Author's Note: Gah, I hate this. I saw "The Journal" episode the other week and I got some facts wrong. The name of the river is wrong, I got the civilization incorrect and I got the whole dang country incorrect - but the latter is intentional. More on it later. The river's name escapes me now, but just assume that it's one of the rivers that form the The Serpent River. Miles supposed to study the Mayans, not the Aztecs and I've corrected the mistake in Chapter Six. San Lorenzo is suppossed to be in Central America, but there's a lot of people that would assume that the Carribean is a part of Central America, and I'll leave it just at that. Also, the San Lorenzo in this story is based from a book called 'Cat's Cradle' by Kurt Vonnegut. It's not 100 percent accurate when compared to the book since I want to construct a San Lorenzo of my own. (Which also the reason why book fans hated it when their favorite book is adapted to the big screen :)) But I think I got Miles' (Anthro & Archeologist) and Stella's (Botanist & Doctor) job right, and that's a relief. Okay, regarding this chapter... to be honest I found kinda... boring myself. Hey, don't leave just yet! It's one of the chapters that I have to write in order to understand the character's background. An exposition chapter in order to understand Helga's character. Well, I guess that about enough of my banter. Enjoy reading. Oh yeah, I'd like to say a big huge 'SORRY' to all of you for this rather short chapter, and another big huge 'SORRY' for not updating for quite a while. (Points to Chapter title) :)

Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.

Chapter 10: Patience

The door to Helga's room was knocked repeatedly.

"Come in." Helga answered softly as she put her brush down on the desk. She just had a shower.

The door was being opened slightly, and Arnold peered inside the room slowly by poking his head inside. He gave a soft smile at Helga, and she replied back with a weary smile. Arnold just returned home after his busy and tiring day of delivering medicines and equipments to the Red Cross and one of the United Nations agencies which was helping the country (UNDP). He wanted to see Helga to ask about her day today. He was a bit concerned whether his mother gave Helga a hard time. But still in spite of the weariness, the both of them were glad to each other at the end of the day.

"So can I come in?" Arnold asked.

Helga rolled her eyes in disbelief, "Jeez, do I have to repeat myself again?"

Arnold just nodded embarrassedly at her, and went in. "So how was your first day at the camp? Did my mom give you a hard time?" he asked as he sat on the computer chair.

"Not really." Helga replied back as she sat on the mattress. "All I did was helping the docs attend the patients, hauling medicines and drugs here and there and took care of a baby."

Arnold laughed softly, "You took care of a baby?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I did take care of a baby you skeptical glorified delivery boy. But I suck at it though. The rugrat cried a lot so much, that a nurse had to take the baby away from me so she can take care of the kid." She shook her head embarrassedly.

"Heh," Arnold chortled, "But overall, it was a good day, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…"she agreed somewhat reluctantly, "So, how was your day, Football Head?"

"Ah, as usual." He sighed, "Going places, deliver things, meet the same people I met yesterday…" replied, in a somewhat bored tone. Helga noticed the faint jaded tone in his reply. She began to wonder whether Arnold was tired with this place, doing the same mundane things and all.

"You sound like you're pretty bored. You're tired of doing those things over and over again, aren't you?" Helga asked.

"Yeah… I guess you're kinda right. But what can I do? People need me here." Arnold sighed, "Oh yeah. I came by to tell you dinner is at half an hour from now."

"Your mom's cooking?" she asked dreadfully.

"Heheh, don't worry about it. I help a little bit." He replied back, to calm her down.

"To be honest… wow, I can't believe I'm saying this; since I hate saying anything flattering about you," but Arnold just chuckled at the remark, "but your cooking is way better then your mom's." she smiled at him.

"Shh… keep it down," Arnold shushed her up, as he turned to the door looking outside the room to see whether his mother heard them or not, "You want my mom to get jealous of me?" he replied playfully. It drew some laughs from Helga. It seemed the cooking lessons that he got from his grandmother really paid off after all. Then there was silence between them, since they got nothing else to say as they looked at each other deep in the eyes. It was eerie to say at least, that they began to notice that they actually were getting along fine with each other as time went pass by. "Well, I'd better get going now. Don't want my mom to ruin the dinner." He said to break the silence.

"Wait. Hey Arnold," Helga said, to stop him from leaving the room. Ever since she saw Stella crying when they went pass the graveyard on that particular morning, she had been meaning to ask Arnold regarding it. She knew the question might invoke sadness, or even anger from Arnold, but she just had too. Her curiosity got the best of her.

"Yeah?" he replied back.

"Um, this morning when your mom and I were on our way to the camp and stuff, the carpool driver drove in front of a cemetery." Helga told him, and Arnold frowned a bit, "Then I saw your mom crying. I'm sorry for asking this but, I-I just really want to know… why is she crying?"

Arnold knew she would ask him this question sooner or later eventually, but he never actually prepared an answer for her. He always felt uneasy every time when he thought about it. With a depressed sigh, and after pondering for a good answer to give her he replied, "It's the little grave under that big tree, isn't it?"

Helga nodded weakly, greatly anticipating for an answer.

"That grave is where my little brother resides." Arnold said solemnly. "He was born prematuredly. He was born back when I was in the States and when my parents were trapped in this country. And because of the lack of modern equipment, not to mention how scarce it was to obtain food on that time, he was underfed and malnourished, and died a week later after his birth. Sad thing is… I never got to see him… there isn't even a picture, o-or a video of him…" he said weakly as he hung his head somberly.

Helga now felt a lot guilty for asking him that. She too lowered her head in sadness and in respect of Arnold's brother, and said, "I'm… I-I'm sorry I asked…"

"Nah… it's okay…" He shot a weak smile at her, "You're just curious. But promise me that you're not going to talk about it in front of my parents okay? They still haven't gotten through with it. It's still a… 'touchy' subject to them."

"I understand." Helga nodded, "Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah." He said as he got up from his seat, "See you at dinner Helga."

"Yeah, see ya." Helga replied back. And with that, Arnold closed the door behind him and walked over to the kitchen to help his mother. Helga meanwhile, drifted in her own thoughts as she lied on the mattress, thinking about her own problems. But still, Arnold's story still occupied in her mind.

---

Two days later, few hours before noon…

The sun was so blisteringly hot today that the workers and archeologists at the excavation site were allowed to receive an early break. Using all of his strength, Miles forcefully tried to climb out from the excavation pit he was working, but fell back into the pit again when he misplaced his foot due to his clumsiness. But still he persisted, climbed up again, being successful at it, and trudged to the nearest tent with his limped leg where he could rest for a moment and to take shelter from the hot sun. He raised a hand to greet at the workers who were resting on the ground in front of the tent. He went in.

It was a large tent that so much as twelve people could fit into it. But the tent wasn't used for camping purposes, because it was being used as an office where maps and ancient scriptures were being deciphered before a digging expedition was conducted. There was a large wooden table in the middle where stationeries, maps, scriptures, a phone and a laptop resided on it and a few broken chairs scattered around the table. There was an icebox on the left corner of the tent, and Miles went to it and took a bottle of drinking water out. He then poured some to his face to cool down and drank what was left of the water in the bottle. After wiping the water off his face he then joined Eduardo to begin studying one of the scriptures on the table to search for more clues about the ancient complex they were researching. Diligent as ever.

The phone rang. Eduardo rolled his eyes in annoyance and answered it. "Hola."

"Ah, Sr Eduardo. ¿Miles está ahí?" the person on the phone said.

Eduardo recognized the voice, "Sí, aquí está." Eduardo replied, and he put his palm over the receiver, "My friend, it's a phone call from the Secretary of the Foreign Affairs."

"What? Not again…" Miles said in disbelief as he took the phone away from him, "Hola, Sr Miguel. ¿Puedo ayudarlo?"

"Have you received the email that I sent to you?"

Miles then looked at the laptop at the end of the table. It had been idle and in standby mode for hours on end since morning. "Uh… I haven't checked my email yet."

"Then I suggest you to do it now. I think we have a situation here."

"Señor Miguel, look,"Miles sighed, "We've been through this many times already. My government will recognize your country sometime this week, I promise. And I'd like to remind you again that although I am the unofficial United States ambassador as of now, I don't actually wield any—"

"No, no… it's not that." The Secretary replied, cutting him off, "A family in America just emailed my department saying that one of their children ran away to San Lorenzo."

"Say WHAT?" Miles exploded. "What do you mean?"

"We are shocked as well. Just now, about two hours ago, the father of the missing child called us to ask us about his daughter. He sounded very worried, but that's natural I guess, considering that his daughter suddenly ran away from home and all. That's why we really need your help, seeing that you're one of the only few Americans living in here. I've forwarded you the email that the family sent to me, and I greatly expecting for your answer."

"Okay, okay… I'll call you later if anything turns out." he said exasperatedly while rubbing his forehead.

"Make sure." And the conversation ended. Miles gave the phone receiver back to Eduardo, and he banged his head softly on the makeshift wooden table. "Helga…" he said her name repeatedly through his clenched teeth in angered discontent.

"Is there something wrong, my friend?" Eduardo asked him concernedly while watching Miles continuously banged his head. But Miles didn't answer him, and he got up from his seat and went over to the laptop at the end of the table. The computer went back online again, and quickly he logged into his email account to check the email that Señor Miguel just sent to him.

Hola Señor Miles,

Esta mañana recibimos un email de una familia Americana que afirma que su hija huyó de su país con destino a San Lorenzo. Tengo a mis muchachos en el aeropuerto revisando la lista de visitantes para averiguar si es cierto. También le mando el email que recibimos de la familia. Por favor ayude a encontrar a su hija.

Miguel de la Serna,
Secretario de Asuntos Exteriores.

The letter was asking for Miles' participation to help them. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "The letter was sent two days ago!" Miles shouted in his mind, "How come only now they just received it?" he then paused, and told himself, "Oh yeah… either the power was down in Bolivar or the server exploded again…"

Miles read the letter again and again. His assumption was true. Helga did run away from home. He then read the forwarded email that Miguel sent to him.

Dear Ma'am or Sir,

We, a family from the United States beg the Government of San Lorenzo for help. It has come to our attention that the youngest member of our family, Helga Geraldine Pataki ran away to your country for an unknown worrisome reason. We implore the Government of San Lorenzo to inform their authorities to search for our beloved family member.

Helga Pataki is identified as a fifteen to sixteen year old slim Caucasian girl with short shoulder-length blond hair and dark brown eyes. Her height is around 5 ft 4 in or 162 cm. She was last seen in Hillwood International Airport taking a flight to San Lorenzo two days ago. There is also a report that she stopped by at Juan Santamaria International Airport in Costa Rica for an interchanging flight. If you have any information regarding her at all, please inform us as soon as possible as we are deeply concerned about her. You can contact us by our residential phone number and the email address that we are using now. We extend our gratitude to the government and the people of San Lorenzo for helping us finding her. Thank you.

Written by Olga Pataki on behalf of my parents, Bob and Miriam Pataki.

And that letter totally, undeniably confirmed his assumption that Arnold's guest, Helga Pataki indeed had run away from home. Not wasting any more time, he quickly grabbed the phone and called his wife, back at the Red Cross Camp South.

---

The phone rang, creating a racket in the otherwise quiet sick camp. And on this hour, most of the camp's staff was busy with their patients or rather too lazy to pick the phone up. The only person who was really, really idle and the nearest to the phone was Helga – she was helping a nurse in preparing to give an injection to one of her patients at that time. After two days, Helga seemed had got the hang of it, helping the Red Cross staff doing various jobs, ranging from restraining a panicking patient down to the bed to talking to the patients to lift their spirits up. She also had picked up a few Spanish words during her time there, thanks to some of the nurses and some of the patients who were willing to teach her some.

"Helga, pick up the phone will you? My hands are full right now." Stella said to her, yelling across the room.

"But I'm helping—"

"Just go." The nurse who she was helping ordered, "I can take this my own." She replied in broken English somewhat.

With the order was put onto her, she just nodded and she quickly walked over to the phone located on the desk of the head doctor of the camp.

"Hola?" Helga greeted. It was also the one of the two Spanish words she knew before coming to San Lorenzo.

"Hi, can I speak to Stella?" the caller replied back.

This startled Helga, as she did not understand a word the caller said. Without any choice, she had to reply back in English, in hoping that the caller would understand her a little bit. "I'm sorry, I don't understand you. If you j-just could hold on for a second, I'll be—"

"Helga? Helga is that you?" the caller asked in English, much to Helga's delight that the language barrier was no concern of her now.

"Uh… yes… it's me." She replied somewhat reluctantly. "Who's calling?"

"It's me, Miles. Is my wife there?" he asked again.

Helga turned around and looked at Stella. She was attending a very weak patient right now. "Helga, come here right now!" she shouted at her urgently, demanding her presence. By now, nurses came rushing to Stella to help her, setting a panicking scene in the camp. Helga was no exception. She too had the urge to help Stella right now.

"Yeah, yeah." She replied in a hastened, panicking tone. "She's pretty busy right now."

"Helga, come down here!" Stella shouted again, making Helga more and more nervous and tense.

"I'm sorry, you just have to call us back!" She then just abruptly threw the receiver away and quickly ran to Stella's aid. Miles could hear the weak indistinct voice coming from the phone. It sounded panicky, disoriented and nerve-wracking. He knew what was happening down there at the camp. He had heard scenes like that many times already that they made him depressed a lot, thinking about the suffered person and just how many times his wife had to go through with situation like that over and over again. He then slowly put the phone down, and sighed. He hung his head down, and put his hands at the back of his head with the elbows on the table.

After ten minutes or so, Miles' phone rang back again. With an unwilling sigh, he picked it up and greeted in a depressed tone, "Hola?"

"Miles, it's me." Stella replied, also in a weak, somber tone, nearly identical to her husband's.

"That day happened again, huh?" Miles asked back, as he rubbed his forehead.

"It happens all the time… just forget about it…" Stella sighed back, "So, Helga told me that you called. What is it?"

Miles didn't answer back.

"Honey, just forget about it." his wife said again, to reassure him.

After much uneasy thoughts about the scene that he just heard over the phone, and tried to forget it, he replied, "Yeah… I just received a phone call from Miguel."

"Oh." Stella scoffed, "Didn't you already told him that our government—"

"Yeah, yeah, I did." He cut her off, "But it's about something else. The Foreign Affairs Department just got an email from a family in the States."

Stella gasped in shock, "You mean…"

"The Patakis sent an email." Miles said, "Bob also called the Department couple of hours ago."

Stella was in shock. She turned around and looked at Helga. She was sitting on one of the unoccupied bed, looking completely tense and distraught right now as tears ran down from her eyes. The old lady that she had a conversation with couple of days ago tried to get out from her bed and walk over to her to comfort and console her. But because of her condition, one of the nurses quickly ran to her and tried to put her back to bed. But the old lady persisted, and finally the nurse complied. She then brought the old lady over to Helga and the young girl quickly embraced her as the old lady accepted her embrace, to comfort her and gave her strength.

"What do you want me to do? Tell her that her dad called just now?" Stella replied back, "I know we should, but I think this isn't the right time, Miles." Stella too, like her husband, wanted to tell Helga about it. But her motherly instincts kept repeating again and again that she shouldn't.

"Stella," Miles sighed, "I'm sick and tired of you telling me that this isn't the right time over and over. So when is the right time, then?" he said almost yelling.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me Miles!" Stella retorted back. But then, her voice became softer, "Please, trust me on this. Please have patience."

Miles sighed back. Though he really opposed his wife's decision to keep it mum, he trusted her decision. After all, it was mostly his wife's decisions that kept them alive during their numerous adventures together, "All right." He said in aggravation, "I trust you. I'm forwarding this email that the Patakis sent to you just in case. But so you know, even my patience has limits…"

"Don't worry." Stella replied back, "I love you." She gave an effort to calm her husband up.

Miles' burning heart cooled down a bit after he heard that. He never seemed to get tired when his wife said that. Those simple words would always calm and soothe him. But still, even with those words etched in his heart and mind, he was still displeased at his wife's decision. With a groaning disappointed sigh, he replied to her, "Yeah… love you too." And he put the phone down.

Stella did the same. She herself didn't know why she wanted to delay this agenda regarding Helga. Maybe it was because she saw something in Arnold and Helga that she wanted to learn more about. Or maybe it was because of Helga's behavior, that she wouldn't want her to contact her family right now since Stella saw fear in her eyes. She then turned to Helga, who was being consoled by the old lady.

"Are you still with me, child?" the old lady asked in a warm, comforting voice, as she hugged her and stroked Helga's hair gently.

Still crying, she replied with a broken, sobbing voice, "Helga. Call me Helga."

The old lady smiled softly back at her. Right now, she knew that she had finally gain Helga's trust. Before that, they would only talk with each other without saying each other's name. Maybe right now Helga would opened up to her, bit by bit, and the old lady would assist her the best she could to get her through her troubled times. Gently, she put a thumb slightly below Helga's left eye, and wiped a tear away. The old lady smiled at her, and said, "And you can call me Mona."

They both share a soft laughter together.

Finally I got to write in Miles' clumsiness after being absent for nine chapters. Arnold's brother is something I add to make Arnold's character more tragic, and hope I got Helga's description right. Gah, I added so much stuff in this story and I don't even know how I'm going tie up the loose ends! I'm sooo screwed... And I really, REALLY need help for someone to translate some of the Miguel-Miles dialogue to Spanish. Any kind of help is appreciated! I hope this chapter is worth the wait, and please review it. And my profile's updated, y0! Check it!