Arnold took a few deep breaths to fruitlessly try and shake is paranoia once he had pulled to a stop in the parking lot of her apartment complex. All it did was make the feeling of being watched more evident in his system. He shut off the engine, and pulled the keys out, leaning his head back against the headrest, shutting his eyes to ready himself to step out. Putting his hand on the handle of the door, he took one last breath before he quickly shoved it open, hopping out and taking a quick survey of the parking lot, watching for the slightest thing to be out of place. His breath still shallow, he shut his car door, locked it and slipped his keys back into his pocket, tugging on the sides of his blazer and shaking the sleeves out.

He hated feeling like this, paranoid, having to watch everyone and everything, just waiting for him to misstep, having to be acutely aware of every movement every person around him made. It went against his inherent trusting nature. But oddly enough, this feeling made him feel safer, as if he was in control of everything, which was far from the truth with the recent news he was delivered.

He walked up to the side door of the building, and pressed the fourth button down on the second row. "Yeah?" A distorted female voice came over through the speaker.

"Hey, it's Arnold." He tried to make his tone as easy going and smooth as possible, as contradictory to how he was actually feeling as it was.

"Come on up." The door in front of him buzzed, and he flung it open, taking one last glance behind his shoulder as he stepped inside and waited for the door to latch before he hopped up the stairs, keeping his right hand anchored on his side. Once he was down the hall way, he took one last glance behind him as he raised his hand to knock on her door. With a few hard knocks, he drew in a long, smooth breath through his nose, filling up his chest as much as he could, before he slowly let it out and forced his shoulders to relax, even though they still felt stiff afterwards.

The door in front of him flung open to reveal his beautiful girlfriend, showing him an unreserved smile that made him forget, just in that moment, that he was in danger. With the excitement and joy sparkling in her bright, sky blue eyes as she said a quick hi, keeping her smile in place, he too felt himself smile warmly back at her, that much to his surprise, felt real. But as she stepped forward, and out of the sanctuary and safety of her apartment, the reality, along with its gravity, hit him again, and once it did, the smile that she made him smile, that felt real just a second ago, now felt heavy, and in that moment, what hurt the most was that it felt like a lie. He watched as her eyes drifted shut, her face splitting smile now turning soft and warmer, and stepped into him, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss, that for another moment, lifted the weight off his shoulders.

And it wasn't until she broke it that the feeling came back, but much heavier than it was before. He knew that he had to protect himself, but now, he had to protect her. And the feeling of having cross hairs on his back, he could almost live with. But having some on the woman he loves, all because of his past, the weight now added onto the load he was already baring, was too overwhelming. But he knew that he had to tell her, even if he could hide it from her, and keep it to himself, shielding her from harsh reality of the situation for her own well being, she could somehow always tell when something was wrong. And right now, he might as well have been wearing a neon sign letting her know that something was indeed wrong.

And he could tell that she read that sign once she stepped back, and opened her eyes, her brow dropping as he kept a heavy feigned smile on for her. "Something wrong?" She asked, in a light, all too naive voice, probably thinking it was nothing, looking back at him with her brow now raised, her eyes now silently pleading with him, kindly letting him know that she was there.

He let out the last air left in his lungs in a sharp sigh, and spoke, his voice feeling hoarse and scratchy against his throat. "We uh... we need to talk."

Her posture sunk a little, her once pleading eyes now lessening in fear. Her arms, once braced against her door frame now fell to her sides. He didn't wait for her to step aside, and simply squeezed past her, making sure to keep his right side guarded by his arm braced heavily against it. He took a few steps into her apartment and roved his eyes over everything his eyes landed on, looking for anything out of place. Hearing the door slide shut behind him, he waited for the sound of the deadbolt being locked into place, but it never came, and he didn't have the heart to tell her to do so. "Arnold, what's wrong?"

Ignoring her pleading, yet almost angry tone as much as he could, he turned and walked down her hallway, first peering inside her bedroom, waiting for anything to pop up as suspicious. The only thing he found was Jeffery, lifting his head out from above Helga's unmade bed. Quickly stepping out, he made his way into her kitchen, and did the same, once again finding nothing but a slightly scowling girlfriend glaring at him once he went to move back into the living room. "What's going on with you?" She asked, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders.

He just let out a silent sigh, and moved past her back into the living room, immediately moving over to her sliding glass door, and pulling the blinds shut. Feeling just a bit safer, he tried once again to force his shoulders to relax, and ran a hand over his hair. "Arnold, what's that?" He snapped his body over to face her, and she had her eyes trained on his side. He didn't get the chance to ask what she was referring to as she took a few long strides toward him, and lifting the side of his blazer back. Seeing her eyes widen, her body going stiff at the sight, he waited until she lifted her eyes back up to him in a silent plea for an explanation.

"We need to talk." He muttered again, watching her shuffle backwards.

"What are you doing carrying a gun!?" He could tell that she was trying to make her question sound like an accusation, but all it did was bring out her fear that she was having a hard time masking.

"Helga, I can explain..." He began, taking a small step forward, lifting his hand to her, watching as she continued to shuffle backward.

"Arnold, you're scaring me."

And with that, he felt like he had failed her. He stopped and lowered his hand. "Helga, it's me. The same man whose arms you fell asleep in last night, the same man who told you that you're worth more than anything to me. Just... let me explain." Her posture softened a bit, as she met his eyes again with a sad furrow in her brow and he knew that she was having a battle with herself on whether or not to trust him. "Helga, please... I can explain everything, I promise." He held out his hand to her again, asking her to come to him, and it was a moment before he eyes darted down to his outstretched hand, and another moment before she hesitantly place her hand in it, letting his fingers enclose around hers. He took a few more steps forward, keeping her hand in his, while his other went to her side to snake around to her back. He watched her as she closed her eyes, and moved to entwine their fingers, while her other hand moved to his shoulder. She bowed her head in front of him as he stepped closer, and he couldn't help but pressing his lips to her scalp to try and make both of them feel safer. "You're safe with me, Helga. I promise."

She lifted her head back up to meet his eyes and didn't waste anytime in getting down to the point. "What's going on?"

He looked down, and ran his thumb across hers, feeling her run her hand across his shoulder to loop around his neck. "Come sit down and I'll tell you everything."

Keeping the fingers entwined, he led them over to her couch and sat down. Readying himself to tell her the whole story, he reached over with his other hand and took both of hers in his, keeping his eyes locked onto the ministrations she was making against his knuckles in a probably subconscious motion. "A few years ago, we got a call about a guy holding a family of three at gunpoint in a house just outside the city. I was called in to negotiate with the gunman, and it seemed like everything was going smoothly. He made his demands, and I kept him calm and built rapport, and it seemed like a simple job. But then, he just snapped. He thought that I wasn't taking him seriously, and the next thing I knew..." The last few words fell as his voice grew shaky and soiled.

The motion of her thumb against his knuckle grew longer and harder, in a silent attempt to give him the strength to continue. He blinked over his burning eyes, and drew in a breath. "It was the first time that I ever failed to talk someone down. And because of that, a four year old girl and her parents got shot at point blank." The motions on his knuckles suddenly came to a dead stop, and he hesitantly looked up to her eyes, and saw that the grew wide, and he could tell that she was just trying to picture it, and wrap her head around his gut wrenching tale. "Swat stormed the house, and burst into the little girls bedroom where they were being held, and found him kneeling down, gun already on the ground, his hands already on his head, a blank expression on his face. They brought him outside, and I had just stumbled out of the van and vomited onto the ground, and when I looked up, he was looking directly at me, with an almost... evil grin."

His mind flashed back to that day, as he hunched over, his hands pressed against his knees for support, as he glanced up and saw his dark eyes bore into him, that small upturn of one side of his mouth being shot back at him, as if he was proud of what he had just done.

"His name is Erik Douglas. Born in a small town in Northern California, he faked his way into MIT, but was kicked out when he was showing obvious psychopathic tendencies. He was arrested a few years later for a sexual assault charge when he beat a prostitute to a bloody pulp. Once he got out, he made his way to here to Hillwood, and faked his way into a research lab as a bio-technician. But he was caught when they did an FBI background search. He snapped and took his boss, along with his wife and daughter hostage in their home. That's where he was finally caught. But now..."

He paused, afraid to admit it out loud, the responsibility he felt to handle it himself still in place. But, he had gotten this far in telling her, he could go further. "What?" She asked after a long pause he took to work up the nerve to continue.

"About an hour ago, when I went back to my apartment to take Vivian out, my captain was at my door waiting for me. He told me that Erik had faked a seizure and had been taken to the hospital for treatment, but when they went to take him back, they found a nurse handcuffed to the bed, instead of him, showing signs of asphyxiation, from being smothered by a pillow, along with a pair of doctors scrubs missing."

"So... he's escaped."

He nodded in reply, still refusing to meet her eyes.

"What does this have to do with you... or me, for that matter?"

"Whenever they searched his bunk at the prison, they found a letter that was addressed to me, pretty much blaming me for him being in prison, and that he would come back one day and 'make things right.'"

"Well, what makes you think that he can. I mean, half the city has to be looking for this guy." He almost chuckled, seeing as how he made the same argument to his captain, even saying that he was friends with one of the best in fugitive recovery. All he got was a shallow 'we're working on it.'

"If he doesn't want to be found, than he won't be. He's smart enough to know how to stay hidden. And if he's smart enough to do that, than he's smart enough to come after me..." He mustered up the strength to finally look her in the eye, and once he did, he saw her fear ridden eyes, still trying to find the better in the situation, and he already felt guilty about what he was about to say. "And the people I love."

He could even see her breath hitch in her throat. Feeling her hand start to tremble in his soft grasp, he reached up and cupped her jaw bringing her back to look him in the eye, hoping she would find safety in his gaze. Once he had pulled her back up to meet his eyes, he leaned forward a bit, and spoke, "Hey," He began in a tender yet stern voice, "I promise you, I will keep you safe, okay? I promise you, nothing is going to hurt you."

Feeling a breath shutter its way out of her lungs, he quickly scooted forward, and pulled her into his shoulder, keeping his hand on the back of her head, feeling her grasp onto the back of his blazer while his other arm slowly started to rub up and down the dip of her spine.

"Arnold-"

"I know..." He stopped her, already knowing what she was going to say. "I'm scared too."

He paused and let his eyes drift shut, weaving his arm further around her, holding her body to him as securely as he could, feeling her breath grow more and more steady each time his palm would run its way up her back.

"I'm scared too."