Hey, first iCarly one-shot! Yay! So, if you haven't met me yet, I'm daphrose, better known as Rosie. And a lot of my current readers know that I like to write tragedy. There's something about human emotion that's just so beautiful, you know? I also enjoy What If? stories. The combination of those two led me to this.

So, it's an alternate ending (or beginning, maybe) to iSaved Your Life. I didn't see anything else like this, surprisingly, so I thought I'd write it up. Most alternate endings to this episode are Seddie stuff. This one is not. In fact, there's not really any romance in this story. You could twist it and bend it to get some Seddie and/or Creddie (in case you're curious, I'm a die-hard Creddie shipper), but for the most part, it's just friendship. I went light.

If you like to listen to music while you read, I recommend "Mistakes" by Haimin. I've used this as a soundtrack for another one-shot before. What can I say? It's a good sad song.

So anyways, I do not own iCarly or any of its characters. Enjoy!

* * * iWill Always Blame Me * * *

The snow lay in a thin sheet over the ground. Grass blades stuck through in some places, and footprints marred the pristine blanket of white. It hung onto the leaves of the trees and reflected the small rays of sun peeking through the dark clouds. It was actually really beautiful, Carly Shay thought. Now, if only this wasn't a graveyard.

The teenager tramped through the snow, leaving her bootprints behind. She advanced slowly towards the place she wanted to go. Her feet seemed to lead her without her brain commanding them. The rose in her hand started to bend under the crushing grip of her fingers. At this point, she didn't even mind the thorns.

In the back of the graveyard stood a tall tree. Like all the others, fresh snow clung to the branches. Somehow, though, this one looked more beautiful than all the rest. The snow caught the light at just the right angle, and it seemed to illuminate the small stone sitting directly beside it.

Carly crouched down and crossed her legs, sitting down with her back against the tree. She didn't even mind the cold snow. For several minutes she sat there, not doing anything, not saying anything. She stared at the stone, not sure how to feel. It had been two weeks, and she still didn't know how to feel.

Leaning forward, Carly brushed the layer of snow off the top of the stone. She also brushed aside the ice that had crept up the front. Her breath hitched in her throat as she read the name.

Fredward "Freddie" Benson

1995-2010

Carly put the rose in the snow beside the grave. The red contrasted the white so sharply that for a second she was distracted. Then the reason for her visit came back to her mind so sharply that she was sure her heart would crack in two.

"I just have one question," she whispered. "Why?"

There was silence for several more minutes. Carly's thighs became numb, but she didn't even notice. She stared at the stone, refusing to believe it. That wasn't her Freddie. It wasn't him. He wasn't buried underneath the place she sat. He was at home with his mom, signing a sheet of paper that promised he had shampooed twice. He wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone.

"You're really an idiot, you know that?" she said. "Oh, Freddie, why?"

Carly didn't know how to handle this. She had encountered hard times so rarely in her life. She was a happy person, and nothing tragic ever really happened. The worst thing was when her dad had to leave for so long, but as she grew up, she got used to it. She supposed the most tragic thing in her life was that she never knew her mom, who had left when she was just a toddler. But again, it was normal. It wasn't something Carly thought about or brought up. It wasn't tragic; it was life.

The death of her one of her best friends, though? That was tragic. That was truly, heart-wrenchingly tragic. And Carly still didn't know how to deal with it. She had yet to cry; the initial reaction had been shock. Actually, Carly didn't want to think back to her initial reaction. It was too painful.

"Sam said she's upset because now she needs to find some other loser to beat up on all the time. Yeah, she really misses you. I can tell. I tried to call her house the other day, and her mom said she hadn't been out of her room all morning. I guess that's not unusual, but I knew it wasn't because she was trying to catch up on sleep.

"Sam's not a stranger to pain, unlike me. But she's still as shocked as we all are. She misses you too, even if she won't admit it. If nothing else, she misses making fun of you. We walked past the AV club on Monday, and she started making some joke about you, but she stopped in the middle of it. I know she didn't stop just for me."

Freddie Benson: Local Hero.

Teenage Boy Gives His Life to Save Friend.

Seattle Teen Killed by Truck, Saved Female Friend.

Carly didn't know what to think when she read all those headlines. It was too much to think that Freddie had given his life for her. As if it already didn't hurt bad enough, he died because her stupid peripheral vision hadn't picked up on that taco truck.

Freddie wouldn't be dead if I had just turned around . . .

"I'm a comedian, for crying out loud, Freddie. I don't know how to handle this. My instinct is to play it off using some funny joke, but I just can't. I've lost all sense of humor now. To try to lighten this situation would be cruel to everyone, most of all you. This isn't funny; not in the least bit."

Mrs. Benson had been absolutely devastated, of course. In fact, no one had seen her since the funeral. They had tried, but the only ones able to get into her apartment were close family members. Everyone else was pushed away. She locked herself up, refusing to have any contact with the outside world. Carly didn't even want to imagine what Freddie's mom was going through right now.

Carly could feel herself breaking down. It would come to the point where she couldn't hold anything in anymore; it was sure to come flying out. All the pain, all the fear, all the anger. Every ugly emotion she had kept locked up inside for two weeks rose to the surface.

"Why did you do it? You should've let me die! At least now you're in a better place. I'm not. I'm still here, and I miss you so much. More than you'll ever know. Really, Freddie, you should've let me die. It would be less painful than this."

Pain. Carly didn't even want to think about pain. And suddenly, she faced the real memories. Everything she had blocked out came rushing back into her mind with such force that she wanted to scream. Every emotion from that moment weighed on her heart with enough strength to break it. Every agonizing breath, from both her and the dying boy in front of her. Every murmured gasp from the bystanders. Every heartbeat, until one ceased to exist.

"Sam! Sam! Call 911!"

"Carly, please . . . please . . . please . . ."

"911, what's the emergency?"

"Carly! Please!"

Freddie had repeated those two words as if they were the only things he could say. Even when he was told to be silent, he still shouted. He screamed. He gasped for the breath that somehow eluded him.

It would've been better if Freddie had died in peace, but he hadn't. He had died painfully, slowly, agonizingly, and Carly had witnessed every second of it.

She remembered the moment his screams were finally silenced, just as the ambulance pulled up to the curb. She remembered standing back, watching and not really understanding reality as the EMTs tried to bring him back. It took her several seconds to realize what the looks they gave each other meant. It took her too long to figure out why Freddie's chest stopped moving. It took her many moments to understand that he had lost too much blood; that he was gone.

During it all, Carly had only one thought. It was wild and crazy and probably very stupid, but it was still the only thought she had: It should've been me.

She should've been lying on the cold concrete in a pool of her own blood. She should've been taken to the hospital only to have it announced that she was long dead. She should be under the soft earth, not walking on the snow on top. It should've been her.

"I'm always going to blame me," she whispered. "You know that, right? I should've seen the truck and moved out of the way. I'm so glad you loved me enough to give your life for me, but now I really wish you hadn't. It hurts so much over here."

Carly's phone rang suddenly, interrupting the peace of the moment. In a split second her mind raced through all the possibilities of the identity of the caller. As always, she hoped it was her dad, calling to say he would be home soon. It never was, but she could hope. It might be Spencer, calling about something random or just to check up on her. Sam might be on the other end, waiting to tell Carly about the newest sale at Build-a-Bra or the discovery of a new butcher's shop down the street. Maybe it was Freddie, calling to tell her about the number of views to the latest iCarly episode or some new tech equipment he got.

The realization flooded Carly's brain, but it hurt the most when it reached her heart. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. Freddie can't call me anymore.

"Hello?" she said as she answered.

"Hey, kiddo, where are you?" So it was Spencer.

"Still at the bakery."

"Do they have raisin bread? Because, you know, they were out the other day."

"Um, sure. You want me to bring you some?"

"Liar! You're not at the bakery. Mr. Valdez told me on Tuesday that they wouldn't be getting more raisins until the end of the week." He paused for a minute. "Where are you, really?"

Carly was silent. Suddenly, her cell phone was even colder than the ice beneath her skirt.

"You're at the graveyard, aren't you?"

"What are you going to do if I say yes?"

It was Spencer's turn to be quiet. After a few moments, he started to speak again. It was the most serious tone Carly had ever heard him use, and she knew that he really was concerned for her. "When you get home, we're going to talk. Okay?"

Carly knew he didn't mean the "you're-in-trouble" talk. It was the kind of big-brother-little-sister talk that Carly usually resented. This time, however, it sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. So instead of protest and try to worm her way out of it, she replied, "Okay. I'll see you in a bit."

"M'kay." Another pause. "Are you all right?"

Every time someone had asked her that the past few weeks, Carly always replied that she was okay. Why did honesty seem so hard for her all of a sudden? "No," she whispered. "I'm not."

"I'm starting some hot cocoa right now; that always makes you feel better. Get home soon, okay? And don't do anything rash."

Carly wondered what he meant by that, but she supposed that in moments of utter desperation—which was what she found herself very near—anything was possible. "See you then."

She snapped her cell phone shut and stared at the gravestone again. It was so cold, so forlorn. Everything about this place looked depressing. Even the white snow couldn't take away the pain. The freezing wind only reminded Carly that the world was a cold place. She couldn't find any sympathy out here.

"I know you always loved me, Freddie," she said. "I was just so scared of ruining our friendship. It's happened to me before, and I didn't want it to happen again. You are such a sweet guy, handsome too, funny and clever and witty and lovable and kind. Those are the kinds of characteristics I want in a best friend. I think a boyfriend could never love you as much as best friend could. Freddie, I love you more than any guy I've ever dated. I'm sorry if you didn't know that."

Carly had used the present tense to refer to Freddie's personality. She didn't know how to feel about that. They say loved ones never die if we remember them. But was it right for Carly to speak as if Freddie was still here? Because, as much as she wanted him to be, he wasn't. He never would be again. Freddie was gone. As much as she hated it, Freddie was gone.

Carly drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She buried her face in her knees. For the first time in two weeks, she cried.

Snow fell on the dreary Seattle graveyard. It created a fresh coat of the white powder on all the graves. Near the grave of a certain teenage boy who had given his life for his best friend, snow began to coat a red rose. If one looked close, the could see the small holes where teardrops had melted the snow. If they looked up, they would see a teenage girl, sobbing her heart out because her best friend had taken her place.

Eh . . . how was it? I don't know how well I got their characters down. It was hard with that kind of situation, you know? Imagining their reaction to something like that isn't easy. (I had to go off of their personalities from the first few seasons, because after that they turned into emotionless monsters who thought human suffering was the funniest thing in the world . . . but I digress.)

I apologize for any mistakes in the grammar and spelling and such. I only checked it over once, whereas I usually do it twice.

Reviews are nice if you'd like to tell me what you thought. I appreciate your feedback. And for all you Creddie fans out there, keep an eye for my upcoming one shot, iAm Yours, based of the song "Yours to Hold" by Skillet. ;) Thanks for reading! Bye!