Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, Shakespeare, etc. Alright guys, I think this may be it; the conclusion, the last ACT. The seats are emptied, the lights extinguished, the curtain falls. And before you start hounding me about this (Pyrex Shards) I know this seems to jump around time-wise, it's because this is an epilogue of sorts. Read, Review, and Spread the word.

HA

Helga inhaled the fresh air with a smile, pleased that she no longer had to endure the antiseptic smell of the hospital. She had lost count of how long she had been held prisoner in the name of healing; days had quickly turned to weeks, maybe even a month or so. Time, it seemed, had gotten sucked into the vacuum haze morphine creates. But she was free now; and what a beautiful day to be released.

The sky was overcast and there was a light breeze that played with her hair, but she ignored it in favor of the look Carmine was giving her. Without words, he approached her, taking her hand and walking with her away from the hospital entrance. They could have hailed a cab, or called Anthony, or taken the subway; but they didn't. They were content to walk nowhere, simply holding hands in silence. At her faraway look, Carmine stopped to take Helga in his arms, kissing her cheek before whispering in her ear.

"Where ya at, Helga?" he asked softly, and she laughed a sound so light and airy and purely Helga. Something he had not heard in a long time, and was pleased to hear it now.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" Leave it to her to answer a question with another question. Carmine thought about what she had said and what she could mean for a second, before shrugging with a smile.

"Yeah, plenty of times. Some of my Uncles live there with their families; I would often spend chunks of my summers there as a kid. Why?" She smiled again, leaning back to feel the wind on her face and what felt like a raindrop or two.

"I almost died, Carmine. Near death can make you rethink how you live. I've always wanted to travel the world, and I almost lost my chance." Helga explained, and Carmine entertained the thought of Helga in Italy, dancing and eating and celebrating with his family.

"Would you tell me about Italy?" She asked, bring him from his thoughts. With a smile and a nod, he took her hand and began leading her towards the nearest café.

"How about I tell you over an early dinner? My treat." Carmine offered, and Helga allowed a small laugh to exude from her lips.

"That sounds great, I'm sick of hospital food." They laughed, and Carmine started describing for her the luscious landscapes that his family owns and lives on.

***

The only light was from a table lamp, gold with a red shade to give off a warm and rather imposing feel. Two love seats with red upholstery sat on either side of the only door, while two matching chairs sat before an ornate and worn mahogany desk. Behind the massive piece of wood sat another matching chair, high backed and over stuffed; flanked by the lamp and a phone. To the back of the chair was a window, although the blinds were drawn to a close. The room, as awful as it sounded, was the stereotypical den of the Don for a Family. But that's exactly what it was.

And behind that massive and imposing mahogany desk sat a man in his late forties, brown and grey hair slicked back to a dark shade of almost black. He was clad in a deep blue pin-striped zuit suit and maroon tie; he had taken off his matching blue fedora earlier on and set it carefully on the corner of the desk. His near wireless-framed glasses were perched precariously on his nose as he looked down at his late little brother's youngest child and only son. And what a son he proved to be.

"Does this young woman have a name?" he asked calmly as the younger brown haired man practically fell into one of the chairs.

"Her name is Helga. Helga Pataki. Please Uncle Leon, would you just do this for me?" He pleaded, and the elder smiled – always easy to spot a man in love.

"You love her, huh?" His nephew blushed, and Leon Bianchetti saw the same thing his son Anthony saw.

"Yes, so much. She nearly died in the bomb blast at the airport, and I just, I, I really want to do this for her. Please." Carmine pleaded, and Leon smiled, before taking a pen and paper, writing down a few things.

"I'll tell your Uncle Sal that you'll be there in a few days; I'll arrange the flight myself." The smile that bloomed across his nephew's lips nearly split the young man's face apart. It was in that moment that Leon realized just how much Carmine resembled his father, although those eyes, they were definitely his mother's. Carmine jumped out of his chair, completely ignoring Family Protocol and launching himself over his Uncle's desk in order to hug the older man. Leon just laughed good-naturedly and returned the embrace, watching as Carmine disentangled himself from his Uncle's arms and hopped over the desk again.

"Carmine." The younger man stopped himself just shy of the door at his Uncle's call, and turned almost nervously.

"I know your Mother and Aunt would like to meet her, and I'm curious myself, what with the stories Anthony has told us. Perhaps you can bring her over for dinner after your trip?" Leon offered as he peered over his spectacles and smirking cleverly. Carmine smiled in return, the twinkle in his blue eyes purely his own.

"Naturally." He guaranteed, and his Uncle nodded.

"Getouttaere." Leon laughed, and watched as his nephew all but bolted out the door. After his office was quiet for a few minutes, he lifted the phone off the receiver and dialed a number while vaguely looking at the buttons. Three rings later a deep voice greeted his ear in Italian.

"Buongiorno, il fratello. Sal, I have a favor to ask."

*

Arnold watched as the jet flew high overhead, no doubt carrying Helga and Carmine to Italy. He would take care of her, and she would be happy – but Arnold just couldn't find it in himself to be satisfied. Shouldn't he get happiness too? Where was his comedy-like ending, with marriage or at least a date? Sure, he had done some awful things, but that shouldn't be cause to let him be miserable for the rest of his life.

He sighed again, and Gerald, who was walking with him, just about bashed his own head into the nearest wall.

"Come on man, let it go. I mean, you let her go, didn't you?" The dark skinned man asked his friend, and Arnold sighed again, much to Gerald's annoyance.

"I know, Gerald. I want her to be happy, and I want to keep our friendship safe – but I don't want to be alone. Lila has Lorenzo, you have Phoebe, there's Harold and Patty, Curly and Rhonda," he paused when Gerald emitted a soft 'weird', "Sheena and Eugene, and now Helga and Carmine. Hell, even Sid and Stinky both found girls. I can't help but feel . . . unsatisfied." The two sat on the old Boarding House stoop, watching the cars go by as they thought about everything that had happened recently. Arnold sighed again, but before Gerald could act on his feelings and pummel his best friend's head into the brick siding, a soft voice entered their ears.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the owner of this building." Both turned to find a petite brunette in front of them, a duffle bag on her should and a piece of paper in her hand. Arnold immediately stood, and Gerald eyed him with a smirk.

"I'm his grandson and co-owner. What can I do for you?" he asked smoothly, and she blushed while looking him up and down. They were practically undressing each other with their eyes, and Gerald wanted to hurl.

"I need a room, and a woman I met in the airport told me to try this place, Sunset Arms on Vine Street." She explained, and Arnold nodded with a wide smile.

"Of course we have a room open for you. If you would just follow me inside, we can have you fill out the paper work and get you all settled in." He offered, and she nodded enthusiastically, although neither moved. Gerald just sighed and stood, nudging his friend while taking off down the street towards Phoebe's.

"Later man." Arnold waved distractedly with a mumbled 'later', and Gerald laughed, even though it went unnoticed.

"I'm Arnold Moser." Arnold introduced, holding out his hand for her to take. She smiled and gently rested her hand in his own.

"Danielle Nieminen." Neither could deny the tingle of pleasure that ran from their hands to their hearts – and other places – at the contact. Arnold smiled a smooth and welcoming smile as he led her inside, already getting to know her.

Maybe he could be satisfied after all.

***

Helga sat at the vanity mirror, taking the moment of peace to think back to that day in the airport a few weeks ago. A young brunette woman no older than herself approached as Helga looked over the times, asking if she knew the area. Helga nodded, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief, before asking Helga if she knew any apartment buildings with rooms open. She then proceeded to explain that she had just moved here from Finland, and was suppose to live with her boyfriend – needless to say, he joined the mile high club with a stewardess and she left the plane a single and now homeless woman.

Helga had looked her over, before smiling and telling the woman to find Sunset Arms, on Vine Street in Hillwood City. The woman thanked her profusely, before taking her single duffle bag and the written directions, and fled the airport. A few moments later, Carmine returned from the corner he was making a call, and told her his Uncle Sal had arranged for a car to pick them up when they landed.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts, and she turned to find Carmine leaning against the frame, dressed for the 1940s-themed party his family was throwing downstairs in their honor. She smiled as he eyed her, not some much lusty as it was caring.

"Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath sell'd thy beauty's form in table of my heart; my body is the frame wherein 'tis held, and perspective it is the painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill, to find where your true image pictured lies; which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, that hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me are windows to my breast, where-through the sun delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art; they draw but what they see, know not the heart." Carmine serenaded as he approached her still seated form, taking pleasure in her light blush. She smiled and kissed his lips softly before deciding to reply.

"Let those who are in favour with their stars of public honour and proud titled boast whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread but as the marigold at the sun's eye, and in themselves their pride lies buried, for at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, after a thousand victories once foil'd, is from the book of honour razed quite, and all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: then happy I, that love and am beloved where I may not remove nor be removed." As she finished, Carmine smiled and kissed her fully, swallowing her moan as they stood. When they pulled apart, he gave her his cocky, crooked Italian smirk.

"Helga, would you marry me?" her eyes went wide, but she didn't pull away from him.

"What?" the tone of her voice made him realize how he said it. Whoops.

"I don't mean right away; I mean in the future. We can have a nice long engagement; years, if you want!" he tried to recover, and she smiled softly.

"A nice little wedding in the Italian countryside sounds nice. We can invite all the friends we grew up with." She began, and he smiled even more as he pulled her close.

"We can serve chili-cheese dogs as the main course." Carmine continued seriously, and Helga bit back a laugh.

"And we'll have everyone dress for the forties." She concluded, and Carmine didn't fight back a laugh.

"So does this mean you say yes?" He asked hopefully, and she thought about it for a moment.

"Naturalmente."

Carmine laughed and swept her off her feet, cradling her as he kissed her vigorously. Helga laughed as well, kicking her feet playfully as they continued to kiss, only stopping when Carmine put her down to kneel in front of her.

"Here's the ring to make it official." He told her as he pulled out a thin gold band with a small fire opal in the center. Helga didn't cry, but she was smiling so hard her face hurt.

"Crimmney Bianchetti, you sure have good taste." She complimented as she admired the ring on her finger, while he stood with a smirk.

"Well, I did fall in love with you." he commented, but she ignored him in favor of her own thoughts.

"Although you did put it on the wrong finger." Helga concluded while sliding the ring off her right hand in order to place it more correctly. Carmine just about died with embarrassment, and Helga laughed while dragging him towards the door.

"Hey, fughggetaboutit. Come on, let's go brag to all our cousins!" she cheered, and nearly groaned when he stalled her.

"Our cousins?" he asked, and she smirked in a purely Helga way.

"Well, I did say yes." She threw back at him, before continuing her mission of dragging him downstairs where she would force him to dance and drink and enjoy the evening with her. She would have him mingle with the men in his family while she chatted with the girls about wedding plans, after she had called Phoebe of course. And she would force him to endure all of this for at least a year. Hey, he did say it could be a nice, long, engagement.

And in true Bianchetti fashion, once the good news was shared, the dancing and the singing, the feasting and the merry-making was shared by all. And all, it seemed, was as it should be.

HA