[A/N: Hi all! SCHOOL IS CRAZY. But, I had a few hours of inspiration and motivation and FINALLY pumped something out. This is *one* of the climaxes of the story so I hope you enjoy and I hope it brings a lot of questions to light! If you're still confused by anything, let me know in the reviews and I'll explain in my next author's note.

ALSO: Just a warning, this chapter will get intense regarding topics of depression, suicide, etc.

D/C: I don't own ANYTHING :)]

Present Day

It was late in the evening when Lila showed up at his house. She'd called him only a couple hours prior and begged him to let her come by, insisting on his silence and promising to give him more information once she got there. He'd moved to the area after high school because he thought he belonged in a more rural area. Lila drove up a long driveway to the old farmhouse. There were no streetlights sans the one off the main road so with nightfall, the fields were cloaked in darkness. She parked close to the house, gave her clothes and hair a tousle to give off a disheveled appearance, and walked up to the front door.

The screen door didn't close all the way and the main door needed a new coat of paint. Lila knocked twice, looking around her suspiciously as she stood waiting on the porch. The light from the porch lamp, even though it was dim, made her nervous that someone could see her but she might not be able to see them as she looked out into the distance where the fields seemed endless. She was pulled out of her thoughts when the front door opened.

"Ms. Lila," Stinky's drawl welcomed her and he opened the screen door. "I – What in the heck?!" He exclaimed when he saw her face and the dark purple bruise surrounding her eye.

"Hi Stinky," Lila said in her most pitiful voice.

Stinky stepped aside and ushered her in. "Please, come in…" He said, holding the door open. "Do you have any bags?"

Lila stepped past him into the foyer. "They're in the car; don't worry about them for now,"

"Okay," Stinky said, closing the door behind them. "Wh-what happened to you, Lila?"

Lila opened her mouth as if to speak but faltered and began to cry.

"Oh –" Stinky said, awkwardly moving toward her and patting her on the back. "Please don't cry,"

Lila gathered herself and breathed in deeply. "It's okay, Stinky. It's just hard to accept the truth,"

"I understand," He nodded solemnly and invited her into the living room. "Please, come sit,"

Lila followed him into the living area and sat down on an old plaid couch.

"I can't believe he'd do this to ya," Stinky said, still staring at her in disbelief and shaking his head. "It just don't seem like Arnold,"

"I never expected it either," Lila whimpered, looking around, and Stinky immediately grabbed a box of tissues from under the coffee table and handed it to her. "Things were ever so wonderful for so long and then…" She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Everything changed," She started to cry and Stinky sat down next to her on the couch.

"You can stay here as long as ya like," Stinky assured her. "I don't have much but I reckon a safe place to sleep and food to eat is the best I can offer ya,"

Lila stopped crying and looked up at him, smiling through bleary eyes. "You've always been ever so sweet, Stinky," She said, gently laying her hand over his.

There was a part of her that felt bad for lying to Stinky but she couldn't let herself be distracted. She had more important things to tend to and coming to stay with Stinky was only a small part of her plan. Now that she was secure and didn't need to worry about where she was going to stay, she could figure out what she was going to do next. She needed to get in contact with Brooke and get more information. Only then could she make a move.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Helga hated hospitals. The offensive bleach smell that made her nose itch, the looming air of fear and sadness that wafted through the halls and clutched at the throats of visitors, the bright, sterile lights; It brought back memories she wished she didn't have. She pushed away thoughts of her being in the hospital for months, the flashes of memories of everyone involved in the car wreck plaguing her mind every time she closed her eyes, even to blink. The only reason it wasn't completely consuming her was her concern for Rich.

She'd been waiting for an hour, pacing back and forth in one of the waiting rooms, since they got to the hospital on the main land. William and his butler were on their way and Helga had been too afraid to try and contact any of the other family members so she left that to William's discretion.

Her brow was furrowed and she periodically noticed she was gritting her teeth together. She'd consciously stop doing so only to notice a few minutes later that she'd unconsciously started grinding them together again. There was a rerun of some talk show playing on the TV overhead and most of the people in the waiting room were either dozing, watching the TV, or just sitting quietly. It seemed almost taboo to speak at a normal volume in a hospital waiting room so those who were chatting where doing so in mere whispers.

"Helga," William, accompanied by Ronald, finally made it to the hospital. Helga had never seen the elderly man walk as fast as he did when he entered the waiting area. "How is he? What happened?"

"I don't know!" Helga, who'd been silent for the last hour, exclaimed in a voice louder than she intended or expected. "They haven't told me anything," She said, forcing her voice to settle.

William went up to the desk and spoke with one of the nurses, then returned to where Helga was standing. "It's his heart," He grimaced. "I shouldn't have put such strain on the boy,"

"Is he gonna be alright?" Helga asked urgently, her arms folded over her chest. "What happened?"

"She couldn't tell me much more than that," William shrugged and Ronald guided him over to one of the cushioned seats. Helga followed. "His heart is getting weaker; we knew that already. The nurse said a doctor would come out and talk to us soon,"

Helga grumbled to herself and tried to remain patient as they sat in silence, waiting. Though it felt like another hour had passed, a doctor came over to them a few minutes later.

"Mr. Bauer?" The doctor directed to William.

"Yes?" William responded, slowly standing up. "How's my grandson?"

"My name is Dr. Roberts," the doctor introduced himself. "Are you the only family?"

"For now," William nodded. "His parents are out of the country at the moment but some other relatives are on their way,"

"Okay," Dr. Roberts nodded thoughtfully, his voice gentle. "Your grandson's condition is critical. We've managed to stabilize him but it's touch and go,"

"Can we see him?" William inquired and Dr. Roberts ushered them to follow him.

"His heart is having difficulty pumping blood," Dr. Roberts explained. "That's why he passed out at home. We're doing everything we can but he's going to need a heart very soon,"

William pursed his lip and nodded his understanding. Helga's breath hitched in her throat but she furrowed her brow and forced her face into a scowl to keep her composure.

The four of them were rounding a corner when they heard monitors beeping and a commotion of doctors and nurses rush into one of the rooms. Dr. Roberts picked up his step and jogged after them. William, Ronald, and Helga followed and realized it was Rich's room and he was coding. They watched from the window as doctors and nurses surrounded him, yelling out orders and readying instruments, checking the vitals monitor and opening the front of his hospital gown.

Helga couldn't watch when they shocked Rich's heart back into rhythm. Being able to hear it was enough to traumatize her. If it wasn't already heartbreaking to be in a hospital again, seeing someone she'd actually grown to really care for in such a dire situation was almost too much for her to handle.

Once they got Rich's heart going again, everyone in the room visibly settled. William was stoic despite a few tears that had escaped and slid down his cheeks. He breathed a deep sigh of relief but there was still pain in his face.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Roberts said when he came back out. "If you guys still want to visit, you can but it needs to be brief,"

William nodded and started to enter the room once the other doctors and nurses filed out. Helga, however, held back. "Are you coming?" William inquired, confused.

Helga shook her head. She couldn't go in there. She couldn't see him like that. She could barely bring her gaze up to look at him directly through the window. "I-I can't," Her voice came out broken, soft. William pursed his lips and nodded, then turned around and walked over to his grandson's bed.

Feeling the impending onslaught of tears, Helga backed away from the hospital room and eventually began to run through the halls, past the waiting area, and back out into the parking lot. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to call a cab, then sat on a bench far away from the emergency room entrance and waited.

In the quiet outside, she couldn't escape her thoughts. Rich was dying and she felt so helpless, terrified of being alone again. He'd awakened something in her that she'd thought had died – a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. Happiness. Affection. And she was about to lose all of that all over again. Her heart felt heavy and she heaved a sob, doubling over herself on the bench and crying into her knees, her shoulders shaking. How could she go through this again? He was the first person since Arnold who had lifted her out of the shallow, grey puddle of her life. Despite the danger and the fear that came along with their investigation into Marguerite's disappearance, she'd been happy. She enjoyed being with him and saw in him a similar light she'd once seen in Arnold.

Arnold…

The only reason she was here right now, the only reason she was back in touch with Rich and investigating Marguerite was because of Arnold and the accident Helga caused.

"I'm so sorry," Helga whimpered to herself between cries. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing to Arnold or to Rich or to herself at this point. She felt completely broken and lost and once again, alone. She didn't want to reach out, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She felt like she was closing in on herself and the only thing that kept repeating in her mind was the reminder of why she was here in the first place. She came to help with the investigation, yes, but ultimately, it was to give Rich her heart.

He needs it now more than ever… Helga thought darkly, her entire body fatigued with anguish. This was the plan. It'd been the plan all along, even if she'd forgotten for a while. Even if she'd begun to imagine herself being happy with Rich. Even if part of her had begun to forgive herself for the accident, this was why she was here. And this is what she had to do.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

It was late at night and all the lights in the apartment were off sans a small lamp on the table by Arnold as he sat on the couch, laptop in his lap. Brainy was in his room, asleep, and the last thing Arnold wanted was to wake him and give him a reason to come out to the living room.

Arnold had resisted the temptation for a while but something compelled him to hack back into Helga's computer tonight. He rationalized his behavior by reminding himself he was just trying to help and told himself he would finally call her in the morning. He couldn't explain what made him feel the need to check on her tonight but his grandpa had always told him to "follow his instincts". This counted, right? Were these the types of instincts Grandpa had meant? Arnold couldn't be sure but it didn't take him long to get back to Helga's desktop.

Arnold pulled up Helga's email and skimmed through the subject headings, first clicking on the ones she'd emailed to herself. Each one was a collection of photos and Arnold pondered as to why Helga would have several black and white photos from what looked to be a parade a long time ago.

"What have you been doing?" Arnold murmured, wondering aloud as he clicked through the photos, his curiosity highly piqued.

Suddenly, the window closed and the cursor started to move. Helga had gotten on her laptop and now Arnold was watching her every move. He thought about closing the laptop out of respect. Somehow it felt different to spy on what she'd done and what she'd been looking at rather than what she was doing and currently looking at. Still, he watched.

She opened a new document and began to write.

To whoever finds this:

Please tell Phoebe I miss her and that I'm sorry I've avoided her for so long. Just the idea of spending time with people I used to be with all the time and who knew about the accident was painful. I shut everyone out, even people who just wanted to help and I'm so sorry. But I'm not sure if anything would've been different if I hadn't.

Big Bob and Miriam, you put me through hell growing up but it was nothing compared to the hell I've put myself through. I'm sorry I couldn't be the daughter you wanted and I'm sorry I never lived up to whatever potential you thought I should have. And Olga, as much as you've driven me crazy, I want you to know how much it meant to have you with me through all of my physical therapy. You helped me to heal, even if it was just physically.

I've thought about this for a long time now, ever since the accident. If I hadn't been texting, if I hadn't been distracted, it never would've happened. It's my fault that seven people died that day, one of which meant more to me than he ever knew, and I honestly never deserved to wake up out of that coma.

So I've been trying to make up for it, to atone for my sins, if you will. Seven people, seven good deeds. My inspiration, of course, being Arnold. He always told me to do the right thing… I've tried. Even if it wasn't enough.

Arnold read through the note in disbelief. He was her inspiration? And god, the guilt she was grappling with! By the way she was writing, she sounded consumed by it. But why was he her inspiration? They hadn't talked in years.

As Helga continued to type, Arnold did a quick internet search.

Hillwood car crash Summer 2008

He clicked the first article that popped up, reading through in the hope of finding some sort of clue that would explain why she was talking about him this way. That's when a sinking realization washed over him.

"No way…" Arnold murmured in disbelief as he read, then went back and checked the other articles that had popped up. "She can't think that I…"

Each of the articles contained the name of the people who'd died in the crash. They only listed the people who'd died, not the people who'd only been injured.

Maurice Loenstein, Cindy Loenstein, Jimmy Loenstein, Brianna Loenstein, Thomas Anderson, Maria Gutierrez, Arnold Shortman.

"No, no, no…" Arnold murmured in realization. "This isn't good…" The only pictures included in the articles were of the Loenstein family and Maria Gutierrez. There must have been some kind of mistake! Maybe someone misidentified the body and gave Arnold's name, since he'd been injured in the accident, instead of the name of the man who actually died. Someone made a mistake! Unless there was another Arnold Shortman traveling through Hillwood that day but regardless, Helga thought it was him! "She thinks I'm dead, she thinks she killed me!" Arnold exclaimed and quickly clicked back to Helga's desktop. She'd written more and a quick skim left Arnold feeling panicked. He quickly tracked her IP address and searched her email in the hope of finding out where she was.

Arnold grabbed his keys and wallet, secured his cell phone in his pocket and bolted out the door.

"God, I hope I'm not too late," Arnold said to himself as he jumped in his car and sped off toward the airport.

. . . . . . . .

"Hello?" Brooke answered the phone and Lila leaned against the payphone pole. She'd walked about a mile away from Stinky's house, much to his chagrin, to find a payphone and talk to Brooke in private.

"It's me," Lila said softly.

"Lila?" Brooke exclaimed. "Oh god, honey, you're alive! Where are you? Rhonda and I have been so worried…"

"I'm okay," Lila said reassuringly. "I would've told Rhonda if I had thought it was safe but I didn't have the chance. In your voicemail, you said something about possibly knowing who attacked me? And that Helga Pataki is –"

"Lila, where are you?" Brooke interrupted, clearly still on the first topic. "Rhonda told me that Arnold was cheating on you but she hasn't heard from you since you disappeared. Do you know how worried we've been?"

"I know, I'm sorry," Lila sighed. "I just… I had to get away. Things got bad between Arnold and I and I… I didn't feel safe anymore," She summoned the same whimpering voice she used when talking to Stinky. "I was afraid,"

"Oh, dear," Brooke cooed. "It's alright. Oh – wait, Rhonda wants the phone for a moment –"

"Lila!" Rhonda exclaimed into the phone. "Don't you EVER scare me like this again!"

"I'm sorry!" Lila replied. "I didn't realize how upset the two of you would get…" She sighed, suddenly feeling guilty for her secrets and lies.

"Lila, we've been best friends for most of our lives! How could you expect me to not be upset?" Rhonda exclaimed, a bit softer this time. "I helped you figure out that Arnold was cheating and you told me you wanted to get back at him but you never told me how! And then you disappeared and I thought, 'Oh, she's just fucking with his head' but then you never came back and Arnold was arrested and they found your blood everywhere and goddammit, what the hell, Lila?!" At this point, Rhonda was all but in complete hysterics.

"I'm sorry!" Lila cried. "I'm sorry, I never… I just…" She heaved a deep sigh. "I never wanted to hurt the two of you. You've been my only family, besides my father, but I just needed to…"

"Needed to what, Lila?" Rhonda demanded.

Lila groaned. "I can't – I just… I can't explain it to you… not right now,"

Rhonda was silent and Lila could imagine she was seething.

"I'm sorry," Lila said gently. "But I really need to talk to your mom again," The other line was silent and Lila added, "Please,"

Rhonda huffed and passed the phone over to her mom. "Lila?"

"Hi," Lila said quietly.

Brooke sighed. "She's been very upset. But what did you want to ask me about, hun?"

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

Helga skimmed over her note, reviewing the last few bits to make sure they were right. She needed to be clear.

Please find Phyllis Carson in Hillwood and give her my liver. She has cirrhosis and she deserves a second chance. She works for the Klondike Meat Company and she's a good, patient person.

And please give my heart to Richard Bauer. He's currently at Concordia General Hospital and he's dying of congenital heart failure. He's reminded me of Arnold in so many ways and maybe if my heart can save him, then I can finally be at peace. My second chance is giving him a second chance.

I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend or daughter… I care very deeply about the people in my life, even those I've shut out. I've always felt things more strongly than people realized. I've cared more than I ever let on and after everything that's happened, this is the only way I can think to show it now.

Once the note was written and in plain view on her laptop, which she placed on the table in the main living area, she went to work figuring out how and where she would do this.

There were strong beams across the ceiling of the living room. She stood up on a chair to pull on them, testing their strength. She thought about doing something with the bathtub and cold water to try and preserve her organs but none of her ideas were viable.

When she'd finally weighed all of her options and settled on a plan, she sat on the chair in the living area for a few moments. At this point, she was so overwhelmed by her despair and a renewed flood of guilt that she was completely dissociated. Nothing seemed real anymore except for the pain in her heart and the hope that Rich could be okay. Everything she'd managed to either forget about or try to put behind her had come rushing back with vengeance and now the only thing she could feel, the only thing she could think about were her pain and her guilt. She had to do something and she was so desperate. She couldn't think clearly anymore.

It was well after midnight now and Helga went outside to the side of the cottage. The outside light clicked on, giving her a narrow path of light over to the hose attached to the side of the building. She disconnected it from the water source and dragged it inside. It was rather long but she didn't have many options.

She picked up her cell phone from the table and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" The operator said as soon as the line connected.

Helga heaved a deep but quiet breath. "I'd like to report a suicide,"

"Who is the victim?" The operator inquired.

Helga paused, her eyes brimming with tears. "Me,"

With that, she ended the call and climbed up on the chair. She tied one end of the hose to a beam above her head, the rest of its length falling down to the floor. Then she fashioned a noose and without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, slipped it over her head. And with that same reckless and desperate avoidance of thought, she kicked the chair out from under her.

[A/N: I edited the last bit because I realized I forgot to add the phone call part! Very important lol, oops. Let me know what you thought! I know it's quite a bit to digest lol. Thanks for reading!]