Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

ICYMI: It turns out that Arnold's presence is indeed needed in San Lorenzo. But that's after he and Rhonda inadvertently spend their first night together.

And so to the chapter we go. Enjoy.

10. Flight Of Fancies

"I'll do it!"

Arnold's words, spoken two days ago. The magic words that unlocked and set in motion a whirlwind of scurry and tumult. So much to do. So many arrangements. His grandfather had worked and prepared feverishly to ensure that The Sunset Arms would not burn to the ground in his absence. His grandmother, meanwhile, searched high and low through the building for any appropriate clothing and gear for San Lorenzo. It took her all of two hours to find all that was needed, and more besides.

As for his friends and colleagues...

Rhonda was definitely in for the ride; as soon as Arnold had made his declaration that Saturday morning, she followed with hers. Furthermore, hers was a non-negotiable position. Which was just as well since her father would be traveling with the Shortmans anyway. Her mother had opted not to join them on the trip. Her reason was sensible: this was a mission, not a vacation. Which was not to say that she was unconcerned about the safety of her only daughter. She had promptly 'deputized' Arnold's grandmother – whom she most likely had pegged as the more sensible and protective of the grandparents despite her quirks – to help Buckley look after Rhonda.

"So long as you keep the games of Twister to an absolute minimum," she concluded to her elder in a knowing voice and with an equally knowing expression. She then turned that same expression toward Rhonda and asked the girl: "Right, Jacqueline?"

At that, Gertie smiled mischievously, as did Phil and Buckley. Arnold and Rhonda responded to Brooke's statement – of course, she fully intended for both of them to hear it – with sudden bashfulness.

Nadine was coming along, so she had to be informed. No problem, since being almost as seasoned a traveler as Rhonda meant she could prepare for impromptu trips at the drop of a hat. Gerald still had his protective mother as an obstacle, but once more the correct combination of rationalizing and high-level reassurance saw her provide her signature on the permission slip in time for him to start preparing as well. But that wasn't yet the end of the children's arrangements: the powers that be at P.S. 118 would also need to be informed of the absence of four of their students. The matter was duly dealt with first thing Monday morning when Buckley Lloyd's attorney personally delivered the notification to Principal Wartz. In doing so, Buckley hoped to put paid to any unnecessary questions from the pencil-pusher. His plan proved solid: Wartz gave the notification no second heed.

Next, the travel and itinerary needed to be finalized in a hurry. It would be here that Arnold and his fellow travelers would really benefit from Buckley's vast network of friends and favors. They needed to be in San Lorenzo as expeditiously as possible and without any direct commercial flights being available? Not a problem, since one of Buckley's clients was the owner of an air charter company and was only too willing to 'donate' the use of a Gulfstream G650 towards a 'charitable cause'. In return, the client would receive a hefty discount on the monthly fees on his investment portfolio. The same client also saw to it that all necessary authorizations regarding the flight plan and route were handled post haste so that the aircraft would be ready for take-off at a moment's notice. All handled over the course of a Saturday afternoon.

The accommodation was not be that big an issue as the traveling party would be staying out in rural San Lorenzo with the rescuers. Facilities there would spartan at best, but at least the community featured a reasonable standard of sanitation, no doubt the result of the many projects of Helpers for Humanity. Be that as it may, Buckley was hoping that his tenure at The Sunset Arms would have left him prepared for the dip in quality accommodation. He was also encouraged that his fellow travelers were fully aware that, in the words of his wise and beautiful wife, "this was a mission, not a vacation". Most of them were already seasoned campers; the rest had at the very least been previously exposed to the less amenable side of nature. Yet for all the collective boasting of their preparedness, one of them wasn't quite as enthusiastic as the rest.

Yes, it was Rhonda. The prospect of roughing it out in the open didn't have the same appeal to her as it did to Arnold and the rest. Still, she had pledged her support to her boyfriend come what may, and by whatever applicable deity she would make good on her word.

"I'll do it!"

Arnold's words, spoken three days ago. The magic words that led to him currently finalizing his packing at The Sunset Arms late Tuesday afternoon. The golden rule had been to pack for five days, seven tops. Account not only for the hot and humid climate, they said, but for the occasional rainstorm too. Also, sturdy, rugged boots would be mandatory.

After his umpteenth baggage check, Arnold was finally satisfied with his interpretation of the packing guidelines, content to put the matter to rest until the departure within less than thirty-six hours.

That'll have to do, he was thinking when he heard his grandfather announce: "Hey Short Man! You got company waiting for you downstairs!"

Now who could that be?

To his surprise, as he descended the stairs he caught sight of….

"Helga? Phoebe? Wow, this is a surprise!"

"Good to see you too, Footballhead," Helga greeted back. Phoebe nodded in courteous acknowledgement before joining the conversation: "So, how does your packing progress?"

"Wait…packing?"

"Oh don't play dumb, Footballhead!" countered Helga, still in her friendly tone. "Practically all of P.S. 118 has already figured that you and your friends are traveling somewhere overseas."

"Oh indeed!" confirmed Phoebe. "Someone saw a most officious-looking gentleman enter Wartz's office this morning. A gentleman later identified by Curly as Buckley Lloyd's own personal attorney."

"Yeah," more color commentary from Helga. "He would recognize the guy who's tried serving him god knows how many restraining orders. Go figure!"

"Anyway," Phoebe resumed, "he also happens to know this is what Rhonda's father does before the family goes on any overseas trip, just to ensure there'll be no hassle from Wartz."

"And do you know how difficult it was to extract the rest of the info from Wartz's secretary?" lamented Helga.

"Oh indeed!" Phoebe was eager to finish this part of the tale. "Normally she can be swayed with something as humdrum as a candy bar."

But Helga didn't want to be denied: "But this info must have been real hush-hush material, 'cause she held out for three before we broke her and she spilled the beans!"

"It's regrettable that we had to exploit the poor state of public education to achieve our goals," Phoebe lamented.

Helga was nowhere near as contrite. "So anyway! San Lorenzo, hey? Is this about your missing folks? You get any hot tips? Solid leads? Come on, Arnoldo, no point in being tight-lipped about it!"

And because Arnold still trusted the two girls, still considered them his good friends, he explained all the developments to them.

To which Helga replied with heartfelt sincerity: "Oh I hope it pays off for you, Arnold. I hope nobody's yanking your chain, or else I'll make them answer to Old Betsy." For extra effect, she clenched one of her fists tightly, highlighting the still-conditioned, still-callused knuckles.

"Helga, I don't think it'll come to that," Arnold smiled slightly cautiously at her. "From what they told us, the team was thorough in their work."

"Yes," added Phoebe. "The technology and resources they claimed to have at their disposal certainly suggest that they were working with very little margin for error. I daresay, Arnold, that your probability of finding the pertinent answers is very high."

"I hope so, Phoebe," Arnold sighed cautiously. "I really hope so."

Helga was on again, having caught on to Arnold's reaction to Phoebe's statement. "Aw shoot, Phoebe! We came here to wish the guy well, not walk him off the deep end!"

She then turned to Arnold, arms widespread and asking for a hug. Arnold didn't react immediately, prompting Helga to ask: "Well? Are you going to leave me hanging?"

Arnold eventually obliged and the two shared a sibling-like embrace. "I hope it works out for you, Footballhead," whispered Helga. "More than anyone, you're long overdue for some life-changing good news."

When she was done, it was Phoebe's turn for best wishes. "Same here, Arnold. We might have had our tensions in the recent past, but I'll never begrudge you this chance at happiness." And she emphasized her point with a friendly hug of her own.

"And don't worry, Arnoldo!" One last reassurance from Helga. "I'm sure you want to keep the fine details of this trip of yours on the down-low, at least for now. Me and Old Betsy'll make sure nobody gets any more curious."

The trio said their goodbyes before Arnold watched Phoebe and Helga depart in opposite directions. He had returned to his room, prepared just to lie down, and once more absorb the enormity of what was to come, of outcomes that may or may not play out.

He was denied by his grandfather, who made another announcement: "Hey Short Man! One of your friends is back! She says she forgot something!"

Oh, for crying out loud, Helga!

Only, it was Phoebe who had returned, not Helga.

"Um, Arnold?" she began in an urgent whisper, not even waiting for him to proclaim her presence. "I have a favor to ask you. Nothing untoward, I promise!"

'Nothing untoward', despite the secrecy at play here. But still…

"Yeah, what kind of favor?" he responded more in curiosity than suspicion.

"Just hear me out at least, Arnold! That's all I ask for now, please!" – The sense of urgency was still present in her whispered voice – "Helga's pink notebook…do you perhaps still have it?"

"Yeah?" he replied tentatively. "Any reason you're interested in it?"

"Well…" she began. "It's just that there's a current trend for change and new beginnings developing. Mostly I'd say as a result of you and Rhonda establishing your relationship. Take Curly, for example. He's mellowed out considerably, to the point now where half the class considers him almost civilized. Or at least housebroken."

"Yeah, I've noticed that too," nodded Arnold.

Which Phoebe took as her cue for further elaboration. "But it's not just him. We…actually, I…have noticed how people have responded to the changes in circumstances, most often with more ambition. Stinky, for example. He's taken a cue directly from you to pursue Lila more confidently. And Arnold," – she looked down to the floor, seemingly uncertain of how to continue – "well…I don't want to buck that trend. I want to be part of it too. I want my reaction to changing circumstances to be for the better as well!"

"And somehow the notebook has something to do with it?" he asked, skeptically but still with no obvious suspicion.

"Exactly! Precisely!" Phoebe's answer was maybe a bit too excited, but in truth she was beyond caring at that point. "Besides, I don't foresee you having any further need for it."

And Phoebe Heyerdahl, whose business card – if she ever were to carry one – would surely have read 'Purveyor of Incontrovertible Logic', had struck once more.

"So Arnold, is there any reason why I may not come into possession of the notebook?" For this question, Phoebe had taken on a meeker tone.

Arnold next spent several seconds assessing Phoebe's request, as well as the tone in which she made it and her present expression. Once he'd decided that her intentions were benign, he responded: "Wait here a moment."

Phoebe watched him as he climbed the stairs to his room and returned shortly thereafter with the pink notebook. "There you go," he said as he handed it over to her.

"Oh thank you, Arnold!" Phoebe expressed her gratitude with the volume set low as if believing that the walls of The Sunset Arms were conspiring to reveal whatever secret plan she had hatched.

A second – more hurried this time – farewell later, and Phoebe was gone, leaving Arnold behind to scratch his head in bemusement.

"I'll do it!"

Arnold's words, spoken five days ago. The magic words that led to him currently sorting through his thoughts at cruising altitude, two hours into a seven-hour flight to Puerto Clara. So deep in thought was he that the hours leading up to the here and now were reduced to an almost indecipherable blur.

Being picked along with his grandparents and Gerald at The Sunset Arms in a luxury European SUV – Arnold vaguely recalled it as an Audi Q8. Meeting Rhonda, Nadine, and the Lloyds at a private hangar within Hillwood International Airport, where also stood their magnificent flying machine. Greetings were made, banter was exchanged briefly. Then came the check-in and boarding. While the Shortmans and Gerald were overwhelmed by the sense of occasion, Rhonda and her party had treated it as if it were but another formality. Except for Brooke, who was doing her all to hold back the tears at having to see her precious baby girl leave her behind. The unseasoned travelers were then to be shocked at how streamlined the processes of flying privately could be. The entire process was a breeze, the very definition of efficiency where words like 'hassle' and 'delay' had no place. They were airborne within forty minutes of arrival.

Even the flight itself would be a masterclass of convenience and comfort, and not only because the plane was well-appointed and well-stocked – enough for Gerald to insist on sipping his complimentary orange juice from a champagne glass. Since the flight was private, it wasn't subject to some of the regulations for commercial flights and so they were flying direct to their destination – no stopovers.

But that was two hours ago and right now all of these benefits were forgotten by Arnold.

"Kimba?"

It was Gertie, caught on to his sudden detachedness. And in an environment in which Gerald was enthusiastically conversing with Nadine and Rhonda among gourmet snacks, Shirley Temples and Arnold Palmers, and their choice of any number of video and music channels, while Phil and Buckley were regaling one another with highlights from their interesting lives, Arnold's relative lack of enthusiasm would not go unnoticed for long.

"Kimba, my boy. Are you OK?" Gertie asked, her usual kookiness cast aside in favor of her maternal side. "What's on your mind?"

She was right: something was on his mind; something was bothering him. Only, he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

"Grandma," he began, "I'm not sure. On the one hand, I'm excited – I'm talking super stoked – over this trip. We're so close to finding Mom and Dad!" All spoken as if he was trying to convince himself over the situation.

"But something's gnawing at you, isn't it, Kimba? Nerves, maybe?"

At that, he dropped his façade of excitement. "It's like the closer we get, the more nervous I get!"

"Oh, so it's your nerves acting up?" Gertie queried, her eyes and her tone conveying all the understanding in the world. "You're feeling scared that you may not like how this adventure ends?"

Arnold didn't want to admit out loud that he was indeed fearing that the bad outcome might prevail, so instead he nodded weakly.

"That's fine, Kimba," assured Gertie as she pulled him closer for a warm, comforting embrace. "Well, not fine, but definitely natural. You just realized you don't know how all this will end and it scares you. You want to know the truth? I'm scared too of what we might find, just like you. Your grandfather too. We were hit just as hard when they came with the news." – the news of Miles and Stella being declared legally dead – "We're just as afraid that our ten-year wait was just setting us up for more heartache."

Gertie then paused and for ten seconds it looked as if the old lady was herself in danger of falling into the same funk in which she'd found her grandson. But despite her silence and her breathing that had threatened to become hitched, she held it together and resumed with: "But you know what? It looks like none of us ever believed those jerks from the government! So why start now?"

With that, she released him from her embrace, the better to jump into the aisle and proclaim at the top of her voice: "WE'LL NEVER GIVE THOSE DAMN BUREAUCRATS THE SATISFACTION OF SEEING US GIVE UP HOPE!"

Naturally, her outburst received the curious attention of all the plane's occupants, down to the two cabin attendants, and even the resting co-pilot who stuck her head out throught the cockpit door to investigate the source of the commotion. All except Arnold, who was smiling at his Grandmother's irrepressible, indomitable spirit.

And as usual, it was up to Phil to explain her actions, and maybe apologize for them: "Sorry folks, she tends to get a little excited now and then. Nothing to see here!"

The stares lingered.

"What? She's been off the no-fly list since '87! Clear case of mistaken identity, the ICC ruled!"

The stares lingered still until the message eventually sank in and everyone else slowly – and somewhat uneasily – went back about their business. The co-pilot retreated to the cockpit, the cabin attendants went back to standby, and Phil and Buckley resumed their conversation. That left Gerald and Nadine to get to know each other better still, a bit more enthusiastically now that Rhonda was no longer with them. Being Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, she was more interested in what had provoked Grandma Gertie's outburst. To that end, she'd left her erstwhile companions to walk over to Arnold and Grandma Gertie.

"Sooo…" she began cautiously. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, the president just needed another pep talk from his advisor," explained Gertie.

Rhonda focused on Arnold, asking him: "Arnold, you want to talk about it? Don't think I didn't notice how you were looking a bit down since we took off." – Rhonda's superior observational skills had once more worked their magic – "I figure it's the very least I can do to hear you out."

"Excellent idea, Jacqueline!" concurred Gertie. "There's so much more a First Lady can do for her President's humor than some stuffy advisor!"

Then Gertie left the young pair to join Phil and Buckley, the latter of whom was now brimming with curiosity over how Gertrude Shortman ever made the FAA's no-fly list in the first place.

xxXXXxx

"Look, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're getting cold feet. That you're worrying you might not like what we find in that cave when we get there. How'm I doing, by the way?"

Damn, she's so good at reading people!

Once more, Arnold was forced to speak the truth. "You're right," he exhaled heavily. "I've been waiting ten years for this, but what if I don't like the answers. Forget knowing! What if the answers just plain suck?"

Rhonda was taken aback at what she was hearing.

"I mean, ten years. Ten years, Rhonda!" – some more of his long-repressed emotions were coloring his words – "That's a long time to wait just to be told you've been keeping your hopes up for nothing!"

"Arnold, stop it!" Rhonda's voice was soft but firm, so as not to attract any unwanted attention. "What's important now is that none of us know what to expect, not even the rescuers."

"I get that, I do!. And I want to remain positive! But the thoughts in the back of my head won't go away! The 'what-ifs'! What if this, what if that. The doubt won't leave me!"

"Sorry Arnold," Rhonda replied, "but I don't have an answer for that. I suppose all of us on this plane have our doubts. At some level, we're all fearing the worst, even the rescuers. But it doesn't mean the worst-case scenario is the one that'll play out."

Arnold paused for a short while to compose himself, allowing Rhonda to continue. "Think about it. Arnold, this is your story, and the ending for this chapter hasn't been written yet. Who are any of us to second-guess what may come?"

And Arnold would chuckle softly and Rhonda would be puzzled by his reaction. And before she could call his action into question, he clarified: "I think I've heard this message before, but shouldn't your voice be more gravelly?"

Rhonda would catch on quickly and fix him with the dirtiest, lazy-eyed scowl she could conjure. At the same time, she adjusted her voice to its lowest, raspiest setting possible before speaking again as if tapping into every iconic Western scene: "Well you see, no man…can walk away from his own story."

That did the trick. Arnold was moved from his funk of doubt to trying to suppress a significant bout of laughter. Before long, he and Rhonda were leaning onto one another, propping each other up as otherwise they'd be on the floor from the laughter. Uproarious as it might have been, this outburst was significantly underwhelming compared to Gertie's earlier display. As such, it barely garnered any attention. And honestly, why would it when all the other passengers were otherwise occupied?

Buckley was fully engrossed by Phil's story of Gertie's chequered history as a flight passenger, interrupting with question after question.

Wait, what was she doing in Beirut in the first place? Wasn't it dangerous back then?

Oh, thank god! But how did they eventually prove to the ICC it was a case of mistaken identity?

Meanwhile, Gerald and Nadine were still merrily chatting up a storm in their seats, oblivious to their surroundings. Perhaps even glad that Rhonda had left them on their own.

Once more, that left Arnold and Rhonda focusing on one another. Rhonda broke the silence with: "Don't worry, Arnold. Come what may, we're all with you!" And she took advantage of everyone else's deflected attention to press her lips against Arnold's cheek: another token of her support. And suddenly the flight and the destination weren't filling Arnold with the uncertainty he'd experienced earlier.

"Say, Arnold," Rhonda followed up, "what do you think will be the first thing you'll say to your parents?"

"Say what now?" he responded with renewed uncertainty.

"Thing is," she reminded him, "there's ten years of catching up to do. Where do you even start?"

She watched as his uncertainty slowly gave way to another one of his sanguine smiles. A good sign: hope germinating within the unknown. He then took her hand and guided her to the closest seats. "I think we'll need to sit down while we figure that one out."

"We, Arnold?"

"Well yeah!" was his response. "I know this really awesome girl who keeps reminding me how I don't have to do all the heavy lifting."

"I feel I ought to be jealous of that girl," Rhonda teased back, raising a chuckle from Arnold. And as they discussed the matter, he again felt he could dare to be…optimistic? Hopeful? Certainly confident enough to recall his mantra, the magic words.

"I'll do it!"

And that will do for this chapter, Ladies and Gentlemen. As ever, thank you so much for reading my offering. It pleases me that you are reading and (hopefully) enjoying my stories. I am also heartened by your willingness to explore alternative scenarios within your favorite universe (and mine...) and not allow your creativity always to be dictated to by the canon status quo. In turn, I am motivated to deliver to you my best possible work.

Anyway...to the reviews, Robin!

Kryten: Don't forget the grandparents! The lie worked because they were also involved in the game, so no underaged characters would be acting inappropriately.

The J.A.M. a.k.a. Numbuh i: As I mentioned in my PM, the scene you read was exactly the scene I had in mind, i.e. a meeting of hearts and minds. I wanted them to convey their intimacy and comfort solely through words and touch and I deliberately omitted any kissing. The scene was based on an episode in which Helga monologues on what a hopeless romantic Rhonda is and well...I thought why not really highlight this aspect about her with her tenderness and compassion towards Arnold. Also, as I wrote this scene, I felt kinda sad to think that a scene like this couldn't play out with Arnold and Helga pre-TJM. The talk about their mothers would already be dead in the water because no way would Helga remember Miriam nearly as fondly.

The hotdog man: Thank you for especially noticing the rescue team. I always ensure that my minor characters, even the featured extras, can in some way make an impact on my readers. As for my top 10 anime titles, this is how it currently stands. Ask me another time and I'm prone to give a list of 10 different but equally worthy titles.

1) Samurai Champloo

2) Steins;Gate

3) Macross Plus

4) Earth Maiden Arjuna

5) Perfect Blue

6) Future Boy Conan

7) Street Fighter II: The Animated Movie

8) Cyber City Oedo 808

9) Blue Gender

10) Arrietty

Orange Ratchet: Hey, I like Phoebe. I might have put her through the wringer, but I'll never leave her in the lurch. As for the couch scene, one point I wanted to make was how thoroughly invested Rhonda is in helping to find Arnold's parents.

Anonymous Latino: I do believe this to be the first review in which you do not express feelings of shock, awkwardness, or discomfort. Who are you and what have you done to the real Anonymous Latino!?

Then there are my notes:

The flight distance from Seattle to Managua, Nicaragua is 3207 miles. So I added an extra 393 miles for a nicely rounded 3600 miles from Hillwood to Puerto Clara.

A distance of 3600 miles is well within the maximum range 8 052 miles which the Gulfstream G650 boasts. Thus, an uninterrupted flight is easily possible.

Unfortunately, the aircraft, with a long-distance cruising speed of 561 mph, would take just under 6 hours 30 minutes to complete the flight. To which I said damn. You see, I was hoping to slip in a reference of an 11-hour flight in honor of Commando, the very epitome of the 80's action movie.

Finally, there's the Deezer list for this chapter:

Voyager – Daft Punk

Walking On A Dream – Empire Of The Sun

No Roots – Faithless

Calling You – George Benson

Leaving Wallbrook/On The Road – Hans Zimmer

Sun In My Pocket – Locnville

And that brings to a close this chapter. See you in the next one!