the years, no one was able to agree on where this particular story began. When enough years had passed to make the situation comfortable to talk about, trying to start the retelling of the tale always led to friendly bantering over how the story should start. They could never find a beginning that would satisfy everyone, but they reached a compromise in choosing the morning of a cold, snowy day in January.

Helga walked out of her bedroom, wincing slightly as her feet came in contact with the cold kitchen floor, and struck a dramatic pose in front of her roommate. "Well, Phebes, what do you think?"

Crunching her cereal, Phoebe looked up from the medical textbook she was casually reading long enough to take in her friend's presence before returning back to her reading. "About what, Helga?"

The tall blonde rolled her eyes and crossed her arms – as good a friend and roommate Phoebe was, getting her help when a book was anywhere near her was difficult. She rapped impatiently at the tabletop until Phoebe looked back up at her. "About my outfit. Come on, Phebes," she almost pleaded, "I'm really nervous about this and I need some advice."

The note of anxiety in the normally confident Helga's voice made Phoebe close her book and shove it to the side to give the other girl her full attention. Helga, reassured that her friend was ready to help, resumed her pose. She looked surprisingly well-coiffed for that hour of the morning; usually at that time of day she would have just begun peeling herself out of her bed, sleepy-eyed and wild-haired. But now her hair was brushed so that it flowed down her back in shining, golden waves and she was wearing an attractive dark red coat and skirt. Phoebe was about to nod at her in approval when she looked more closely at Helga's head and began giggling. Helga raised an eyebrow. "Something you care to share with the class, Phebes?"

Phoebe attempted to stifle her giggles with her hand. "I'm sorry, Helga, it's just that your beret –"

"What's wrong with it?" Helga growled defensively but she was grinning. On top of her head was perched a very jaunty black beret. Although a good-quality beret, it stuck out among the businesslike parts of her outfit.

"It just seems a little out of place, that's all." Phoebe readjusted her glasses and smiled, "But I guess it would make sense for your presentation."

It was the girls' fourth year in college, and their third year of rooming together in the same off-campus apartment. Phoebe had thrown herself headlong into her studies to become a pediatrician, and Helga had finally thrown off the self-imposed ignominy of her writing ability and began studying English with the purpose of becoming a writer. In their first year, one of Helga's literature professor had recognized the girl's raw talent and taken her under her wing. She had helped the professor with several projects since then, and was now a teaching assistant. While the job was usually limited to grading and editing, one of the professor's classes was beginning a series of lectures on poetry and Helga had been talked into being a guest lecturer for a few lecturer for a few of the classes. Helga had been flattered but also incredibly nervous, and she was trying to look artistic and businesslike simultaneously.

"Eh," Helga thought out loud, pulling the beret off her head and twisting it in her hands, "it's a bit too 'beatnik,' I don't think so." But she didn't throw it to the side, instead she smiled at it as she held it in her lap.

Phoebe saw her friend's expression and smirked. "But you want to wear it because Arnold gave it to you."

Helga gave a start, reddening, and growled, "Phebes!"

Phoebe's smirk softened with amusement at Helga's reaction – even though she and Arnold had been dating since high school, she still was openly infatuated and easily embarrassed about the obviousness of her infatuation. The beret in question had actually been one Arnold used to wear when he had gone to jazz bands or played for poetry slams back in Hillwood. He'd given the beret to her when she'd chosen English and creative writing as her major – although she had slightly ruined the sweetness of the moment by joking that he'd given it to her when he "realized that it'd never fit on that football head of yours." Being Arnold, he'd just laughed and given her a very pleasant kiss.

Phoebe simply beamed innocently. "What? It's true, and I'm the same way about Gerald." She held up her arm, on which was an old sweatband which was completely at odds with her pressed button-up blouse and slacks. Gerald had given it to her when he'd first officially asked her out in middle school; it had been his lucky headband and Phoebe wore it frequently, especially since Gerald was studying at a college several hours away. "And at least you're able to see Arnold as well."

Helga had opened her mouth to reply when someone rang the doorbell and she stood up. "I'll get it." She quickly closed the distance to the front door and opened it to see her boyfriend standing in the doorway. "Arnold!" she cried out as she hugged him before pulling him inside out of the cold, "What are you doing here?"

Arnold smiled as he brushed snow off of his shoulders. "Thought I'd take the guest speaker out for coffee before class. Would you like to?"

"Sure, let me get my bag. Be right back." And she strode off purposefully over to her rom.

"Hey, Phoebe," Arnold said as he leaned on the kitchen table, "Have you heard from Gerald recently?"

Phoebe closed her book and leaned back against her chair. "No, I haven't," she sighed, "and I don't know why, he usually calls me."

Arnold's grin broadened, with a touch of I-know-something-you-don't-know that would have been irritating on anyone other than him. "Really?"

Even through all the years since elementary school and burgeoning new interests, Gerald and Arnold had remained best friends and they still kept in touch regularly. Phoebe was fine with that, but the idea that Gerald would take the time to call Arnold but not his girlfriend was hard to take. She was about to relay a warning through Arnold to her boyfriend, when he continued, "Because he said that he'd tried to call you several times last night but you never answered." He chuckled. "He was beginning to wonder if anything was wrong, but I told him that Helga would've told me if that was the case…"

Phoebe's porcelain face burned bright red and she began scrambling in her book bag for her phone. Upon finding it, she pulled it out, looked at the screen and groaned. "I didn't realize I'd turned it on silent. Five messages!" Her expression became both sympathetic and guilty. "Poor Gerald! I'd better call him."

Arnold patted her encouragingly on the shoulder. "Go ahead, Phoebe. I'll see you later."

Phoebe smiled and then dashed off to her room, nearly bumping into Helga in her path. Helga, slightly thrown balance, steadied herself and walked over to Arnold. she only raised an eyebrow in response to the usually calm girl's frenetic behavior but Arnold could read the unspoken question. "Gerald's been trying to call her and her phone's on silent."

Helga's eyes lit up and she laughed heartily. "That figures." She slung her shoulder bag on and turned towards the door. "Come on, Football Head, time's wasting.'

Arnold walked over to the door, and as he turned Helga's eyes flickered over to the black beret, abandoned on the tabletop. Impulsively, she grabbed the hat and stuffed in her shoulder bag before following him to the door.

Just in case.

···

"So what's on your mind?"

Helga looked up from the milk swirling creamy white against the dark brown of her strong coffee and into Arnold's face. She scoffed lightly and returned to stirring her coffee. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Arnold knew better, but he also knew well enough not to push Helga. Instead, he picked up his mug, leaned back against his chair, and took a gulp of coffee as he looked out the window. The small café that they were sitting in was two blocks from the university, and so had a regular number of student customers but wasn't often crowded. The coffee was simple but good, the prices were reasonable, and the site was perfect for people-watching. Given that both Arnold and Helga liked people-watching since Helga liked writing about people and Arnold was studying to be a psychiatrist and practiced analyzing people on the street (a method that bordered more on Sherlock Holmes than the medical), it was their favorite place to relax and have coffee.

With amusement, Arnold noticed an elderly woman walking down the sidewalk, who looked in the window and smiled as she recognized him. The two had crossed paths a few months before, ironically during another one of their coffee dates, when Arnold had come to her aid. The woman had been walking by with a sack of groceries when the heel of her shoe got caught in a crack of the pavement. She'd tripped, groceries spilling out of her arms, into a lane of active traffic, and was out of the line of sight of most drivers. In a motion that was brave, stupid, and what the old gang would have agreed was an "Arnold" thing to do, Arnold had sprinted out the café door and run in front of the woman. It had been easier for drivers to pick out the tall, handsome, golden-haired man than the fallen small, elderly woman, and honking cars quickly maneuvered around the two. Arnold helped her out of the street and Helga, who had run out after him, put the groceries back in the bag to hand to her. Arnold had taken her effusive thanks with a modest smile but had declined to give his name. When asked why by Helga, he said that he didn't want her to feel the need to "repay" him, and that not giving his name would make it less likely that she would remember him. Helga had laughed in response, reminding him that his distinctive appearance would make it easy to find him with or without his name.

As Arnold waved back, he turned to see if Helga had seen the woman, too, ready to prod him with a triumphant "I told you so" look on her face. Her smile fell slightly, though, when he saw her staring fixedly into her mug which still looked full. Arnold burned in his seat and placed one hand over hers. "Helga, I know you're worried about something. You can tell me."

Helga looked up at the touch and smiled at him. "It's nothing big, Arnold. It's just…" she stirred her coffee idly, "I don't really like presenting my writing to others." Arnold bit back a smile, he knew that since he and Phoebe had had to essentially bully her into most of her previous public readings. "And this is college…I don't like the possibility of looking like an idiot or a snob." She smirked, "And I can't even beat up anybody who doesn't like it – and you know I could."

Arnold laughed and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I do. But you won't need to, Helga, you're going to do fine." He smirked, "Besides, you look so beautiful that I'm sure most of the guys won't even be aware of what you're saying."

Helga burst out laughing, all her tension leaving her face, and punched him in the shoulder. "Idiot." She looked at her watch and quickly gulped her coffee. "We'd better get going, or else I'll be late."

Arnold stood up, placing a handful of bills on the table. "I'd go with you."

True to his word, Arnold walked Helga all the way to the lecture hall and they stood outside for a few moments to say goodbye.

Arnold hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry that I can't stay for your reading, but I have to get to my own class."

"That's okay," Helga hugged him back, "How embarrassing would it be to have my boyfriend watching this, anyway?"

"Ouch," Arnold pulled back and placed a hand over his heart, "why must you hurt me so?"

"Uh-huh," Helga smiled, kissing his cheek, "no melodrama, Football Head, that's my department. Besides, you know I love you."

"I would hope so," Arnold grinned shamelessly, pulling her back into his arms. "Well, I need to go." He kissed her forehead, "Good luck, Helga. I'll see you later."

Helga watched him leave, smiling, and then turned to walk into the lecture hall. Before she walked in, she reached into her shoulder bag for her beret and then placed it confidently on her head. Arnold was going to be there for her, one way or another.

···

"And that's all for today," the student instructor smiled as she gathered her papers together and stuffed them into her bag. "See you on Friday."

While most of the class immediately got up, grabbing their bags and backpacks and chattering about what they'd do with the rest of the day, one of the students remained sitting and stared at the teacher. She was tall, blonde, and absolutely beautiful, with a voice like pure music. He hadn't been able to pay attention to her words, so absorbed was he in the lyrical flow of her voice. It was a shame that he'd never seen her before, but then he'd only transferred to this university for the last semester.

The auditorium was nearly empty now, with just the professor and student teacher talking by the podium, and he made his way up towards them.

"That was very well-done, Helga," the professor said. Helga? Her name is Helga? Beautiful name…

The now-named Helga flushed. "Thanks, Prof. I'm just glad that I didn't put anyone to sleep."

The professor laughed, "Just wait, there's always next time. Can you be at my office this afternoon?"

"Sure thing, boss," Helga saluted and grinned, "See you later." As she turned, she accidentally walked into one of the students standing by the stage. "Sorry about that." She extended her hand to help pull him up.

He took it almost reverently and pulled himself up. "No, it was my fault." He held her hand a little longer than was normal, although Helga was too distracted to notice. Her mind was on meeting Phoebe and some of their friends for lunch, and on possibly surprising Arnold at his job.

"We both seem okay. No harm, no foul." She smiled vacantly at the tall brown-haired man and nodded at him. "I guess I'll see you next class. Have a good one."

"Bye." The man watched her go, frozen in place. A lovesick smile spread across his face. It was even better than he'd though.

He could see it in her eyes – she wanted him, too.

A/N: Uh-oh...

That's the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading, and please review. They make me happy!