Arnold sat at his computer, watching the screen intently. Helga had used his laptop a few days ago to access her bank account, and he knew that eventually, she would have to use it again, and as soon as she did, he could find out where she was. So far nothing, though. Dr. Bliss had gotten in touch with Steven's offices, who had informed her that he was out of the country on business, but wouldn't tell him what country he was in. But they did learn that Helga had seen him the day before. She'd shown up at the office to talk to him. But that was all they could get out of the woman. That, and he would be back in seven days, which matched up to Helga's "a week" comment to Phoebe.

"Do you really think she would fly to Paris with Steven?" Gerald asked, incredulous. "I mean . . . well, considering . . ."

"Dr. Bliss tried to explain what was going on, but I can't figure it out," Arnold said. "She's not thinking the way someone should, Gerald."

"Or maybe, just maybe, he isn't as bad as everyone is making him out to be," he suggested.

"Gerald . . ." Arnold warned.

"Come on, man," he said. "Did he ever really hurt her?"

"She's just run off with the guy to Paris, Gerald," Arnold told him. "After what he did, keeping her prisoner, and-"

"Helga, by her own admission has said-"

"Yeah, but-"

"She's a big girl, Arnold," he told him. "Maybe this is just something she needs to do."

"Dr. Bliss says-"

"That she's suffering from a form of Stockholm, yeah, I know, Arnold," he said.

"And other things . . ."

"But she's not in danger," Gerald pointed out.

"That we know of," Arnold countered with. Gerald sighed, frustrated.

"Forget it," he said. "We could go around in circles all day about this. I'm just saying, maybe Helga does know what she's doing. Dr. Bliss doesn't know everything."

Gerald left not long after that, frustrated with Arnold. Arnold meanwhile, went back to the computer. He had looked up flights from there to Paris, France. Helga hadn't used her card at the airport on this side, so he was hoping she would use it on that side. Still nothing, he went down to have lunch. Later that afternoon though he saw she had finally used it. But it was to transfer money from her ordinary account to a travel account. When had she set that up? And why would she even have it? Orley. Okay, so he knew where she was. Another idea struck him, and he signed into her mobile account online to see if her Find my Phone App was working. It also showed she was here. Then he looked up flights from here to there. There was one tomorrow. Seven hours. He balked at the cost. And once he was there, he would need to find accommodation . . . but the currencies were pretty much on par with each other, his dollar being better than theirs. He thought about it for a few minutes.

"Fuck it," he said, going online and booking a ticket for himself and paid for it. He'd think about where he was going to stay once he got there. Then he turned and started to pack.

. . .

"So your a short walk from Champe de Mars gardens and the Eiffel Tower," Steven told her. "You can walk there. We're here."

Helga took the map from him and looked it over. So walking down, across and down the little street would take her into the park, and through that to the Eiffel tower. She was impressed.

"So we can see the tower from where are?" she asked.

"Yep, it's an apartment on Avenue de la Bourdonnais," he told her. "You'll like it."

"I need to transfer some money," she said, looking around. She pulled out her phone and turned it on. She sat down and connected to the internet and went into her bank account, transferring money from her everyday to her travel account she had set up just yesterday. She was able to use her card, but without the huge fees. She could also withdraw money from the machines here. All the money automatically converted into Euro's. Then she went to a machine and withdrew some money. She wanted to get a drink, but wasn't going to use her card for something so small.

Once they were through customs, they made their way to the exit and Helga saw a car waiting for them. Steven started to tell her about the others things they could do. A day trip out of Paris to Monet's Garden, see the Palace of Versailles.

"There's so many places to explore," he told her excitedly, his eyes lighting up. His excitement was rubbing off on her.

"And we'll look at the university?" she asked. He looked at her blankly for a moment before answering in the affirmative.

"But we're not going to spend all out time there," he told her. "I'm already losing two days, not including this one settling in. We're in the country for seven days, but really it's only five, when you take into account arriving and departing."

She supposed he was right. She'd never traveled this far before. It was exciting, but also a bit frightening. She inhaled. And the air smelt . . . different? She shook her head. Now she was being silly.

Once they were in the car, and pulling away, Helga stared out the window. Steven was already on his phone, talking away in French. Helga was proud of herself for understanding him, but blocked him out and just enjoyed the scenary passing by, eventually at some point falling asleep. She woke to Steven shaking her shoulder as they drove along a tree lined road, with restaurants, cafes and shops below, and apartments above, until they pulled up to one. There was a cafe or restaurant, Helga wasn't sure. Getting out, she just followed Steven's lead, who seemed to know where he was going. It was now that she truly learned just how rich he was. She knew he was disgustingly rich. But once they entered and went upstairs to the apartment and opened the door to see a maid finishing up, she realized he was grossly rich.

"And here we are," he told her, spreading his arms out wide. "No one's been here since your sisters stay last year."

Helga dropped her bag and her jaw dropped open.

"Wow," she breathed. It seemed a bit over the top, though. She could see there were three sliding doors that led to three seperate, very small balconies. One off the lounge, two off the bedroom. Looking out the windows she could see the Eiffel Tower. Every morning she would wake up, look out the window and there it was.

"We'll go out for dinner tonight, but we will go to a market tomorrow and get some food to cook, if you like," Steven told her, looking at his watch. "Or we can just dine out every night."

"Helga just shook her head, walking into the bedroom. Seeing the huge bed she did a short run and jump onto it, snuggling down. Paris. She was in freaking Paris! She kicked her feet and pounded her fists on the bed squealing with delight. Like a small child having a tantrum on her back. Then she laid back with the biggest smile on her face, staring at the ceiling.

"I take it you like it?" Steven asked, laying next to her on the bed. Her nerves started up as soon as they knew he was close, almost touching. She closed her eyes and nodded. "Well, maybe if you go to university here, we'll just stay here. I can work from anywhere, really."

She looked over at him. "What do you do?" she asked.

"A bit of this, a bit of that," he told her vaguely. "Never put your eggs in one basket."

"You're not a millionaire, are you?" she asked, sitting up.

"My parent's were millionaires, Helga," he told her, leaning over her. "I capitalized on it." She leaned back and let him kiss her, before kissing him back.

. . .

While Helga was waking up in Paris, Arnold was drifting off on a plane. He'd been too nervous to sleep. Before he left he again accessed Helga's cellphone app, and found about where she was staying. On his way there he was looking up hostels and hotels. He found a hotel that was sort of close, and had a vacancy and booked himself in. Then he let himself sleep the seven hour flight away, waking up as they descended. After that, he had to find his way from the airport to the hostel. He followed the directions, and finally got there, booked himself in, then made his way to the room. When he got in he saw a queen bed, with a multi-colored chandelier hanging over it which made him raise his brow, and en-suite, and a TV. There was also a huge mirror and a wardrobe to put his stuff in. It was cosy, with a large window that opened onto the closed in court yard. He wasn't tired, after having slept on the plane, but he was hungry, so went to find where there was somewhere to eat. Chatting to the woman at reception, he found it was possible to buy food and make it, or he could just get his food from the hotel. He chose something from the hotel, ate, and decided to get a map book. Setting up his laptop first he tracked Helga down. She was in Champs de Mars. He looked up how to get there from where he was. It was walking distance. He cursed himself for not getting roaming on his phone before he left. Maybe he could find a cheap one to use while he was here?

. . .

Helga stood staring at the children going around and around on the carousel. She had watched someone get it going by hand. This was day two of her stay, and she had wandered around the gardens. She had hoped to go up the Eiffel Tower, but was unable to. She was disappointed, but it was shut for security reasons or something. However you could still get to the restaurant that was up there. Steven had already promised to take her there. The night before he had gotten a call and had left in a bad mood, promising to be back soon. He was, but Helga pretended to be asleep. So their first night there wasn't romantic in any way. Then he had left early in the morning for a meeting. She had gotten up, gotten some breakfast at a cafe, then made her way to the Eiffel Tower. As excited as she was to be there, she couldn't help but feel lonely. Paris had to be enjoyed with someone, she thought, watching the families around her eat picnic lunches, friends playing on the grass, couples walking hand in hand, groups of tourists taking photo's . . .

"What do you have to say for yourself?" someone asked, stepping up beside her. She jumped, gasped and tripped over, looking up at the person in shock. He just glared down at her.

"Ar . . . Arnold?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "What?"

"I tracked you via your bank transaction and your phone," he told her, folding his arms across his chest. "Do you have any idea how much money I've spent?"

Helga could feel her mouth opening and closing but no sound was coming out.

"In fact, I haven't even slept yet! I literally got off the plane, got to my hotel, and ate on the way here," he told her. Nearby a teenage couple were taking notice, and a small group of Chinese tourists were also looking.

"I-"

"You took off! What the hell were you thinking?" he shouted. He bent down til he was on level with her and grasped her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake before pulling her into a strong hug. "I was so worried about you."

"You were?" she asked.

"Of course!" he shouted. "I just spent thousands of dollars to get here, and will be spending a few hundred more staying. And you ask me that? If I was worried?"

Helga looked down at the ground. What was she doing here? It was like there was two people fighting over her, but in her head. One was telling her to go one way, with Steven, where she knew what was expected. But the other was saying to go the other way, with Arnold, which wasn't as clear cut as the path Steven would lead her down.

"Helga, why are you here with Steven?" Arnold asked.

"Why are you here?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Because I was worried about you!" he shouted at her. "Everyone is worried about you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he asked. "Because you took off, not telling anyone where you went. And we all find out it's with Steven. Are you insane?"

"So basically, everyone is worried because you all think I'm crazy and I'm with Steven?" she asked.

"No one said you were crazy," Arnold said.

"You just asked me if I was insane," she pointed out.

"Don't put words in my mouth," he warned. "I don't appreciate it."

"Did you know, until my parents died, you and I never even spoke anymore," she said thoughtfully. "I think you have a hero complex."

"Excuse me?" he asked. "And if I remember correctly, and I'm pretty damn sure I do, you stopped talking to me. Not the other way around."

"Yeah, I mean, I'm no one to you, then my parents die, and suddenly, there you are," she told him. "And then for months we don't hear from each other, I see you with a girl, you have this "feeling" I'm in danger, and then boom! There you are again."

"Where is this coming from?" he asked. "Look-"

"I'm not damaged-"

"I never said you were-"

"I'm not in danger-"

"You don't know that-"

"I'm perfectly fine-"

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Arnold demanded. There was a long silence in which they just stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything. "Look, we can go get something to eat and talk-"

"I don't want to," she told him. "I'm sorry you wasted all that money, Arnold, but I don't want to go with you."

Arnold watched in shock as she walked away, not looking back. He couldn't believe it. She'd just shut him down. Just like that. Not only that, she had tried turning everything on him! Him! And all he'd ever tried to do was help her.

"I give up," he said quietly, and returned to his hotel to update everyone on what had happened.

. . .

When Steven returned he found Helga sitting at the table staring out the window, sulking.

"How was your day?" he asked, putting his suitcase down, loosening his tie and removing his jacket. Helga looked over at him. He was dressed in a suit. Something she hadn't seen too often. He tended to be a more casual dresser when he could. He was clean shaven, had his hair neatly in place, too. So this was the business business side of him. He even looked a bit tired.

"I walked around Champs de Mars today, watched some children playing on the carousel, admired the gardens, people watched, had a look at the Eiffel Tower. It's different from how I imagined."

"How so?" he asked, taking the seat next to her, running his hand through his hair and mussing it up a bit. "It's so hot in this thing."

Helga smiled. "It's closer to the road than I imagined. I always thought it was in a park or something," she said. "Like the middle of a park. Instead it's just a few steps from a main road."

"Most iconic places are like that," he told her.

"And I was watching couples strolling around, old and young, families having picnics, and thought to myself, I need someone to enjoy all this with," she told him. He sighed.

"I know, and tonight you have all my attention," he told her, pulling out his cell phone. "See? All switched off, and getting left behind. I have reservations at tonight. And tomorrow we can have dinner and a stroll along the Siene. I'm sorry you're alone so much."

"And then Arnold showed up."

"What?" Steven asked, shock all over his face. "Here?"

"Yep, to tell me off for running away, and to complain about having spent a whole lot of money to get here," she told him.

"Well, it wouldn't have been cheap," Steven said, still shocked. "Did he say where he was staying?"

"Nope, but he said he was going to be gone in three days, because he could afford only that, I guess," she told him shrugging. Steven stared at her, and she could see he was thinking.

"Wow," he said. "That's one hell of a trip to make to tell someone off. He's not even staying long enough to enjoy the place."

"I feel a bit bad, because it would have been the money he'd saved to go to England," she said, looking down and tracing circles on the table. "But, it was a foolish thing to do, don't you think? I mean, generally, if a girl runs away to another country with another man she's in love with, doesn't that mean something?"

"I suppose," Steven said. "In any case, we have a dinner to get to, and we don't want to be late now, do we?"

. . .

Helga could not believe where she was sitting. In the Eiffel Tower, looking out a window, eating course two of a five course meal, drinking a glass of wine. She couldn't keep the smile off her face. She talked about the rest of her day, what she wanted to do, asked Steven more questions about what he was here for.

"Robotics," he answered. He launched into an explanation that Helga found mildly interesting. He seemed to realize and laughed. "It's an booming industry. But always remember, never put all your eggs in one basket, and you'll be fine."

"So, that's what your looking into?" she asked. He nodded.

"I need you to keep Friday clear," he told her. "You have an appointment. You'll need your portfolio."

"I left it at your place when I ran off," she told him. "Why?"

"So they can look it over," he told her. "And I brought it with me, just in case you decided to come. It's back at the apartment."

Helga's mouth dropped open and her fork clattered to the plate. "Are you serious?"

"If your keen to go, I can arrange payment, accommodation, and an allowance," he told her. "I won't be living here full-time, but I will be here as much as possible."

"You . . . oh my God!" she yelled, jumping up and throwing her arms around him. "Really? You'll really let me live and study here?"

"If that's what makes you happy Helga, yes," he told her, kissing her cheek. "I'll let you go."

. . .

Arnold decided to hit up a museum. Might as well do something while he was stuck here. All that money spent, he may as well soak up some of the city. He'd even gone to a nightclub the night before, waking up in a strange apartment, with a strange girl who spoke some English, no French, made him a coffee. Then they had breakfast and went their seperate ways, trading emails. It was . . . interesting, and not something he would have done. Ever. But he supposed there was an exception to everything. Gerald's mind would explode when he told him. If he even believes me, Arnold thought with a smile. He'd actually gone out to forget about his confrontation with Helga, and he had, but he'd also had a lot of fun.

"Arnold, isn't it?" someone asked behind him. He turned around to see him there. "Helga told me you made your way here. Good to see you're at least getting something out of the trip."

"She told you?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't she?" he countered. "I came back to the apartment, she's sulking, ask her what's going on, she's lonely and want's company, something I can't give her at the moment, and then brought you up. So, why are you here?"

"Because we're all worried about her," he said.

"And by all, you mean?"

"Me, Phoebe, Lila, the boarders, my grandpa, Dr. Bliss," he ticked off.

"So, friends, friends family and a psychiartrist?" Steven asked, smiling. "Dr. Bliss is a business woman first, Arnold, and a friend second. I know. I'm a businessman. Do you know what she charges an hour? Enough to chew through Helga's inheritance in a matter of months, leaving her with what? And I think the woman did more damage than good. Now, why are you, yourself, here?"

"Because she's my friend and I care about her. A lot," he told him.

"Are you in love with her?" Steven asked. "I mean, flying here, all the way from the U.S, is a pretty grand gesture for friendship."

Arnold was silent.

"You don't know, do you?" Steven asked. "Well, I do know. I do love her. And I don't know what her sister told you, but Helga was never at risk with me. Walk with me."

Arnold said nothing, following behind.

"There is a lot that was going on that Helga didn't know," Steven started. "Olga and I were never in a "happy" marriage. She was one person before, and another after. She was also unwell."

"Mentally?" Arnold asked. Steven shook his head.

"And physically," he told him.

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked.

"She had a brain tumor," Steven told him. "She'd known for a while, but didn't tell me. I was at her and at her about her headaches, and she always brushed them off. Olga's problem was that she wouldn't face up to ugliness. She would ignore it. She pretended she never had the diagnosis. Eventually I found out, and confronted her about it. She didn't want Helga knowing, and then she took off for some "r&r". Or, as you have come to know it, warning you of how dangerous I was."

"So why did she tell me that?" Arnold demanded. "Why would she make it up?"

"Because, her original plan, was that Helga would act as a surrogate for us," he confessed. "I felt bad for Helga, and spent as much time as I could. Olga . . . I don't think she knew what she was doing half the time. I didn't know what she was doing half the time. Stonefield is out of the way, as you've seen yourself. When Helga first came to stay, I was told many things about you and your friends, and the rest of the people in the school. Helga wouldn't talk about much, so all I had to go by was what Olga told me. Just as all you had to go by was what Olga told you."

Arnold was starting to put pieces together that didn't seem to fit before. Steven sat down, and Arnold sat next to him.

"From what I heard about you and your friends, it was parties and drugs. And I do remember one time coming along and having a beer can thrown at the car after almost running down a young man," Steven told him. Arnold remembered that night. He was sober driver and Sid and Harold had gotten trollied. They'd gone out to the street and being stupid, Harold pushed Sid onto the street in front of a car. That only just missed him. Harold swore at the driver who paused, and threw a can of beer at the car. The car had driven off.

"I wasn't drunk," Arnold told him. "I'm almost always the sober driver."

"Yes, but you were there. So it didn't seem so far fetched to me when Olga would tell me tales of you kids," Steven told him. "And then there was Helga, who never went out at all, never talked of any friends, and seemed rather lonely, even then. Olga told me she was not well liked, had no friends, which I found real odd."

"Helga did that to herself," Arnold almost shouted.

"So Helga just chose to have no friends and no one tried to change her mind?" Steven asked.

"I did," he said.

"Anyone else?"

Arnold stayed quiet. No. No one else had.

"Arnold, Helga isn't in trouble with me," he told him. "I wouldn't put in her trouble, and I wouldn't treat her badly. Would i like a family with her? Yes, I would. And in the end Olga knew that. She knew Helga and I were crossing the line with each other. And I do authentically believe it was jealousy. It wasn't contraception she was giving Helga, Arnold. It was fertility medication."

That made Arnold stop. "Why?"

"Because Helga got accepted into a University that Olga tried to get into, but didn't," Steven told him. "Helga never found out, because Olga kept it from her and me. I found out about that, too, and we argued. We argued a lot. I guess she figured what better way to ruin Helga's life than to get her pregnant."

Arnold continued to say nothing, and Steven continued talking.

"Another University that has accepted her, is here, which is why I was quick to ask her to come with me," Steven told him. "I haven't told her any of this yet, so I would appreciate if you kept it to yourself. I want to be the one to sit down with her and tell her. She has an appointment to visit the day after tomorrow."

. . .

The next day found Helga walking around a museum. While looking at one sculpture she heard Arnold say he couldn't believe how many they had.

"It's like everyone here was an artist or something," he said, which made Helga laugh. "So Steven's paying for you to study here, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, turning to look at him. " How did you know?"

"He tracked me down yesterday, telling me that he loved you and I didn't, that you were going to go to University here," he told her. "And that he was glad I was getting something out of my trip, meaning the museum I was walking around."

"I haven't decided for sure," she told him. "My circumstances were different when I applied. I had a reason to runaway."

"And now?" he asked.

"Did you say you didn't love me?" she asked.

"No," Arnold said. "He said I didn't love you. Because when he asked me I didn't answer him."

"Why not?" Helga asked.

"Because I didn't know how he'd react if I told him I did," he told her. He saw Helga chewing on her lip. She was trying to decide if she believed him or not.

Arnold watched Helga thinking. Arnold was forming a plan in his head. He could see that Helga was still undecided. And something just didn't add up with Steven's story. What he needed was to get her to go back with him. Helga had told him what Steven had told her, which lined up with what he told Arnold, but . . . something didn't seem right . . . all he had to do was plant a seed of doubt in her about Steven. He was going to have play Steven at his own game. He just hoped it didn't hurt Helga too much in the end . . . but he had to get her back from him. He'd spoken to Lila the night before. She advised emotional blackmail as a start, then they'd go from there. Arnold wasn't sure he could pull it off, but he had to try.

"So do you think you'll come back?" he asked.

"Of course, for a little bit, anyway," she told him. Arnold nodded.

"Will you stay at Stonefield?" he asked. He didn't need to hear Helga's answer to get it. She went dead white. "I'll take that as a no then. You still have a room at the Boarding House."

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm just not sure it will be a good idea . . ."

Arnold didn't say anything to convince her. Lila told him not to be too pushy. So he wasn't going to be, though it was difficult not to be. He just wanted to grab her by her shoulders and shake some sense into her. "I need to get back to Grandpa, so I leave tomorrow. He's not doing too well, so I don't want to be away in case . . ."

"Yeah," Helga responded, frowning a bit.

"We only have each other, really," he said. "I'm not sure what's going to happen to the boardinghouse. The boarders can move on, but . . . I'm not sure what I would do."

"Can't you stay on there?" Helga asked. Arnold shook his head.

"Not if I want to go to University," he told her. "I'll have to sell it to get the tuition. I don't have any other family to fall back on, and all our friends are moving on. Worse comes to worse, I don't go."

"You have to go, Arnold," she told him. He shrugged.

" I need to go back to my hotel and pack. I leave early tomorrow morning," he said, smiling at her. "Good luck for tomorrow." He moved forward and hugged her, and slipped a folded piece of paper in her pocket.

He walked away, not looking back, but he could feel her staring at him.

. . .

"Are you ready for your interview tomorrow?" Steven asked her over dinner. Helga hadn't even been thinking about it. She was too busy thinking about Arnold, and his grandpa. How could she have taken off so close to his grandma's passing. She felt both selfish and ungrateful.

"I'm not sure I want to attend here," she told him honestly. She wasn't feeling well all of a sudden. How stupid was she doing this? "I'm thinking I might want to attend closer to home."

"Did Arnold put you up to this?" he asked, sounding a bit angry. Helga shook her head. "Well, you were happy enough to stay here and go before he showed up."

"Yeah, but . . . I feel a bit homesick or something," she said, not looking up at him. "I just don't want to be here on my own."

"You wouldn't be on your own, Helga," he told her. "I'd be moving here too, and would travel to America when I need too. A bit of travel doesn't bother me."

Helga didn't say anything, just put some food in her mouth, though she was struggling to hold it down. She didn't want to live here with him. She didn't even want to live with him. She just wanted to go home. She could already see what would happen if she went to University here and he lived with her. She wouldn't be able to go out with friends, which means she probably wouldn't make any. And she'd be forever at his whim, being that she was relying on him to pay her tuition and keep her housed and fed. She looked over at Steven who was watching her intently. No. Staying here, under his thumb wasn't an option.

The idiocy of her coming here with him suddenly hit her full force.