Well, what do we have here? I know, I know - not my usual thing. Please make note: THIS IS MY FIRST ICARLY, AND POSSIBLY ONLY. So I hope you guys can take it easy. :)

Also, there is some background info you NEED TO KNOW: After graduation, Sam and her mother moved to Florida. Sam was there for six years. Meaning, in this story she is 24. While she was gone, she was forced to see a therapist. And she changed her ways after learning some things about herself. Previously (before she left for Florida), Freddie told Sam he loved. But she freaked out on him and refused to see or talk to him. She acted like she hated him, because she never knew love. And then she just up and left. But now, she's back.

And well, I hope you enjoy it!

-ssn

Redemption

(Seddie Oneshot)

Sam wasn't sure he'd actually show.

She didn't deserve his time or energy, she knew. After all she'd ever put him through—mentally, physically, emotionally—she didn't expect anything from him. It was a last minute effort to see him, anyway. Regardless, she wished desperately that he would come. She needed him to know why. She wanted his forgiveness, now that she had become a better person. But the one thought that plagued her mind was: did changing her ways redeem it all?

Only Freddie could answer that.

Sam sat on a bench outside the Groovy Smoothie, in the brisk winter air. A breeze swept by and she shivered. She had a light jacket on, but obviously it wasn't enough. Sam brought up her legs and pulled her knees to her chest, letting her chin rest on top. Had he even received her text? There was a good chance he hadn't, but on the same ground, there was a good chance he had, but merely ignored it. Sam closed her eyes and tried to accept the possibility that either could've happened—and if Freddie didn't care to speak to her ever again, she deserved it.

"Sam Puckett."

Her heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to look up. And there he stood, hands in pocket.

Freddie offered a dim smile. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Sam smiled a little herself. She watched him for a moment. He looked so … tired. His eyes were heavy, and he had a five-o-clock shadow coming around. Yet, he managed to keep a worn out smile on his face.

Sam cleared her throat, "I guess you got my text?"

"I did." Freddie stared at her. "Did you want to go inside or do you prefer to sit in the cold?"

She smiled at the ground. When she glanced up, she saw the glint in his eyes. Not everything about him had changed in six years. Thankfully, she couldn't say the same thing for herself.

Sam got off the bench. "Actually, the chill is refreshing after a while."

"Well," he said quietly, sighing, "you never could stand the heat." He stared in her eyes, and Sam felt the burn of his words coming up her throat. Her face glowed red. Freddie held open the entrance to the Groovy Smoothie. "C'mon," he said, throwing his head towards the shop. She followed him in and they sat down at a table.

Freddie rolled up his sleeves. Sam played with the dozens of rings that took up her fingers. Freddie watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She had cut her blonde locks into a bob, and her pretty curls had gone flat. As Freddie's eyes trailed after her sweeping fingers, he saw the piercings in the cartilage of her ears.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

Sam looked at him, startled. She hadn't expected him to notice. She moved another strand. "I needed a change. I'm not who I used to be, Freddie."

"Well, one thing is different: you don't call me Fredward anymore. I have to say, 'Freddie' is definitely an improvement." He smiled at her. Sam snorted and dipped a straw in her smoothie.

She shook her head, "'Freddie' is only the tip of the iceberg. I learned so much when I was away." She looked up at him in genuine adoration. Freddie looked away.

"I'm glad you got what you wanted, Sam."

"I didn't. I still haven't."

Freddie studied her, then took a breath in annoyance. "Oh yeah, that's right. You're never satisfied." He leaned back in his chair.

She sighed and closed her eyes. He wasn't going to make this easy on her. She hadn't wanted him to—but she didn't think it'd be this hard. Regrettably, she imagined it was about to get a lot worse.

"I …," she paused to taste her words before they left, "I didn't know how to handle it, Freddie. The emotions, I mean."

"Was it really that hard to say: 'I love you'?"

Sam twitched. The word was still sharp. She swallowed a breath of air and settled herself. Then she turned her full attention onto Freddie.

"Do you remember our first kiss?"

His eyes seemed to soften. "I couldn't forget it if I wanted to." Was he trying to make her cry? It was almost working. Sam re-concentrated her thoughts.

"Right before I left, you told me that you still hated me. That was your way of letting me know you cared. Am I right?"

"I don't see where this is going but—"

"Answer the question, Freddie."

"Yeah, Sam. You didn't think I really meant it, did you?"

"I knew you didn't."

"Then what is this all about?" He spread out his palms.

"Look, I'm trying to tell you that all those times I used to beat on you and say mean things," he scoffed at Sam, but she pressed on, "I wasn't trying to hurt you. It was the only way I could show my affection."

She stared at the table, waiting for Freddie to respond. But Freddie stood up and pulled on his jacket.

"Look, Sam, I appreciate you trying to explain things," he said as he wrapped his scarf loosely. "But I think it's better that I go."

She stared at him, broken. He was just going to walk away. She had told him her darkest secret and he didn't care. Sam felt so open and violated.

"Freddie please..." The dry words tumbled out.

He glanced at her and shook his head. "Goodbye Samantha."

Another stab to the heart. Open-mouthed, Sam rested her eyes back on the orange and pink table. She had expected him to be forgiving, just like he always had been. She expected him to be patient too. Sam felt ashamed. She had broken his heart, and it took her six years to get her act together—but by then, Freddie was tired of waiting. He gave up on her.

Sam gathered her belongings and put her coat back on. She braced herself for what was waiting outside. She walked past the shop, and found Freddie standing on the corner of the street. He was watching the night sky. A puff of air floated from his mouth. Sam came up slowly.

"If it's any consolation," she began softly, quietly, so as not to disturb him, "I really did love you all those years. And I'm sorry I never told you."

She turned around, solemnly, and took a step. But she paused and looked back. He didn't turn to look too. He kept his eyes up at the stars. Her heart sunk. Sam began to walk away.

"Sam."

She stopped. "Yeah..."

"Answer me one question." He finally looked at her. "Do you still love me?"

Water welled up in her eyes. She nodded, throat too dry to utter a word.

"Say it, please." Freddie moved closer to her. If he reached out, their lips would meet. Sam swallowed the dust in her mouth carefully.

"Freddie Benson." It was a whisper. "I love you."

Freddie pressed his warm hand to her cheek. Slowly, gingerly, he brought his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

A tear dripped down her face. And he was there to wipe it away.