A/N: Hey…this is chapter seven…please read and review. I don't know what happened, but there were so many people to read and review this in the beginning…then the people stopped…I'm feeling so unloved.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! Paris, or…you know.

Chapter Seven: The Letter

Don't confuse being "soft" with seeing the other guy's point of view.
Assumptions are the termites of relationships.

***

'Where were you last night?' Jean-Claude inquired suspiciously.
'Nowhere. Nowhere of importance,' Bridgette replied cooly.
'Tell me,' he grabbed her arm, 'I
 know you went somewhere. I checked. You hid your place in bed with pillows!'

She looked away.

'Don't try to hide it, you damn woman.' He roared.

She did not answer.

'I know where you were,' he cursed with the smell of alcohol in his breath. 'you were with that bâtard Yves…'
'I don't know what you are talking about, Jean-Claude. It would be good if you would forget about something that never happened.'
He kept his face straight and let go of her arm. 'Fine, fine. But know this…' he pointed his index finger at her. 'if I catch you out ever again…' he grit his teeth and walked away.

Helga didn't take the ring.

She layed in her bed, staring up into the ceiling. It was midnight and Arnold wasn't back yet. Horns were honking, cats wear meowing, dogs were barking. Clocks were ticking, birds were singing, and footsteps echoed in the empty corridors…Strange how she could suddenly hear all these weird sounds.

What the hell am I supposed to do? Marry François? Yeah, sure, he's nice, but…she sighed. I'm only 18, damnit. Only 18. What if he treats me like a slave like all those other foreign men? Huh? What if he expects me to stay at home all day? Helga G. Pataki will NOT be someone's housemaid. Geez. But then, goodness, his eyes. Whenever I look into those eyes…it's just…and that hair, ugh. It is so sexy…and that football head.

Her eyes widened.

Er, football head? François has no football head. Wait, maybe I wasn't thinking about François but…Arnold. She wanted to scream. Stupid football head. He's ruining my dream. But, well, it would be so much better to marry Arnold than François. He's smart, talented, and in many ways, sweeter than François. Who cares if she doesn't marry a French man? Arnold can speak French…

Then she heard a key in the lock, the door turned. Quickly she shut her eyes.

"I think Helga's sleeping," Arnold whispered, "We'll have to try to be quiet."

Helga kept her eyes shut. What on earth is he doing? She heard a ferocious giggling accompaning Arnold's voice.

The only thing she could hear was Arnold and some other footsteps and then the footsteps stopped. "Oh, Arnold," murmered a familiar voice following a giggle.

Helga froze and made fists with her hands. Arnold had brought someone in their room. Not just anyone, but Cecile. What they were doing, she did not want to know, but she had a feeling she would find out soon. She listened more carefully and could hear kissing sounds and a zipper.

Helga, just go to sleep. Just go to sleep Helga…she pleaded inside her mind. If you don't hear or see it, it's like it's not even happening. You won't get hurt. Just go to sleep.

Tears began to leak from her eyes. Just go to sleep…Just go to…sleep…

***

The next morning was dark, and clouds hung in the sky. The weather report told everyone to get ready for rain, and to dress warm since the high was only supposed to be 50º. They should expect this weather for the rest of the week.

Helga woke up with dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. Yeah, she was able to fall asleep, but her eyes were still tearing up.

Arnold was wearing his pajamas and sat in a chair facing the balcony and the gloomy Paris horizon. His shoulders were tense, and his hair was a mess. There were darker circles under his eyes than Helga. He just sat there staring out into the darkness of Paris.

Last night was such a boggle to him. He must have had one too many bottles of wine. (That's right, bottles.) And now his head was throbbing like crazy. Thankfully Helga was asleep last night so that she couldn't see that he brought Cecile into the room. She would kill him…even though it wasn't such a big deal. Nothing really happened.

Just don't bring up the subject, Arnold thought. His head hurt like crazy, and he was little dizzy.

Helga sat up on her bed and got up without a sound.

Arnold turned around and smiled, "G'morning Helga."

Helga looked at him coldly and sneared. "Don't you ever, ever talk to me again, asshole." She walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

She knows…

Arnold groaned and jumped out of his chair and knocked on the bathroom door. "C'mon Helga. Why are you making such a big deal about this? Huh? All I did was take Cecile in. What's the deal?" He tried to appease her.

No answer.

"You know you're being stupid, Helga. You're acting like an idiot."

She opened the door. "I'm an idiot? You're the idiot for sleeping with Cecile!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Helga," Arnold growled.

She pointed her index finger at him, and her eyes burned with fire. "You broke two things, Arnold! You broke a rule we made together…we agreed on it, Arnold! You said you wouldn't bring anyone else in here!"

"I…"

"And while François was trying to get inside to sleep with me, I pushed him out! I DID MY PART AND DIDN'T BRING HIM IN! And look. Look what you did! You bring in someone. Not just anyone but CECILE!" she wailed, "You brought her in behind my back, Arnold. When I was sick. You took advantage of that!"

"I just had a little too much to drink. But we…"

"Shut up, Arnold. Just shut up!" She couldn't keep control of her emotions, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"You're not even listening to me, Helga!" Arnold cursed. His head throbbed.

"I don't have to, Arnold. You know, through this whole time I thought we were going to be something more. We were such great friends, Arnold. But you just ruined everything. You ruined it all."

"I wasn't the one who first kissed a guy I didn't know before this summer. I wasn't the one who cut you out and didn't give a second thought about what would happen between us. I didn't ruin it. You did," he snapped.

Helga couldn't stop the tears cascading down her face. "I hate you Arnold. Really, I do. I can't stand to even look at you anymore."

"Fine, then don't. I don't really give a crap. For all I care you can go run off with François. That damn bastard."

"He's not a bastard Arnold. You are."

"Damnit, he's cheating on you, Helga! I saw…he doesn't love you."

Helga looked away, "I don't believe you. He loves me, Arnold. More than anyone. You're a son of a bitch, and I hate you." She slammed the bathroom door in front of his face and Arnold began to hear her loud cries and sobs.

Arnold's heart broke. That must've been the second thing he broke. He made Helga cry. He'd never made a girl cry before. Never. But Helga deserved it, didn't she?

He threw the remote at the TV and flinged the chair on the ground and screamed. His hands were on his hips and he paced around the room with a sour look on his face. Angrily he changed into some jeans and a wrinkled shirt. Helga has been in the bathroom for 20 minutes.

Arnold took his coat and wallet and walked out the door.

Once Helga heard the door close, she was able to ease her cries. She was crouched up in the bathtub with her arms hugging her legs. With a last sniff, she got out of the bathroom and changed into some descent clothes. She stuffed more clothes into her bag, and some money. Another tear ran down her cheek.

Arnold, she wrote and then put down the pen and thought for a second. Then continued to write.
 You and I both know that this is too hard to go on with. I thought, I really thought, that we could have worked out, you know? But with all this going on, I realized that we are not for each other. We can't even live with each other without biting each other's heads off. With that, I'm leaving. I'm going to stay with François and we're going to get married. You can go ahead and give the extra plane ticket to Cecile. I'm not going back with you.

- Helga Pataki

This was probably one of the first times she didn't add her middle initial.

She paused and thought for a moment then picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Allo?" grumbled a deep voice.

"François?" Helga asked eagerly.

"Mmh?" he grumbled again. "Ca va?" [how are you?]

"No…" she sniffed.

"Pleurez-vous?" he wondered with a monotone. [are you crying?]

"Oui…"

"Que s'est produit?" [what happened?]

"Je ne sais pas." [I don't know]

"Je vous recontrerai au café en quinze minutes," he grumbled. "D'accord?" [I'll meet you at the café in 15 minutes, okay?]

"D'accord…" she said diffidently and hung up the phone, then folded her note and put it on top of the nightstand.

***

Arnold walked around aimlessly in the streets of Paris. His hands were in his pockets, and he stepped into muddles (mud puddles). His hair was a mess, and his stomach was yearning for some food. He sighed.

I can't believe I did that to Helga…I can't believe she doesn't believe me. I mean…he sighed again. Argh, my head hurts.

This is all Cecile's fault. Damnit, why'd she have to come in for water? Okay, so things were getting a little out of hand, but…he growled. If he had to blame anyone for Helga hating him, he'd have to blame Cecile. Damn her and her pouty lips and her big eyes. Wait, he just described Helga.

Cecile has no pouty lips…no big darling eyes. She turned out to be a real bad person last night. He tried to get her out. He did, really. And, well, after he used his charms, she let herself out.

Then it hit him: he didn't actually like Cecile. Sure, at first he was full of infatuation, but then it slowly pieced together. Through his time with Cecile, he'd realized that she wasn't the one for him, but instead the one for him was Helga.

How could he have been so stupid? He slapped his forehead. All this time, he'd made Helga feel left out. They came as friends and ended up as foes. He had to make it up to her some way.

***

François waited where he said he would. Outside of the café with a large hot chocolate. Helga saw his motorcycle leaning against the pillar. She gulped and walked up to him, her head was down. Gently, he patted her back and pulled her in for a hug. Not exactly how she anticipated he would react, but it was still nice.

"Sit down," he offered.

She sat down next to him, and he held her hand.

"François," she stuttered, "I thought about what you asked me last night."

"Oui?" his eyes grew in amusement.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out, "I think that I'd like to get married." She grinned.

François grinned and took out the ring from his pocket. "I knew you would say so, cherie."

***

Arnold could only pray that Helga was still there. In his hands he had a large bouquet of roses and daisies. He pranced around the muddles and kicked the water around. He swung around the lamp posts and had an urge to sing out loud. He ran into the hotel lobby and rushed up to the room.

He opened the door and his voice burst, "Helga!" there was silence. "…Helga?"

He looked around the room. She wasn't around. He checked the bathroom. No, wasn't there. But then he realized that her body spray wasn't in the bathroom either. No…couldn't be. He looked at her empty bed and saw that her book was not on her pillow like usual. When he went up to the bed he shook his head, "This isn't happening…"

His eyes caught glimpse of the note on the nightstand. Carefully he picked it up and read the note. He lost the feeling in his fingers, and the flowers crashed down to the floor.

***

Helga felt good, she was riding on the back of François's motorcycle with her backpack full of her clothes. Yeah, this was how it was going to be. Her arms were around his waist, and she felt really close to him. Like they, well, not connected, but…she didn't quite know.

She admired the gold ring on her left hand. His leather jacket felt nice with her bare skin. This is what her parents always told her not to do. Never marry a man with a motorcycle.

Never marry a man who you've known for the summer.

Never marry a man who has no job. Does he have a job? She doesn't know.

Never marry a French man.

This made her adrenaline rush, and her body tingle. This was it…but she did not know where she was heading.

***

Arnold damn straight knew what was going on. This was all a joke. It had to be a joke…God, please let it be a joke. He knew that in five minutes Helga would burst in through the door shouting "Haha Football Head! I got you good!" and they would laugh together and kiss.

Though he said that same exact thing thirty minutes ago.

He tugged on his hair and groaned.

How could he have been so stupid, stupid, stupid, he wondered as he banged his head on the wall. Helga was so wonderful…his best friend ever since Gerald left. What did he do so wrong?

He clenched the front of his shirt and gulped. It felt painful. So painful. Helga had treated him poorly for over half his life so far, and he had gotten used to it…but this was too painful. This was harsh – unbearable in fact. His fist slammed against the walls.

But then again who ever said that Helga was the one for him?

Well, then again, who ever said that she wasn't?

Arnold sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands. How could he have been so stupid? So naïve? So…ugh. "Dude…" he groaned again.

He looked at the flowers he bought. Crushed on the floor. Carefully he bent over and drew one out of the bouquet and inhaled the perfume scent. The things I did for love, he thought. To think that once I really did believe in this stuff. He chuckled slightly. So stupid…he picked a petal off the flower. This is for how I let love take over my life, he threw it on the ground and picked off another petal. This is for becoming friends with Helga…

Before he knew it he did not have any more petals to pluck off. He left the other flowers alone. He had to do something with himself. This was just getting too depressing. After every single petal he took off, he thought about Helga with Francois. They were not a good combination. He was not a good combination by himself.

Poor Helga. If she found out…she would be crushed.

But Arnold didn't care anymore, right? She made him forget about her…

Aaah, everything's so confusing!

***

Yeah, that's right Arnold…you said it wasn't right. You said it couldn't happen…but look! I'm here aren't I? Here in Francois's apartment.

Helga stood up proud and stuck her nose up in the air. Smelled like mint. Reminded her of Arnold. He always ate mints when he was bored. Arg,she cursed in her head. Stop it! Stop thinking about Arnold!!

There were a few pairs of jeans on the floor, and white shirts. It was so untidy…unlike Arnold. Argh, I said stop it!

She smiled politely at Francois and nodded as he rambled on about something. She really wasn't listening. It's just that her being there was unbelievable. It was too much to take in all at once.

"Helga, what is za problem? Hm?" Francois wondered as he put his hand on her waist.

Helga sighed. "It's just, Arnold doesn't seem like the greatest guy in the world anymore. He's been really bad. And I just don't see myself with him."

François nodded in understanding. "Ma cherie, do not worry about stupid Arnold. We'll get married and you'll never have to see him again. D'accord?"

Helga nodded. "D'accord…"

He kissed her lips and glanced at the clock. "Ooh la la! I must go."

"Go? Where?"

"Well, before you came I was planning to handle some, er, family business. So I will have to go now, cherie."

"Can I come along?" She asked eagerly.

"No. This is something I, um, must handle by myself." He nodded and took his leather jacket off the back of the chair. "I will see vous later?"

"Yes. Of course."

"For now, though, you'll have to stay out of ze room. I do not have a spare key, and I do not want you to feel confined in here while I go. So, it would be best if you'll just go out. Until I find you."

"Oh…" she said. "Okay…so I'll just see you later?"

"Oui. Oui." He led her out the door with her bag still in her hands. "Meet me here in ze apartment lobby. D'accord?"

She nodded again. "Fantastic!" he smiled and closed the door.

…was it just her, or did she just get pushed out? Helga G. Pataki does NOT take this crap from anyone.

Then he suddenly opened the door again and kissed her deeply. "That should last you for the next couple of hours." He winked and closed the door again.

Well, maybe it isn't all that much crap.

She sighed and walked down the hall and got in the elevator. Maybe she'll just find some place to read her book. That was always a good idea. And then she would see what would happen between Jean-Claude and Bridgette. Brilliant Helga ol' girl.

***

Arnold was lazily sitting in the café, drinking a coke. His arm was flopped over the back of the chair and his legs were spread out. All he could think of was how he screwed up.

That was it. It was just so clear to him…all his life he'd live in misery. And that was that.

He shook his head and sighed. He remembered last night. If only he could transport it to Helga's mind.

If only he could see Helga right now.

If only he took Helga back to the hotel instead of François.

…If only…

Just then he saw a familiar figure walking across the Paris street carrying a bag and a book in her hand. Those unmistakable clothes, that golden hair. He knew that it was Helga. But he couldn't just let her see him like this. Quickly he grabbed the menu and covered his face. It didn't stop him from peeking from the top, though.

He watched as she walked by, and watched as she sat down on a bench and opened her book.

***

Helga crossed her legs and opened her book. She was lucky that there was a bench there. It was probably because it was so close to the park. Or maybe because it was because so many people were walking around, and they needed a place to rest.

Well, whatever the reason was, she sure was glad to have the bench there.

She opened her book and began to read.

It has been days since Bridgette has seen Yves. How she yearned to see his smile, she wanted him to touch her hand with his like he did before. She longed to stay in his arms. But she is now stuck with Jean-Claude. Silly how she thought he was the one for her…
The point is she was  confused, so utterly confused.
Then a familiar knock on the door. Three shorts knocks. Could it be? Yes, it was Yves…he had come for her after the long time.

Eagerly she opened the front door and smiled to see that it really was him.
'Yves!' she exclaimed. 'You're here! I can't believe you're here…' she opened her arms, ready to hug him, but then he backed up before she could.
'Look, Bridgette…we cannot do this. I mean, you have a better life for you. Jean-Claude is richer, and more powerful than I am. You will be better off with him…'
Bridgette shook her head in despair. 'No, Yves…you can't possibly mean that…I-I
love you…'
'Oui…je t'aime aussi…but…ach,' he turned his head and sighed. 'I cannot offer you much. I want you to be happy. Stay with Jean-Claude. Just forget about me.' He began to walk away.
Bridgette followed him, wailing, 'No Yves! I can't forget about you…' He looked at her with weary eyes and kissed her.
'You must, ma cherie. Please. Please? Do it for me. D'accord? Just
try to be happy…' He smiled for her.
'I will not be happy unless I'm with you!' she pleaded.
Yves got on his horse, and held her hand. He kissed it. 'I will miss you.' He let go of her hand and rode off without looking back.
Bridgette sniffed as tears cascaded down her face. This can't be…this isn't love…

Helga sighed and shivered. It began to slightly drizzle. She pulled her jacket a little closer to her body.

***

Arnold watched Helga as she read her book. She was such a doll. If only she could understand. He took one last gulp of his coke and put some euros on the table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out of the café. He did not know where he would be going now. Maybe he'd go watch a movie or something. Or take a walk in the park. Or, you know, sit in the bookstore and pretend he was a poet or something.

***

The wind blew a little harder, and Helga was getting cold. She put her book back in her bag and began to walk back to François's apartment. Things will get better. He probably was already back from his family business. Right? If not, she'll just sit outside and wait for him. Yeah…like a dog.

A/N2: Keep those reviews comin'!

             I can confidently say there's ONE more chapter coming up.

                                Happy Days!! Ü