Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

Summary: A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

Always a Catch

"Another un-innocent, elegant falls,

Into the un-magnificent lives of adults,

Make up something to believe,

In your heart of hearts,

So you have something to wear,

On your sleeve of sleeve." -The National (Mistaken for Strangers)

As Phoebe typically liked to do on Fridays after work, which Gerald would never understand why one would do that too themselves, she stopped by the grocery store and did their weekly shopping. He'd helped her unload the bags from her car, setting them on the counters to be put away before slouching into a chair at their counter to begin watching her un-bag everything. Not that he wasn't willing to help, he'd love too, but she had a particularly way of organizing their food and preferred to do it herself.

He kept out of her way.

"How are you?" She asked, putting away some vegetables in the fridge.

Gerald grunted, cracking his knuckles, "Weird."

She gave him a sideways glance as she continued shuffling around things in the fridge.

He caught her eyes and shrugged, "Well…I am."

Phoebe stepped back and huffed, glaring disapprovingly into the fridge, "This weekend we need to clean this out."

Gerald nodded in agreement, though not truly caring at the moment about the contents of his ice box. His mind was elsewhere.

"She told me today."

Phoebe snapped her head in his direction, eyes wide with curiosity and shock. "And?"

"And…I'm more confused than ever," He exhaled in a defeat, "Her eyes were so, so empty Phoebe. One minute they were full of…of rage and hatred and…life and the next…blank."

Phoebe abandoned the remaining few groceries that needed proper storage, fully engrossed in what Gerald had to say.

"What did she tell you?"

"That's just it, she didn't tell me anything. Nothing that I didn't already know," He shook his head.

Phoebe drew back, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'm a little confused about—"

"-You're confused, I'm confused!"

He held his hand up as he wished to continue, "I lied to her."

"About what?"

"Well, I did what you said and tried to 'outsmart' her," He eplained, "I told her that I found out he was leaving her for Lila."

Phoebe's eyes grew to an enormous size for the second time in the last few minutes, "You used Lila?" She asked in disbelief.

Gerald nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "It was the only thing I could think of that would potentially set her off," He reasoned, "Phoebe, she hates that girl and that hatred hasn't dissolved one bit since we were kids."

Phoebe let out a breath of air and leaned against the counter top, "So, what happened then? Did she explode?"

Gerald nodded, "Yeah, but not in the way I had expected though. It looked liked she wanted to, and then...I don't know. It was as if something occurred to her."

A trebley toned melody of tunes came stomping through the kitchen, perking Gerald's attention and he spun around and exited the room. Phoebe recognized it as his cell phone and he reemerged back into the kitchen seconds later with his phone to his ear and flopped back down at the counter, shooting a glance at Phoebe, "Voice mail," He mouthed.

Phoebe nodded and decided to take the few moments and put away the last couple grocery items. Grabbing the few boxes and cans she walked to the pantry and began placing them in their respective spots on shelves. She had just placed the last can in when she heard a hasty shuffling and stomping behind her.

She twirled around frantically, seeing her boyfriend fleeing the kitchen in a panic, "Gerald?" She cried.

Not getting a reply she scurried out of the kitchen in the same direction that he had bolted.

"Son of a bitch!" She heard him yell as she skipped into the living room. His back was towards her, and he was hunkered over their table examining something.

"Gerald?" She beckoned again.

He turned around, reveling that he held a pistol. She recognized it quite immediately; it'd been hanging around their house for months now.

"Big Bob's Beepers."

The raven haired woman glanced at the gun and then to him.

"The initials B.B.B. Big Bob's Beepers. This is hers!" He motioned to the gun he held.

Phoebe gasped, "That was her then?"

"Yeah," Gerald nodded, "She left the message."

Phoebe collapsed down in a nearby chair, a bit shell shocked. She shook her head, trying to make sense of everything. "I can't believe this…"

She glanced at Gerald, who by now had started to pace around their living room. Her best friend (former of course) had seemingly killed his best friend. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. Sure, Helga Pataki wasn't the most pleasant and mild mannered human being to ever walk the planet, far from it in fact, but a murderer?

Phoebe suddenly felt incredibly foolish. She felt foolish for upholding even a modest amount of loyalty to the girl. For trying to reason with the theories of the man pacing before her.

How could Helga have? How could she have done that?

It was no secret to anyone that Helga's sun rose and set on Arnold.

It just didn't make sense to her.

"I'm going over there," Gerald's voice broke her concentration. Snapping her head up she saw him at their coat hanger, slipping on a heavy jacket sleeve by sleeve.

"Why?" She inquired, "What's there left to say?"

Gerald snorted, shaking his head, "She is not just going to leave me a cowardly voice mail. I want to hear it from her face before I call this in."

He grabbed his keys off of the coffee table and made his way to the front door.

"I'll come with you," Phoebe bolted from the chair she'd fallen into and rushed towards the coat hanger.

Gerald paused, watching her grab her coat and fling it over her body, "Phoebe, you don't have-"

"-You shouldn't be alone in a moment like this."

Truthfully, she was afraid he might do something he would regret. His voice sounded a tad too erratic for her to trust him alone. No, it wasn't that Gerald Johanssen had a history of unpredictability, and she felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach for thinking him such, but the circumstances were of special consideration. He was clouded by anger, and hurt.

She couldn't blame him though. She was rather overwhelmed herself.

Of course, she hadn't near the emotional investment he had in all of this. But any news of this magnitude would rock most people's foundation.

He didn't say anything else about her accompanying him to the center. As much as he wanted to go by himself, he was grateful not to have to be alone. She followed him out of their house, closing and locking the front door behind her. They both hopped in his personal car and headed off down the street.

The ride had been a quiet one, neither Phoebe nor Gerald felt the need to fill the silence with conversation. There could have been tons to talk about, but, as Phoebe had said, was their anything left to say? Both were rattled in their own way.

Gerald's eyes remained fixated on the pavement in front of him the entire way drive. He barely saw the road, he was too trapped in his thoughts. He could taste the disgust in his mouth. It tasted bitter-sweet washing all over him.

As he turned onto the street corner of the building his eyes engulfed with the flashing of dozens of red and blue flashing lights.

"What the hell?" He hissed under his breath.

He pulled cautiously to the curb in front, gazing around at the unit cars. A foreboding feeling had emerged in the pit of his stomach. One he wished to ignore for the sake of sanity at the moment. He put the car in park.

"Stay here." Opening the car door, he exited and briskly began walking up through the open gates. Walking past several unit cars he skipped up the steps to the front double doors. Gerald walked in, seeing a crowd of people everywhere and that feeling in his stomach magnified 10 fold.

He began walking towards the reception area where the stairs were located.

"Sir! I'm going to need to stay back," His arm was grabbed.

Gerald turned to see an officer he didn't recognize holding his upper arm. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his own badge and flashed it.

"It's okay," Gerald reassured.

The officer nodded and released his arm. "Upstairs," He pointed.

Gerald snapped his head in the direction of the stairs, returning his badge to his pocket. "Thanks!" He called, hurriedly walking towards the area the officer had pointed.

He skipped up the stairs, taking two at a time until he had reached the second floor. People where everywhere down the hall, chatting and pointing.

What the hell was going on?

He kept walking, following the people down to an open door on the left. He saw the receptionist standing near the doorway, staring in absently.

Gerald walked past her, entering into the unknown room. His breath hitched and he stopped cold in his tracks. His eyes focused on the huge blood stain in the middle of the room. He could see a light on in the bathroom and some shattered glass lying on the floor.

But the blood. There was just so much of it.

He whipped around and eyeballed the receptionist. "Who…Whose room is this?"

She jumped, looking at him questioningly.

"Whose is it?" He demanded more forcefully. He didn't have time for games.

"Ms. Pataki…" She whispered.

Gerald clutched the door frame with his hand. Her words were barely audible but it felt like he'd been sucker punched. He looked back at the blood and then to the woman again.

"What happened?" He breathed, surprising himself at how even toned he was.

The receptionist opened her mouth, anguish washing over her features as she shook her head, "She tried to kill herself," She whispered again.

All the breath left Gerald's body. That foreboding feeling in the pit of his gut spread its way up into his chest, clutching him with its icy grip. He couldn't breathe. He had a million emotions coursing through is veins, and a million different thoughts darting across the inside of his skull.

Always chasing her. He was always just one step behind. All she did was manipulate him. And if she couldn't beat him then she would just hide. Forever.

Oh, he felt like he could combust.

Anger.

Anger rose above all other emotions.

He subconsciously began balling his hands into fists. How dare she, He thought. How dare she try to take the easy way out.

"No!" He yelled into the room, causing the people around him to jump.

"Goddammit no!" He shouted again and tore out of the scene and down the hall way, leaving a bewildered crowd behind him.

He didn't see anybody or anything, only the path in front of him. He burst out of the front doors, not caring that they slammed against the brick wall on either side. He continued marching down the stairs, and down the path towards his car.

God help anybody, if they got in his way.

Phoebe saw him blazing down the sidewalk towards their car through her window. The harden expression on his face said everything.

Something bad had happened.

Gerald rounded the car and yanked open the driver's door like he was hijacking the vehicle. He flopped in with a huff and slammed the door shut.

"Gerald, what's wrong?" Phoebe exasperated.

The raging man acted as if he didn't hear the small woman beside him. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, squeezing the rim and then letting it go, flexing his finger muscles.

"Gerald!" Phoebe yelled.

"She's gone!"

Phoebe shook her head in confusing, "What do you mean—"

"-She tried to kill herself." He gripped the steering wheel once more and let out a guttural howl of aggravation.

Phoebe turned away from him, staring back out of the window towards the building and flashing lights.

"…Is she dead?"

"I don't know!" He snapped.

He immediately felt terribly for speaking to Phoebe in that tone. He had never ever spoken to her that way before. He didn't have time to dwell and he promised himself that he would make it up to her later.

Running a head roughly over his shaven head, he turned the car on and slammed it in reverse. Phoebe jumped in surprise, looking around as he U-turned in the street.

"Gerald, where are we going?" She asked, wide eyed and more than a little frantic.

"The hospital," He replied, "I've got to know…"

A frantic blonde woman tore through a set of double doors in a hallway, the wind from her speed whipping her locks over her shoulders, and a face strained with distraught and runny mascara. A brown haired man skipped along behind her with an expression of worry equivalent to her own.

She rounded a few corners, left, right, counting the waiting rooms until she found the one she was hunting for. Gliding across the threshold of the room, she immediately spotted familiar faces sitting off to one side of the room. She and her husband closed the gap between them and her parents as fast as their feet would allow them.

"Hey," Grant huffed, catching his breath.

"What happened? Where is she?" Olga hastily asked.

Her Mother and niece, who were sitting to Bob's right, looked from Grant to her.

Bob scoffed, releasing a gust of air from his nostrils, "I'll tell you what happened, that idiot you call a sister tried to off herself," Bob retorted, extremely annoyed.

His eldest's mouth unhinged, falling agape in disbelief. She shifted a mortified glance at her husband and then back to her Father, "What happened?" She caught herself repeating, though meaning it in a different context.

"She cut her self up...I don't know anything else I just got the phone call."

"But…I…I just saw her. She seemed fine! And then I got this voicemail from her and-"

"-She is never fine Olga! When are you going to realize this?" Bob spat.

"Daddy…please—"

"-This is the last time," He continued ranting, "After this, she can go to hell for all I care."

Olga glared at him, horrified by his words. "Could you be any more insensitive? Honestly? Now is not the time!"

Bob rolled his eyes at his eldest, "What the hell else am I suppose to say Olga? It's never going to stop! She is a lunatic! You tell me what type of sane person just mutilates them self that way?"

Olga pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It was very rare that she ever lost her patients, but in light of everything, she was treading in that direction rapidly.

"She's sick…" She hissed.

Her father chuckled darkly, "Yeah you're right about that. Sick in the damn head."

"Enough!" She snapped.

Seeing the glares that she was shooting him, Bob decided to let it drop. He shrugged and waved her off with his hand, "Suit yourself."

Olga sighed deeply, calming herself.

She collapsed down in the seat just left of Bob, Grant placing himself in the chair next to her. He reached over and grabbed one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She turned her head in her husband's direction and gave him the faintest of smiles.

A few moments of silence passed between the family before Bob suddenly rose from his seat.

"I'm going for a drink," He announced, and slunk out of the waiting area.

Olga sighed, watching his retreating form disappear through the doors. She hated getting into a confrontation with him. She disliked confrontation period, but especially with her family. He'd come around, and if he didn't they still would probably never speak of it again.

She turned her attention to her Mother and niece. "Hey Mom, Hey Sender," She greeted them quietly.

You could probably say that the halls of the hospital had the feeling of déjà' vu that night the way Gerald tore down the white tile floor just as Olga had not long before him. Phoebe brought up the rear, not really sure how exactly he was moving as fast as he was. Adrenalin she supposed.

He stopped at the first receptionist desk he saw, quickly getting the nurses attention.

"Hi! Excuse me," He huffed, winded from his haste. "I'm looking for somebody."

"Name?" The nurse replied in a monotone voice.

"Helga Pataki," Gerald reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge. He laid it on the counter for her to see. "Listen, I need to know where she is and I need to speak with the doctor in charge of her."

The nurse looked from him, to his badge and back to her computer, "Well, I can page the doctor in charge and see what he says. I don't know if he can speak with you right away or not. In the meantime you can go wait in the lobby around the corner," She pointed in the correct direction.

Gerald sighed, and nodded, "Hurry please?"

He grabbed his badge, and re-placed it back into his coat pocket before walking off. He and Phoebe rounded the corner into the waiting room taking a seat fairly close to the door. Sighing, Gerald leaned forward and rested his head in his palm, closing his eyes to think.

That day had been a nightmare. A total disaster.

Helga Pataki never ceased to amaze him…and not in the good way either. He just hoped, desperately hoped, that she wouldn't die…or wasn't already dead. He tried to force himself not to wish too vividly in fear of jinxing everything. That was his luck though. She had probably already expired on a cold stainless steel table somewhere in this maze of a building. Gone forever from his grasp.

No justice.

That was the way the world was though, he reasoned. The decent will get handed the short end of the stick while the evil prevail unpunished.

He felt a nudge in his ribs and looked up.

"Bob," Phoebe whispered.

Gerald followed her eyes to the burly gray haired man walking towards a group of people and sitting down amongst them. Yep, that was Bob and that must have been the rest of Helga's family sitting there. He recognized Miriam.-

They didn't look overly distraught, he observed. Like 'death-in-the-family' distraught. Maybe he had a chance yet.

His eyes settled on the brown haired man at the end. He didn't recognize him, but assumed him the boyfriend or husband of Helga's sister. His eyes moved to her next. He couldn't remember her name. Phoebe would know. She had memory sharper than a knife. Bob sat next to her and next to him Miriam.

His eyes settled on the child beside Miriam. She had both elbows resting on her knees with her forehead nestled on her palms, tired like. Gerald's brow furrowed. He wouldn't call himself an expert on the Pataki family, but he knew that their unit was quite small, with no extended family that he had ever known of.

He sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the girl, trying to figure out who she was. Perhaps she was Helga's sister's child? She was quite a bit older than Helga and probably had a few children by now.

That was probably it. Had to be.

He was ready to quit his observing and return back to his own thoughts when she moved. Picking her head up out of her palms, she locked eyes with him.

Gerald's breath hitched in his chest when he saw her face. His brown eyes locked with her green ones before she shyly flashed him an ear-to-ear smile that he had grown up knowing all to well. A cold electric chill slithered up his spine from the blood congealing in his veins. He felt himself reaching out and grabbing Phoebe's arm.

Phoebe looked at him, concern marring her face. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, "Tell me I'm hallucinating Phoebe, tell me I'm just exhausted and seeing things…" He begged.

"Gerald, what are you…" She trailed off as she followed his eyes over to the girl in the corner that was staring at him.

"Oh my…" She whispered after a moment of shock wore off.

Gerald's grip tightened on her arm.

She saw it too.

She saw his best friend staring back.

A/N: And just when Gerald thought he'd seen it all. Helga's secrecy knows no bounds. Got this chapter out rather quickly compared to normal. I had a rare slow week at school. They are so rare I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Lol. Anyway, long chapter, some drama, a cliffy? I don't know if that counts as a cliffy or not. It's kind of self explanatory BUT what is Gerald reaction going to be? What about Phoebe's? Stay tuned.