A/N: Another chapter is up. Couldn't keep this in my head any longer. Had to write it. I like that you guys like this.

Please advise: Language that might be offensive is used in this chapter, and will be used through out the story.

"Power cut, proceed."

He nods and Eddy goes first, rifle drawn, and he's right behind him. Eddy fires and plants two in the chest of a target, and he fires two center mass on the target just about to draw. Him and Eddy were always a good team, able to read each others motions. "Prelim recon puts the target top floor, north side corner, copy?" Commander comes on the com.

"Solid copy, Commander." He says into his set. They clear the staircase, him taking point. Taking cover at the top of the stairs, he signals Eddy to split up and take the right hallway. Eddy nods and waits for his signal. He signals and swings his rifle around, pointing down the hall, moving faster than he usually does. He hears someone shouting in a language he can't understand. "Count!" He yells.

Hearing four shots from Eddy's rifle, and the fire fight muffled outside, he hears Eddy call out. "Three down, clear south!"

"Target?" He shouts still moving down the dank, dark hall.

"Negative!"

He stops and takes a knee when he sees an insurgent comes out from around the corner. The insurgent doesn't see him, just lifts his gun to something in the room he's facing into. Not taking the time to wonder what it is, he sights, putting a round through the forearm, then two in the back. "One down, clear it north!" He shouts. He stands up and quickly makes his way toward the door.

He's shocked at the sight he sees. It's the first time on this squad that they've gotten to the target on time. "Hostage secure!" He calls out. "Hostage secure. Repeat: we got her." He says into his set.

"Roger that, Brightside. Sending Red and Snowman up to clear it. Final sweep, bring her out." Commander orders.

He checks his barrel and shoulders his rifle, swinging it on his sling over his shoulder. She's sobbing, trying to scream over her gag and is bound by rope. She's dirty, sweaty, shaking violently. They got her. They finally got it. "It's okay, I'm here to help." He says to the hyperventilating, shaking, scared to death woman who's huddled in the corner. He reaches out and pulls down her gag. "Are you hurt?"

The woman just begins to sob uncontrollably, crying out at the top of her lungs.

He ignores it and lifts the woman's bound hands and puts them around his neck, picking her up off the floor. "Hostage secure, severely shaken up, malnourished, needs a medic. On our way out, Commander."

"It's clear, Brightside. Transport en route to take her to the embassy. Good work."

The hostage, still sobbing into his vest, starts to speak over her intense emotion. "W-who are y-you?"

"I'm with the US military. You're safe now, ma'am" After he walks her down the stairs, passing Southpark and Benny making their final sweep of the first floor, he makes his way outside and over to the truck, where the Commander is on the phone. He sits her down next to the Commander and pulls his k-bar out of his belt, cutting the bounds.

'Brightside! Go tell Snowman to get that damn power back on. Can't see where the fuck I'm goin!" Eddy shouts from a second story window.

He chuckles and runs off.

His eyes pop open and he sits up a bit.

He groans and falls back down to the bed. That's the second dream he's had about that mission. That was the most successful operation he went on with that squad, and he's having nightmares about it? To him, it didn't make sense. It just... it couldn't have been her that night. At the time, he didn't think anything of it. Never thought anything of anything. Military beat the second guesses out of him.

He sits up and swings his legs out. He's still drenched in sweat and the ceiling fan isn't doing a damn thing. He turns his head behind him and sees that it's just past three in the morning. His first class isn't until ten. He groans, knowing it would be fruitless to try and go back to sleep and stands up. He makes his way lethargically into the bathroom and flips on the light, splashing his face with cold water, then braces his hands on the sink, looking himself in the mirror. He looks tired, needs a shave maybe. He stares at himself for a moment, his eyes briefly tracing his patches of scare tissue. Shaking his head, he sighs and goes to change.

After running an extra two miles just because he had the time, he showers, takes a quick swig of the half empty bottle of Sailor Jerry's that's in the fridge and heads out. He wouldn't have, but his first class is Writing, and the person that's brought upon this wave of flashbacks, depriving him of sleep, is in this class. He's avoided her the past couple of days. Thinking that if he did that, they'd go away. He should have known better.

They never go away.

Or maybe it's just because he doesn't want to know who was on the other end of that phone call. He's tried to convince himself that it was just one of her parents, or maybe even her sister. But unless Bob came back after running out on them during their sophomore year of high school and somehow managed to make amends and she's been able to over look sixteen years of neglect and emotional torment, he knew it wasn't him. It could be her mother. Last he's heard of her, she was a 'functioning' alcoholic. Most likely it was her sister, if it was family at all. Olga ran off to New York after graduating boarding school to quote "find herself". That was in their junior year.

He doesn't trust himself enough if it was a boyfriend. Especially since she said love. The only time she told him she loved him was in her goodbye note. He spotted it while grabbing a pair of pants this morning. Started to reach for it but instead, settled for slamming the dresser drawer shut, grabbing his old, field jacket that's been with him since Iraq and heading out the door to campus.

It's close to nine forty-five when he pulls to a stop and steps out of his car. His apartment isn't too far from campus. Helga's living in the newly redone dorms. She's happy about it, shares a bathroom with just her roommate. She's... happy. With the little time spent with her, she has this happiness she carries with her. A brightness he never remembered seeing in her. And he doesn't know how long it will take to have him completely falling for her all over again. If he's not already.

Hell, who is he kidding. He never got over her to start with.

"Arnold!" He hears a voice call out to him. He looks up and sees her smiling and picking up her pace toward him. She has on a light pink polo shirt and her hair let down, well past her shoulders. He's stopped by her image; stunning, captivating, everything he remembers her being. Her smile widens and she lifts her arms out to him and hugs him. He doesn't want to let himself get used to that, but doesn't want her to stop either.

"Hey... Helga." He pauses to stop from accidentally uttering her old pet name again. She seemed a bit phased the last time he let it slip.

"I haven't seen you all week." She says when she steps back.

"I've been around." He says and stuff his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Not around me. That's the point."

"It's a big campus, Helga." Her smile falls a bit and she turns to head into the building for class. Before he can shut himself up, it's out. "Helga." He calls out to her with her hand on the door. She turns, her smile small and probably fake. "Do you drink?"

Her smile widens a bit and she steps back over to him. "On occasion."

"It is Friday and we haven't exactly finished um... catching up."

"No..." She says with a slow shake of her head. "We haven't."

"There's a small bar by my apartment and the atmosphere would be made even better if you were there. Seven?"

"I think I can make seven." They smirk at each other and head inside for class.

All he can do is hope that he didn't just make a huge mistake.

He pulls to a stop just outside to door to her dorm building and waits, taking a deep breath. They'd made an agreement that this was a 'night out', and to dress accordingly. Although, he's in nothing more than black jeans and a black long sleeved shirt. He rolls down the window, plants his elbow on the ledge and waits. He doesn't know where this night is going to take them. A part of him wants it to end like it did five years ago, but he knows it won't. After all, that was five years ago.

He hears the door open to the dorms and looks. Once again, she succeeds in depriving him of thought. She comes out wearing a light blue shirt that's cut down lower than anything he's ever seen her in, and a matching skirt that comes just a little ways past the middle of her thighs. The last time he's seen her amazing legs... god.

She stops and looks over his care for a minute, giving it a weird look. She climbs in and looks over to him, squinting. "Where'd you get this?"

"Just suffice to say, I've saved up for it." Technically, he's not lying. Early 2005 Range Rover wouldn't exactly have people pegging him as a high roller.

He drives them just ten minutes to The Old Smoke. A hole in the wall, dark, smokey bar. Not a club, not a sports bar, just quiet, the way he needs it. He parks across the street and leads her in, holding the door open for her, and he just can't help it. Her scent is more potent tonight, and she looks more radiant than he ever remembers seeing her. "Arnold!" Ricky, the bartender calls. He was hoping Ricky would be working tonight.

"What's going on, Ricky?" He says and takes a seat at the bar in front of him. "Ricky, I'd like you to meet Helga." He says and presents his hand toward her. "She's an old... friend from high school." He corrects himself.

"Well, any gorgeous friend of Arnold's is a girl whose getting her first on the house. What'll it be, Helga?" Ricky asks and cracks open a Sam Adams and puts it in front of Arnold.

"Rum and Coke, please." She says with a smile. After Ricky hands her her drink, and she takes what looks like a hesitant sip, he wants to start flirting with her. Just like he used to when they first started dating back in high school. But he doesn't. Just looks away and takes another long swig of his beer. "So..." She begins.

He looks over and sees her grinning at him. "What?" He asks on somewhat of a chuckle.

"I told you a story of mine. You have to tell me one."

"Ha..." He half halfheartedly chuckles, simply to keep the mood light. "I suppose I do." He pauses to wait to her to offer him a way out. But she doesn't. Alright, there is one that he can tell her. It's one of the ones that still gives him nightmares. "My first tour, I was on a squad that was responsible for conducting terror sweeps. Basically, just going into someones home, ransack it looking for 'terror related contraband'," he says with air quotes, his beer still in hand, "then leave and go to the next house. We were just about done, when we heard the Apache open fire in the quad. They're these... helicopters with thirty millimeter cannons on them. I started toward the quad, but was told to hold position and wait for the all clear. I heard on the radio that a van had pulled up next to the bodies, then I heard them open up again. I was told there was still movement and to scope out the situation to confirm an all clear."

He pauses as the images of that day, along with the trauma, begin to trickle into his system.

"I started toward the bodies, and-" He stops to keep his voice from faltering. "And when I opened the door to the van... I saw the manged bodies two children." He hears her gasp, and bitterly thinks that he's not even to the good part. "Couldn't have been older than seven or eight." He decides to leave out the part of him vomiting at the sight. "But when I looked, I saw that one of them was still moving. So... I yelled on the radio for a medic, I picked the kid up in my arms and started running toward a house that we had swept. I put him down on the floor and shouted to get the medic. He couldn't even speak, didn't look at me. He was just shaking."

He stops and takes a long swing of his beer, holding it in his throat for a minute before he swallows it.

"He died in my arms two minutes later." He thinks she might have tears in her eyes. She hasn't said anything, letting him finish, just as he did with her. He blinks back the ones he has and continues. "Later we found out that the Apache gunner mistook a fathers camera for a gun. Worst part is he was an American citizen visiting family." He looks down to the bar after staring straight forward and begins to swallow his emotions, just as he's done since then. "So that's war for you. The part they don't tell you about on the news."

"Arnold, I..." She starts. He looks over to her and her eyes are starting to brim with tears. He can't figure out why though. "I didn't know." She says lowly and puts a hand on his forearm that's laying on the bar.

"Most people don't want to."

"How did-" She cuts herself off, but he looks back over to her, honestly curious as to what she was going to ask.

"What is it, Helga?" He asks softly.

She looks away, taking her hand away and putting it back on her glass. "How did you come back from that?"

He draws in a long breath and lets it out, deflating himself as much as he can. He looks back over to her, about to tell her that he never did, when his eye catches the door opening. "No way." He says and quickly slides off his stool. "Eddy?!"

The five foot eight Italian looks over to him, a smile breaking onto his face. "Brightside?!"

"Eddy!" He shouts, rushing him with open arms and hugging him. The two friends tightly embrace each other, laughing and shaking each other, slapping each other on the backs.

"God damn it, Brightside, what the hell are you doing here?" He says in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"I grew up here, man. Going to school on GI."

"Ahem..." He hears a broad throat clearing from behind him, snapping him back to what he was in the middle of.

"Oh!" He exclaims and steps aside and turns toward Helga. "Helga, this is Eddy Costello. We went through AIT together." He once again half-thruths. "Eddy, this is Helga Pataki. We-"

"Wait, you're tellin' me that you're the Helga? The same one that-" Eddy is silenced by Arnold slamming his fist into his shoulder without Arnold moving his body. Arnold looks over to Eddy, silently telling him to shut the hell up about it. Eddy, seeing this, smiles and looks back over to Helga. "Nice to meet you, Helga." He says and shakes her hand.

"Likewise. So... Brightside..." Helga says, giving Arnold a cheshire grin, "There's a name I never came up with."

"I started getting called Brightside because I feel the need to remind people that it could be worse."

"Yeah, 'look at the bright side, fellas. we might be in the fuckin' desert, but at least we're here together.'" Eddy mocks. "Fuckin' ass!" He says and wraps his arm around Arnold, brotherly shaking him.

"What are you drinking tonight, Eddy?" Arnold says and starts back toward the bar.

He then hears Helga let out a small shriek and looks back toward the door, where she's practically prancing toward a guy who just walked in. Arnold's heart, knowing what he's witnessing, sinks. He sees Eddy look back over toward him, wide eyed and shocked. Probably knowing what Arnold said about Helga in the past. "You made it." He hears her say the guy whose shoulders she just placed her hands, and whose lips she just chastely kissed. Eddy puts his hand on his partners shoulder, gripping it tightly in his hand, probably knowing what it feels like. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Arnold, frozen in place, heart thumping in his stomach, feeling like he's going to be sick, slumps down on a bar stool, watching Helga drag this... intruder... over to him and Eddy. Wearing a light blue button up shirt, slacks, standing three inches or more taller than her, an obviously fake smile, and his hand around her hip, is a person whom Arnold has never met, yet just ripped his life into shreds. "This is Arnold, the guy I told you about."

"Arnold, nice to meet you." He says and extends his hand. Arnold looks at it and hesitantly shakes it. "Helga just goes on about you."

"Does she?" He says past rising jealousy.

"Arnold, this is Roy. My boyfriend." She says with a proud smile. But while she's brimming from ear to ear, Arnold never remembers feeling like this. Like is life is over. "I hope you don't mind, Arnold, but Roy wanted to take me out to dinner tonight. I forgot to tell you, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Go ahead." He forces.

Helga smiles and bounces on her feet. "Thanks Arnold. See you in class." She then takes Roy's hand and is out the door.

Eddy still hasn't let go of his friends shoulder. "What the fuck was that?" Eddy says and looks down to him.

"I-I uh..."

"You said that that was your girl. Your girl! That she was the reason you haven't offed yourself yet! What the hell is she doin' with some dick licker like him?"

"She moved on, Eddy." He resigns and turns back to the bar.

Eddy sighs and pats his friend on the back. "Look, here's my number. Call me when that bombshell is back on your arm instead of his, hooah?" Eddy makes his exit, muttering as he goes.

Arnold just sighs, picks his bottle back up and puts it to his lips. "Hooah."

A/N: Those of you who've read the original can probably guess where I will take this. I'm going to put a different spin on it though. Introduce a new (old) side character in the next chapter, along with more background.

Also, the story Arnold told is based on true events. You can look up Collateral Murder from wikileaks if you're interested in finding out more.