Disclaimer / A/N : All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Any pop-culture references have been cross-checked with Wikipedia and marked with an asterisk (*). Teen for language & situations.

The wait was a week longer than I wanted it to be, but summer classes got in the way. On with ze show! And please, review!


But at some unspeakable hour, one of the two broke the silent conversation to welcome sleep, and the other followed suit.

Helga woke up first, having slept fitfully, if at all. Draping Arnold's plaid shirt onto the bed, she slipped her hoodie back on, before heading downstairs to the sound of a cooking breakfast. Upon entering the kitchen, she was greeted with the sight of a springy blond in her late thirties, whistling and flipping pancakes behind a very drowsy seven year old.

"Sup shortstop?"

He was startled awake by the sudden attention, picking his head up from his half-eaten cereal bowl. Looking up at the girl, he spoke slowly, attempting to get his wits about him. "Uh, getting ready for school..." then he brightened up as if remembering something, "Oh, and my big brother is coming home from college today!"

Helga briefly let her surprise get to her, facial expression changing at her train of thought, Arnold has an uncle? Oh yeah, the little freak Arnie has to have a dad, doi... when the woman plopped a stack of flapjacks in front of her. Eagerly, Helga dug in.

Miles's mother placed a comforting hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair a bit. "That's right, soldier. Your brother will be stopping by for a little bit today." Turning her attention to the seemingly starving girl, she continued, "So, Twiggy*; Phil tells me you and the boy he 'heroically saved' last night are in some sort of housing pickle?"

Helga nodded her head, vaguely understanding the reference in the name Twiggy, mouth full of syrupy goodness, unable to respond verbally.

"Well, you two are welcomed to stay as long as you like, as soon as we get things figured out. I'm Gertie," the two shook hands, "and my husband, whom I don't think you've met yet, is Phil. He's out back repairing the neighbor's fence." Gertie smiled bemusedly at Helga, whose attention was still moreso on the pancakes than the situation at hand. "I don't think I caught your name?"

Quickly, Helga reached out for some milk to drink and responded, "Hel—" but Gertie cut her off, with a finger to the blond's lips, silencing the wide-eyed teenager.

"I'm calling you Eleanor." With a stern nod, she turned to the eggs she left boiling on the stove. Miles giggled at his mother's actions before sliding off the chair and making his way out of the kitchen, making sure to bid Eleanor a goodbye.

Helga sputtered for a bit, suddenly remembering future-Gertie's preferred name for her being the exact same thing. Trying to make sure, she probed, "...Like Roosevelt?"

"The very same!" replied the older woman, over her shoulder. Helga slowed down her pancake-eating rate, tensely watching Gertie, as the woman went about her morning routine. Arnold finally traipsed down the stairs, hair a a mess and yawning, dropping into the seat next to Helga.

"Hey Gra—" Helga promptly elbowed him in the ribs, causing his eyes to open completely. Whipping his head back at Helga, he simultaneously pinched himself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"—Ah, uh grand old day for pancakes, dontcha think?" Arnold smiled nervously at his companion, to which she exasperatedly rolled her eyes.

Turning around, Gertie slid another stack toward the boy, responding, "My thoughts exactly, Kimba."

Any gears that were shifting in Arnold's head suddenly halted, staring at the woman, who started to clean the counter behind her. He coughed, "Uh, Kimba?"

Helga was drinking her milk and idly surveying the exchange, when Gertie answered. "Oh, you know; you had a childhood, right? It's the name of that lion cub in that Japanese cartoon** that came on a couple of years ago— anyway, his name means 'Peace'." Gertie sighed reflectively, placing down a dishrag and turning around. "Hm, I guess I just have a feeling that you're the type of person who brings peace." She waved a hand toward Helga, "Eleanor here should know that."

Arnold gave his friend a puzzled look, to which she just shrugged at, when Phil came huffing through the door.

"Those Kokoschkas next door are nothing but no-good time-sucking, ungrateful—"

Gertie kissed him on the cheek, calming down his fume a bit, "—Dear, there are children present."

He looked up suddenly from his dirtied hands, looking at the two apologetically, "Sorry kids; but on a good day I guess those neighbors aren't half bad. —Today's not a good day." he finished flatly.

Gertie and Phil took seats before the two teenagers, who by now, finished their breakfast. Phil placed his hands down onto the table, smoothing out a place-mat.

"So, we need answers before we can trust you two to stay for a while; you don't have to tell us everything, but we'd like to not be in the dark..." then he trailed off mumbling, "...Except for that Mr. Smith who came here a couple of weeks ago..."

Arnold's ears perked at the somewhat familiar name, "Mr. Smith?"

Phil leaned in, prompting the other three to do so as well. "He's the only one in this boarding house who keeps everything classified. We have to place his meals on a tray in front of his door—I haven't even seen the guy since he came in —and I mean, he's been courteous with the thank you notes and everything, and with the amount of money he's paying voluntarily? —I can afford not to ask questions."

Gertie added, eyes narrowed, "I for one, think he's part of the the government, but Steely here thinks he works against them."

Phil cleared his throat, eyes scanning the surroundings before continuing, "So, state your business here. And if you weren't aware, the high school starts in t-minus one and a half hours; so you better speak quickly."

Arnold and Helga shared a look, and with Helga being the less nervous of the two, coolly started. "This is Arnold, and I'm Helga. We're orphans. Never got adopted because we came into the system at too old of an age that people usually choose kids at, so we grew up under foster care together. Anyway," she looked over at him for reassurance, but he took it for his own queue.

"We fell in love." Nervously, he took her hand for dramatic effect, looking over at the older couple who were smiling gently at the teenagers.

Helga continued, voice cracking from the surprise contact and twist of plot. It only added to their act, though. "Th-they gave us two options... either stop being in a relationship, or get kicked out."

"And, I suppose you could guess what we chose; we'd be released in a little less than a year, anyway." finished Arnold. He gave Helga's hand a squeeze, "We don't have much but the clothes on our backs and the money in our pocket—"

"—But we could run errands for you or help around the place."

Gertie's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Giving them a watery smile, she half-whispered, "Well, I'm sold, Phil." She stood up, opening her arms to encase the teenagers.

The brunette stood up as well, wiping his hands on his trousers. "What the hey. Why not? They'd be doing a lot more around here than the other conflabbit boarders. Now go on, get ready for school. I'm sure you two could figure out how to fill out necessary forms and—" he went over to a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling down information, "You can use me and Pookie as emergency contacts."

This time it was Helga's turn to give a reaffirming squeeze with her hand. She could sense Arnold beginning to feel the strains of their lie the moment his own home number and address were handed to him, his eyebrows crinkling.

As the two turned to leave, Gertie spoke, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Should we be keeping the two of you in the same room?"

Helga's head snapped at the woman's direction, pointedly dropping Arnold's hand, yelping, "D-don't worry about us, Gertie! Nothing inappropriate happening—"

Phil spoke up, head shaking in amusement, "I'll clear out the attic for ya while you two are off at school. As much as I'd like to trust you kids, it's just a different generation nowadays." He looped his thumbs through his suspenders, giving a wink at the two blushing teenagers.

Once they got out of earshot, Helga crossed her arms as they ascended the steps. Pointing a thumb back at his grandparents, she joked, "Criminy Arnoldo, what's with your grandfather and his insinuations?"

Arnold's red face coughed at the question, attempting to steer their conversation a different route. "Uh, now that we're boarders, that means we have to use the community bathroom. I really hope it isn't as bad as everyone complains it is..."

As the two reached the top of the stairs, a portly Italian man suffering from male-pattern baldness excused himself between the teenagers. Clad in a bright orange track suit and a heavy gold chain, Helga caught eyes with Arnold above the man's head, eyebrows raised at the sight. Once the man got down the stairs, she asked, "Yo, football head, do you think we'll fit in?"

"I guess we'll find out."

The two made it to the high school with no less than half an hour to spare, having woken up earlier than the rest of the boarders to avoid any mishaps. Taking deep breaths before crossing the threshold, the building was exactly the same as it is in the present. They were able to locate the main office quickly, briefly explaining their situation and consequently waiting at the lobby until the bell rang, before being ushered into the counselor's office.

Helga fidgeted in the olive-green pleather, the material squeaking with each movement. Arnold drew a sidelong glance at her, trying to keep his own nervousness from showing, twirling his thumbs around eachother. He looked up at the clock, wondering why they were admitted into the office without the counselor present. Sighing, he wanted to rid the room of its unbearable silence.

"Helga... how do we go about this? I never had to register myself—"

"What do you think, football head? —I haven't exactly been in a situation like this before bucko," the girl snapped back; anxiousness bringing out her old temper.

"Helga."

"Sor-ry."

The two sat up straight, hearing the door open and a rusty cough come along with it. Seating herself at the desk before them, a woman in her fifties rattled off the department's standard procedures of enrollment in a thick Boston accent, voice raspy from an apparent smoking break.

She pulled out the pen which was holding up her loose bun, dark gray hair falling around her half-moon glasses. Simultaneously, she slid the high-back office chair away from the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a couple of multi-colored forms. "I need you two to get these ready by tomorrow, but for now—" pointing at a plain white sheet with her pen, "Just list equivalent classes from your old high school to keep in our records and ensure you have somewhere to go today, and give us any emergency contact information you have. As for this form," licking the pad of her index finger, she rifled through to a dull yellow paper, "since you two were wards of the state, we'll need the records from your foster home as well as copies of the termination paperwork."

Helga cleared her throat, causing the woman to look up at her. "How long will it take to get all this sorted out?"

"We don't work with many kids in your uh, delicate situation, so we might not be the most efficient when going about this. Depending on where you two come from, it could take upwards to three weeks?" She grinned at the blonds, "As long as you two don't get into any trouble and aren't actually juvenile delinquents or runaways, I wouldn't worry about the lack of paperwork as long as it gets processed eventually. Before graduation, of course."

The two teenagers nodded at the response, not quite aware how long they'll stay, but grateful for the time bought by the poorly organized education system of the early 70's. She pulled out another pen from her desk to have the two use.

Filling out their schedules and contact info, Arnold meekly questioned, "What's today's date?"

"October 20th..." Arnold just blinked at her, her own face contorting into slight confusion. "...1971."

"Thanks."

"No problem, kid." Eying the two suspiciously, she accepted their filled out forms and rushed out to make a copy for them to use for the day.

"Well, it's 1971." Helga sighed, "At least we have that bit of information out of the way."

"We're going to need some new clothes, huh?"

"I suppose so, football head." She reached into her jean pocket for the pair of wrinkled twenties she was sure were still shoved in there from yesterday.

Arnold too, reached for his wallet, not remembering how much he had before the incident. They held their palms out toward eachother with what they found.

"Okay, eighty-five dollars isn't so bad between the both of us... plus, we can ask for a little pocket change from helping out Grandma and Grandpa."

"We have to get some bags, a spiral, and maybe a folder; basic stuff. And eventually one or two outfits to cycle through... We don't want to stick out like sore thumbs for too long, being the new kids gets pretty old."

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Helga?" He sighed, accepting the money she handed to him, keeping it all in his wallet.

Tiredly, Helga shrugged, slumping back into the chair. The counselor came back in with their copies, sending them off with a small expectant smile and a folder (each) of their forms.

They shared their first class together, like they did in the present —History. When they walked in, they were also greeted with a familiar face.

"Princi—uhm, Mr. Wartz?" Helga's head poked into the classroom, before opening the door completely to expose the two. Arnold raised an eyebrow at at their old-young Elementary School principal, though Helga remained deadpanned. She has seen this get-up before; a poncho, maracas, and a sombrero.

"Yes, yes. Are you two new? Come in! Introduce yourselves, you just came in as I was explaining the Mexico's cultural significance in America's history."

Criminy, those clothes must be old. "Sure, whatever. I'm Helga."

"And I'm Arnold."

A redhead in the back raised his hand, smirk plastered onto his features. "So, Helga. Are you single?"

A couple guys snickered at the comment, and when Helga's mouth opened in a sharp retort she was cut off by a surprisingly irate Arnold. "No, she isn't."

Still startled, she followed him silent and wide-eyed, to a couple of empty desks at the window; a chorus of "Ooh"s trailing behind. Neither of them really listened to the lecture, as entertaining as Wartz attempted to be, Helga's mind was twittering sonnets of adoration and slight anger at her green-eyed demigod, who himself, was caught off guard by his very own actions.

Did I really just stand up for Helga? Implying I was her boyfriend? Why? Oh... Oh God. She's probably thinking up ways to pulverize me after this; she doesn't need me to protect her! What—why did I...? Stupid stupid stupid—

"Arnold?" Helga waved a hand over his glazed over face, continuing when she finally got a response, "The bell just rang; uh, it looks like we have the same lunch, but after this I won't see you till then. So, good luck football head."

"...That's it?" He stood up, walking behind her as she headed out. She turned back at him, quirking a brow. The words flew out, his hands gesturing in distress. "No, 'I don't need a man to help me, Arnoldo' or, 'Watch it next time, bucko' or or or— anything?"

He flinched when she reached out to pat his cheek twice, her blue eyes looking up at him amused. "As long as you get the message, my job here is done." Dropping her hand, her expression turned serious. "Though, we still gotta talk about that."

He let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. As long as there was no bodily harm inflicted, he was fine with talking to her to the moon and back. Once I figure out why I did it.

"Hey Twiggy!"

Helga spun toward the direction of the voice, brows furrowed in annoyance. "Just because my hair—"

"Yeah yeah, but I never caught your name. How did you end up in my house last night anyway? My dad just started firing his whole ethics spiel and never answered a damn question I had. Let me see your schedule?"

Helga handed the folded list while opening her mouth to respond, but Miri kept going. Stretching an arm around Helga's shoulders, and casting a wink at a distraught Arnold, she led Helga to her next class. "You see, my boyfriend came back early from college last night and —What's your name again?"

Boy, was our heroine getting pretty fed up by all these interruptions. But for the sake of her and Arnold's extenuating circumstances, they had to lay low, so she chewed the inner-side of her cheek to calm down. She even waited a breath before answering. "Helga. You must be the infamous Miri." Helga's sarcasm shown through, unable to control it, but Miri smirked anyway, seeming to appreciate the character 'flaw'. Helga continued, "I was passing by, and your dad must've thought I was you through a window or something. Dragged me by the ear into your house, up the stairs, and shoved me into your room. Then he realized I wasn't you, and proceeded to notice the tell-tale sign of your open window."

Shaking her head apologetically, she sighed, releasing the girl. "Yeah, sounds like my hot-head of a father. Sorry about that. Helga, right? —Nice name." She pushed her cat-eye frames up her nose, "I go by Miriam outside of the family, actually. Anyway, I told Rob (my boyfriend) about all that mess, and he suggested we treat you, and possibly your cute guy we left behind over there, to some pizza or something once class lets out; as a sort of consolation for the trauma you went through as being me for five minutes."

Only half-listening, Helga's eyes widened at the mention of Miri's complete name, as well as her boyfriend's; and thinking on her feet, knew exactly why she was sent back there. But what about Arnold? Shaking her head out of her reverie, she was met with the sight of an expectant Miriam.

"Uh, sounds good."

"Good. Well, here's your class, it looks like we have lunch and Advance Lit together afterwards, so I'll see you then!"

Helga meekly waved goodbye at the energetic girl. That's...my mom?

Meanwhile, Arnold was left to more or less, fend for himself. But before he was able to find the route to his next destination, a tall, yet mousy kid with thick tufts of light blond hair tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey... Arnold, correct? Uhm, my friend was that red-headed guy in class, and he'd like to apologize for what he did."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. He seemed to have been doing that a lot more frequently lately. His mind wandered off at the thought of muscular eyebrows until he realized the kid was still talking.

"I guess you're wondering why he'd send me instead of saying sorry himself, but he has sort of a 'tough persona' to hold up. I honestly don't understand it; he's threatening until he steps out of line, then he just avoids confrontation at all costs. He's a very... special person I suppose, but uh gosh I'm rambling, aren't I?" nervously, the kid laughed.

Arnold narrowed his eyes, train of thought completely veered toward figuring out why this person's mannerisms seemed so ...so... "What's your name?"

"Robert. Robert Simmons."

Ah.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Arnold. Just tell your friend not to sweat it, I was just frustrated with getting to classes late and everything so—"

"Oh, I'll help you. May I see your schedule?"

"Uh, sure."

"Oh, how delightful, it looks like we have the next class together! My friend will be there too, so maybe then you guys can talk."

"Great."

As amused as Arnold was seeing these people he's known, he was a little more than weary about creating friendships with anyone in this time-period. He knew nothing about time travel, but he didn't want to risk some sort of butterfly effect in his actions.

Too late.

Simmons spent the entire walk to class talking Arnold's ear off, and then talking some more during free time.

Picking up on Arnold's mild annoyance, the red-head chuckled, "Forgive Robert here, even I had to get used to him sometime," that shut Simmons up for the meantime, an embarrassed look crossing his features. The red-head continued, "Anyway, you won't be hearing from him much longer, he'll be moving this weekend, right?" Simmons nodded. "Yeah, he's leavin me to become some great, new-age teacher or something," he stated, affectionately punching the kid in the arm. "Never come back, y'hear?"

"That's the plan!"

Arnold inwardly screamed at the irony of it all. And the coincidence that Simmons seemed to be this kid's Phoebe.

"Anyway, the name's Roland."

And, our names are anagrams. What is the universe doing? They shook hands amiably, Roland leaning back into his chair.

"So yeah, as Sim-boy probably said for me, I'm sorry about earlier. She's quite the catch though. You're a lucky guy."

Instinctively, Arnold nodded.

"But you two are new? How are you new, together?"

"Long story short, we sort of eloped," Arnold feigned a guilty look as Roland made a sickened face.

Simmons though, being Simmons, piped up, "Oh, how romantic!"

It was getting harder and harder for Arnold to keep this act up. Especially the part about being in love with Helga. Why couldn't I have said we were just siblings? He slapped a palm to his forehead before sinking onto the desk, unaware that his two new friends were watching him intently.

"Yo, you alright?"

Arnold mumbled into the desk, "Just having second thoughts. We're young and everything, y'know?"

"Yeah," Roland nodded, "Sounds pretty stupid of you guys, but also pretty bold. You're a bold kid Arnold, a bold kid."

Unbeknownst to either Simmons or Roland, Arnold's every fiber seemed to tense up at the déjà vu, feeling queasy from all the parallels. Am I having time-space sickness?

Our time-traveling duo made it to lunch in one piece though, Helga having been sought out by Miriam, was already in line when Arnold scanned the cafeteria for her. Catching sight of the pixie-cut, he apologetically yanked Helga out of the line by the hand. Once they came back into the hallway, he stood before her, slumping and dropping his head on her shoulder in defeat.

Helga stiffened at the contact, never ready for her beloved's touches, but she managed to speak in spite of poetry she wanted to proclaim. "You okay?"

"Helga, I don't know why we're here. I just met Simmons and he seems to want to be friends with me, but his life seems fine, and —and the kid that hit on you just said something Gerald would say and—"

"Shh, you're over reacting football head." She patted his back awkwardly, trying hard not to notice the stares they were starting to receive. "I know why we're here," quickly omitting her doubts of Arnold's purpose, she mentally included him in her goal. Arnold's head picked up at the news, his green eyes once again hopeful. Helga continued, "Miri is Miriam. Her boyfriend, Robert —Big Bob, came into town early from college and because of the mishap last night, they want to take us out for pizza 'or something'."

Nodding his head slowly, Arnold sighed in relief, finally having at least some sense of reason. He chuckled, "So... like a double date?"

Despite Helga's apparent blush, she feigned annoyance and scowled at her prince. "Yeah, a double date. Now let's go eat; I'm starving."

She turned to walk back in, but without a second thought, Arnold looped her free arm around his elbow and proceeded to open the large cafeteria door for her.


A/N: Sheesh Arnold, it can't just be a Freudian-slip whenever you keep saying you're going out with Helga; that's not how it works!

*Twiggy: A well-renowned American model from 1966, who popularized the pixie-cut hairstyle.

**Kimba the White Lion: An anime series which premiered from 1966-1967. (It's only speculation that this is grandma's reasoning behind Arnold's peculiar nickname).

Until the next chapter, leave me some reviews for motivation!