The stairs creaked under Helga's feet while her eyes stared with apprehension at the gold star on the front of the door that marked Phil and Gertie's room. Her feet continued to carry her despite her unease and she was at the standing before it in no time.

It wasn't closed all of the way, just barely cracked, but she knocked anyway as she slowly opened the door.

Phil was laying in bed, eyes closed and seemingly asleep while periodically mumbling some kooky words. She wondered if Arnold sleep talked.

Gertrude on the other hand was awake, though it looked as if the aged woman had been through the ringer. When she and Arnold were younger, the woman had slouched a little (Helga would say hardly) and always made up for her age by being very spry physically and unpredictable in terms of personality. But now, Helga felt as though she was unrecognizable.

She was hunched over, her silvery hair that was normally kept in a high bun was let down and brushed the tops of her shoulders. She was so calm, so quiet, that Helga thought maybe she could have been mistaken for asleep if not for her open eyes, appearing larger on a comical scale behind the thick glass of her out-of-date eyewear, which swung Helga's direction as she stepped into the room.

To Helga's surprise, Gertie's face lit up upon her arrival and her old, quavery voice called out. "Ah, Eleanor, you made it!" Years ago Helga would have pulled a face at the nickname, but she smiled instead.

"I did," Helga confirmed. There was a chair pulled up next to her already, and Helga walked toward it. Before she could sit down, Gertrude's voice warbled, "Deary, before you get comfortable, I need you to get me something."

Helga nodded attentively.

"There is an album downstairs in the sitting room, would you mind terribly? It's in the bookshelf." Helga gave another nod as she began to turn, but paused when she heard, "..or the curio cabinet..." She started off again, only to stop in her tracks with, "or maybe on the coffee table..."

She turned around to regard the old woman who was tapping a finger on her mouth. "Don't worry, I'll find it. What color it is?"

"Green."

So Helga again descended the stairs.

Moments later, after finishing one of his grandfather's herring sandwiches (so gross, but the man loved them) and setting it on a tray to take upstairs, Arnold heard (and could have sworn he felt) a crash come from the sitting room. He also managed to hear the mostly softly-spoken curse that followed.

Upon turning the corner from the hallway to enter the room, he came upon the source of the noise. Helga was on her rump on the floor, covered with books and a little more than a few knickknacks. Her one foot was held in front of her, locked at the knee to brace the cabinet from falling on her, while her other knee were pressed to it's mate in attempt to stop her skirt from riding up more than it already had.

Their eyes met at and Helga blushed, grumbling pointedly to hide her embarrassment.

"Mind giving me a hand?"

Arnold couldn't help but smile incredulously at her predicament as he moved to lean the cabinet back into place. "Thank you," she said now that she could pull her hem back down to its proper place and dig her way out of the contents of what had been the top shelf.

"What are you doing? I thought you were going up to sit with Gramma and Grampa."

Helga looked annoyed as she ignored his proffered hand and stood up, eyeing the items with disdain. "I was until you gramma asked me to get an album for her. She didn't know where it was, so I had to hunt around for it, and then turns out you people overstuffed the top cabinet to the point where this thing was top heavy, and God forbid you open the bottom drawers."

Arnold at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. They tend to hold onto a lot of stuff without really having a place to keep it."

Helga thought to herself this seemed very typical old person slash grandparent behavior, not that she really knew. She hadn't really met hers, with Miriam's parents disapproving of her marriage to Bob to the point where they lost touch before the couple had moved out of town (and who knows if they ever tried to track them down again). As for Bob's parents...well he never really talked about them. Helga minutely felt the loss at never being able to look through relics of her family's past. She was so unattached to them to begin with, and lacking anything more substantial than feelings with which to connect with them made her feel even more like an island.

"Which one did she tell you to get?" Arnold asked, taking a few of the books from the ground into his hands and looking between them, most likely attempting to identify them.

"She said it was green."

"Oh!" Arnold's eyes of that same color met hers as he made a realization, and Helga was less reminded of and more thrown into the disconcerting thoughtlessness that came with being caught in that gaze as her mind screeched to a halt. She blinked and looked away, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least he made no mention of it. Instead he set up the rest of the books in a nice pile near the base of the case with the thought to put them away in a less hazardous fashion later. "I actually have that up in my room. We can grab it before we head back in with grampa. Let me just grab their food."

And he was leading Helga out of the room, and she was following him through the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hallways where he grabbed the pull-string for his flight of stairs leading to his attic room.

Helga stepped into his space, feeling both uncomfortable and surreal. How many times had she wanted to be in this room, actually invited instead of after a moderate amount of B&E? It looked so similar to how she remembered that it was like stepping through a time rift to when she was nine years old. She looked down to make sure she wasn't actually wearing her old pink dress.

Nope. Burgundy.

And looking around the room, there were noticeable changes that marked that time had passed: the sound system was sleeker, consisting of one player that probably was bluetooth capable, much smaller-powerful speakers, the old desktop had been replaced by a silvery laptop, and the bed looked bigger, like maybe he had evened out the steps and added width to bed. If she looked close enough, the books on his shelves were probably a little more mature as well, not that his reading material was all that juvenile when they were kids. He was always mature for his age, sometimes more than she could stand. 'Goody, two-shoes football head.'

Arnold grabbed an album bound in green with brass spirals, which very clearly had the word "ALBUM" printed on the front and waved it to her to show her he found it. He caught her gaze wandering his room, only to retreat the minute his attention was on her.

Arnold stifled a sigh.

He hadn't expected her to show up at his door for this. It had been such a long time since either of them had even seen each other, let alone held a conversation, and he desperately wanted to apologize to her. He knew he messed up, but Helga had made it clear she hadn't wanted to communicate with him following their disagreement, and he had to respect her wishes. He just hadn't been prepared for her presence here, and he recognized this moment was not the right time to discuss their situation.

This time he did sigh, rather loudly. It would just have to wait.

"You okay?" was the tentative question he heard from Helga, who was trailing behind him in the hallway.

He nodded, and smiled softly, then lied, "Yeah, just tired."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When they entered the room, Phil was awake and reclining on his pillows, looking rather alert for someone who was supposed to be dying Helga thought. Then again, Arnold's grandparents had always been scary sharp for people their age. Maybe it was just his natural demeanor.

"Ah, if it isn't Arnold's little friend with the one eyebrow," (Helga was actually the proud owner of two eyebrows now thanks to her two friends: wax and her aesthetician) "Haven't seen you in a while, been a long time." The lilt of his voice making this statement that would otherwise be considered observational felt a little (a lot) intentionally pointed.

Helga blushed and forced her voice to stay polite as she answered, "Yeah. I've been really busy with work." It was a lame excuse, and she felt lame making it, especially since it most definitely her work that kept her away.

Sure, it kept her busy as most adult jobs keep adults, but working as a publisher at a really nice firm had some really agreeable perks, taking her work home to the comfort of her own LoveSac for one. It was also fairly close, and being so nearby, she would have to avoid Arnold to not see him.

Truth be told, she had been avoiding him for quite some time, since the wedding (though not as aggressively).

I was laid out on Phoebe's couch, staring at the ceiling waiting for her to say something, anything. I had effectively ruined our buddy night with my news. The whole point of buddy night was to make time for only friends once a week, no couple stuff, at least not for Phoebe and Gerald who wanted to make sure their respective friendships with their best friends didn't fall by the wayside considering their new relationship level. It was my and Phoebe's turn to hold our buddy night the Johanssen-Heyerdahl residence while the boys went out and about, and I was going to take full advantage of an empty house to pour my heart out to my best friend and make her help me decide instead of our usual movie, junk food, and wine.

"Phoebe?" I questioned, making sure she was still with me.

She hesitated a while longer, and finally said, "Helga, I don't know what to say."

"Well, say something. How about, 'gee, Helga, that sure is a rough predicament. Here's my advice' would be better than silence." She didn't take my snappy tone personally, though she did look frustrated.

"Helga, you know that this isn't a simple solution or you would have one already." Silence ensued and all I could here was the faint hum of the ceiling fan as the blades whirred overhead.

She started again, "Liver failure."

"Yup."

"And she asked you…?"

"Yup."

"What about Olga?"

I sighed, giving more news, this time some that wasn't mine to give, "She's pregnant. And she can't wait. Miriam will probably croak out by then."

Phoebe was initially quiet, then offered, "Congratulations."

I couldn't even manage a smile, but muttered, "Thanks." I felt tears nag at the back of my eyes not for the first time that day and closed my eyes to fend them off, letting my fingers play with the plush decorative pillow I held to my midsection.

"I don't know what to do," I choked, feeling my voice crack.

"Well, how do you feel?" I chuckled humorlessly. That was even harder to discern, and I pressed the pillow to my face, letting my frustrated noises be muffled by the fluff and fabric.

"Ugh, I don't know."

Silence stretched between us again, probably her being patient and letting me gather my thoughts while I was avoiding them.

I heard her shift suddenly. "I'll be right back," she said as she slid open one of the large doors that separated her living room from the sitting room on one side and the kitchen on the other. From beneath the pillow, I excused her with a vague hand gesture as the door slid shut, "Take your time."

I was alone with my thoughts long enough to string some semblance of a decision together by the time I heard the door open again.

I took a deep breath and let it out in a deep resigned sigh that spread moist, warm air trapped by the pillow across my lips and nose.

"I don't think I can go through with it, Phoebs. Donate part of my liver? I don't know. It would be one thing if Miriam and I were close...well ever, but we never have been. You know how I grew up in that house. Not to mention the risks of me dying on the table, which really gives me the heebs, Phoebe, it really does. Part of me thinks that she deserves a shot at being better, at not neglecting Olga's kid like she did me, though it's Olga's kid so it's guaranteed that she'll love that thing more than she ever did me. But I…." and I inhaled deeply at this, letting a sob wrack my body as the guilt swarmed through my chest and pulled at my face, "...I don't think she deserves that chance."

I sniffed, feeling relieved to have been able to say that (that Miriam shouldn't get to have a chance to make another kid feel unwanted and rejected just for being alive) out loud, and Phoebe was an absolute angel for sitting and listening. After a beat, I said "Phoebe?" God, had all of that been indiscernible because of the pillow? I heard a shift of weight from the squeak of the antique floor.

"Phoebe?" I said again, louder this time and pulling the pillow away from my face to turn to look at her.

But instead of the partially (who really knows how much) Japanese woman I had been expecting, a blonde-haired, green-eyed man stood gaping at me.

"Arnold?" I trilled, panicking. I sat up fully, hugging the pillow to my chest protectively, my face already burning hot.

I heard Phoebe's voice echo mine as she called Arnold's name in a tone that implied searching. I heard her breath, "Oh, no" as she came into view behind Arnold who's eyes still were boring into me like he was reading my soul. And wasn't he? Did he not just here me condemn my own mother? There was no point in hiding anymore, but that didn't mean I wouldn't try. I immediately stood and stalked passed the two of them, breezing through the hallway to get to the door as quickly as I could. As I shoved my feet into my boots, gnashing my teeth as my shoe folded in on itself at my Achille's, forcing me to try to rearrange it for much longer than I wanted before I could even consider lacing them. I heard Phoebe scold Arnold accusingly, "I said she was in there, I didn't invite you to go see her!"

"I just wanted to say hi," he explained in a mystified voice.

I heard Phoebe growl at him, "It's buddy night!" I would have to hug her later for that. Gerald at some point had entered the room and asked cautiously, "What's going on?"

Phoebe immediately rounded on her husband, momentarily ignoring Arnold, "What's happening, indeed, Mr. Johanssen." As they began their own row, I heard Arnold's long strides follow me to the door, and I was out in the chill before I could see him round the corner.

He called out to me, but I ignored him, thrusting my arms into my coat as I walked and ducking my head into my high collar to protect my ears and cheeks. "Helga, wait! Please?"

I kept walking, yelling at him to back off, and this time, his voice was more forceful as he called my name, and the sheer commanding masculinity had me frozen in my tracks. I heard him sigh in relief as I trembled in my spot, ashamed and embarrassed.

I turned to him emotionally terrified, and he loped up to me, his breath turning to vapor in the cold air. "Can we talk about this, Helga?"

I shook my head. He looked vexed, but offered hastily, "At least let me drive you home."

"No." Arnold physically reeled at my blunt answer.

"Why not?" he demanded, his eyebrows drawing together in evident show of frustration.

I flapped an arm at him. "Because I can't have you looking at me like that."

He looked incredulous, and angry at such a (what he probably thought was) ridiculous answer. "Like what?" I shot him an accusing look, "Like you pity me!"

"Oh come on, Helga. Don't be like that. I don't pity you."

"You do!" I argued, pointing rudely at his face. "I can see it." He seemed fed up and nodded, owning up to his feelings.

"Okay, now that you bring it up, yeah, I think it's pretty sad." I bristled, not liking the way that sounded at all.

"What?" I snapped.

"That you won't save your own mother's life because you feel like your relationship wasn't perfect. I thought you were a better person than that."

I took a step back, feeling like I had taken a physical blow. Tears did spring from my eyes unbidden, and he calmly held his gaze to mine, unfazed by my crying.

"Do you realize how lucky you are? You still have parents. Sure your relationship with them isn't perfect, but no one's is. And you'll let her die, you'll decide whether you think she deserves a second chance because you-"

"Shut up!" I roared, breathing hard and ragged, watching my own breath leave me like smoke from a dragon. I advanced on him, but he stood his ground. He was a good head taller than I was, but that didn't intimidate me. Size never did. I often picked on others bigger than myself, usually boys, when I was a kid.

"You have no idea," I hissed, "what you're talking about." My voice grew louder to the point where I was shouting again, "You think I don't feel bad? That this decision isn't killing me? That I actually feel bad for doubting whether or not I want to risk my life for a person that sent me, a four year old child to walk to school alone, in the pouring rain, only to be attacked by a stray dog who thankfully only took my food. The same person who packed my lunch consisting of moist towelettes, crackers, and a can of shaving cream. The same person that sent me to walk to school when it was below freezing without a coat because she had drank herself so far into a stupor every day that she didn't remember that I would need something to keep warm in the snow when I was nine. The same person who let her happiness determine how good of a parent she was. Who acted like I wasn't even there, or wanted, or loved!" I stopped to catch my breath, feeling the tear tracks on my face chill with the wind. I couldn't help the shuddering breaths that left my lips as I tried to control my crying while I stared hard at Arnold, daring him to judge me, daring him to reject (though he probably already had).

"Helga-" he started, but I wasn't finished.

"No! No! You don't get to decide how my relationship with my parents should be just because you don't have any!"

And I turned on my heal and stormed away, more than happy to let my anger burn off on my walk home.

hohohoho inteeeeensssse. I already am in love with this story that I'm writing, are you? Is that tooting my own horn? If you're waiting for more on Phil and Gertie's past, I promise we will get to it soon, the next chapter actually. And throughout the whole story. It'll be fun!

Thank you to my reviewer and to all future reviewers, as well as to those who follow and favorite! Hope you did and continue to enjoy!