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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
- 29
- 30
- 31
A- Can you come over?
Helga bit her lip. Worried.
H- Of course. I'm walking the Dot, so I can be there in 15 if you don't mind having a poochy visitor?
She checked the time. It was only 8.30am on a wet Saturday morning. Dot had woken her early, and she had stumbled out into the rain to walk her. She fretted for a second over her appearance, but decided not to care. It was more important that she was there for Arnold at the moment, than that she looked good.
Poor Arnold.
The last few months had been hard on him. After having health difficulties for months, his Grandma had passed away in late September. Grandpa Phil had followed just a few weeks later.
They were both ninety five. Arnold knew that they had amazingly long and happy lives. He knew that living without Gertie would have been painful for Phil… but he was still heartbroken, understandably.
The boarders had left. It had only been Mr Huynh and a young couple, the Schultz's anyway. But without them, the boarding house seemed vast and empty. Helga worried about Arnold. A lot.
She knew he had been planning on going through his grandparents things the night before. She hoped he wasn't too depressed. Although, judging from an early morning text message, requesting her presence… things couldn't be great.
He phone buzzed in her hand.
A- Dot's always welcome.
She couldn't help but smile. Her dog loved Arnold.
H- I'll head over now.
She shoved her phone deep into her coat pocket, and started off towards the Sunset Arms, her brow furrowed as she lost herself in thought.
So much had happened over the past year, she never felt like she was still. Sometimes it was a good thing, exciting: she was writing a novel (at Melissa's insistence) and had started dabbling in poetry again.
Sometimes, however, it was overwhelming. Bob's trial had been horrible. Her and Olga were only now starting to talk things out. Olga had no idea where she stood. She was appalled at what Bob did, but also found the idea of Helga standing up and speaking out against her own father… distasteful.
That didn't bother Helga so much, though. She was… not comfortable, nor resigned… but she acknowledged the fact that her family was a mess, and that she was unable to fix it.
Melissa loved that. In fact, she praised Helga for such a realistic outlook. Just last week, she had sat back, and said, straight up, that she never expected such 'progress' from Helga. Apparently Helga's no-frills approach to life was what helped her 'grow' so much over the past months.
She knew that life wasn't going to be a bed of roses. She knew that it would always be hard, always be work. She knew that there wasn't a prince charming coming to rescue her and hole her up in a castle somewhere.
That said, if he did come along, she would probably just get bored and tell him to shove his crummy castle where the sun don't shine.
Invariably, this train of thought had one destination… Arnold.
Sometimes it was such a big, scary thought, that she couldn't approach it. But now she managed to get close enough to analyse it a little.
She wanted him.
She was still scared. She was definitely stubborn. She had said she needed space and time, and there was a part of her that clung to that, for no good reason. It had been seven months since she had told Arnold that she couldn't be with him… she felt like somehow she would be going back on her word or something if she changed her mind.
That said. Did he still want her?
She knew he had been 'seeing' a girl for a little while. She had bumped into them one day, recognised the girl from a party at Gerald's. Arnold had looked so guilty it had almost made Helga laugh. Almost.
She had ended up at home, bawling her eyes out.
What she hadn't done, however, was get angry or weird or bitchy about it. She decided to be nice. She swallowed all the defensive, catty comments, and acted like she wasn't dying inside.
After all… she couldn't exactly tell him to wait for her.
She steeled herself. It didn't matter. As far as she could gather, the affair with the girl had burnt out pretty quickly. Something about the ex coming back onto the scene or something. He didn't really seem to care about it, so she figured it had just been a 'casual' thing.
What mattered was how he felt about her. Helga G. Pataki.
She figured he found her attractive. Back in summer, when they had decided to make old-fashioned lemonade and bask in the sun on Arnold's roof, his jaw had hit the floor when she stripped down to her bikini. He didn't realise that she could see through the big floppy hat she plonked over her face, and his eyes had never left her. He'd even had his T-shirt draped 'subtly' over his lap… like that wasn't obvious….
She had to admit that she had played it up a bit, stretching, trying to get comfy on the towel she had laid down. It had been an ego trip… even if she did feel guilty about it later.
But that was a few months ago… had that changed? Did a physical attraction really matter? Did he still feel for her?
Gah. How could she be so selfish? Now wasn't the time to be wondering what she could get out of him. He had basically just been orphaned.
Sure, he was an adult now, but it had all hit pretty fast. One day he had been living in his grandparents' attic. He had a good job and contributed to the bills… but no real responsibility. The next, he was having to decide whether to sell the boarding house, or keep it and fix it up.
That had struck her three days after his Grandma had died. She tried to help him as much as she could, and was suddenly aware that they were grown ups. There were people older than them around, but they were the ones planning a funeral.
That thought stuck with her. She was an adult. She didn't answer to anyone. It gave her strength, that thought. She was independent. She loved it. She had her own place (that she wasn't tied down to) a job, an embarrassingly large savings account…
She was an adult, who could decide what her wants and desires were, without having to explain or apologise for them… but she wasn't a slave to them. She desired Arnold, but put it out of her mind. They could carry on how they were… things were far too hectic as it was to throw more complications into the mix.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, standing under an awning for a second to tap out a message.
H- Almost there. Put the kettle on and keep and eye out. It's POURING out here!
And it was. Rain tapped against the hood of her coat. Soaked the legs of her jeans, sloshed over the toes of her boots. Dot was saturated, but the dog loved the rain. Crazy thing loved the shower, too.
She stomped up to Arnold's stoop, shaking the excess water from her sleeves. The door opened before she knocked.
Arnold looked like shit.
He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess. He was just wearing track pants, his chest and feet bare. His skin had the pale, waxy look of someone with a hang over.
Despite looking like he'd been on a three-day bender, he smiled as she stepped into the hallway… a wan smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Hey Helga." He bent down as Dorothy rammed her wet head against his legs. "Hey Dot." He had an old rough towel in his hands, and he roughed it over the dog's fur to dry her off.
"You're wearing gumboots… with dogs on…" he commented, his green eyes turning up to look at her as she wrestled with her coat. There was something strange about the look… something unsettled and frantic.
"Don't you be talkin' sass on my gumboots, Shortman." Helga twisted, gingerly tugging the wet coat sleeve off her arm and hanging it up on the hook. "Got coffee on?" She pried her boots off her feet and smiled at him, nervous. He didn't seem right.
By the time he trudged up to his attic bedroom, Helga in tow, she knew something bad must have happened. His moods were staggeringly erratic, leaving Helga dumbfounded in their wake. He seemed to be trying to be jovial, but swinging from furiously angry to tear-jerkingly miserable. It was exhausting just watching him…
She sat on his bed as he stalked around the room. He picked up his guitar, sat down on the sofa, strummed a few chords, then threw it down, irritated. He got up, stalked to his computer, moved to turn it on, but seemingly changed his mind.
Dot slunk across the room and curled up in the basket he had set up for her a few visits ago… her ears cocked, her eyes following him as he moved restlessly across the floor.
"Arnold…" her voice caught as he turned to her, his eyes red… "…what's wrong?"
He stopped his pacing and stared for a second. The furrows in his forehead deepened, then his face fell. He moved to her, climbed up on the bed next to her, reached across and pulled a shoebox from his shelves.
He placed the box in her lap, gestured that she should open it, then flung himself backwards, lying across the bed with his forearm over his eyes.
She gazed at him for a second… he looked so fragile… she bit her lip, tears stinging at her eyes.
Pull yourself together.
She sniffed, and turned her attention to the box. Inside were envelopes and letters, jammed in untidily. She pulled out a wad.
They made no sense:
Tell our Arnold that we love him…
It's for the best, I know…
If you could spare a few hundred dollars, to get me on my feet…
Don't act like you've done me any favours!...
I WILL come see him if I want to! What could you do to stop me?...
Stella insists that it is for the best…
…
Helga could barely take it in. The words swam in front of her eyes as she tried to read them. Her heart knocked at her ribs.
"Arnold… what… I don't understand…" She turned to look at him, her fists full of paper.
"Oh… Arnold…" His chin was quivering, wet streaks showed where his arm was crushing his tears against his cheeks. She tossed the letters back into the box, set it on the floor, and lay down beside him.
His body was stiff, his breath coming in little huffs. She embraced him in a clumsy hug, pressing her face against his shoulder, laying her arm across his naked, skinny chest.
"I… I believed it… I believed them…"
Helga said nothing, just grasped him tighter.
"I… I truly believed that my parents were explorers that died on some massive adventure… I… can't…" He took a shaking breath. "They just dumped me on Grandpa and walked out…"
Helga felt the tears welling up again, but she made no move to wipe them away as they slipped slowly down her cheek.
"The letters just stop… I think… they… they sound like they were junkies or something. Fuck… Fuck…"
"What are you going to do?" she whispered. Scared she would say the wrong thing.
"I don't know."
They lay in silence. Minutes passed as Helga held Arnold's rigid body. The rain outside grew heavier, the water running across the skylights throwing strange, moving lights around the room. Bruised clouds crowded the dark sky. Wind howled, leaves and detritus screamed in the gale as thunder and lightening boomed and cracked above them.
More time passed. Dot came snuffling up, concerned. She sat on the floor, her head resting on the bed, her small, black eyes regarding the couple.
Helga's neck was aching, the arm beneath her had pins and needles… but she didn't move, she just held him. Slowly, too slowly to measure, Arnold started to relax. Eventually, he pulled his arms from his eyes and rolled to face her. She shifted, getting circulation back to her arm, and touched his face.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered.
He lay there, seeing her. His swollen eyes searched her face. A minute passed… and another… and another…
"Do you still love me?" he asked finally, his voice nearly drowned out by the crashing rain.
She felt her chest tighten, like she couldn't get enough breath. She pushed the air out of her lungs in a huff, inhaled deeply through her nose…
"Of course I…"
"… No. Not like that, Helga. Are you still in love with me?" his gaze was direct, but not challenging, not threatening. Her heart ached.
"… it's probably cruel of me to ask." He whispered. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything… I just want… I…"
"…Yes." She said simply, her voice loaded with meaning. She understood. She knew what he needed. She knew how she felt. "I love you."
He smiled. He didn't beam, grin or laugh. He just smiled a small smile of relief and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. They lay still again, time passing as the storm raged on above them. Helga felt his body relax under her arm, heard his breath grow more even… and eventually, shallow.
She pulled back a little, his eyes opened lazily, questioning.
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"No."
She pulled away from his arms, coaxed him with her hands into turning around, pulled the blanket over him, and watched his eyes close again, his face now smooth.
"I'm glad you're here." He whispered as he snuggled down into his pillow.
She climbed over him to the other side of the bed, watching him as he fell into a deep, childlike sleep.
Decision time.
- 29
- 30
- 31
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Not exactly the ugly duckling