A/N:

I'm not sure what inspired this one-shot, but I will warn you that it's short and bittersweet. Just be prepared. It's also ambiguous, so interpret it how you want. Sorry if the ending is rushed; I didn't want to stretch it out too far. It's already longer than I had anticipated. Enjoy.

Disclaimer:

Dan Schneider will forever own iCarly, Nicholas Sparks is the rightful owner of Message in a Bottle,and The Great Gatsby belongs to F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Regret: The Greatest Tragedy of All

"The regret of my life is that I have not said 'I love you' often enough." –Yoko Ono

"We are doomed to make choices. This is life's greatest paradox."—Wayne Dyer

"Shit," Sam hissed under her breath as she burned her tongue on the flaming hot coffee.

She pushed the container away, closed her eyes, and willed the pain to disappear. After a moment, her eyelids fluttered open and she reached for the cup again. Tentatively, she took another sip, sighing as the warmth of the drink gently soothed the singed part of her mouth.

She glanced around the small coffee shop, her eyes raking over the amount of people chatting animatedly, or ordering their usuals and then dashing out of the door. A tiny smile pulled at her lips. The quaint place was oddly comforting. She didn't understand why; it wasn't like it was highly known in Seattle. On the contrary, it was off the beaten path where one could only find it if they tried hard enough. The coffee wasn't spectacular, she had to admit. There were only a dozen options, as opposed to the big coffee shops that offered at least twenty-five. The service was slow on some days, but the lazy attitude of the workers behind the counter didn't bother her.

She would just order a simple hazelnut flavored coffee and take a seat near the back corner with a book tucked under her arm. Today wasn't any different, except she didn't have a client to see after her coffee run.

Life in Seattle had become a bit of a routine for her. After graduating from University of Washington with a degree in clinical psychology, she applied for positions to work for a psychiatric firm. When she realized she didn't like listening to other's orders on how she should counsel individuals, she left. Sticking her shingle out, she started private practice. Now three years down the road, she was a successful psychologist who specialized in marriage counseling. Clients flew in and out of her office faster than she could keep track of. She took case after the case, not because she needed the money, but because it was her calling.

The feeling of helping people and making a difference in someone's life…it was indescribable to her. She could never explain what it felt like to be a person's source of warmth and safety; it was beyond words, in her opinion. Despite the positive aspects of her job, the emotional drain made her wonder why she returned to her office every day. She couldn't stand seeing a marriage fall apart. Her heart shattered every time she watched a couple give up on the one thing that held them together for so long. She hated the tears that spilled from the eyes of her clients when they begged for her help. The part that really scared her the most was she was the one who had to fix it all. Sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes love couldn't make it, no matter how many solutions were presented.

She could feel the melancholy start to seep into her mind and weave its way into her heart. Whenever she thought excessively of her job, her body ached. It didn't hurt physically, but emotionally, it was as if a black cloud was swirling around her, choking her and replacing the light with a void of darkness. She couldn't describe it. She settled for bottling everything inside, something she told her patients never to do. She always had been a contradiction.

To distract herself, she cracked open the novel she had brought with her. The story of The Count of Monte Cristo unfolded in front of her as she casually flipped through the pages. She was lost in a world completely unlike her own when the sound of a voice startled her.

"One Americano with a double shot of espresso, please," a male said to the barista at the front of the shop.

Normally, she wouldn't have bothered to look up, but for some reason, her head lifted. Suddenly, her eyes locked with familiar pair of smoldering brown orbs.

"Sam?" he questioned, eyes widening slightly.

"Freddie?" she responded, equally as surprised.

Time seemed to have stopped. Sam couldn't recall movement from anyone or anything else within the room. Everything stood still, almost as if this was moment frozen in a picture. She gazed at him with an unreadable expression, no words escaping her mouth.

The strange spell was broken when a bell was rung.

"Your order is ready, Sir," the barista announced in a bored tone, handing him the steaming cup.

He nodded, taking the container with trembling hands. "Thanks," he muttered to the woman, barely acknowledging her presence. He took a careful step towards Sam.

Sam could feel the rhythm of her heart increase tenfold. Shit, she thought. Shit. What the fuck do I do?

When he reached her table, the smallest of smiles appeared on his lips. "Sam," Freddie said again, albeit in a calmer voice. "It's so good to see you." The words caught in his throat, coming out a lot softer than anticipated.

"Freddie," Sam restated, giving him guarded look. "What are you doing here?" Once the words left her mouth, she winced. She hadn't meant to sound so accusatory.

He raised an eyebrow. "We see each other again and that's the first thing you say to me?"

She bristled at the comment. "It's been ten years, Freddie. I don't think I'm out of line by asking that."

He smirked. "Fair enough. May I sit?" He motioned to the empty seat across from her.

Hell no, she thought. Like hell this is happening.

"Sure."

"Thank you." He placed his drink on the hard surface and flopped into the chair. He gave her a lopsided grin, shifting around a bit to face her.

She set her book aside with a sigh, figuring that no further reading was going to happen.

Staring at her hands so she didn't have to meet his eyes, she mumbled, "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing at this coffee shop? No one but the usuals come here."

He chuckled quietly. "Well, it wasn't easy to find. I ran around Seattle trying to locate a place I hadn't already been to. It took me about two hours to stumble across this establishment. I live on coffee at the moment, as sad as that is. I'm absolutely sick of the run-of-the-mill shops, so I've been searching for other options." Taking a hold of his coffee, he raised it to his lips for a good sized gulp.

"That makes sense," Sam replied, trying to seem like she was interested. She paused to sip her coffee, which had cooled dramatically since the first taste.

"Drop the act, Sam." There wasn't an edge to his voice, but it did come out rather firmly.

She decided to play dumb. "What act?"

"Don't act like you care about the answer when you clearly don't. You asked the question, and I don't blame you for general curiosity, but if you really don't want to hear what I have to say, you can just tell me to leave. I won't be offended." With each word, his tone became more and more clipped.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I haven't been in a situation where I've had to be myself in a while. Therapists have to have a certain amount of detachment and professional air." She could feel a blush crawling up her neck and painting across her cheeks. Leave it to Freddie to make her feel like a complete moron.

Freddie's expression softened. "I understand. I guess we kind of messed this up, hm? Most people begin with small talk before they engage in heated discussions."

"When have we ever been conventional?" Sam rolled her eyes, feeling her lips turn upwards in a forbidden smile.

"Never have been, never will be," Freddie confirmed, grinning along with her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, returning to the earlier topic. "I didn't mean to sound like I didn't care. I'm just shocked you're back in Seattle."

"Understandable. It has been ten years, after all."

"Really, though. Why are you here?" Sam gestured around her. "Shouldn't you be on stage somewhere?"

Freddie's eyes widened once more. "How do you know about that?"

"Carly, Brad, Gibby, and Wendy have been to your shows before. I stay in contact with them, and they've mentioned your performances around the States."

"So you know that I dropped out of computer science to pursue acting instead?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

She shrugged. "I already know why. Everyone expected you to get a Masters or PhD in computer science, work for Pear, and someday take over the Pear Industry. But, you chose not to follow that path because you ended up taking an acting class for fun. You fell in love with it and as soon as you stepped foot on a stage, you felt at home. As they say, the rest is history."

Freddie couldn't help but laugh. "It amazes me how perceptive you are."

"I wouldn't have chosen psychology if I wasn't."

"True." He waited a minute before saying, "I'm here because one of the theatres in town is putting on a production that I thought sounded fascinating. People were whispering about it when I was in Massachusetts, working on another play. As soon as I heard about it, I knew I had to fly out and audition. Auditions start tomorrow, actually. I just got in a few hours ago."

"Oh?" Sam didn't fake her interest this time. "What's the play called?"

"Regret: The Greatest Tragedy of All. The play is centered around a guy who spends every day regretting the things that he's done, or hasn't done, in his life. His regrets start to outweigh the good parts, and he becomes chronically depressed. It's a moving story, really."

"That sounds like an emotional piece of work. And I assume you're auditioning for that role?"

"Yes. I don't think I've ever been this excited for an audition before. The mere idea of regrets is enough to keep my attention."

"Right, regrets." Sam's tone darkened slightly, but it wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone else. Of course, Freddie wasn't just anyone.

"Something wrong?" Freddie gently touched Sam's hand, which in turn caused her to flinch.

"What? No."

"Don't lie to me." Again, he had that firm voice without the edge.

"It's nothing, Freddie." She gave him a strange smile, one that was tinged with sadness and bitterness.

"Sam, don't shut me out. I've known you for years. I know when something is bothering you."

She ignored his statement. "Do you know what one of my clients asked me yesterday?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

Sam released a breath she had been holding in for some time. Forcing herself to look into Freddie's eyes, she said, "She asked me if I had any regrets in my life. She claimed that I was always so poised and that I knew the answer to everything. I told her she was completely wrong. I didn't want to tell her too much about my personal life, but I did say that I made a lot of mistakes and with those came regrets."

"Was that difficult for you? Talking about it, I mean," Freddie asked quietly.

"Extremely. For the first time, I was put on the spotlight. What was the most frightening thing was I knew what my biggest regret was. I've known for a long time. I bottled it up, like I do with everything."

Freddie moved his hands so that they resting on Sam's. She didn't shy away from the physical contact, but she didn't exactly hold his hands.

"Do you have any regrets regarding that ring on your finger?" His voice was barely audible, and Sam could detect the slight pain and desperation underneath.

"So you noticed." Her cerulean eyes reflected a deep sorrow.

He nodded stiffly, automatically glancing at said ring. The golden band on her left hand seemed to glow now that it had been addressed.

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling her heart thump out a jagged rhythm.

"When?" It was a simple enough question, but he knew the answer was going to kill him.

"Four years ago. Christopher and I have a daughter, too." Sam's voice broke on the last part, and she had to internally scold herself for feeling so incredibly weak.

Freddie didn't know how to respond, so he settled for silence. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, choosing to shift his focus to different targets around the room. Removing his hands from hers, he dropped them into his lap. An unbearable tension settled between them, causing Sam to stare helplessly at him.

"No," Sam said softly. When Freddie's normally bright eyes clouded with confusion, she clarified. Clearing her throat because she suddenly felt a large lump there, she straightened her shoulders and gave him a pointed look. "You asked if I regret him. I don't. I love him, and he loves me. Our marriage is stable and healthy, we treasure and adore our daughter, and we're happy. The best part, though, is that he understands. He accepts how abnormal I am. He knows that monsters live inside my head, not under my bed. He's aware that I have 'baggage,' and I can't thank him enough for helping me unpack that 'baggage.'"

Freddie remained quiet, not daring to speak. He didn't want to sound like a fool, which was why he waited several long moments before commenting. The uneasiness in the air was suffocating, and when he finally used his voice, it felt dry and scratchy.

"There's no shame in being happy, Sam. That's all I've ever wanted for you. You should know that."

"I know," she breathed. She paused for a minute with a calculating look on her face. She chose her words carefully. "Do you want to know what I regret?"

Freddie's heart clenched. No, he didn't want to know, but he was willing to listen. He bobbed his head in agreement.

"A lot of things. I regret not being a serious enough student in high school. I struggled through college, trying to keep up with everyone. And I picked a profession that required so much concentration and commitment." She shook her head, appearing to be exasperated with herself. She forged on, nevertheless. "I regret locking myself up during college. I wasn't social because I was so intent on doing well that I didn't allow myself to have fun. College was hell because of that. Every day felt like I was burning from the inside out."

The image was violent enough to cause Freddie to cringe. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it when no words escaped. Sam took that as a sign to continue.

"I regret the way I used to treat Christopher. We met in my first psychology class, and he noticed my reactions to certain topics because I was emotionally messed up. He didn't push for information, but he reminded me that he was always around if I wanted to talk. I was unfathomably angry with him. I was convinced I didn't need help from anyone, especially him. It was so bad that I actually got into screaming matches and fist fights with him. Yet, he still came back for me. That's when I knew I was in love with him." Her sapphire eyes shined with unshed tears, and she instinctively wiped at them even though there was no wetness.

It was if a fire had been lit in Freddie's body, and the flames were crawling up this throat. He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. Reaching over, he picked up his coffee and chugged it. The coldness from the drink made him screw his face in disgust.

Sam could feel how uncomfortable he was. The waves of nervousness rolled off of him, but she couldn't find it in her to stop. He needed to hear her next words, even though they were going to hurt him the most.

"But, the two things I regret the most are about you." Her voice was unusually tranquil, but her eyes were as clear as glass, showing the breadth of emotion she was feeling.

Freddie's eyes snapped to hers. His shoulders tensed considerably and his fingers tightly gripped the edge of the table. "What about me?" he rasped.

Sam's entire face softened, and Freddie realized she hadn't looked at him in that way since the night of their break-up.

"I regret not keeping in touch with you. I should have, and I'm sorry I didn't." Remorse colored her voice, making Freddie's heart ache.

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to pour salt on the wound. After everything that had happened, I thought we needed the space. I figured moving on was for the best. What I didn't anticipate was that the distance was painful, too. I missed you."

The sincerity didn't go unnoticed by Freddie. His lips formed a smile, but it didn't remain on his lips for long. It quickly dissolved when a more serious expression dominated his features.

"I missed you, too," he responded, running a hand through his hair. "And that's exactly why I didn't contact you either."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "Explain that to me."

Freddie leaned back in his chair, trying to appear like his insides weren't twisting like a knife had been embedded there. He relied on his acting skills and let his face relax into an expression that seemed stress-free.

"Life on stage is demanding. I have many roles to play, many stories to tell. When I first started in this profession, I knew I had to act and nothing else. That's why I was terrified when reality blended with the fictional lives I was experiencing. I found myself thinking like this character and that character. I started to connect with them. The one I understood the most was a man who was desperately in love with a woman. She was unattainable, and he knew that. It didn't stop him from hoping, though. I thought about you every time I appeared on stage for that play. I pretended that when I spoke my lines, I was talking to you."

Sam's breath hitched in her throat. Of all the things she had expected to hear, this was not one of them. She removed her shaky hands from the table and they fell into her lap.

A moment of silence passed between them before Freddie broke it.

In a quiet voice, he said, "That was the year I dated my co-star. She played the character I was in love with. She didn't look or act anything like you, but I thought that maybe it'd work to my advantage. As it turns out, it did." He paused, and Sam could tell he was struggling with this next part. "She was beautiful, kind, and brilliant. Everything that I could have ever wanted. She was perfect. Our life together was perfect. We dated for five years, and people kept asking me when I would propose. The image of the white picket fence and 2.4 children popped into my mind frequently. I liked that image. But, the day I went to go pick out a ring, I realized I couldn't. I must have been to a hundred jewelry shops, but nothing worked."

Sam could hardly think straight. Her heart was pounding so loud and fast in her chest that she thought the people walking outside of the coffee shop could hear it.

"Why was that?"

"You've read The Great Gatsby, right?" Freddie asked, much to Sam's astonishment.

"Yeah," she said slowly, creasing her eyebrows in puzzlement. "Why does that matter?"

"If you recall, Daisy mentioned that she loved Gatsby and Tom at the same time. She knew she couldn't wait for Gatsby anymore, so she allowed herself to love Tom. That's what I did." He hung his head in shame. "I was in love with you, but Andrea was in front of me. When I figured out that my love for you was stronger than my attachment for her, I stopped pretending to be happy in the relationship. That was a year ago, and my feelings haven't changed."

Sam could not breathe. She felt like all the oxygen in the world had been sucked away from her.

"You've loved me all this time?"

"Yes. And that's why I couldn't talk to you. I knew you had moved on." His cheeks were reddening under her gaze, but it wasn't out of embarrassment. It was out of dejection, of misery, of regret.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You don't need to apologize. All you did was move on, and there's nothing wrong with that. It was my fault. I let you go without fighting for you. That's the one thing that haunts me the most, and I know without a doubt that it's my biggest regret. My life's become a bit tragedy, huh? Like the role I'm auditioning for."

"Not entirely." Sam's voice was abrupt, bringing him out of his stupor of self-pity.

"What do you mean?"

Again, she chose her words with hesitation. "I didn't tell you my biggest regret. Mine is that I never said 'I love you' enough. I thought that the one time I told you, you'd understand. But, you didn't and you still don't. That's why I'm telling you now. I never stopped, Freddie. I always loved you, even when I didn't think I could. I still love you. Some say that you can love someone without being in love with them. I disagree. I say that you can be in love with two people, but ultimately, you choose one over the other. I made my choice, but it doesn't mean I don't sometimes think about the what-ifs." She shook her head. "I have never regretted loving you. Loving you….that was the best thing I've ever done."

A loud gasp left Freddie's mouth. He stared at her as if she had said something to win her the Noble Peace Prize. When she made the indication that she was going to continue, he raised his hand to halt her.

"Don't say anything more. I want to leave with that."

Sam nodded, feeling her heart lift slightly. She glanced at her watch, noticing the time. Annabelle, her daughter, and Christopher were at home, having a father-daughter day. She knew she had to get back to them since she didn't have any clients today.

Freddie understood that she had to return to her family. With all of the courage he could muster he said, "Thank you, Sam. For saying that, and for making love mean something. It was just a word in the dictionary before I met you. You made it real."

Not trusting herself to respond to that, Sam rose from her seat, stepped closer, and wrapped her arms gingerly around Freddie. She breathed in his comforting scent, and nostalgia washed over her like ocean waves. After a few moments, she pulled away and smiled sadly, knowing that this was possibly the last time she would see him again.

Sensing her thoughts, Freddie murmured, "If I get the part, you can come see me on stage. That can be the last time."

"Okay." The single word scorched the inside of her throat, and she realized that if she didn't leave soon, she was going to beg him to stay. She knew she would never forgive herself for such a selfish action, so with of the strength she had in her, she forced herself to move.

She picked up her coffee cup and book, briefly brushed her fingertips against Freddie's arm, gave him one last lingering look, and made her way to the front door. With a shuddering breath, she pushed it open, hearing the tinkle of bells above her head. She didn't give backward glance as she trekked to her car.

As she walked, she thought about a specific quote she had once read in a book. A client of hers had suggested Message in a Bottle, and reluctantly, she agreed to give it a chance. She found herself liking it more than she cared to admit.

The quote, she recalled, said, "This is not a goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go."

As the words ran through her mind, she felt her footsteps getting lighter. Letting go, she knew, was difficult. But, it was possible. In her head, she had let him go years ago. Her heart could catch up now, she realized with a smile.

Wow. This was a lot more emotionally invested than I had planned. I randomly started typing, and I guess this was product. Anyway, I hoped you liked it, even though you may be in tears now. What can I say? I think every author has to try some angst sometime. Please let me know what you thought about it. Reviews are truly lovely little gifts to me.