NOTE: You will see this story updated over the next few days, but there will be no serious changes of note. I'll be cleaning up a few errors and formatting the presentation of all previous chapters, but there will be no change in the story. However, if you want to re-read Ch. 1-7, I'm not gonna stop you.

I, the author, make no claim as to ownership of "Hey Arnold" or any of its characters. For a full disclaimer, see Chapter 1.


VIII
More Deep


Pacing back and forth in his room, in front of his bed, with his full attention, she was speechless. Never did Helga rue the fact that fantasy and reality were two seperate things more than she did at this moment. In her thousands of dreams about this moment, the words came so easily. At the most romantic of locales, the worst parts of the world, the sunniest of days, the rainiest of nights; it didn't matter. She knew exactly what to say, exactly how to say it, and exactly how to make him hers. And somehow, some way, it would always work.

This, however, was a totally different ballgame. She didn't have him on top of the Eiffel Tower; she had a climate-controlled bedroom that, to her, felt like 110 degrees. She didn't have a stunning dress to wow him with; she had an old pair of baggy shorts and a size-too-big tank top. She didn't have Shakespearian poetry to shake his soul; she had whatever the hell she could think of off the top of her head. Which, at the moment, was not a damn thing.

But the worst part was that once she said those three little words, she had no guarantee that he'd return them to her in his oh-so-sweet voice and add a 'too' at the end. And the more Helga thought about it, the more she thought - nay, knew - that he wouldn't.

She was screwed.

"Look" Helga finally started, desperate to not screw things up more than neseccary. "What I'm about to say... Well... You're probably not gonna like it... I mean, I hope you do... But if you don't, then... Well, you probably won't... So if you never want to speak to me again, then I'll understand..."

"Wait, wait, wait" begged Arnold; a look of confusion crossed his face. "If I never want to speak to you again?" He paused, contemplating what he had just repeated. "Look, I don't know what you could possibly say that would make me hate you... "

"Arnold, please," she begged. She wasn't sure what she was begging for, exactly, but whatever it was, she wasn't getting it from Arnold. What she did get from him was a hand on her shoulder and a deep look of concern.

"Helga, whatever it is that you want to say, just say it! I promise that it won't change anything between us."

Helga was frozen in her tracks. She was surprised by his comment, and yet, she shouldn't have been at all. It was, of course, such an... Arnold-y thing to say. All at once, she wanted to slap, kiss, and choke Arnold. Instead, she decided to go for Option 4: leaving.

"Forget it," she finally sighed, defeated. "This was a mistake." With that she turned away from Arnold and took a step towards the door. Her eyes began to water, but tears would not fall from her eyes. Not that she wanted to not cry, but she really didn't have much to cry about. She didn't do anything. Then again, that was the whole problem; She didn't do anything.

Arnold, however, wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. "Helga," he demanded, "I don't care what you did, or what you're going to do, or whatever it is that's bugging you. You can tell me anything."

"It's not that easy," she said as she turned back towards him. Her tears finally decided to fall, but they came in slow, soft drops.

"I know," he sighed as he made his way beside Helga. "I know..." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in. Helga buried her face in his chest, but she still wouldn't allow herself to break down. For a few moments, they were still and silent, neither knowing what to say or do. Finally, Arnold pulled her away and looked straight into her eyes with what Helga had dubbed "The Arnold Face;" Puppy-dog eyes and a half-sheepish, half-encouraging smile that begged you to do whatever he wanted you to do. He was too nice of a guy (and perhaps too naive) to do it intentionally, but when he did, it was almost irresistable.

"I... I... I can't!" she sighed. She slid out of Arnold's grasp and again made a move for the door.

"Oh, Helgs, please!" Arnold called as he grabbed at her hand with both of his.

"I'm sorry..." she called back as she shook her hand free. She stood before the door, but she didn't open it. Nonetheless, she kept her back turned from him, fearing what would spill out if she had to look at him right now.

"Helga," he pleaded, "whatever it is, it's not the end of the world."

Her eyes shot open when she heard that comment. She quickly spun around and stared Arnold down. "Oh, what do you know!" she spat at him, her voice dripping with venom and a pinch of her old schoolyard bully persona.

"I don't know what I know," Arnold defended. "And I'm sorry, but I won't know unless you..."

"Oh, goddamnitArnoldI'minlovewithyou!"


Short and sweet. Well, short. But it's here, and that's the important thing.

This isn't where I wanted to end this chapter. I wanted to complete the scene, but I got hit with perhaps the motherload of writer's block. It took me a solid month to get about halfway through this chapter. For the next four months, every time I tried to touch it, I got nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Even after a random review out of nowhere got me motivated again, I still couldn't get far. Bottom line: I'm not good at writing (quickly, at least) without massive amounts of humor. I'll get through this scene (I promise. I've even called in the special forces), then I'll be back in my humor comfort zone.

By the way, thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed my story. I want to give a HUGE thank you to Passing Entity and Pointy Objects. Without Entity searching for, reading, and reviewing my "dead" story, there'd be no chapter 8. Without Pointy offering her tremendous help, there'd be no chapter 9. I truly thank both of you for helpin' a brotha' out.