The Temple Walls

Sometimes, you need to slow down and take a closer look at what you left behind...at what was written on the temple walls.

Hillwood:40°41'34"N, 73°59'25"W; San Lorenzo:4°55'22"N, 52°19'37"W; Washington DC:38°53'42"N, 77°02'12"W

Grubworm Down
40°41'34"N, 73°59'25"W
September 18th, 00:03

It was just like Gerald Johanssen to disappear in times of need.

Although, it had been a long time since Gerald Johanssen's decisions bore any semblance of importance to Helga. And yet here she was. It had been just after sunset when she'd received the call. Ronald had called in sick earlier that morning and her assistant had finally managed to comprehend the technique for adding attachments to group emails. The office had thus been a mercifully pleasant place all day. And Helga had stayed well past dinner time drafting an opening statement on environmental protection.

If it had been the evening of any regular day then Helga might not have dared answer her phone when it began ringing so late. Always far too likely to be something she didn't want to deal with. Especially since the number that lit up her screen was a series of unfamiliar digits. But with a productive afternoon behind her, she'd decided to pick it up without too much of a second thought.

And she would be glad she had.

Phoebe Heyerdahl's - no, Phoebe Johanssen's - soft voice filtered through the receiver almost immediately. Actually, for a split second, Helga thought she'd gone mad. Phoebe hadn't called her in, well, at least six years. Helga couldn't even think how her former best friend would've known her current phone number at all. And those questions were all placed in mind to ask her - until Phoebe's sentence had continued far enough as "hospital" and "worried" and "the baby".

Helga was on a plane to Hillwood the absolute fastest she could be.

Which involved pulling all the strings she could metaphorically hold at once, and blackmailing several wealthy acquaintances. Until she found herself sitting in a private jet. It was just before midnight when she touched down in her hometown. And it was just after midnight when she found herself standing outside Hillwood General. It wasn't until she'd truly made it that she realised; visiting Phoebe wasn't simple any more.

It mattered that her best friend - former best friend - was hurting, but it didn't wash away seven years. It didn't mean she could stop being bitter about the wedding invitation they'd never sent. Or that Phoebe had never tried to call. It didn't help that the only reason Helga had even known she was pregnant, was because Geraldo had spat it at her out of spite in a coffee shop one morning.

So she was almost relieved to find Phoebe asleep when she arrived. And still relieved when she'd slept through the journey home after the nurses cleared her case. It wasn't until Helga had managed to settle her into bed, that Phoebe spoke.

"Helga?"

Phoebe's voice was soft. It held that same quality she'd always given to Helga; the tone that meant, if Helga wanted to, she was welcome to ignore it.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For coming. I'm sorry it turned out to be nothing. I just overreacted. It's common with first babies. And with my being alone, in the house here-"

Helga crossed her arms. "Where is Johanssen?" she asked accusingly.

Phoebe's expression was pleading. "On a business trip, Helga. It's really not his fault..."

"And he couldn't postpone it? You're pregnant, Phoebe. And he just waltzes out."

"Helga, please, that's unreasonable. I'd have asked him to go anyway. I'm far from helpless – I just have an increased circumference and a natural inclination to agonize over the safety of my offspring."

"Whatever," Helga grunted, flopping herself into a lounge chair adjacent the bed. "I'd have my husband waiting on me day and night if I was carting around his progeny."

"I know, Helga," said Phoebe comfortably. It felt so familiar, so natural, that Helga almost relaxed. Until Phoebe continued in an unusually hurried manner. "Are you dating anybody, Helga?"

She tensed immediately. "What?"

Phoebe appeared almost panicked, as though she'd surprised herself by asking. "I was just wondering, Helga, that's all," she explained, tone bordering upon desperation. "If, perhaps, you were... seeing anybody back home, in Washington."

"What? Because I've created some sort of image for myself as an immoral harpie?" Helga snapped. "Geraldo might not think much of my morals, but you, Phoebe? I'm married. I haven't forgotten the rules."

And, strangely, Phoebe seemed surprised. "Are you saying, Helga, that you've never dated another man?"

"No." said Helga pointedly. "I haven't."

"Nothing at all? I mean, you've not ever been... well, intimate, with another man?"

"Helga G. Pataki doesn't cheat!"

"My, Helga, I just assumed... It's been quite some time, I mean..." said Phoebe, quite uncomfortably. "Does this mean you've never... you know? I mean, you and Arnold were married but..."

Helga sighed. "It... happened once."

"Helga!" gasped Phoebe. "But you were only thirteen!"

Helga scowled at her. "Criminy, Pheebs, not then! I did visit once when I was fifteen, you remember?"

"Oh, yes, then," murmured Phoebe. "And, well, how was it Helga?"

"It was... awkward, I guess," she muttered. "And then we started fighting and, well..."

"Fighting? You mean the fight?"

"Yeah. That one."

Phoebe became quiet, as though deep in thought. When she spoke again, it was very soft. "I just cannot understand what could have gone so wrong between the two of you, Helga."

"Arnold wanted a life in San Lorenzo," Helga said bitterly. "And my life was back here, in America. It just wasn't going to work out, okay."

Phoebe took to staring at her hands. "He still asks about you..." she offered timidly. "In his letters to Gerald."

"I'll bet that drives Gerald up the wall."

"It does," she admitted. "But only because you broke his best friends heart, Helga."

"He broke mine first."

"You ignored his letters."

"Yeah?" bit Helga, getting to her feet. "Because he ignored me, our relationship, my feelings – letters don't make up for using me and tossing me to the side in favour of his stupid little jungle life."

"Helga! I don't understand, you were only fifteen at the time; surely you expected him to remain in the jungle for a while – his parents are important to him, after all."

"I know that, Phoebe, but I thought maybe for college..." Helga turned away. Her eyes settled upon a photograph of Gerald and Phoebe on their wedding day. "He wasn't going to leave, he made that clear. He wasn't coming back to America, Pheebs. Ever."

"Oh my..." said Phoebe. "Did he want you to move there with him or did he want... want to be there alone?"

"Who cares?" Helga scoffed. "Maybe he wanted the best of both worlds. Have his jungle cake and eat me too. Let me stop on by for a convenient visit now and again. You know, get me naked and toss me out when he was done. Exactly what he did that last time. And do you think I was going to just let him? No!"

Helga didn't bother looking back until she'd finished. When she did, Phoebe was anxiously tugging at her covers.

"I'm not entirely certain what to say," she began awkwardly. "I doesn't sound at all like Arnold to do something like that..."

And a sour response had already made its way to Helga's lips, before Phoebe quickly pressed on.

"But I trust your judgement, too." she said sincerely. "And, forgive me for asking, Helga, but if that was the case then why did you not file for divorce sooner?"

Helga felt something painfully uncomfortable wriggle in her insides. "Sometimes," she forced out, hating herself for the honesty, "I think the lovesick nine-year-old me is still somewhere in here and she's still doing back-flips over the fact that her Arnold married her. Maybe I can't let it go... I'm such a basket case."

Phoebe reached out and grasped her hand.

"I try not to get too involved with these matters, much like I tried to nine years ago," she said softly. "But... I hope everything works out in the end."

"Thanks, Pheebs," said Helga, eyes locked on their connected hands. "For everything, I mean. Today and back then. Even if Geraldo and I did put you in the middle of the crossfire all the time."

Phoebe's eyes sparkled. "It's no problem at all... Mighty Falcon."

"Thanks, Grubworm."

"Um, Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"Should I be forgetting this conversation ever happened... or?"

And precisely then, the tension dissipated in mutual laughter between two very best friends. Helga ordered Phoebe back into bed, or at least, back to properly resting. It might've been a false alarm, but it had taken its toll nonetheless and Helga wasn't prepared to have her taking any chances. After Phoebe had said goodnight, Helga took her briefcase downstairs and searched for a place to set up her laptop.

A/N: Yep, I'm still alive out here... And so is this story! To those of you still reading, I do apologise for the delay in update but I've been so very busy these last few months. I'm sorry to say, too, that any updates in the future will likely continue to be very slow, as my study load is only going to keep increasing. But, I will finish this story and I do have it all mapped out - I can tell you that there will be 20 chapters in total and Arnold will show up by chapter 14.