[A/N: Hi guys! So, I just want to say first and foremost that I have NOT abandoned my other stories but as usual, I had an idea I just had to get out and I anticipate this story not taking as long to get through as my other ones.

I do want to be clear - this story is based on the events of 9/11. I'm doing my best to combine historical accuracy with fiction so we'll see how it works out! Either way, I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter and stick around for this. Also, please review and let me know what you think. Feedback is always welcome, helpful, and motivating!

Without further ado, here we go...

D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold!]

Helga

I have mixed feelings about fall. On one hand, I love the weather. The leaves begin to turn beautiful shades of crimson, amber, and gold, and the air becomes more crisp and fresh - a reprieve from summer's heat. I know girls from high school who were, and still are, obsessed with the pumpkin-flavored lattes down at Richmond's café and going apple-picking at the family-owned orchard just outside of Hillwood but I just don't get why they freak out over the season. Yeah, the weather is beautiful and some great limited edition flavors come out around this time but some of the girls I went to high school with take it to another level.

The downside to the season, however, is it means starting another school year and saying goodbye to sweet freedom. At least for fifteen weeks. Don't get me wrong - I feel good about the path I'm on but what person in their right mind ever enjoys giving up their free time to sit around in classes and do pre-requisite work? No one. Exactly.

I've been working part-time at a bookstore in Hillwood but my hours always drop when the semester starts so I can focus primarily on my classes. My paycheck becomes spending money and I support my other expenses with financial aid. I'm in my second year at Hillwood Community College and plan on transferring to NYU next fall. It made sense to get pre-req's outta the way beforehand since NYU ain't cheap and I didn't want to hear my dad complaining about extra loans on his dime. In a perfect world, I wouldn't need to rely on him for shit. He may help me out with what I need financially but most people just don't understand that money isn't everything. He puts all this money into my tuition payments but he doesn't think I'll be successful with an English degree. He just scoffed at the idea and started going on and on about how Olga is at least contributing to society, even if teachers make shit pay. So, I'm convinced the only reason he's supporting my schooling now is so he can throw it in my face later if I can't find work. Which is why I need to make myself a competitive applicant and why I took an internship at a news company in lower Manhattan this fall. I had my first week last week and didn't really do much yet - making coffee and organizing their files isn't exactly what I had in mind but if it makes me more attractive to NYU, then I'll deal with it. The drive downtown sucks, though. Mapsearch says it's a 15-20 minute drive one-way without traffic… without traffic. I learned that the hard way last week when I tried taking my dad's car and ended up an hour late. The company has a partnership with a parking garage a block away such that you don't have to pay for parking (and believe me, you can spend a pretty penny trying to park downtown), but the commute just isn't worth it so I've been taking the subway instead. Maybe I've been spoiled since HCC is only a couple blocks away from my house and I could walk there if I really needed to which really comes in handy when I oversleep for my morning classes. Why do 8:30 am classes even exist? Seriously? I thought I was done with that crap in high school.

I just really want to get into NYU. It's got a great reputation and some of the English professors there have actually authored books and articles that I know and like so really, nothing else compares. Besides, I want to travel for my Master's so it makes sense to keep tuition in-state as long as possible, even if I wouldn't mind going across the country right away and never coming back… I was so excited to move out as soon as I turned eighteen and then, like it usually does, life slapped me in the face with the realization that I am in no financial position to support myself alone so, begrudgingly, I'm still here in Bob's house. Thankfully, he's not usually home except in the evenings and Miriam, while still enjoying "the sauce", has gotten somewhat of a hold on her drinking. Not by much, but she's gone to a couple AA meetings here and there and she meets friends for lunch once in a while. She actually struck up a friendship with this woman named Suzie who lives over in the boarding house and feels compelled to talk to me about how she knows Arnold and how we went to school together, as if there's some connection between me and Suzie just because she knows Arnold. Pfft.

I can't wait to move out though. I'll apply to NYU, hopefully get in, and live in the dorms for most of the year except during breaks (maybe I can crash at a friend's during that time). Anything to get out, and stay out, of my parents' house is worth the effort. I keep telling myself I just have to get through one more year of this. This lack of expectation that I'll make myself into anything worthwhile or even, dare I say it? Live up to Olga's potential? Gasp. Man, what the hell ever… honestly, the prospect of just getting away from my parents (especially Bob) and proving them wrong is all the motivation I need to do well. And I have been, so far. Writing and English in general have always come naturally to me. I don't know what it is. Most of the time I don't think it's a big deal because it's like, I speak this freaking language - shouldn't I be good at it? Shouldn't everyone be good at it? But, apparently not. And poetry, that will be my speciality or track or whatever NYU wants to call it. I've been writing poetry as long as I can remember. Living in this house, poetry has been an outlet for me and has allowed me to express things I never could out loud or directly to another person. I just get swept up in the words, in my thoughts, like a wind blowing up a pile of leaves and as the leaves gently fall back down to the ground, so do the words appear on the page and once they've all fallen down, it is then that I have a completed poem and things just seem to make a little more sense.

Phoebe's still my best friend but I don't really click with many other girls the way I do with her. I mean, I'm not a complete social pariah - I have acquaintances and some "friends" but I have a low threshold for spending time with a lot of people. Too many of them get on my nerves so I have a sort of rotation in which I'll see a certain friend or group of people but then I need some time away from them to actually get up the desire to hang out with them again. Small doses, I say. I talk to some of them through social media and I see some of them around town so I'm not a complete hermit. There are only a handful of my childhood friends still living in Hillwood, Phoebe included. I spent most of the summer hanging out with Phoebe but she just got a full-time job about a month ago and that has made getting together difficult. For all her intelligence and potential, Phoebe didn't go to college right after high school. It's disappointing but at the same time, I can't knock her for it. Phoebe's dad was diagnosed with lung cancer during our senior year and wasn't able to work for a long time so Phoebe decided to stick around and help (despite her parents' protests). I get it though; Phoebe has normal parents that actually have taken care of her and supported her. They're a pretty tight family and with the medical expenses and her dad's income temporarily gone, they would've gone completely under if not for Phoebe working. Before this summer, she was just working part-time and I think she was considering taking classes this fall but the airline offered her a full-time position with benefits and her dad hasn't been cleared for work yet so she took it. Every time we've talked about it, she's always been emphatic that she will enroll in school when the time is right but the important thing for now is making sure her family is okay and I respect that.

I wonder how Gerald feels about not seeing her as much, though. They've been dating since the middle of high school so he's one of the other people I see quite a bit. We actually somewhat get along now, considering our relationships to Phoebe. I'd like to say we've developed a snarky friendship of sorts with a sarcastic twist and a mutual respect for one another. And of course, since I see Gerald somewhat often, that means that I have been pretty much guaranteed to see Arnold around as well.

Oh, Arnold… there's a complicated situation. I loathe remembering my obsessive, childhood ways - the shrines, the vigils, the tantric spells… This is why parents need to pay attention to their children - I was a freaking basketcase! I shudder with embarrassment whenever I think about it. Maybe it was cute in childhood, maybe I just didn't know any better but over time, I realized how weird it was and as soon as I did, that was the end of that. But whatever, that's in the past. Well, part of it. I still write poetry, of course, and if I'm really being honest here, I do still have feelings for the guy and being around him more since Phoebe and Gerald got together has only made the realization more "in my face", so to speak.

I actually thought, briefly, that he might have reciprocated my feelings back in high school. During our senior year, Phoebe and Gerald had yet to learn the concept of balancing a committed relationship with their friendships so if anyone wanted to hang out with either of them, they came as a package duo. This meant a lot of time spent as a foursome with Gerald and Phoebe playing lovebirds on one end of the table and me and Arnold awkwardly sitting on the other side. But what felt awkward at first - having to pay witness to Gerald and Phoebe making eyes at one another and the sweet talk they only thought no one else could hear - turned into a shared experience for me and Arnold in which we were able to make jokes and compare stories about how over-the-moon our best friends had become. As we gradually spent more time around each other, alone and as a group, I started wondering if Arnold had begun to flirt with me here and there. I always dismissed it because it had to just be my imagination. I'd had an off-and-on crush on the guy (there had been several points over the years in which I tried to get over him or force myself to like someone else but neither ever worked) for almost my entire life. His face is etched into my retinas, his voice embroidered along my eardrum. When you pine for someone that long, you can imagine anything.

Arnold

The longer I'm here, the more I feel like this isn't what I'm supposed to be doing, even though it's only been a few weeks. I'm working for a financial institution downtown and I can already tell that this isn't for me. Gerald's dad pulled some strings with a colleague in order to get me an interview and I guess they were impressed - either that, or really desperate for a low-level employee. I've taken a few community college economics classes but only because the responsibility of the boarding house finances has kind of fallen on my shoulders. My grandma passed away a few years ago and while it wasn't much, her social security did help pay for things around the house. Grandpa's not as spry as he used to be and can't really do repairs anymore so we've needed to pay more outside people to fix things when they break. That, plus the debt from Grandma's funeral expenses and not having as many tenants anymore, put the boarding house in a sticky situation financially. I took over the books for Grandpa and managed to get us almost into the black again but it became obvious that getting a job and working as much as possible was going to be the only way to really set things straight. I guess I can't complain too much. Even if I have no interest in this field for a career, they're still paying me well considering I have no experience outside of Econ 101 and 102 and running my grandparents' boarding house.

On the bright side, Gerald gave me some pretty exciting news last night - he's going to ask Phoebe to marry him! He said he plans on taking her to dinner tonight and that's when he'll ask her. They've been together for years and honestly, I saw this coming a long time ago. Gerald's been smitten with her since we were kids and honestly, I get the feeling Phoebe felt the same way. I've spent a lot of time around them and it's like they can't get enough of each other. Thankfully, they don't take that literally anymore. It used to be that I never got to hang out with Gerald unless Phoebe was there, too. Don't get me wrong, Phoebe's great. But it just wasn't really the same. Sometimes Helga would be there, too and we talked about it - she felt the same way I did about the whole situation and to my surprise, we actually started getting along. We've always been good at commiserating together but eventually, we stopped talking as much about what we didn't like about the situation and our conversations turned more general.

Helga's changed so much since we were kids, even if she doesn't like to admit it. Even as a kid, I knew there was more to Helga than she was showing and I don't know what changed - maybe it's just something that happens as we grow up - but she became more relaxed and she was actually nice to me (though we didn't see each other nearly as much as we did when we were kids). Maybe that's what helped - not seeing each other as much? I don't know, but either way, I was grateful. I don't think I could have handled many more insulting nicknames or spitballs thrown into my hair.

I still wonder something about her, though. When we were kids she told me that she loved me and I mean, loved me. I remember something about poetry and shrines and a huge kiss that left me completely stunned. All of this in the midst of me trying to save the neighborhood so the specifics of the memory are a little fuzzy but certain details stand out - the look on her face when she was holding me, the feeling of her lips covering my own, the stormclouds rolling in from the horizon, and what felt like butterflies' wings beating against the inside of my stomach. By the time we got to high school, she was so much more mellow than she used to be, even if she was still sarcastic and sometimes rude. And to be frank, it was no secret that Helga was like the neighborhood example of the "ugly duckling" story. Though I never thought she was ugly (I already know she'd kill me if she heard me making this reference), she wasn't the typical "girly-girl". She was rough and had a unibrow and when we were kids, she was often covered in dirt and scrapes, all the while kicking our asses in football, baseball - pretty much any sport. Then by the time we got to high school, she had completely transformed. I don't know how to describe it but a lot of the guys in our school took notice. Admittedly, she is very beautiful but again, I wouldn't say this to her face either because she'd probably just make some rude joke or hit me for "sounding mushy", I don't know. I can never predict how Helga is going to react to anything.

I actually developed "a thing" for Helga back in high school, during our senior year. We'd been hanging out a lot since Phoebe and Gerald were spending almost all of their free time together and it was actually nice getting to know Helga better. Like I said, she got a lot more mellow with time and it was easier to talk to her than it had been when we were kids. There were still times that she'd shut down or lash out if she really didn't want to talk about something but she seemed more open to at least having a friendship with me. I can't tell you how or when it happened or if there was anything that specifically played a role in it but I eventually developed a small crush on her and to my surprise, I even flirted with her (a bold decision, I think, considering I knew she had a mean left hook). It was weird, though; sometimes when I flirted with her, she seemed to flirt back and other times it was like she didn't even notice. She wouldn't say anything or she'd change the subject. I have no idea what was going through her mind and then we went several weeks without even talking to each other so I just figured she wasn't interested.

I don't see her as much as I did in high school but I still see her somewhat often when Phoebe and Gerald want to hang out as a group. She just seems normal, like we're friends and that's okay and that's what makes sense. This morning, I unexpectedly ran into her in the elevator of my building.

"Hey, Helga!" I said, my voice a combination of surprise and interest. "What are you doing here?"

"Morning, Football-head," She mumbled, obviously still tired. Even if we'd become friends of sorts, she never dropped that nickname and I eventually just accepted it as something that would never change. "I have an internship on the millionth floor,"

"Yeah," I chuckled. There were more than a hundred floors in this building and it seemed we were both going up close to the top. "You get used to it. Just be glad you don't have to take the stairs, right?" I smiled, hoping to brighten her up. I knew she wasn't a morning person though so I didn't expect much.

"I can always count on you for the good-morning-sunshine-quote-of-the-day, huh?" She gave me a good-natured smirk, even if her eyes were still lazy and tired.

I shrugged and turned to face the elevator door, watching the numbers light up as we ascended. "If you say so,"

"So what's with the suit?" I noticed Helga gesturing as she eyed me up and down.

"Oh," I blushed, though I don't know why. "I got a new job," I shrugged again.

"Hmm," She tilted her head and gave me a quizzical look that made me suddenly very self-conscious. "Never pictured you as a stiff,"

I rolled my eyes and offered her a smirk of my own. "Yeah, well, neither did I but don't tell by boss that,"

This elicited a chuckle from the blonde and I actually felt pretty satisfied with myself. The elevator chimed, letting us know we'd reached my floor and I waited for the door to open.

"I guess I'll see you around," I smiled at her and her lips curved into a small smile as well.

"See ya around, Football-head,"

Gerald

I'm so glad I'm off work today because I am nervous as hell. Tonight I'm taking Phoebe to dinner at her favorite restaurant - Le Madeleine's - and I'm gonna pop the question. I still can't believe I'm doing this but at the same time, I can't believe I haven't already. We've been together since the end of our sophomore year of high school and I've known her pretty much my whole life. I feel like an idiot for not telling her how I felt sooner but the way I see it, at least I got it right in the end, even if it took me a while. She's beautiful, intelligent, and just one of the most amazing, inspiring people I've ever known. I always knew she was a good friend, considering the way she put up with Helga back in elementary school, but she just takes it to a different level that I've never known anyone else to go to. She's devoted and caring and I couldn't ask for someone more perfect. She gave up the chance to go to any university she wanted to (she had the grades and the resume to do anything, no lie) to take care of her dad because he's sick and her family is struggling with money. I know she'll go eventually but it takes a strong, incredible woman to do something like that, if you ask me. I just feel damn lucky to even know this woman, let alone be ready to ask her to marry me…

Man, if Arnold could hear this right now, I don't even know. I give him hell whenever he's gone into his mushy monologues about girls he's had feelings for so I can only imagine how much shit he'd give me for this but for real, I don't even care. Phoebe's worth whatever shit my man wants to dish out (though honestly, knowing Arnold, he never would. He's a romantic at heart and I know it). I told him about my plan last night and he was completely supportive. He even offered to help any way he could. I think I've got it all covered but I appreciate the offer, regardless. Phoebe flies back to Hillwood tonight and I'll be picking her up from the airport around seven. We'll head over to the restaurant - we have a reservation for eight - and then the impressive part of the plan comes into play. I arranged for one of the waiters to stick the ring in the top of one of their fancy cheesecakes (I read a bunch of stories online about guys proposing to their girls this way). They've got every flavor imaginable and on special occasions, they write stuff in chocolate sauce on the plate. Phoebe's a sucker for them so I know she won't protest when I order a couple slices.

So, once we get to the restaurant and we're ready for dessert, I'll excuse myself to the bathroom but actually go back to the kitchen, give the ring to the waiter, go back to our table, and wait. If all goes according to plan, the waiter will bring out a plate with Phoebe's favorite cheesecake and the words "Marry me?" written in chocolate on the plate and the ring tucked gently into the top of the slice.

I'm feeling confident that she'll say yes - I mean, why else would any dude feel like they should propose if they don't think 'yes' is a probable answer? But I'm still nervous so I'm trying to just chill out at home. My sleep schedule is all messed up from work so that's why I'm awake at 8 in the morning. I'm hoping I at least get the time to take a nap before I gotta get ready and pick up Phoebe. I dunno whether I want time to speed up or slow down but these nerves are gonna kill me if I don't chill. So I'll just try and relax and if I can fall back asleep then I'm down.

Phoebe

I've been up for hours now but that last cup of coffee has given me a second wind. I'm expected to report to work at all hours of the day or night and my schedule often changes, making it quite a challenge to get adequate rest.

I hope I'm not too tired for my dinner with Gerald tonight. It's been a couple of days since I've seen him and a week since we've had more than an hour's time together so this will be much welcomed. I'm off work tomorrow so I'll even be able to sleep in which is a rarity these days.

My father is still at home, awaiting notification from his oncologist as to when it would be wise for him to return to work. He has been on a leave of absence since his condition deteriorated to such a point that he was unable to work but during that time, he was not being paid and as such, I took this job to help support my family. I still live in my parents' home and I'm fine with this as it allows me to be there for them as needed and we are quite close. My situation is in significant contrast to Helga's as she can't wait to leave her childhood home and I am reluctant to do so, even with my father's cancer having gone into remission.

Our flight will be boarding soon so I should try to drink another cup of coffee and prepare for that. In terms of energy expenditure, demonstrating the proper way in which to put on a seatbelt when you have only had five hours of sleep seems less like a demonstration and more like a one-woman circus but once that's over and we're in the air, I have just over five hours to relax before we arrive in L.A.

Helga

"Good morning, Helga," Linda, one of the administrative assistants, greets me as I walk into the office, still running through my interaction with Arnold in my head. I had played it cool but I had no idea he was working in the same building… Then again, hell, these buildings are so gigantic he might as well be in a different part of the city.

"Hi, Linda," I chime in my most upbeat, professional voice as I head over to my cubicle. It is the most generic thing you've ever seen and it's obvious that they expect a quick turn-over at this particular station. I wonder how many interns or short-term employees have called this desk their temporary home. There's a computer, a phone, and a drawer full of random office supplies but other than that, it's virtually empty. There's a folder on the end of the desk with some of the papers I left here last week (I didn't work yesterday) but other than that, nothing about this cubicle gives any indication that I work here.

I'm actually only one cubicle in a sea of them. From my vantage point at my desk, I can see one of the production assistants sitting at her desk on the other side of the office but other than that, the office seems to be a maze of cubicle walls with voices, beeps, and buzzing sounds all around me but no clear idea of where they're coming from or who's speaking to who.

It's not the greatest internship and I have been pretty bored so far but I have to admit, my favorite thing so far is the view. I'm up on the 89th floor and the office, - well, the whole building, really - has these incredible windows that are almost as tall as the room itself and they span the entire length of one of the walls in our office. I've already made a habit of going over to them and looking down at the city below. I'm not really afraid of heights but when you realize how high up you are, I think anyone would feel a little uneasy. Still, it's really cool. Everything seems so small and slow when you're looking at it from far away. Cars are like bugs crawling around on the ground, people are grains of salt that barely seem to move.

Linda has a radio at her cubicle that she always plays early in the morning before the boss comes in at 9. Apparently, she used to have it turned to a country station but after enduring the protests of almost everyone in the office, she conceded to keeping it on a mix station instead. There isn't as much music playing right now - lots of people are still commuting to work so the radio announcer is talking about traffic patterns.

I lean back in my office chair and try to imagine what I'm going to do today. There's a woman named Janet who has been giving me most of my work so far and it seems she's my direct supervisor. She's one of the assistant producers and her boss is Marcus (the one who comes in at 9), one of the executive producers. I turn on the computer and wait for it to boot up, killing time until Janet arrives.

Linda's radio just finished playing a country song (which I'm sure she's pleased about) and I can hear the faint, muffled sound of the radio announcer's voice through our cubicle walls.

"Good morning - 64 degrees at 8 o' clock. It's Tuesday, September 11th…"

[A/N: There you have it! Please let me know what you think in the comments and if you think this is a story you would enjoy reading! I wasn't sure at first but I have so many ideas, I thought it could be fun to try. I'll try to update soon if you guys like this so far!]