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Not exactly the ugly duckling	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 5459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor any of the characters. I do not, and will not make any money from this story. (Original creator: Craig Bartlett)

Chapter List
- 1-Not exactly the ugly duckling
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-Epilouge
- 16
- 17
- 18
Arnold couldn't sleep.

He just lay on his back on the Pataki's massive leather sofa, and dozed.

He was happy enough, warm and comfortable, but he couldn't quite drop off into proper sleep. For one, he was starting to succumb to blue balls. It wasn't painful yet, just kinda uncomfortable. A tight feeling that made him want to shift about. Having Helga draped over him for hours had been sweet agony. Thankfully he had taken his T-shirt off to sleep, so although the smell of her hair still clung to the pillows, it wasn't as strong - or at torturous - as it might have been.

This could be easily remedied of course, but there was no way he was about to 'relieve himself' in her apartment. Actually, it wasn't even the main thing keeping him awake. He was worried about her. Not just in the way he had been worrying about her for the past months (although that was still there), but more concerned about how she would cope looking after Bob.

He had seen how her face had turned white while the doctor was explaining everything, and he was worried. Worried worried worried. He had no idea what to do for her, or how to offer his help. In his half-asleep state he kept dreaming up crazy solutions (Move in with me! Sharing the bed thing an issue? No problem… lets get married!), but they really were just insane. He couldn't think of anything realistic that he could help with, and it killed him.

Sighing in frustration, he rolled onto his side, scrunching his pillow up under his head. God he was stupid. He should have just gone to bed with her. Now he didn't know if she was sound asleep, or freaking out, all alone… Sure, he was trying to do the right thing, but he could have controlled himself. Should he go check on her? It seemed really goddamned creepy, but what if she was…

"Arnold?" He jumped at the whisper. God, he hadn't even heard her come in. He hefted himself up on his elbow.

"Sorry… did I wake you?" Her voice was small, cracked. She was standing at the end of the sofa, her arms wrapped around her chest. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a small T shirt, her long, white limbs and loose blonde hair made her look like a ghost.

"Nah, couldn't sleep. You ok?" Like fuck she was ok, he could tell from here, in the dark, that she was a mess. She shuffled round to the front of the sofa, moving like her bones were liable to break at any second. She moved like she was in pain.

"I… I couldn't sleep either."

Oh god. She was heartbreaking. Without thinking, Arnold shuffled to the back of the sofa, pulled back the blanket, and opened his arms. She stared for a second, then moved forward hesitantly. When he finally had his arms around her, she felt more frail, yet more tense, than he had ever thought possible.

Her arms were still hugged around her chest, her back stiff, yet hunched, pressing the top of her head into the base of his throat. He stroked her hair, and she started to tremble.

She didn't just shudder, she quaked. Deep, thunderous rolls of violent tremors that seemed to radiate out from the center of her. The only thing he could liken it to was when one of his cats had been hit by a car, and on the way to the vet, she had died in his hands. Helga's thuddering shakes scared the shit out of him, they were fucking death throes.

He held her tighter, trying to brace her against her own convulsive shivers. But they kept coming, and they felt like they were getting worse. Her teeth chattered together, she started to double up with every new wave of quakes, like she was in pain. She must be in shock, the massive events and trauma of the evening finally catching up with her.

"I…" she tried to talk, but her breath was pumping in and out of her lungs too fast, hyperventilating. She just stuttered, in a long, depressing judder. "I…I…I…I…I…I…I…I…" She stopped trying to talk, and just lay there, gasping.

Distressed, he grasped at her, her pulled her into his chest. He couldn't stand it, her shaking. He felt tears prick at his eyes as he whispered to her, nonsensical nothings in a low voice. He had never seen anyone break down like this, he felt useless, completely and utterly useless. Struggling with her wooden, stiff body, he managed to half sit up against the mound of pillows. Cradling her against him, he gathered her up in his arms, pressed his cheek to hers, and hummed, a random lullaby tune. He tried to hold her together.

Slowly, he had no idea how long it took, but it felt like hours, her shaking quieted. She still trembled, but not in the scary, bone-shattering way she had been. She unclasped her hands and edged them tentatively around him, making him aware for the first time since she had gotten into bed with him, that he was only wearing boxers.

Her fingers crept over his bare skin, eventually wedging themselves between him ribs and his upper arm. Snuggling right up against him, she let out a long, shuddering breath, and relaxed a little.

Not much, she was still coiled tight, but enough so that she didn't feel brittle in his arms.

"S… sorry." She whispered, her lips brushing his collarbone as she nestled further into him. "Sorry…"

"Shhhhhhhhh." He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, brushed her cheek, feeling almost light headed with relief that she wasn't the complete mess she had been before. "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm glad I'm here." And he was. The thought of her going through that alone turned his stomach to ice.

"I…. I don't want him to come back." Her voice was so soft, he could barely hear it. "I don't want to look after him. I don't want to… he's such a… cunt… I can't stand it."

He knew he was pressing it, Helga rarely, if ever, volunteered information like this, but he needed to know. "What does he do? What… he doesn't… hurt you?"

He felt a tremor run through her, and clutched her to him, terrified.

"Not often." She took a deep breath. "He was worst after Miriam died, he just doesn't care now. Like…" she paused again. "He… he slaps me a bit, if he's angry. But he hasn't hurt me in years." She was whispering.

Arnold stayed silent, sure that he was incapable of saying the right thing. He had never had to deal with this stuff before, not like this.

"He threw that glass at me… the one we cleaned up." Helga's voice was starting to crack again. Arnold stroked her back, letting his fingers run up the back of her neck, into her hair. "He was angry because I was spending too much time with you. Not because he cares, but because I hadn't washed a shirt he wanted clean… I can't do it Arnold… I just can't. I'll go crazy if I stay here with him."

She hiccupped, swallowing convulsively. "He wants me to fuck Nick…" she approached a wail, the despair in her voice killed him. Anger, sadness, helplessness, possessiveness… they roiled in his stomach. Adrenaline rushed through him. He wanted to Punch someone, to fuck, to go for a run… but there was no way he was letting go of her.

"He thinks that I should do it to make Nick happy." She hiccupped again, then sobbed. She lowered her voice into a sick imitation of Bob's "If you're so sick of him pawing over you, just suck his fucking cock and get it over with already."

It was Arnold's turn to shake. He kept a hold on himself while fury choked him. Refusing to move, or talk, lest he go completely berserk, he just kept holding her, stroking her back.

"I can't… I can't do it. I won't." her voice wavered, and she burst into tears. The fury lessened, tempered with pity. He hadn't seen Helga cry since… shit, he had never seen her cry that he could remember. She wailed like a little kid, gasping and hiccupping, her entire body wracked with sobs. She sniffed and whimpered, her tears saturating her face, Arnold's neck and chest, the pillow beneath them…

He held her.
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Not exactly the ugly duckling