Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed. I appreciate your criticism, advice, and praise. I'll try to do better as this series continues. Also, I don't own Hey Arnold or ER; Nickelodeon and NBC do.

Hillwood Medical

Episode 2: You can come home again.

"Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold!"

Arnold smashed his alarm clock and groaned. He didn't know why he kept that crazy clock sometimes.

It was 9 AM. He had overslept. He rolled out of bed and stretched. Sean was going to be late for school, and it was his fault.

"Sean, get up! You over-slept!" There was no answer. Arnold lumbered towards his son's room and knocked on the door. "Short-man?" He opened the door and was shocked at what he saw. The bed was made and his action figures were put away.

"You know, you're not the only one who can fix him breakfast and change his clothes."

Arnold looked up and blinked at what he saw. Standing before him was a tall, taut woman with long brown hair and smooth skin, clad in a green bath-robe.

"I must be dreaming."

"Why?"

"You're actually here."

"I came back at midnight. You and Sean were sleeping like rocks."

"Still working on the asbestos case?"

"Yeah, I think we're going to nail this one."

"That's good," Arnold yawned.

"You're tired, Dr. Greene." She slunk over towards him wearing a seductive smile. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him deeply.

"I think you need to go back to bed."

"I think I do too." With that, she led him back to their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"I can't believe it's her."

"Neither can I, honey."

"Of all people, it had to be her."

"Gerald!"

"Sorry! Hey, maybe she's changed."

"Of course she has. She wasn't that bad in the first place."

"Uh-huh."

"Just give her a chance."

"Ok, babe, just for you though." He kissed her gently as they waited at the baggage claim area.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Delta Airlines would like to welcome the arrival of Delta Flight 1288 from London. Passengers can pick up their luggage on Baggage Claim D."

"Well, that means that she's here."

"I wonder how we'll be able to tell which one she is."

"Oh, I think we'll be able to tell."

"It's been almost 7 years, Pheebs."

"Trust me, we'll just know."

"You mean you'll know and I won't."

"Exactly."

They scanned the passengers walking down the escalator. They saw old couples, teenagers on their first flight, businessmen returning from "working vacations" but no one who could possibly be her. Gerald sighed in frustration and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, his eyes shifted towards one of the last passengers walking down the escalator.

"Pheebs, look!"

They both focused on a woman wearing a long black overcoat. Her tall, slender figure was complemented by long, flowing, blond hair that reached her shoulders. Her facial features were sharp but had a distinct, hidden softness underneath.

"Is that?"

"I think so." Phoebe ran towards the woman followed closely by Gerald.

"Helga!"

The woman raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Helga, it's me Phoebe! Dr. Wartz sent us here to pick you up."

"Pheebs! Wow, you look incredible! I never could have guessed it was you."

"I could say the same for you, Helga." The two women embraced happily. Gerald smiled as he watched the reunion between the two childhood friends. Phoebe stepped back and gestured towards him.

"You remember, Gerald?" Helga stared intently.

"What happened to the tall hair?"

"The same thing that happened to your eyebrow." They both laughed, and shook hands.

"It's been a long time, Helga; almost too long."

"We have so much catching up to do," Phoebe interjected.

Gerald's cell-phone chimed and he checked his text message.

"Well, if you'll excuse me ladies. I just remembered that I have a prior engagement at the racquetball court. I'll see you both tonight." He gave a quick kiss to Phoebe and headed towards the exit.

"Come on, Helga, I'll help you with your bags."

"Thanks, Pheebs."

"Do you have anything else coming in the mail?"

"Yeah, but I'll take care of that later. I need to drop this stuff off at the apartment I'm renting."

"Ok, once we do that, how about we have coffee?"

Arnold bounced the racquetball impatiently. It wasn't like Gerald to be late for their weekly game.

"Sorry, man." Gerald sprinted toward the court.

"I thought you chickened out."

"Are you kidding? I was just talking to Phoebe."

"Oh? Didn't she go to pick up the new trauma surgeon?"

"Yeah."

"Know anything about her?"

"Like what?"

"Is she good looking? How long has she been practicing? Where did she practice? That sort of stuff."

"Wait a sec; you shouldn't care how she looks. You are happy with what you've got, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah; when she's there." Arnold smiled sadly. Gerald gave a sympathetic grin.

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when you see her." He smashed the ball into the front corner.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, get ready to lose." Arnold chuckled. He picked up the ball, bounced it a few times, and tossed it gently, letting it bounce once. He wound up and...

BAM!

The loud sound of Wartz's mug violated the tense silence in the room.

"You know, Larry; I cannot believe that you would even suggest that."

"Vince, you know that we're in a bit of a crunch right now."

"Then try cutting something else, like your own salary."

"Vince."

"Ok, I'm sorry. But I am not going to let you insult my doctors by proposing this budget cut."

"It's going to be temporary, Vince. We just need to weather the storm for a while."

"I don't know how I'm going to tell them."

"Why did you stop the e-mails, Helga?" They were sitting in a corner table at the local Starbuck's.

Helga sighed, as she stirred her coffee.

"I don't really know Pheebs. I guess I got busy. I guess I wanted to start over and forget about Hillwood and the rest of you guys. I guess I didn't really want to hear about how happy your lives were and keep telling you how mine wasn't up to par." Phoebe sipped her coffee and listened intently.

"I don't understand, Helga; you graduated from Brown; you went to Columbia and graduated near the top of your class; you met a great guy in Julian. You were doing ok." At the mention of Julian, Helga smirked.

"The only thing that Julian was in love with was his research. He would spend hours at the lab doing his work and then come back expecting me to nurse his wounds. That's all I ever was to him; a cheer-leader."

Phoebe nodded sympathetically.

"I mean, the whole reason I moved to England was to show him that I was ready and willing to make sacrifices for him. These researchers live in their own sterile intellectual heaven; they don't like dealing with dirty things like people." At that remark, Phoebe chuckled.

"Still the poet, eh, Helga?"

"Just occasionally. It doesn't pay the bills."

"Still write poetry about... ice-cream?" At that word Helga shuddered.

"No, of course not."

"Helga."

"Look, Pheebs that was a long time ago. I loved him when I was 9. I still liked him in high school, but he was ogling over Lila the whole time. You learn to move on."

"You never forget your first love, Helga. You can never fully get over someone you loved; they take a piece of you with them whether you like it or not."

"You're right about that, Pheebs."

"About what?"

"He took a big piece of me."

Arnold hummed an old Dino Spumoni tune as he breezed through the kitchen. He checked the chicken periodically. He wanted to make sure this meal was perfect; it would be the first meal they had shared as a family in a long time.

"Hey, daddy!" Sean opened the door and threw his coat on the couch.

"Hey there, short-man." He went over and hugged his son.

"What's that smell?"

"Just some chicken roasting in the oven. Mom's eating dinner with us tonight."

"That's great!"

"I know. You got a lot of homework short-man?"

"Just a little. It's all spelling and arithmetic."

"2 of my favorite subjects. Why don't you get started on it and then you can watch some TV when you're done?

"Ok." Sean was about to run to his room when the phone rang.

"I'll get it." The little boy raced towards the phone.

"Hello. Hi, mommy. Yeah, he's right here." He handed the phone to his father and ran to his room.

"Hey hon. Yeah. Yeah, I know. But you promised. Ok, I know things like that can happen. I'm not mad. Ok, I love you too." Arnold sighed as he hung up the phone.

"Daddy?" Sean stepped outside.

"That was mommy, short-man. She can't make it to dinner. The trial is lasting longer than she expected and they need to prep more material." The little boy's face sunk. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, short-man? Is Spiderman on at this time?" The boy's face brightened a bit.

"I think so." Arnold turned on the TV.

"So how is she?" Gerald and Phoebe walked into the ER together.

"She's a real swan. Mature, poised, beautiful. And yet, the same old Helga underneath."

"Let me guess. All that internal anguish, still bottled up like you told me before?"

"Exactly."

"Phoebe, Gerald." Wartz's bark interrupted their conversation.

"What is it Vince?" Gerald was a bit annoyed at the interruption.

"I just wanted to say that we're going to have to run a tighter ship here. The top brass is shortening the string."

"Oh, you can't be serious? We're already barely making it on what we're given now."

"Look, Phoebe, you think I didn't voice that opinion? I'm just one voice. They already think that I'm not objective because I do trauma. So we can cry about it or we can adapt. This is a crisis. Deal with it." Wartz stormed off, cursing under his breath.

"What's with the long faces?" Arnold walked into the locker-room and changed into his scrubs.

"Wartz says the top brass decided our budget wasn't small enough." Arnold rolled his eyes.

"I think Larry and the rest of those directors need to change out of their suits and into some scrubs before they start making these decisions." The three of them shared a laugh. Arnold and Gerald did their secret handshake and walked into the lobby.

"Dr. Greene? There's a man in curtain area 2 whose son fell from the stairs."

"Ok, thanks Sheena." He followed her into the room and was faced with a little boy, no older than his son's age sitting on the bed next to his father.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene." The child looked up but didn't say anything. "What happened exactly?" The father, a big burly man, spoke up.

"He was running down the stairs; I always told him not to run, but kids today don't listen. He slipped on some toys he had at the top and crashed all the way down the stairs. I brought him here to make sure he didn't have anything broken." Arnold stared carefully at the boy. He was holding his chest painfully and his breathing was shallow. He frowned when he noticed some bruises near his ears and above his cheek-bones.

"Well, sir, I think we need to take him up to x-ray and see if anything is broken. It looks like he might have some broken ribs, but I want to make sure. In the mean time, sir, you can sit in the waiting room until we hear from radiology." The man nodded and left. Arnold turned to Sheena and motioned her to come closer. He whispered something in her ear. She gave him a skeptical look.

"You've got to trust me on this one; those bruises shouldn't be there if he landed on his chest." She nodded. Arnold turned to the boy.

"Ok, kiddo, just go with Sheena and she'll take you to radiology. We're going to see what happened to those ribs."

"What do we have?" The blond haired surgeon ran alongside the EMT.

"16 year old, was in a high speed MVC, minimal consciousness, extreme hemorrhaging from the chest."

"She's going into shock." Debbie interjected, running alongside.

"Crimeny; let's get an IV into him. Keep the SBP near 90; anything higher will rupture the formed clots. I want a Chest CT; call cardiology and tell them to get someone over here."

"Cardiology is booked."

"Ok, then we'll do it ourselves."

"I can't believe you weren't going to let me have any fun." Gerald appeared beside Helga.

"Well, you came just in time then."

Phoebe walked into the guest quarters where the Wittenbergs were staying. A baseball game was playing on TV in the background, and he was pacing nervously while she sat with her head in her hands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wittenberg?" They looked up expectantly.

"I'm Dr. Heyerdahl. I believe your grandson checked in yesterday."

"Yes, how is he?"

"Well, I just got a report from ICU. He's still sleeping but it looks like the swelling has subsided. He won't be needing surgery. You can see him now." At these words, the old couple embraced. Coach Wittenberg shook Phoebe's hand, and his wife grabbed her in a surprise hug.

"Thank you so much; you don't know how much this means to us." They walked quickly to the elevator.

Phoebe smiled. Small victories made all the difference.

Arnold squinted at the x-rays. There were 2 hairline fractures along the ribs. The bruises bothered him the most. He sighed and walked into the room.

"Ok, kiddo, it looks like you've got some small fractures on your ribs. I'm going to give you some Tylenol for the pain. Put some ice on it everyday. Does it hurt when you breathe?" The boy timidly nodded his head. He still hadn't said much ever since he had arrived.

"Ok, you still need to take deep breaths. Take a pillow and hug it around your chest when you breathe. Like this." Arnold demonstrated for the boy. He nodded his head to show he understood. Arnold sat on the bed beside him.

"Hey, kiddo, you never told me your name." The boy looked at him but still remained silent.

"My name's Arnold. What's yours?" Arnold smiled kindly at the boy.

"Timothy." The boy barely whispered.

"Ok, Timothy, how did you get those bruises?" Arnold pointed at the bruises on the boy's ears and cheek. Timothy remained silent.

"They weren't from falling down the stairs were they? Neither were those broken ribs." The boy looked at Arnold, tears forming in his eyes.

"You can talk to me Timothy; your father is in the waiting room."

"He's, he's not my father. Not my real one."

"Ok."

"He hits me, calls me names. He hits my mommy too."

"Dr. Greene?" A petite black haired woman peeked into the curtain. Arnold went over and she whispered something in his ears. Arnold nodded and they re-entered the room.

"Timothy, this is Maria, from child-protective services. Why don't you tell her what you told me?"

"No!" The little boy cried.

"Timothy, it's going to be ok. We're going to make sure you're safe." Maria knelt down to the boy.

"No, I don't want my mom to stay with him. I have to protect her."

"Excuse me, what is going on here." Timothy's father had entered the room, pulling open the curtain.

"Sir, my name is Maria Hernandez and I'm with child-protective services." The man raised an eye at the last words.

"Child protective services? I don't know what this is about; all Timmy had here was some injuries from falling from the stairs."

"Sir, we have reason to believe that Timothy has been suffering from physical abuse at home."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Who made that call?"

"I did." Arnold stepped into the conversation. The man spun around and looked furiously at him.

"Wait a sec, doc, you're saying I beat up my kid?"

"Timothy's injuries are consistent with typical child-abuse cases. Unusual bruising to the ears and face. Timidity and low-self esteem. A sense of withdrawn behavior." The man took a step towards Arnold.

"Now, you listen doc, your job here is to make sure my boy gets better; not to make judgment calls on how I raise my kid."

"Sir, I have a legal obligation to report any cases of suspected abuse."

"You really think I would hit my kid?" He took another step towards Arnold.

"Well, sir, from the way you are reacting towards me, I wouldn't be so surprised."

"You son of a..." He swung hard with his right hand at Arnold's head, but Arnold parried it deftly with his left palm shifting his momentum towards the left and exposing his right side. He hit the man's ribs with a flurry of punches causing him to wheeze and gasp for air. He collapsed to his knees, and crumbled to the ground.

The ER was speechless. The nurses and clerks froze in their places. Arnold backed away, stunned at his response. Troy walked over, shaking his head.

"Well, it looks like we have a new patient."

She threw away the bloody latex gloves and wiped the sweat off her brow, breathing a heavy sigh. As she left the trauma room she ran into Debbie.

"The girl's parents are waiting outside, Dr. Pataki."

"Ok, thanks Debbie." She walked quickly into the waiting room and found them sitting next to the magazines.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Pataki." The woman looked up and smiled weakly.

"How is she, doctor?"

"She suffered massive a massive aortic rupture and valvular damage. We were able to repair the damage, but she's still in critical condition. At this point, all we can do is wait." The woman nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Pataki." Helga nodded, and walked off towards the locker-room. As she was about to enter, she heard an angry voice coming from inside. She quickly slipped to one side and listened.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking, Greene."

"I didn't mean to hurt him that badly; it was just instincts."

"I don't care what you meant. The means don't matter."

"It was in self-defense. There are plenty of witnesses who will vouch for me."

"Of course, they'll vouch for you. They see a hero who punched out some guy who beat up his kid. You know what I see? A lawsuit. I see it coming out from your salary."

"Fine, then, Vince. You can take as much of my salary as you want!" Arnold stormed out of the locker-room and walked past Helga without even looking. Helga entered the locker-room and put on her coat.

"What happened?"

"Oh, Dr. Greene decided to play hero tonight." Wartz shook his head.

"By the way, how'd that girl turn out?"

"She's in critical but stable condition." He nodded approvingly.

"You know, Helga, I think you're going to fit right in. Good night."

Helga walked out of the ER, still stunned at Arnold's actions. She had never seen him react violently towards anyone, regardless of how bad they were. Had he really changed that much? Why did she still care?

She shook her head quickly, clearing those thoughts. She walked faster, not looking up until she passed the park. And there he was.

He was standing behind one of the benches, gazing at the sky. She steadied herself with a deep breath and walked over beside him.

"Walking alone tonight, Dr. Greene?"

"Yeah, just admiring how nice the park looks at 4 AM." He spoke lazily, still gazing at the sky.

"That must have been some punch you threw back there. Ol'Betsy couldn't have done much better."

"Yeah, well, it didn't win me any praise from...Ol'Betsy?" Arnold turned around with a surprised look and stared at the blond-haired surgeon smiling shyly at him.

"H-Helga?"

"Who, else football-head?" He stared at her, transfixed at how much she'd changed.

"What are you doing here? And, when did you come in?"

"I guess, no one told you; I'm the new trauma surgeon." Arnold smiled.

"I guess Gerald was right that I'd be pleasantly surprised when I met the new surgeon. And besides, you're the best looking thing a person could see at 4 AM," he added slyly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helga asked in mock annoyance, punching him on the shoulder, laughing.

"You look good, Helga." He gazed at her intently. It took all her effort not to melt under his stare.

"You too, football-head."

"My head's not that football-shaped anymore, is it?" Helga chuckled.

"No, but you'll always be football-head to me."

"That's fine." Silence fell between them as they walked.

"You know, I missed you, Helga."

"Really?"

"Of course. We were friends for a long time. I always wondered what happened to you."

"Well, my life hasn't been perfect like Gerald and Phoebe's. I wasted a couple of years with a research scientist in London who spent more time with cancer infected mice than he did with me." Arnold chuckled.

"Yeah, it can get addicting. I used to do that over the summer when I was an undergrad."

"What about you? Are you and Lila still together?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're married now." He paused and sighed. "If you even want to call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess we just haven't really had time for each other lately. She and a couple of partners in her firm are suing some company over asbestos. We've got a six-year old who saw his mom at most, once a day."

"So what you're telling me is that there's trouble in paradise?" He smiled. He always enjoyed her wit.

"Fair enough."

They stopped in front of a tall, aging apartment building. Arnold spoke first.

"Well, I guess this is my stop."

"Really, then you can walk me up to my room."

"It would be an honor. I'm on the fifth floor if you ever need me." They walked in silence up three flights of stairs.

"Well, my place is here."

"Need help unpacking?"

"Maybe tomorrow." They stood outside Helga's door like a couple on their first date not really knowing what to do. Arnold raised his hand and brushed back a strand of hair on Helga's face. Their eyes met.

"Goodnight, Dr. Pataki." Arnold turned around and continued walking slowly up the stairwell leaving Helga with some confused thoughts.