A/N: Ah, it feels so good to be back in the wonderful community of FFNet, and back in Nick ships. I got this idea after watching iThink They Kissed, thinking "what would it be like if it were just Sam and Freddie? Despite what they think, they have a really close friendship, and I wonder how closely I can portray that." This is gonna be a long fic, and I've already mapped out how I want it to end. So---you know what, I'm just gonna let you guys read since this is pretty long. Shutting uuuupp....NOW.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own iCarly. Schnieder does. No, not my Journalism teacher, Dan Schnieder: Nick genious.

Freddie didn't have to walk far to Carly's door, so he was within her reach the second Spencer called his cell.

"Hey Freddie, come on in," greeted Spencer.

"Thanks," he stepped inside the more-than-familiar apartment before Spencer closed the door. "Is she still freaking out about Tristan?"

Unfortunately he was referring to Carly's recent boyfriend--or currently her recent ex-boyfriend seeing as how he broke up with her the day before. It wasn't the breakup rather the irony that stung, considering he broke up with her AFTER being caught making out with another girl at Groovy Smoothie, and after sucking the face of said girl, he ended the blow with the horrible cliché "I think we should see other people," and attempted to console her with: "Don't worry, we can still be friends."

Freddie wanted to kick his ass when he found out--not butt, ass. That's how angry he was. Unfortunately he didn't get the chance, because after Sam witnessed it she not only shoved the strawberry smoothie down the girl's bra, she blessed Tristan with two black eyes and a swirlie that resulted in the Groovy Smoothie employees declogging his head from the toilet for hours. In Sam's words "that douchebag got what he deserved and a hella lot more."

"Yeah," replied Spencer. "Poor kid won't stop. You know those three hour showers she takes when she's upset?"

"Yeah."

"She changed it to five hour baths, and she put her PearDoc near the ledge to sulk in Taylor Swift music."

Freddie pressed his lips together in commiseration. "Aw man, really?"

"Yeah. There's nothing I could do for her so that's why I called you guys to maybe fix her funk."

"Wait," he paused. "When you say you guys…"

Without warning the front door swung open and the blonde fierceness that was Sam Puckett stomped into the apartment. "How's Carly? Do we need to break down her room door 'cuz I'm wearing my special Converses today."

Spencer shifted his eyes suspiciously between Sam and the door. "…I thought I locked that door…"

"Sam," greeted Freddie in his mockingly formal tone.

"Fredward," she replied while routinely punching him the shoulder, which has now become ineffectual to him. "So where's our Carly?"

"Still feeling horrible according to Spencer."

"Yeah, she's up in her room now," he interjected.

Both Freddie and Sam exchanged glances before moving their eyes toward the stairs. "Weeellp," sighed Sam as she squared her shoulders, "let's go de-horrify her. Come on, Freddie," and she grabbed him by the forearm to drag him to the elevator.

"I don't need to be handled, Sam," Freddie groaned.

"Oh yeah you do," she informed while pushing the button to the second floor, "Cuz when Carly gets distraught she's known to throw things, and you're flabby man chest will be the perfect human shield while we're in the line of fire."

"Hey! Need you know I've been working out this summer?" which to anyone else wouldn't have been so unconvincing. Puberty transformed Freddie to become somewhat wide in the chest, and when he started making weight lifting bets with Spencer, he began to bulk more in the necessary areas. It wasn't a total shocking transformation, but it was enough to never allow Carly to pin him down again.

She knocked on his stomach once they stepped in the elevator. "I'll believe that once I start to feel some steel against my knuckles."

Within a couple of seconds, the elevator ended its transition to the second floor and opened its doors to lead down a narrow hall—similar to the hall outside the iCarly studio. The two stepped out simultaneously and headed for Carly's door.

"You know, it's eerie," whispered Freddie for an unknown reason considering the only person he was talking to was right next to him. "I visit this place constantly yet I've never seen Carly's room."

"Pssh, as it should be, Fredweirdo. You're a boy and a dork, which automatically disqualifies you from special room-viewing privileges," Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"I didn't know there were any special room-viewing privileges." He added air quotes around the phrase while trying—failing, rather—to impersonate her voice, seeing as how he only added a raspier tone to his own.

"Hence the disqualification, duh." They ended their back-and-forth routine once they stood in front of Carly's door. Freddie was about to knock, but Sam grabbed his fist mid-air.

"Nuh uh," she whispered. "Let me handle this."

"But—

"Shh!" She let go of his knuckles and reached in the depths of her blonde curls for a bobby pin. Grabbing the hair accessory-turned criminal tool, she stuck it in the tiny hole of the door knob and began to twist it around between her fingers. To anyone else it would have seemed she was attempting a mediocre break in, but Freddie saw the technique. Her ear was tilted toward the knob, and she moved her fingers rhythmically—once to the left, twice to the right, and once to the left again—so the bobby pin would click in the right places. Then when the final turn was made, she smiled—goal accomplished—and stuck the pin back in her hair.

He would never admit it, but how she always did that was an art form to him. "You gotta show me how to do that one day."

"Nah, momma's gotta keep some secrets up her sleeve. And besides, it'd be pretty weird for a guy to carry a bobby pin in his hair…even weird for you." And with that she turned the knob and swung open the door.

At first they weren't able to spot her, but Freddie tapped Sam's shoulder once he caught Carly staring absently at the Seattle view from her window seat. He nudged his head in Carly's direction and raised his left eyebrow questioning their next move. Sam replied with another nod toward Carly, rolled her eyes while pressing her lips together, and raised both eyebrows twice while nudging her head backward. To anyone else it was just a compilation of meaningless head gestures, but Freddie and Sam had this inexplicable body language communication thing that had evolved from mere glare shots to five minutes worth of serious dialogue, and he now was able to decipher these silent words as "yeah, she's not responding to our arrival so just stand by and let me handle it". The rolling of the eyes could have stood for "Benson" "Freddalina" "Fredduccino" or "Freddork", but that was irrelevant to the current situation.

"Hey Carls, how ya doooiin?" Freddie smirked at Sam's failed attempt at a conciliatory tone, but he frowned again when Carly didn't respond. She just sat there, knees raised against her chest in an upright fetal position, occasionally drawing X's through the hearts previously drawn in the fog on the window. It was indeed a sad image. Freddie never saw Carly in this state, mostly because in all her past relationships she was the one to initiate the break up.

Sam started again. "It's your loveable best friend here…and the other not-so-loveable nub-like one, here to comfort youuu." She sat down across from Carly and rested her head on her knees. No response. "Alright. Your sulking-in-silence-for-28-hours privilege will expire in 5…4…3…2…" She strung out the 2 to helpfully give Carly more time, but that was to no avail because in Carly's current state nothing existed but her finger and that fogged window.

Sam bit the corner of her mouth and rose on her knees. No more Mrs. Compassionate Puckett. She sandwiched Carly's cheeks between her palms and forced her to make eye contact. Freddie walked closer to Sam's side to witness.

"Alright Carls," she said ascetically. "What up?"

Freddie flinched when he saw Carly's expression. Her brows furrowed, her jaw clenched, and he could have sworn her irises changed from brown to straight onyx. "What up, Sam, really?" she used her menacing tone--Freddie didn't even know she had a menacing tone. "I just got dumped in a fast food restaurant by a guy I've dated for two months, and you wanna know what up with me?"

"Well...kinda. In our defense here you have made it past the 24 hour mark, and the world is still spinning, right?"

Carly rolled her eyes and stared back out the window.

"And," Freddie finally added, "I did warn you to stay away from bad boys."

Sam stared incredulously at Freddie. "Tristan Clark a bad boy, really? Okay, so in your definition a student body president and editor of the school newspaper is a bad boy, and someone who bites the head off chickens and breaks the law on a daily basis must be, what, the seed of Mother Theresa?"

"Well he was bad for her, Puckett, god!"

"I'm just sayin, Benson--"

"Would you two shut your bickering for like, two seconds!? This isn't exactly helping me, you know."

As ordered, the bickering ceased and both turned back to their distraught friend. "Sorry," they said, another simultaneous action on their part.

"Look, Carly, the dude was a Grade A douchebag, and if I could have seen it coming I would have warned you and kicked his ass a long time ago."

"Yeah, me too."

Of course, Sam smirked in Freddie's direction. "I'm gonna hold off on my necessary and absolutely hilarious comment for the sake of our friend here."

Freddie, knowing the blow was gonna come soon, rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair near Carly and provided a small gesture of comfort by wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Carly, look, we know this is hard for you right now. So...if you want us to we can leave right now, and let you clear your head for a while." Sam shot her eyes straight toward his and clenched her jaw, translating into "Dude! We're just gonna leave? There was no breakthrough or nothin!" He just shot a stern one back saying, "It's called reverse psychology, so work with me here."

"Look, I'm not sure what message you're transmitting through your brains," started Carly again, to her friends' relief her tone was normal, "but I get it; you don't have to put up with my pessimism if you don't want to." But right after saying that she laid her head on Freddie's shoulder, clearly contradicting her statement. Freddie smiled, enjoying her warmth even though her hair cluttered his face with its entangled wildness. "It's just..." she started venting, "I thought we were so perfect, you know? He was so gentle and kind, so I thought it'd be impossible for him to break my heart."

Sam scooted closer to her best friend. "Well it's always the kind and gentle ones you have to look out for."

"Hence why you always date the rude and obnoxious ones, right Sam?" Freddie mused.

"Eeexaclty," she leaned back and grinned. Of course to Sam Puckett that would be a compliment on choice of men.

Carly, now distracted from her grief and engaged in the current topic, giggled and tapped Freddie on his other shoulder. "Remember when we went on that group date and she brought Neko Henderson to the movies with us?"

Freddie bit the side of his mouth, wiped his hand and over his face and raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Yeaaah, Neko the Freako, how could I forget? He kept shoving chocolate chips up his nose and when I told him to be quiet during the movie he poured his coke down my pants."

Sam smirked. "Yah, so?"

"It was an extra large Coke, Sam!"

She leaned back in her nostalgia. "Oh me and Neko...good times...good times..."

"He was the worst, Sam," said Carly once her laughter died down.

"Oh, Carls, I think under current circumstances your guy won the Worst Boyfriend in History nomination."

"Ah-to the-men." praised Freddie.

Carly huffed out a sigh, Freddie expecting a burst of tears to soak his polo, but she relieved both her friends when she smiled. "He is so not my guy anymore… You know he's been pretty sick the last couple of days? I wouldn't be surprised if that skunkbag caught something from him the way her tongue was massaging his throat."

"That must be one flexible tongue..." uttered Sam, slightly disturbed at the developing mental image.

Freddie gave Carly an affectionate shoulder-rub. "What you need to do is look out for the real good guys. They wouldn't break your heart like that."

Carly curved her lips as she glanced at Freddie at the corner of her eye. "One of the real good guys like you?"

He scoffed easily. "Well, I'm just one of many, Carly; you should know that by now."

It was easier to joke with Carly about their relationship once he decided to let his love go. It was easier to do a lot of things once he let go of that hope--that constant longing to be the guy that Carly needed. After Griffin failed and she dated again, Freddie just got tired of stringing himself along, of anticipating a day that was never going to come. Of course the things that made him love her in the first place were still there--her compassion, her sincerity, her inability to hurt people--but the passion was dormant now. He loved the first time that came when he could date someone else and not have his mind compare her to Carly. But even with this somewhat change of heart, Carly still never missed the opportunity to tease him about it.

"Oh please," interrupted Sam in the perfect moment, "Why would any girl want a doof like Benson over here?"

"The same reason why any guy would want the maniacal psychopath over here."

"This maniacal psychopath has the Seattle Mafia boss on speed dial so watch it, bucko."

"Pssh, nice bluff, Sam, but there is no such thing as the Seattle Mafia."

Sam dug up her phone from her ripped-jeans pocket. "Wanna bet?"

And amongst all of this, Carly smiled and wiped her tear-crusted face with her t-shirt. She thought nothing could make her smile again but here she was, laughing at the crazy aggressive relationship that was Sam and Freddie.

She loved her friends.

The sun set later in the afternoon, and Carly attempted to reach for her hair tie on her dresser but failed while flipping off the bed in the process. After murmuring incoherent PG rated curse words, she stumbled to her feet, wrapped her entangled chestnut hair in the hair tie, and made her way down stairs. It was later in the evening, and Freddie and Sam had headed home after Carly assured them she was okay. And she was. Tristan's blow still stung, and the hollow feeling still hung in her chest, but over all she was dry. The tears depleted all her H2O supply--which was why she was in desperate need of some water, and journeyed down the stairs to get some.

Spencer emerged from the refrigerator carrying a pitcher of iced tea. He grinned when he saw his little sister finally walk down from her room.

"I see someone has emerged from her super dark depressing mode of depression. How ya feelin, kiddo?"

Carly didn't feel like saying much since her voice was raspy and her thoughts were cluttered. "Better," she coughed and walked over to the kitchen sink to fill a left out cup with tap water.

"Awesome. So I guess you're over that Tristan guy, huh?"

Aaand the feeling was back again. She shot her brother a glare through the raised glass. Did he not know it was against the girl code to bring up the ex-boyfriend in casual conversation unless she did it first?

Spencer flinched back. "Yeah, um... I so didn't mean to uh...he's not even... It was just... Who we talkin about?"

Carly couldn't help but curve her lips at that. She placed down her glass, planning to take a much needed shower--this time to truly wash her body and not to sulk under bath bubbles and Taylor Swift music.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute--where ya going?" called Spencer.

"Shower, why?"

"No, you can't shower now we have--wait, didn't you just take a five hour bath a couple of hours a--nevermind. Anyway we have special compa--"

At that moment a tall and dark figure with what appeared to be a Navy uniform walked into the living room. "Wow, Spencer, your mannequin collection has...grown over the years."
Carly gasped, jumped, and swung her head all in one weird simultaneous motion.

"Colonel Morgan!? You're like, here in Seattle!??"

During the only time he was able to let down his rough guard, Colonel Brandon Morgan smiled at his god daughter and opened out his arms.

"Yes I am. Now come and hug your commanding officer, private."

For the second time today Carly grinned widely and ran to hug her father's best friend. "Yes sir!"

They quickly embraced and he held her at arms length. "Wow Carly, you look..." he took a second glance at her disheveled hair, her puffy cheeks and her pale--on top of her already pale--skin. "Horrible. Did I catch you at a bad time--?"

"Oh my gosh!" Carly paused and panicked in Spencer's direction. "My hair! My clothes! My breath! Spencer why didn't you tell me Uncle Brandon was here!?"

Spencer furrowed his brow while pointing accusingly at his little sister. "B-but YOU said—I TRIED to—wait"

"Ugh I don't have time for this," she interjected while running back up the stairs. "I have to go make myself presentable!" But within another second she ran down halfway again. "Don't leave, I'll be right back."

While waiting for Carly, Spencer and Colonel Morgan made their way to the couch; Morgan sipped on his iced tea impatiently while rubbing the envelope in his hand. He had something very important to give to her.

"So I see there's an envelope in your hand." Spencer said to his god father.

"Yes, there is."

"Is it for me?"

"No, it's not."

"Oh, so it's for Carly?"

"Yes, it is."

"I see." He leaned back in the cushion, sniffing nonchalantly, trying to mask his disappointment, but only succeeding in making it fairly obvious—the classic Spencer Shay move. Colonel Morgan caught on to this and chuckled.

"Spencer, I—"

"No. no, no. No need to try to assuage me, I know the truth now, Colonel."

"But Spencer, you don't—"

"I know all I need to know!" and his voiced raised about an octave.

Colonel rubbed his chin, ready to be humored. "Ok, Spencer, what do you know?"

"I'd rather not say; it's too painful to utter."

Giving up in defeat, Colonel began to reach in his duffel bag. "Well, in case you didn't know—"

"What, that Carly's your favorite!? Oh trust me, dear uncle, I've had my suspicions over the years but this confirms it! I just can't believe you would—"

"Can't believe he would what?" Carly returned and hurried over to the couch. Her appearance was a day-and-night transformation. She sported black knee-cut leggings, a long American Flag tank top and straight chestnut hair instead of the former tousled birds nest.

"Oh nothing," said Spencer. "Just that he would give you such an awesome present. Go ahead, Colonel, show Carly what you got her but couldn't afford to get me—the first born."

Carly heard the underlying tension but because it was Spencer she decided to ignore it. Instead she turned directly to her god father. "Yeah, what'd you get me??"

Colonel Morgan smiled and finally removed the papers from the manila envelope. He poured them onto her hands and placed the envelope on the table. Carly's eyebrows lowered slightly. "You got me papers…how…awesome of you." But Spencer just smirked again and regained his amusement. "Yeah, glad I didn't get anything after all."

"No, Carly," pointed their uncle to the top paper, "it's not just any papers. They're brochures."

"Brochures to what...?" She picked up the first brochure and began reading its information. She smiled as she read the translation under the kanji. "Kagoshire Academy…newly accredited high school in Okinawa, Japan…now offering integration for American students." She turned to Colonel Morgan. "Wait—isn't Okinawa where you and Dad are stationed?"

He smiled again. "Yep. The Japanese Navy commander offered this opportunity to us navy officers for their children. They really want Americans attending their school."

Carly was smart enough to put two and two together. "So…Dad wants me to attend?" Spencer, too, was now interested in the brochure, forgetting his previous tantrum. He grabbed the second brochure which had photographs and floor plans of the campus and classrooms.

"Yes," answered Colonel. "But it's only for a semester. Orientation begins next week, but they're only accepting American students with a GPA of 3.5 or higher. They're also recruiting teachers and professors from American universities, so the whole language barrier won't be a problem."

Spencer turned the pages of the brochure. "Their campus does look really nice, kiddo. And your GPA is at 3.7 right now. Maybe you should…"

But Carly couldn't really comprehend much after "for a semester". For a semester translated into "five months away from Seattle, and five months away from Sam, Freddie, Spencer…

But also five months without having to face Tristan after their breakup.

…She gave the brochures another look.

A/N: Alright so as far as I know, each chapter is going to be this average length, so please comment on whether you think it's too long or not. If you've read my other stories--which I'm not gonna tell you what they are because that, people, is YOUR job (evil laugh)--then you know I'm a big fan of dialogue, and I will watch every episode of a show just to get the characters personality and mannerisms right. I can't STAND for things to be OOC, and if you make at least one action of a character OOC I will not read your story. That may sound harsh, but I think Dan Schnieder does an awesome job at developing characters and one day I plan on writing for Nick, so I take this as seriously as I can. But besides that, I love humor, so tell me if I did enough of that. Make sure you check my profile, for I will update it regularily, and give you sneak peeks of what's to come. Also, I will end these lil chappies with cool Nick news--b/c I'm sure all of you have noticed the new changes.

NFF (Nick Fun Facts):

-Take a look at the new Nickelodeon logo, then take a look at the ORIGINAL one in 1885. Don't they look similar?

-Here's some new shows to be aired in 2010 (besides Big Time Rush): Victorious (with Victoria Justice), Kung Fu Panda--YES they're making it a CGI cartoon, Monsters VS Aliens--again, they're making it a CGI cartoon, and Planet Sheen--a spin off of Jimmy Neutron. Tell me also what you think of these.