Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.
Summary: Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!
A/N: Hello, hello. Welcome back everybody. So…things get crazy in this chapter. Just letting you know. Cheers!
Kryten- Well, mystery solved. No need to finish. Haha, jk. That is a wild theory.
Esmeralda - Helga definitely has a lot to digest, where she will be able to or not, especially when it comes down to her and Arnold together, we'll just have to see. She isn't exactly a forgive and forget type of person.
Veganmama - Jeremy is very easy to hate, but you can kind of also see he has normal animosity towards two people who did a shitty thing to him.
acosta perez jose ramiro - Oh yes, its about to get interesting.
Darkeiko - Jeremy does have a lot of things stacked against him. But then again so did Arnold at one point.
Enma- I don't think even Helga ever though she could get broken into believing everything they said Arnold did. This chapter might shed some light on some of that.
Rocky - I think that has a lot to do with why she as been so angry. She's been at war with herself while also having to carry on.
Go on and be a big girl,
You asked for this.
Sunday. A week prior.
His phone began buzzing on the coffee table, perking Sid's ears from where he lay on the couch, enjoying a somewhat lazy morning with Rhonda. Truthfully he'd just finally hit an exhaustion wall from being so amped up between Friday and Saturday. He extracted himself from her and slid the device to him, seeing it to be Jeremy and knew he needed to take it. Pulling himself from the couch, he jogged to his study, "Hey…" His tired voice greeted into the phone.
"Hey man…how's it going?" He heard Jeremy's equally tired voice grumble through.
"Tired," Sid sighed as he practically fell into his office chair, "How was the wedding?"
His friend chuckled in a low voice, "Lots of eating, lots of dancing, lots of champagne and…lots of hangover this morning."
At that, Sid sported his own crackly, tired chuckle, "I hear you."
"How did the meeting go?"
"Good," Sid nodded, "I brought back a bunch of case file copies we can go through together."
"Anything ground breaking?"
Sid paused for a moment, wondering if something so large and as alarming as what he had come to believe since last night should be conveyed over the phone. He were about to burst though, having promised himself he wouldn't mention it to Rhonda until at least Jeremy knew. Which reminded him of how terrible he was with secrets. He didn't do well with toting around bombshells and he was very lucky that his wife hadn't pressed him in the slightest, "I don't think Arnold did it."
There.
It was out in the open.
"What? Why?" His partner's voice suddenly sounded much more alert. Who could blame him though? It was a complete one eighty.
"I'll show you everything but its hard—"
"—well shit, cliff note me at least."
Sid sighed, scratching the back of his head lackadaisically, "There has been an active serial killer in the area, just not Arnold and not the guy from Kipsom. There is a reasonable possibility that whoever left the unknown DNA at both scenes is actually the one responsible for the killings and responsible for setting up situations that convict others in order to cover their tracks."
Jeremy didn't respond for a moment, nor did Sid necessarily expect him too, considering the amount of information he'd give him to chew on and digest. Especially hungover and not as agile minded as usual. "Shit…"
"Yeah…I told you you needed to see it."
"Is this going on parallel to ours?"
"No. Theirs happened in 2010," Sid then sighed and ran his hand down his face, having had another daunting thought cross his mind, "Now I'm wondering if we need to start looking into any other suspicious murder sequences in surrounding areas."
"Just show me everything first thing in the morning. My brain hurts at the moment."
"You got it. Get some rest, drink some Gatorade and order in waffle house."
Jeremy then tiredly snickered, "You bet. See you tomorrow."
Saturday. Present.
Clever.
That was the word her mind focused on the most as her eyes moved from paper to paper, from photo to photo. There she sat, elbows propped on her dinning room table across from Lance who had gone silent after laying out the web of lies that had seemingly ensnared her entire family. Helga hadn't said much through the entire presentation. Partly out of respect, partly because the things he had to show her had stopped her breath on more than one occasion.
"It's clever," She finally said aloud in a quiet, if not weakened voice. There were too many mixed emotions swirling around in her, nor had she had the proper time to synthesize them out of their chaotic nature.
"It's horrifically clever," Lance agreed with a subtle nod.
At that, Helga pushed away from the table, leaning back against the chair and crossing her arms, suddenly feeling defensive of herself and her actions against everything laid out in front of her. Not that Lance was there to chastise her for it. He appeared only to be the messenger, "If this is true…then somebody has been…following us…following him for…for…"
"Years," The middle aged man nodded again before slowly inhaling and looking over to the photos, "There is some overlap in when some of the girls went missing but, a lot of them went missing after my client was already locked up. Same type of girls, same murder pattern, same…everything."
"With the whole goal of just to let innocent men sit in jail while they…continued on," Helga said in a hollowed out, dry voice. Her mouth felt painfully parched.
Arnold had been a victim by random chance? And their whole life had been upended because of bad luck? If Lance was right, then yes, it appeared that that had been the case. And in the midst of the upheaval, a lot of skeletons had come tumbling out of her former love's closet.
She had a lot to process to the point where it felt like her mind was splitting apart. She could feel a throbbing headache coming on because of it. She wanted to puke, she wanted to stress eat, she wanted curl up into a ball, she wanted to pace, she wanted to go for a drive, she wanted to never leave the house again.
The thorny wad of anxiety she'd done well at pushing down was closer to the surface of his chest than it had ever been at that point, painfully pushing the prickliest of tears to the rims of her tired eyes. God she hated her overly emotional state of being. The absolute worst part of pregnancy. The continued fatigue of feeling like she had control of nothing weighed heavily on her yet again. "All of this is yours to keep if you want," Lance, sensing that his welcome window was rapidly waning, began scooping everything into the folders he brought with him.
This seemed to snap Helga out of the mini trance she'd fallen into, her glistening eyes darting away from the worn wood table top and back onto the face of her unexpected guest. To his credit, he could read the emotional war waging behind her stormy blue eyes, he'd seen it in Mike Harding's wife's eyes before too. "But I'll get out of your hair," He pulled himself up from the chair and pushed it back under the table, "I'm sure you've got a lot to do and…think about. My card is in that folder if you have questions."
Helga nodded and stood up, still in a bit of a haze to think too hard about what he was saying, "Thank you for coming by," She said.
"Well…just trying to help," Her guest replied with a brief smile before making his way back to her front door. As he headed out, he turned and again gave her a courteous smile, "Have a great rest of your weekend."
"You too," Helga nodded and replied in a somewhat subdued voice. He left and was almost down the steps when she closed the door and leaned back against the heavy wooden plank. Her natural inclination was to slide down and have a good cry but she was far too pregnant to even entertain such maneuvers.
What now?
How was anything suppose to ever be rectified?
It couldn't be. Things were far too broken between them.
She wiped away a thick layer of built up tears, unburdening her lower lids of the watery weight.
This changed everything, but it changed nothing at all.
Monday.
"Well, what do you think?"
"Why are you showing me this?" Claire, the prosecutor asked as she flipped through a thick volume of well organized papers the two detectives had spent a week putting together before sending it off to her to consider.
Sid frowned, finding the question rather strange, "It's our latest development."
Claire flipped through a few more before looking back up at the two men and tearing her reading glasses from her face, dropping them onto he desk, "These are two completely separate cases."
"With the same DNA at both, same method of murder, same profile of girls. Theses guys didn't do this."
"Listen," The prosecute sighed, "You two are bright eyed and bushy tailed and you are good at what you do, but you are both very young in your career Mr. Moretti. The unfortunate reality is…sex workers and runaways are often targets for unscrupulous characters because they go largely unreported. You should know that."
Sid clinched his jaw, flexing his jaw muscles a few times as he desperately fought he urge to roll his eyes at his superior, "What about the DNA?"
"A lot of these girls have regular customers."
"Ma'am, with all due respect, you don't think that there is anything at all similar about these two cases?" Sid tried again, the entire time Jeremy giving him strained eyes that were wordlessly pleading with him to 'shut up.'
"I think that it's hard to explain away a freezer with a corpse in it in ones storage unit. I think it's also hard to explain away ones ex-girlfriend buried underneath a patio."
"You yourself were saying that that wasn't enough not that long ago. That something felt weird about all of this," He barked back a little louder than he intended.
Clair huffed, "You're expecting me to believe that there is somehow this…this fantastical, high functioning serial killer out there creating these complicated webs instead of the obvious right in front of me?" She stared him down, daring him to say another word, "We are taking what we already have to the grand jury and that's that," She finished sternly as she closed the folder and slid it to the edge of her desk before glancing back up at the stone faced young man, "Everybody wants to make a name for themselves when they are young, I was there once too. You've done your job, now let me do mine."
Once they were dismissed, Sid stormed out of the office, feeling more angry than he had ever before. Jeremy was jogging along behind him, "You trying to get fired?"
Sid stopped and rounded on him, "I might as well if I'm going to be complacent with them railroading another innocent man."
Jeremy sighed, nodded and began scratching the back of his head in thought before his chipped brow slowly raised, "Have that other detective from Kipsom you met with submit requests as a witness to the grand jury panel."
His partner shook his head, "It's probably too late at this point. The hearing begins January 3rd."
"So…what? You're just going to go rogue and blow yourself up on the witness stand?" The dark brown headed guy stopped, continuing to watch Sid storm away.
"I guess I'm going to have to."
Thursday.
If there were one thing Helga hated, it was being wrong. Being an extremely prideful person was probably to blame for a decent chunk of it, but stomping around in a man's industry for a living had made her especially thorny when it came to being told that she was incorrect about something. Of course it didn't happen often, she was thorough and considered her instincts about things to be decently battle tested. But, sometimes she did miss things, and sometimes she was off the mark with things. Rarely, but she was human like everybody else. Being off the mark about Arnold's guilt, well, that seemed like the highlight miss of her life at that point.
A prospect she'd spent the better part of a couple of weeks trying to wrap her brain around. Yet, despite her having to eat crow so to speak, she didn't exactly consider it totally her fault, and not because she wasn't a big enough person to take responsibility either. If Lance Dungee were correct, which she had no reason not to believe him at that point, she'd seen the evidence herself, then whoever did this to Arnold,—and that other poor guy for that matter—had meticulously planned it to be as believable as possible.
It was a well thought out crime, on top of a well thought out crime. A person of logic and reason couldn't not take the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. The prosecution had, why was she expected to be so different? Love? She supposed. However, she had maintained her faith in him far longer than anybody else had.
Excluding Gerald.
No matter. She had been wrong. They had been wrong. Everybody had been wrong.
Which is why she found herself back in a place that she'd been sure that she'd never step a single foot in again for the rest of her life. To apologize. To tell him that she believed him. To tell him that she wanted to help him in anyway that she could.
She still hated him though.
He may have been an innocent man but he had tainted himself in other ways that were unforgivable to her. Which was why she was so devoid of any emotion when she saw his eyes widen and him hurriedly seat himself and snatch the phone to his ear, obliviously realizing that Lance had done his job.
Nothing was uttered as they both stared at each other through the glass. Arnold finally licked his bottom lip and timidly said, "It's good to see you again."
But Helga had little patience for any pleasantries with him, "You're a real piece of work, Arnold Shortman," She clipped back at him in an even tone, "But in light of all the information coming out of Kipsom county right now, I have no choice but to finally believe that the absolutely fantastical theory of Gerald's is correct. You actually have been telling the truth. Somebody did this to you." She absently waved her hand at her continued amazement of the situation, "I can admit that I was wrong...and because I can, I'll help do whatever it takes to get you out of here, because this isn't right. But let's get one thing very clear. You're a lying, manipulative son of a bitch and I still don't ever want see you again." She sternly finished, her steel blue eyes practically staring a hole through him.
Arnold swallowed, fully realizing at that point that him trying to be honest while saying goodbye was backfiring spectacularly. Then again, he had never expected to be vindicated much less ever see her again, "I know you're mad at me and you have every right to be."
"Mad?" She snorted at the absurdity, "Mad doesn't even begin to describe what I am with you," She seethed through the phone.
"Yeah...I know," He quietly replied in agreement, his eyes diverting downward, "I really do appreciate you coming to bat for me though."
Helga quickly rolled her eyes, "Well I believe in justice. The world isn't better off with the wrong person behind bars, now is it?"
"No," Arnold breathed in defeat before an awkward quiet befell them for the first time ever. That seemed to be that. She appeared to have only been there because of morals and a conscious. Still, the silence was bone crushing. "You look good," He tried, attempting to fill the void with something to defuse the ever mounting tension.
"Oh shut the fuck up."
Arnold sighed, deciding then and there—perhaps against his better judgment—to continue to push past her prickly responses to pry past her stonewalls to some common ground they could chat about. Anything to keep her from leaving. Once she was gone, there was no telling how long it would be until he saw her again, "How's the baby?"
"Not really any of your concern."
"Alright," He blinked, becoming a little annoyed, "I understand that you hate me and don't want anything to do with me, and that's fine, but when I get out of here…we don't get the luxury of actually being out of each others lives for good…" He replied a little more sternly, "At least not for a long while."
"You know...when you build a house of lies, manipulate me into a relationship with you and drug me against my will, it kind of does buy you a one way ticket out of my life," She said in a nasty, almost sardonic tone, thinning her icy blue eyes into the thinnest of black lines.
"I know. I…just don't want all of this animosity overshadowing our co-parenting. She deserves better than that."
"Well, she deserves better than you."
"She deserves better than all of this!" He bellowed, finally losing his cool with her, but knowing that he really had no right to. He sighed, shutting his eyes and praying she didn't storm out again because he'd once again, ruined everything. "I'm not a bad man," He finally said in a quiet voice, re-opening his eyes that were feeling red with so much pained regret, relieved to see that she was even still there, "I'm just fucked up."
Helga's knee jerk reaction was to snidely agree with that statement, but in the smoke of her own igniting anger, she could tell that he was legitimately frustrated with himself. It had never occurred to her how hard it must have been for him to come to terms with his problems. Mainly because up until very recently his level of deceitfulness appeared to include a love for hunting people, but with that now removed from the equation she could see how the burden of admitting that he had some serious issues would be both freeing and shackling.
Still, sorry or not, she couldn't tolerate his presence much less see a path forward for them at that point, and she considered it maybe for the best. It had prevented future heartache. She blinked, still staring down his solemn figure and in probably the most candid and unguarded she'd been with him in months she said, "What I can't figure out is why you never trusted me enough with the truth." She shook her head and limply shrugged before hanging up the phone and leaving.
Friday.
To say that he had been removed from everything would be a grave understatement. He hadn't even been on the same plane of consciousness since Monday. Rhonda was very much accustomed to her husband getting into little funks because of his work, but never for very long. Now whether or not that was him snapping out of it, or making a point to put on a show for her, she couldn't say. His somber moodiness persisted into dinner at the country club that night. While not a fan of the people, he always raved about the steaks, yet his filet remained mostly uneaten as he picked around at the mash potatoes on his plate with conflicted eyes.
Rhonda couldn't hide the worry lines disrupting her perfect complexion. She had always been taught not to discuss private manners over dinner. Especially public ones. It was the Lloyd-Wellington way after all. But, if she had wanted that type of stuffy relationship, she would have married the son of one of her father's wealthy golf buddies instead of her 'bad boy.'
"What's wrong?" She asked, voice drenched in worry as she sat her fork down and took a sip of her wine.
Her voice seemed to snap him out of whatever world he was off in. Blinking a few times he inhaled and laid his utensils down on his napkin. "What would you think if I left my job?"
Sid watched as his wife's brows rose slightly, "You know I would love that." She had never hidden the fact that she would prefer him to be available for spontaneous travels with her. "But I know you better than that, and I know you wouldn't just leave a job you love."
Her husband nodded, his eyes falling from her face as he sighed, "I'm going to be a witness in the grand jury in January," He began, pulling his eyes back up to hers. Grand juries were nothing new or interesting to Rhonda. Her husband participated in them often when the prosecution was seeking the green light for an indictment and criminal trial by jury. Her confusion on something so common being such a source of mental anguish for him couldn't be hidden, "I'm going to testify to the information that I got from the other police department. If…if I can create just enough doubt…maybe I can prevent them from being able to move forward with a criminal trial. If I do that…they're going to force me out of the department."
"Sid…they can't force you out for doing the right thing," Rhonda said in a quieter voice, "That's your job."
"They will. And I'll be a pariah."
Helga had just peeled off the lid to a greek yogurt as an after dinner snack when she over heard her phone vibrating against the cold granite counter top it rested on. In absolutely no hurry, she dug her spoon in and took a bite before shifting over to see who it could be as the utensil lingered in her mouth. Her eyes autonomously rolled seeing the number for outbound detention.
Arnold.
She'd feared this would start again since she'd broken the silence with him. Being a woman as smart as she was she should have just known it was a guarantee. What she continued to debate was how much of it she was willing to tolerate. He was right about one thing—as much as she hated to admit it—considering it was apparent that he wasn't a danger to society anymore, she couldn't exactly avoid him in totality. She might could cut him out of her life, but she couldn't cut him out of Hunter's anymore.
With an irritated sigh she tapped the green circle to accept his call and quickly flipping it to speaker, "Arnold," She said, using her professional voice. It was a sterile tone, devoid of much, if not all emotion and he deserved nothing more or less from her.
"Hey."
"Well, let's cut to the chase then. Why are you calling me?"
"I still get a call three times a week. I just figured…" Helga could hear the tiredness enveloping his voice. She wouldn't call it from physical exhaustion, but perhaps from constantly having to defend every single thing he did. "I don't know…" He then sighed, "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry."
Helga balled her fist a few times, expelling her irritation, "What did you figure?" She asked.
"I figured that we could maybe talk about us."
"What us?" She clipped, spooning another bite of yogurt into her mouth angrily before tabling it.
"You aren't the slightest bit interested in talking about everything?" He remarked, sounding utterly dumbfounded.
"No, I think you did a pretty good job explaining everything with the suicide novel you wrote me," She nastily barked back at him, immediately hating her own guts for saying such a thing once she realized it had left her mouth. He had almost killed himself over something he didn't do, "Shit…Arnold…I'm sorry."
He was silent for a moment. Much longer than she would have liked, "Yeah." He finally said in that same defeated tone of voice.
Fuck.
They may not have been on good terms, but that didn't mean she had to stop being a decent human being all of a sudden. Which was exactly what she was not being. Besides, he had probably been referring to them as co-parents. Running a hand through her hair she silently sighed and asked, "Let's talk about everything."
"No," He said rather quickly, "It's fine. Really."
"Arnold…" She tried again, "Just talk."
"What are you naming her?" He finally asked.
Helga blinked, now feeling even worse about her nastiness, "Hunter Eleanor."
"I like that," He seemed to cheer up a bit, "Shortman or Pataki?" A looming question for him seeing as she no longer had a reason to hide the child's patronage from the world.
"That I haven't decided," She honestly replied, re-engaging with her temporarily forgotten yogurt still sitting on the counter. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, she knew that. It wasn't as if she were going to deny him his right to be their child's father anymore, but she just hadn't decided about something as simple as a last name. They weren't married, there was no obligation.
"I understand," He sighed and made no attempt to speak for a few moments before offering up a very sardonic chuckle, devoid of any actual joy and said, "You know, looking back…I don't think we had that strong of a relationship. Probably not enough to have actually had any business getting married or having a baby together," Helga opened her mouth to reply but found herself bobbling at a complete loss for words on that.
Where the hell did that come from?
Naturally she had expected them to continue with their very long and overdue conversation about Hunter, and perhaps him even slip in a desperate attempt to again explain away or apologize for the shitty things he'd done to her. The last thing she'd expected him to delve into was the authenticity of their courtship. However…she'd give him credit for one thing. It got her brain spinning wildly in thought.
Was he fucking with her?
Of course on the surface it was shockingly easy for her to agree with that assessment and shout, 'No shit!' Because he had been a liar and a deceiver.
But maybe it was worth a deeper dive. Assuming he wasn't just fucking with her to keep her on the phone. He'd already bothered her with the call she supposed, and the only reason she was being cordial was because very soon, they would have a new baby, and eventually he would be out and they would then have to begin navigating life as co-parents.
"Yeah well, plenty of people get married and have children for less I suppose. I loved you. With ever fiber of my being I loved you." She finally replied in a much quieter voice. It was the best that she could put into words without going off on him again. Yet, she couldn't quite hide the subtle frostiness in her tone despite her inner agreement with herself to remain cordial. "What's your angle here?"
"No angle. Before you left you asked me why I never trusted you with the truth. And the truth is…I figured you wouldn't have been…open minded enough to handle it." She heard him sigh, "I was too afraid of you leaving me to test my assumption. Instead, we lived in this warped little bubble where I did sketchy things to make you happy and to keep you, and you ran around, blissfully unaware of my turmoil with it. So, yeah…I guess when you put it that way, we really shouldn't have been adding to our fucked up relationship."
Helga's brow furrowed, her mouth actually falling completely a gap. She didn't appreciate being referred to as closed minded in a round about way. She also didn't appreciate him continuing to think that what he did was somehow better. Or even noble. Like it was somehow her fault he did what he did?
As angry as she was getting with him again, she did wonder what her initial reaction would have been to him dropping some of his 'secrets' on her. And God, did that piss her off more than anything. Taking a deep and calming breath, she let the influx of oxygen extinguish he flames enough so that she could at least continue to get to the bottom of his bullshit, "It never occurred to you that I would leave you for being an out and out liar though? I fail to see how any of this is my fault?"
"I didn't say it was all of your fault. But seriously, what kind of relationship is that?" Arnold replied, bouncing her ball right back at her, which caught her off guard. When she didn't immediately jump to a reply, because she really didn't know how to respond to that, he exhaled, "I was a womanizing asshole who's lucky I don't have an STD and frankly several illegitimate children," She could clearly hear the air of anger in his strained voice, "You were—are too good for me."
Helga sighed a little tensely as she scraped the bottom of her yogurt cup with her spoon, "I knew you weren't some all American boy, Arnold," She took the last bite, her tone once again getting chilly, "We fucked in a bathroom at a house party after re-meeting one another a few hours before while your girlfriend was downing jello shots in the hot tub for Christ's sake. I knew what I was getting myself into with you," She pointed out as she sat her empty yogurt cup down, feeling a wave of agitation run up her core again.
"Look I can't take any of it back. In hindsight, I really wish we had had better communication. Instead, I constantly got shut down so that you could go brood over the obvious."
If she had been asked to paraphrase her relationship with him—and she vaguely remembered Phoebe once asking—it would be: Fantastic sex, great vacations and good conversation. But conversation didn't translate into communication. Something that had become so painfully clear to her over the past few months. Sex and nice getaways had solved everything else. Though it hadn't really, no matter how amazing it had been. "So that's your excuse for being heavy handed? I think too much?"
"You've never made much of an effort to completely include me in any decisions that involved me," He barked back, again his boldness surprising her, "Hell, I remember getting a text—a text—saying you were putting an offer in on our house. Like you couldn't even wait for us to do it together. Or care."
By that point Helga was rubbing the bridge of her nose with her index and thumb, fighting very hard not to let her temper loose, "I have spent the better part of my life taking care of myself. You of all people should know that."
"I know." He agreed with her.
"And you're right. Communication was obviously not as great as it seemed," She regrettably admitted with a loud exhale, "I am sorry if I made you feel like a passenger in our relationship. But the fact is, you took some very important decisions away from me. Things that I feel like…if you had just let me work through on my own I still would have made the same choice for myself. But you didn't…and now we're here."
"Yeah…I did some fucked up things."
"You didn't trust me enough to make my own decisions or trust that I loved you enough to think of you when I made those decisions and now…I don't trust you."
"Lies always unravel eventually don't they?"
"Always…" She said in a quiet voice as she bit her lip, steeling herself for what she was preparing to put out there in words despite all of her grouchy, ill tempered declarations previously, "What you wrote in that letter, hurt worse than just thinking you were a murderer. Because I still love you. Something that I've had a lot of self loathing about over the last few months," She took a calming breath, "But I don't see how we can possibly be together again at this point. Because I just…I just don't know Arnold. I don't."
"It doesn't make anything we had less real. The passion, the intensity, the laughter, the anger, the love…it was real," Arnold listed off, "I still love you too. And if we could ever find a way past this, I still want to marry you. I still want this family with you."
Helga sighed, shaking her head, "Sometimes love isn't enough. You wouldn't be the first guy I've been in love with that it didn't work out," She quipped in a cold, as-matter-of-fact voice. It was uncalled for, and she knew that, but…the conversation had left her feeling emotionally exposed and drained and the comfort that throwing up her walls and keeping him at arms length brought was mentally relieving.
She half expected him to hang up. She would have if it had been her, but surprisingly he didn't, continuing to take her punches, "Helga…my life has been at your disposal since the moment I woke up in my dorm room with you. It still is. Whether or not you choose to do anything with that, is up to you."
December 10th
It was the final countdown. She was exactly four days away from her prescribed due date. Her world was about to be turned upside down overnight, and she was both thrilled and scared shit-less. Her mother had all but insisted on coming to stay with her that week, not accepting any of her daughter's normal grumblings and headstrong nature. Her pitch was that if labor struck fast enough, she might have a hard time getting herself to the hospital.
Fair enough, Helga supposed.
Miriam had birthed two children, she had birthed zero. Maybe the matriarch Pataki knew a little something about labor. Inwardly, she had hoped that she'd blow right past her due date so that she could get induced. It just seemed more controlled, which is something she was desperately craving those days. Not to mention she was not looking forward to the description of pain she'd heard tale of. She had a high tolerance for physical discomfort but the few round ligament cramps she had had after some ill-timed sneezes had left her reeling with the worst, white hot pain she'd ever felt in her life.
A similar tense pain woke her from her sleep that night. Sitting up, her hand struck out to clutch her stomach, feeling how tightly wound her outer abdomen walls were clenching. After what felt like forever, it resided, like a tide going out to sea, leaving her feeling a little winded as she fell back down on her pillow, wiping her hand down her face.
After a few minutes, she reached over and tapped her phone, seeing it to be exactly 2:00am. She didn't know exactly how long she laid there, hoping to fall back asleep at some point. She knew it wasn't terribly long before she felt that same pulsing contraction twist up her midsection again. "Fuck." She ground out through tightly clinched teeth, yet again sitting up and curling her body in a vain attempt to relieve the pain.
She'd gotten woken up from cramps before at night, but this was completely new and different feeling. The tide went out again, leaving her feeling excreted for a second time. At that point, she felt like she had to get out of bed and walk it off, very much in denial of what was probably happening. She made it to the bathroom, flipping on the dimmest switch for a little light before leaning heavily on the vanity. She briefly contemplated hopping into the shower to see if that would help.
And it hit again.
Shit.
She tensed up. When it finally retreated she stumbled back out of her bathroom, out of her bedroom and down the hall to the guest room where Miriam was soundly sleeping. Clumsily she opened the door, feeling another wave of white hot tension constricting her core, "Oh, fuck…Miriam," She called into the darkness through the waves of pain, "Mom…" She desperately cried again.
The elder Pataki jostled awake, hurriedly yanking the lamp cord as she shoved her glasses onto her face. Helga was leaned up against the door jamb, face pulled tightly in agony as she clutched her stomach, "I think I'm having contractions," She managed to get out, feeling out of breath.
Miriam jumped out of bed and rushed to her youngest daughter, "How long?"
Helga shook her head, "I don't know," She couldn't even think through that much pain, "My water hasn't…broken though."
"Sometimes it doesn't," Miriam said, giving Helga a careful look. Her gut told her that her grandchild was coming, and coming quickly. Her daughter appeared to be in the midst of some crippling contractions, "I think she's going to come fast."
"Ah shit…" Helga panted, reality starting to hit her like a wrecking ball at that point, "I'm not ready," She shook her head, panic beginning set in, "I'm not ready for her yet." She didn't even recognize her own voice, or even where this scared little girl inside of her was coming from.
"Well, she's ready for you."
8:00pm
Arnold sat at the uncomfortable chair and desk, pulling the receiver back when her number went straight to her voicemail. They hadn't talked since their 'come to Jesus' conversation so to speak, but it still struck him as odd that her phone wouldn't ring at all. He hung and tried again, putting it down to a connection error.
But again, it went straight to voicemail. For sure, it was still possible that she was having a bout of bad signal in the house. It had been the only reason for them having a landline.
Spotty network signal.
No matter. He hung up and dialed the house number, but listened to it ring and ring and ring and ring. An uneasy feeling washed over him as he hung up. She wouldn't be ignoring him. Not this close to the birth of their baby.
Picking up the phone for a third time, he called Gerald, knowing that he would absolutely pick up. "Hey man."
"Gerald! Have you talked to Helga? She's not answering either phone," Arnold urgently asked, not even trying to hid the panic from his voice.
"I was actually coming to see you tomorrow morning about that. She went into labor early this morning."
"You're serious?"
"Yeah man. She had her at like…5:30 this morning. She might have turned her phone off for some peace because she was getting blown up. She wanted me to come let you know tomorrow."
Arnold couldn't stop the smile that had broken out across his face, and he had barely heard what his dearest friend had said. He had a daughter. She was here. She was finally here after what had seemed like eons of waiting. "Do you have her room number?"
"Uh…Phoebe?" He heard Gerald ask, "You got her room number? Oh…she said to just call Miriam. She's there."
"Does she have her number? I do not know that one off the top of my head."
"We got you."
Everybody besides her mother had left, and Helga was glad for it. The nursing staff had just returned Hunter back to the room, having whisked her away for a brief moment for a routine first round of immunization. Poor thing had not been a happy camper either, but Helga couldn't blame her. Not even a whole day in the world and already being poked and prodded, but she'd calmed down almost immediately when she got cuddled back up with her mama.
And then came the silence. Outside of the occasional coo from her now sleeping baby, or the intrusion of a nurse who insisted on pressing on her midsection every half hour, Helga found herself alone in her head, and feeling remarkably empty. She was coming down from the emotional and hormonal high she'd been experiencing that morning, when the only things she'd had to worry about were, 'baby is coming. baby is here.'
But now all that was over, and she felt incomplete. Her heart knew what was missing. Through all the months of stress and the trying to pick up the pieces to move forward with her life, her heart had murmured quietly, allowing itself to be governed by a wicked sense of self preservation and maternal instinct.
It knew though.
The moment felt so off kilter, because it was. There was a person missing from this situation. The only other person that the situation concerned. It didn't change the way she felt about him at that moment in time, but for all he had been put through, he had at least deserved to see the birth of his child.
Yet, that had been robbed from him.
Miriam leaned over to see her vibrating iPhone on the table, rejecting the call because she didn't recognize the number and reopening her book back up. To her great agitation, the number started calling again. "Boy they just do not give up," The elder blonde rolled her eyes, reaching for the phone in irritation.
"It's probably somebody we know," Helga tiredly yawned.
"I don't know this number."
"What is it?"
"952-7000."
"Shit…" Helga gently sat up, reaching her hand out towards her mother, "Let me see it. It's Arnold," She explained as Miriam rushed to get the phone into her daughter's awaiting hand.
"Hey," She answered, probably sounding a little breathless.
She heard him chuckle, "You have no idea how many phone calls I've had to make to find you."
"I know, I know…" She conceded, "My phone is off and…I just didn't even think about you maybe calling." Hindsight it was incredibly shitty and inconsiderate but it literally did not even cross her mind she was so done with congratulatory calls.
"So, she's here."
At that, Helga broke out into the biggest smile she'd had in a long time, her eyes falling down to the little blonde headed prune, swaddled up in her arm, "Yeah. 5:30 this morning. Six pounds, five ounces, eighteen inches long."
"That's amazing. She was ready, huh?" She could hear the beaming smile in his voice. It was probably the happiest she'd heard him sound in a long time.
"I'll say. I was almost seven centimeters by the time I got here. Barely had time for an epidural. They were able to get it in, thank God."
"She must have come quickly."
"Incredibly quickly."
"How are you feeling? Everything go alright with you?"
"Yeah, I'm alright for the most part. Worn out really," She shifted Hunter onto her bent knees so she could look at her more, "I had to have a 3rd degree episiotomy. She's got your big head."
Arnold inwardly cringed. He knew what that was, and was glad he wasn't there to witness it because he probably would have freaked out, "I'm sorry."
Helga chuckled, "Not your fault."
"Isn't it?" He teased in return.
"Perhaps a bit," She reckoned, "She's perfect though. Everybody thinks she looks just like me but I don't see it," She explained, running her fingers over Hunter's soft little cheek, "She just looks like an adorable baby to me."
"She sounds more than perfect," Arnold replied and Helga could suddenly feel the conversation drift into a more somber direction, almost as if she could hear the smile fade from his lips, "None of this is fair."
The blonde young woman swallowed, eyes shifting from her infant over to her mother, who seemed entirely engrossed in her book. "I know it's not," She agreed in a quieter voice, "I know things aren't great between you and I but…you still deserved to have been here and I wish you would have been."
"I appreciate that Helga."
Helga watched as Hunter began flexing her fingers on the one little hand that was poking slightly out the top of her swaddle wrap. She was sure she was about to melt, or her heart would explode from the overload of love she felt. She had no idea how one could be so in love so quickly with such a little person, "Shortman," She finally said.
"What?"
"Hunter Eleanor Shortman."
She could hear the warm smile return to his face, "Thank you."
December 17th
Rhonda came strolling into their apartment, close to a dozen department store bags in tow for some last minute Christmas shopping. Sid looked over from the couch we was lounged on to see her haul, inwardly rolling his eyes at what his wife considered, 'a little shopping.'
God bless her though.
Her cheery and slightly removed personality kept him from spiraling into insanity from the slogs of homicide. Of course there he was, tainting the Christmas spirit of their abode with security camera footage. Particularly the footage of the mysterious man lurking around the Davenport residence.
His little heiress dropped her bags behind their couch, sliding out of her heels as she leaned over the back of the couch, dropping her arms around him, sparing the TV a fleeting glance before kissing the side of his face, "I bought something that I think you're going to like."
Sid turned his head, cutting his eyes nearly out of his head to look at her, a smirk drawing half of his lips up, "Is it for me?"
"No, it's for me. But you're going to get the most joy out of it…tonight," She winked, patting him on the chest before pulling herself upright, intending to corral her bags and get some wrapping done before it got too late. Her brown eyes fell on their big screen, analyzing the paused scene for a moment before chuckling, "Either there's a Paranormal Christmas now or you are working," She teased.
Her husband hit the play button as he too chortled as her joke, "There's a camera that's pointed kind of at the Davenport house. Found a few frames of a strange dude lurking around."
"And you're re-watching it on our TV because…?" Rhonda thinned her eyes at the monotony playing on the TV. She didn't care that he brought work home with him. It was life when one was married to a detective. Murder house had him especially obsessed though. And was potentially destroying a career that he loved. She took that personally, even if she would prefer him all to herself.
"I don't know," He shrugged with a sigh, sitting forward and turning to the side so he could see her, "Just making sure I don't miss anything I guess." He glanced back at the TV, right as the mystery guy came back out, and down the Davenport driveway before crossing the street.
"So…" Rhonda trailed off, her eyes becoming even more thinned behind her mascara as she bit her lip in thought, "This is going to sound crazy but…you know who that reminds me of?"
Helga ducked into the grocery store, shaking off the bits of snow from the downpour that was beginning outside. It had been the first time she'd been anywhere since going home from the hospital with Hunter. Her mom had finally gone home, but her parents were over that night and they had insisted on making her dinner, to which her mother had regrettably forgotten to bring tomatoes for. Bob had offered to go out but Helga had insisted, having been absolutely dying to get out of the house by that point, even if it was just a quick run into town for some simple produce.
She quickly grabbed a basket and made a bee line to the produce section, grabbing Miriam's tomatoes, while also grabbing a few other things as she thought about it. As she was heading towards the check-out, she remembered that she was running low on coffee—considering she lived off of it at that point—huffing as she turned back around and right into…
"Brian!" She nearly smacked into him. Jumping back, holding her hand out as if he would need steadying himself.
"Helga," He said with surprise before lowering his own basket and softly laughing.
"So sorry! I didn't see you there and my mind is…all over the place," Helga found herself rattling about.
"Ah, you're last minute shopping without a plan either, I see."
The blonde shrugged, "Sort of. I swear I've run into you more in the last few months than I have in years," She noted as she scooted past him.
Brian chuckled, "Isn't that something. See you around then I guess." She waved as she walked towards the coffee aisle.
December 30th
Hunter was asleep, warmly bundled like a little moth in her swing because Helga still hadn't found a way to get that child to sleep flat on her back without waking up a million times. But, for whatever reason, the swing did the trick. For now. With some luck, and a prayer, she'd be able to get about three hours of sleep out of her.
No sooner had she walked away, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out, she read a text from Jeremy that said, 'Front door.'
Scowling she slid the phone back into her sweat pants, looking down the foyer to said front door with a skeptical brow. Her first assumption was that maybe he had dropped off something for her. She was getting a lot of that lately, what with a new baby and all. But upon opening her front door she saw him standing on her porch through the storm door, wearing a small smile. She opened the glass door with the most curious of look, "Jay…what are—"
"—I'm aware that it is in poor taste to ring a doorbell or knock when one has a newborn. Especially with dogs," He chuckled with a smile, especially once he saw a smidge of relief and dare he say thankfulness brush across her face, "I brought you this," He held up a bottle of Cabernet, "I remembered that this was the only one you drank. Hopefully you still do."
Helga reached out and took the bottle from him, "Yeah I do," She confirmed, before looking back up at him. She hated social situation that required hospitality. Not that she didn't appreciate his thoughtfulness or anything, but sometimes a simple 'thanks and goodbye' should be sufficient enough. "Do you…want to come in for a minute?" It was the least she could do she supposed. It was a nice gift and he had been considerate enough not to wake her sleeping baby or her hell hounds.
"Um…sure," He agreed with a nod, appearing a little apprehensive while stepping through the door and following her toward the kitchen. "Where's the little one?" He asked as he shrugged out of his heavy coat.
"Asleep in the living room," Helga pointed. Jeremy scampered off to take a peak at the tiny little creature, still drawn up looking, all wrapped in her blanket, head full of bright blonde hair.
Helga re-emerged from the kitchen, leaning against the doorway, watching him peer in wonder at her child. "Should this thing be on?" He turned his head towards her, thumbing twowards the stationary swing.
"No, she hates swinging, but she likes sleeping it it because it makes her feel like she's being cradled," She explained, "And it's the only way I can get her to sleep…without being on me," She exhaustively said, not that she expected him to understand any of her plight. He was a single man without any children after all.
"That sounds like a struggle."
"It is," She agreed. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" She asked, suddenly feeling like some alcohol might be just what she needed to blow off some stress. Not much, but…just a bit. She wouldn't even call it stress just…adjusting still.
Still, she didn't drink often, and hadn't in over a year and perhaps she wanted a little treat.
Jeremy chuckled, "That didn't take long. I figured it would probably collect dust in your cabinet for the next six months knowing you."
"Yeah, yeah…" She teasingly narrowed her eyes at him, "I can't remember the last time I had a good glass of wine. Besides you were nice enough to bring it, you might as well get to enjoy it too. We both know I won't finish it."
"If you say so," He shrugged, watching her go to her drawer to forage for her bottle opener, "Let me," He insisted, reaching for the old metal device once he saw her fish it out. Surprisingly, and without argument, she handed it over to him while she located a couple of her stemless glasses, silently hoping they weren't matted with dust from non-use.
The top was popped, the glasses were clean, the wine was poured, "Not too much. I'll end up dumping it out," Helga bluntly told him, but she figured he was probably already aware of that. He knew her, after all. He knew that Helga Pataki had no qualms about wasting alcohol if she didn't want it or didn't feel like finishing it, much to the chagrin of a lot of people.
She took a sip, immediately feeling that warmth course down her chest that she always got from wine, "It's as good as I remember." She sat the glass down and took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. Jeremy too shifted onto a stool next to her, both peering through the walkway to the living room to spy on Hunter.
"So how have you been?" Her former flame finally asked, bringing his glass to his lips as he turned back to look at her.
Helga shrugged, "Sore, tired, adjusting to motherhood."
"I can imagine it's overwhelming."
"A little at times. I'm by myself and that sucks a little. I mean I have my parents and all but…it's different," She admitted, biting her lip before taking a small sip of wine.
Jeremy shook his head, "I have no idea how my mom raised me and my sister mostly by herself."
"I guess you just…figure it out," Helga speculated as her mind drifted on to Lisa Kirk and how that woman was probably tougher than she would ever be.
Jeremy's chipped brow raised, "Is he…?"
"In the picture?" She finished his sentence, getting a confirmation nod from him, "Yeah, I guess whenever he gets out we're going to try co-parenting or what-not. Him and I though…its…"
"Complicated?" He offered up a small but understanding smile to her, wordlessly expressing that he fully understood the touchy nature of the conversation. Helga nodded and took a sip of her wine. "I get it."
"How's your mom?"
Jeremy smiled, "She's good. Madison got married recently," He told her, referring to his sister.
"Ah. Well," Helga held her glass out to him, "Cheers to her then."
"Cheers," He clinked his glass against hers.
The cold felt like daggers slicing against her bare skin, ripping at her nerve endings with ever turn of the wind. The ice beneath her naked feet numbed them to the point to where she felt like she were hobbling on nubs. Violent shivers wracked her body as she shakily jogged through the dark wilderness, limbs, and twigs raking and snatching her exposed flesh.
She felt barely conscious, losing more and more focus with every body crushing shiver. She had only one chance to get away. She would run until her body gave way with exhaustion, relying on nothing but adrenaline and a small prayer.
She ran.
And ran.
And ran.
And in midst of her feverish delirium she suddenly found herself stumbling onto a road. A two lane highway. Falling onto the ice cold asphalt she burst into hysterical tears when she saw headlights approaching in the distance. With what little strength she had left, she pulled herself up, waving at the oncoming pickup truck. On brittle legs, shredded from the forest, she managed to make it to the side of the vehicle, where she saw the window rolled down and a middle aged, bearded man sitting in the passenger seat, hand on a pistol in his lap. "Ma'am are you okay?" His eyes were wide but weary of the situation.
"Help me…" She begged in a voice drenched in sobs, "I need you to all the police," She desperately pleaded, leaning against the side of his truck as her weakened frame gave way in the icy wind.
"Ma'am," The guy jumped out of truck and ran around to where she had fallen onto the road, "Is there anybody else with you? What's you name," He frantically asked, looking every which of way as he pulled out his phone, hoping for signal to call for help.
The unknown woman shook her head, her hands coming to run through her dirty hair, "I got away. He'll be back."
"Okay, I'm calling now okay? What's your name so I can tell them?"
"Monica Davenport," The woman wheezed.
A/N: I told you things were getting wild. I love your thoughts and theories!