Unresolved Issues

Chapter One: Destiny

Author's Note: Hey Arnold is copyright of Nickelodeon. This fanfic takes place years after the series, when the kids are in highschool. It takes place after the movie, after Helga's confession of her feelings to Arnold. It also takes place after Arnold finds his father's journal in the last episode "The Journal". That's about all you need to know. Enjoy!

"Hey, Arnold!" said Gerald, snapping Arnold out of his train of thought. Arnold looked over to Gerald, standing over his desk as everyone else was leaving. "The bell just rang. You feelin' alright?"

"What?" said Arnold, still trying to collect his thoughts. His mind had been occupied the entire day. He had paid almost no attention to anything his entire day in high school today. Arnold was a pretty good student, but he had too much to think about today. Conflicting feelings whirled around in his head; anticipation, anxiety, hope, despair, and above all, fear.

"I asked if you were feelin' alright" said Gerald, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "You look kinda pale."

Arnold wasn't surprised; after all, he knew anyone in his position would be pale. But he couldn't think of anyone who could possibly be going through what he was.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," lied Arnold. "I just…haven't been getting a lot of sleep the past few days. I guess I'm just sorta…out of it."

Gerald looked down at Arnold for another moment, looking like he didn't really believe him. Then he shrugged.

"Alright, man. Just try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Sure."

Gerald walked away. The short form of Phoebe was waiting for Gerald at the door. Gerald said something to make her laugh then they walked away together. Arnold smiled a bit. Seeing his friend happy raised his spirit a bit; unfortunately, not by much.

Arnold gathered up his books in his bookbag. At the bottom of a bag was the book he carried around with him everywhere he went. It was his father's journal, the one thing that made Arnold feel like he was truly connected with his parents. In it was an account of his parent's adventures in San Lorenzo, their encounters with the mysterious Green-Eyed People, and the last thing his father wrote before he and his mother left on a plane to San Lorenzo. They weren't heard from again. He had gotten it when he was nine, but even now just seeing it made Arnold get a huge lump in his stomach. It made him feel even more emotional today. It was the second most precious possession he owned. The only item he valued even more was at home; it was also the reason why he had been preoccupied the whole day.

Arnold walked out of the classroom and out of the doors of the high school. He had just entered several weeks ago. Luckily most of his old friends were still in his classes. Gerald, Phoebe, Eugene, Harold, Stinky, Sid, and most of his other friends were still around. And of course, there was another important person Arnold still saw almost every day, whether he wanted to or not. Unfortunately, on a day like this, he felt like his life would be made much easier if he didn't see her.

Arnold went up to the bus, which was just about to leave. He was the last person to enter. The bus was filled with the usual clamor of noise and moderate excitement. Feeling particularly anti-social, he sat close to the back of the bus. Even though he felt bad about doing so, he made sure he sat far away from Gerald, since he didn't want Gerald to inquire more about his condition. He sat in the old seat and, despite his better judgment, his mind drifted back to his unique problem.

He was deep in thought when he heard an all too familiar voice behind him.

"You know, thinking all day about something that'd shake you up that much can't be good for you."

Arnold sighed. He had hoped he could avoid her today. He looked behind his chair and saw a girl with a pink bow in her blond hair. She gave Arnold her usual cynical smile.

"Hello Helga," said Arnold, without emotion.

"Hey Football Head," she said, in a failed attempt to relax Arnold a bit. Her smile dropped and suddenly she seemed serious. "So, what's got you so messed up?"

"Nothing," said Arnold.

Helga leaned back in her seat and let out a humorless laugh.

"That kind of brush off might convince Tall Hair Boy over there," she said, pointing over to Gerald, who was sitting near the front of the bus with Phoebe, "but I know better. Something's been really messing with you all day."

"It's nothing."

Helga's tone got a bit more impatient.

"You're a terrible liar, you know."

"It's really nothing."

"It's not nothing!" she said, suddenly raising her voice. She sat up in her seat to look Arnold in the eyes. Arnold saw that she was really concerned. Arnold sighed again. Over the years, Arnold had been able to tolerate to Helga's somewhat aggressive personality. Arnold knew it wasn't how she really was, but it was normally the façade she hid behind. Whenever Arnold saw glimpses of her true self, it usually made Arnold relaxed and happy. However, today it was the last thing he wanted to see. Since he confessed to him when they were nine, he knew how she felt about him, even though he didn't like to admit he knew. He knew she was really worried and that he was hurting her feelings by not telling her what was wrong. It made him feel terrible, but he knew telling her would just make her worry more.

Arnold looked away.

"I'm sorry…but it's…it's something I have to deal with on my own," he said.

Helga did not say anything after that. The bus began to skid to a stop. Arnold quickly grabbed his bookbag and got up from his seat.

"Hey, Arnold," said Helga as he got up. Arnold turned back to her. She looked down at the floor, trying to avoid showing her concern. "I just…I mean, I wanted to say…you know…take care, alright Football Head?"

Arnold stared at her. Deep down, he knew how hard this must be for her to see him in this mood. He nodded towards her.

"I…I will," he said, being not entirely truthful. "Thanks Helga."

Helga didn't say anything. She just looked up with a faux smile. Arnold turned and exited the bus.

Helga watched as Arnold walked off the bus. He walked into the street and began walking towards the boarding house. As he left, he accidentally bumped into a young man wearing a brown coat and sunglasses as he entered the bus. The man apologized as he walked inside. He took Arnold's former seat on the bus as it began to move.

Helga slumped back in her seat. Her heart was racing and she was very worried. She grasped inside her shirt to get out her locket. On the gold locket was a picture of Arnold.

"Arnold…" she said softly to herself. "Why must you keep yourself locked away? Why must you insist upon taking the world on your adorable little shoulders? What's really going through that cute, albeit unusually shaped, head of yours? Why can't you bear your soul to me as I ha-"

"Excuse me."

Helga suddenly stopped talking. She hastily put the locket back inside her shirt as she looked at the source of the voice. It came from the man in the coat and sunglasses who had taken Arnold's seat.

"What do you want?!" said Helga, frustrated at being interrupted during her soliloquy.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," said the man, in a strange accent, "but I found this book in my seat. Does it belong to you?"

"Huh?"

The man held up an old looking book, with a worn brown cover. On the front of it was the word "Journal". Helga's heart suddenly missed a beat.

"That must be Arnold's journal!" she blurted out, without thinking.

"Arnold?" said the man. "Oh, so you know whose this is? Good, you can return it." The man held out the book for Helga to take. She hesitated. The main raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Helga couldn't believe it. It was as if she was being offered the key to all knowledge. All that she ever cared about, all that she ever wanted to know could be in that book. She craved to look at it; however she was afraid that if she did, Arnold might find out and get furious. Helga knew that if someone ever read any of her books of poetry, she would strike them immediately. Arnold, however, would probably just get very angry or, even worse, very sad. Helga didn't want that to happen. However, she had to take it. After all, Arnold would probably want it back. All Helga figured she had to do was give the book to Arnold and resist any temptation to look at it.

After processing all this, Helga reached out a jittering hand and took the journal. The man in sunglasses smiled and turned back around.

Helga stared at the book in her lap. As if afraid of being too close to it, she took it from her lap and sat it aside to her on her seat. She tried to avoid looking at it and imagining what could be written in it, but every few seconds her eyes constantly drew back to the book.

Suddenly, without turning around, the man in the coat spoke.

"So, this Arnold…he's a friend of yours, yes?"

He is the single most important person in the whole of my existence, thought Helga. He is more essential than air, because without him I would shrivel and die. My life is nothing but a hollow, pathetic husk without knowing that he is in it. Friendship does not even begin to describe the attachment I feel to him.

"Something like that, yeah," said Helga. She shifted her tone to become more hostile. "What's it to you?"

"Right, sorry," said the man. "I probably shouldn't have ask. It's none of my business…I was just curious if you were going to read his journal or not."

Before she could tell herself not to, her eyes drifted back to the journal. She glared at it, then at the man.

"Of course not! Why would I do that? I don't care about what's in there! Crimeny, what kind of sick creep are you, asking all that?!"

The bus began to screech to a stop. Helga grabbed the book and got up to depart. To her surprise, the man in the coat got up as well. He walked behind her as she walked towards the bus exit.

"It's not like it would be wrong to, you know," said the man from behind Helga. "After all, you friend's journal just happening to be there and you finding it before it is forever lost. It's not a coincidence. Think of it as…destiny."

Helga and the man stepped out of the bus into the street. Helga briefly looked at the man, who was smiling. She glanced at the book again and clutched it.

"Yeah, what do you know?" she said coldly at the man, before turning to walk towards her house. He continued to speak as she began to leave.

"Oh, I know more than you think, Ms. Pataki."

Helga stopped.

"Hey wait a minute," she said, starting to turn around. "How did you know my-" She saw that there was no longer anyone behind her.

"-name?" she said, confused. The bus door's closed and began to roll down the street. Helga looked around, but she could not see the man anywhere. She began to feel very uncomfortable when she felt a tap on her shoulders.

"Helga?"

Despite herself, she gasped, dropped the journal, and jerked around. She was surprised to see it was only Phoebe, looking at her with concern.

"Oh, Feebs. Sorry about that," said Helga, picking up the journal. "I'm just a bit weirded out."

"Really?"

"Yeah, there was this guy…" She stopped herself from saying the rest. "Ugh, nevermind. It's nothing. Just some weirdo. Just forget it."

"Okay. Forgetting." Phoebe looked at the journal. "What's that, Helga?"

Helga instinctively put the book behind her, nervously.

"Oh, it's…it's nothing," said Helga, trying to think of a lie. "It's just...um…this book I'm reading."

"Oh, neat. What's it about?"

"Yeah, you know, it's the one about…um…the wizards in that school with…er…Da Vinci and they're…um…" Helga clutched the book. "I'm sorry, Feebs, but I gotta run. I'll call you later, kay?"

"Um, sure Helga," said Phoebe, looking a bit confused.

Helga quickly walked down the street, her gaze always returning to the journal. She thought about what that strange man had said.

"Destiny, eh?" she said, looking down at the journal once more. With that, Helga hurried home.

The sun was beginning to set as Arnold sat in his room, staring at the phone on his desk. He knew eventually he would have to make the call or he wouldn't get anywhere. He turned his gaze over to the single most important object in his life. It was a map of San Lorenzo that he had found in his father's journal. On it was a trail that Arnold could only assumed was his parents' line of flight on the day that they left and never returned. If someone could follow that trail, presumably it could lead them to where his parent's landed. All he had to do was get there.

However, since he had discovered the map at age nine, Arnold had learned that getting there was much more difficult than expected. His first instinct upon discovering the map was to contact the proper authorities. They promised they'd look into it and, after over a year of hearing nothing, they said that since they had searched the area on the map when his parents were first reported missing, they saw no sense in looking again.

After this, Arnold had turned his attention towards acquiring a private plane to San Lorenzo, since flying their commercially was not possible, as San Lorenzo was a dangerous jungle region. This too proved challenging. Aside from the astronomical cost of using a private plane, he also found that any organization he went to refused to take him to a dangerous area such as San Lorenzo, since they were afraid they would be legally responsible for any harm that may inflicted upon a minor such as Arnold.

Arnold had called so many organizations to use a private plane that he had lost count. And now he had finally reached the last organization he could think of to get a plane. If they said no, Arnold had no idea what he would do. The grave reality of this situation had preoccupied Arnold all day.

Arnold stared at the phone, deathly afraid. Finally, Arnold reached out and grabbed the phone. He dialed the number. A woman answered the phone.

"Blue Skies Jets. How may I help you?"

Arnold opened his mouth, but found himself unable to say anything for a moment.

"Hello?" said the women on the phone.

"Y-yes, sorry," said Arnold. "My name is Arnold and…I need to charter a plane."

The women said nothing for a moment.

"Umm…pardon me, sir, but how old are you?"

Arnold sighed.

"I just turned fourteen."

"Sir, it is against our policy to charter planes to underage-"

"I know," said Arnold, hastily. "I know. You're not the first place I called but…just listen…I need a plane. I need to get to San Lorenzo. Or else…"

"Or else what, sir?"

"Or else…I'll never know what happened to them…"

The women on the phone said nothing.

"Well…umm…will you be accompanied by an adult?"

Arnold perked up a bit.

"Yes, yes of course. My Grandpa."

"Well…as long as your guardian signs a liability waver and accompanies you, there shouldn't be a problem…"

Arnold was smiling. This was the first place he had called in a while that hadn't hung up on him right after they heard his age. However, he didn't get his hopes up; he knew he had another problem he had to face.

"Umm…how much will this cost?"

The woman on the phone told him. Arnold paused for a long time, then asked for the women to repeat the number. She did. He was suddenly disheartened.

"Wow…that's…that's a lot."

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Yes…I…I can't afford that right now. Is…is there some kind of way I can arrange payment after the trip?"

"I'm sorry, but you will need to pay up front."

"Are you sure? Isn't there any other-"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's nothing I can do. It's company policy."

Arnold didn't say anything.

"Are you alright, sir? If you come up with the money, you're welcome to call-"

"No…no that's fine," said Arnold, quietly. "Thank you. Goodbye."

Arnold hung up the phone. He stared at the phone for a few more moments before he flung it against the wall. He sat in his chair, putting his hand over his face as he felt moisture rise in his eyes.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't do anything, thought Arnold. I'm a failure.

Wanting to feel some comfort, he walked over to his bookbag to get his father's journal. He rummaged through his bookbag and was horrified to see that he couldn't find it. He turned the bag over, dumping out all its contents. He searched through all of them, but he couldn't find it. He began to feel tears stream over his face.

"Lord…" he said, quietly. "Where is it?" Without realizing it, he raised his voice to a scream. "Where is it?!"

Outside of Arnold's boarding house, the man in the brown coat and sunglasses stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the window where he had just heard the scream. He had a sad expression on his face.

"Well," he said quietly to himself, "let's see how this plays out."

He turned away from the boarding house and hailed a cab. As it sped away, night fell on the city.

Helga was up in her room, looking at the journal on her desk. She had spent the past few hours trying to work out what she should do. Finally, she found she could not contain her curiosity anymore. It was likely that the answers to all the questions she had about Arnold was in the journal. How could she resist? After all, like the man said, it was destiny.

She walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Okay...deep breath" she said to herself, taking a deep breath. "Alright...let's do this." She opened the journal.