Hey. So I'm a little nervous about this one-shot. I've never written a sad fanfiction before, and I've only attempted like one sad story outside of fanfiction and that was a few years ago, so it was pretty new to me. I've actually had this idea in my head for several months, and I just now decided I would try it out and see how it went. I hope I didn't fail completely. Reviews and constructive criticism would mean a lot to me.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Or do I? No, wait, I don't.
He slowly shuffled his feet along the dusty path, his old brown shoes kicking red and golden leaves aside as he walked. It seemed strange for the leaves to look so bright and colorful at a place like this. Of course, a lot of things seemed strange now.
It still surprised him how little the rest of the world had been affected by what had happened only a little over a month ago. Other than himself, Maggie, and a few old friends, no one really seemed to care. Most people, if they even knew about what had happened, would simply offer a quick condolence and then go on their merry way. Those people could never and would never understand just how much she had meant to him. Hell, he didn't really understand it half the time.
As he walked he shifted his gaze from his shoes to the small blue bundle clenched tightly in his right fist. He brought the tiny flowers up to his face and fingered the pale blue petals gently as he carefully studied their perfect yellow centers. They were forget-me-nots. They had always been her favorite. He chuckled slightly as he remembered how surprised he had been to learn this fact. They were only fifteen at the time. It was almost impossible to believe it had really been that long. He could still remember it as though it was yesterday.
"Look Freddork," she had said to him suddenly, grabbing his shoulder and pointing to something off to the side as they walked to their best friend's home to bring her the school assignments she had missed when she was absent that day with a cold. He had been cautious to see what she was pointing to. Knowing her, it was probably a trick. But when he looked at her genuinely excited face, one which he did not see often, his curiosity got the better of him and he followed her finger until his eyes landed on the window box resting on the windowsill of a ground floor apartment.
"Flowers?" he had said skeptically. Surely she wasn't serious.
"Forget-me-nots, Diphthong," she had replied, reaching up to flick his forehead. "And don't act so surprised."
"I wasn't acting, I really was surprised. You seriously like those?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Well," he said, rubbing his temple where her fingers had flicked him, "It's just that you usually aren't the type to like something so…girly." He braced himself to be punched in the gut. She punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow!"
She ignored his cry of pain. "They aren't girly, forget-me-nots are cool." He followed her as she walked over to the window to examine the flowers more closely. "I heard this old legend once that some knight dude decided to pick some forget-me-nots for his girlfriend, but being an uncoordinated dork, he lost his balance and fell into the river. Now that's my kind of love story."
He had decided not to tell her that he had heard the story too, and that actually, after he had fallen into the river, the knight had thrown the flowers to his lover so she wouldn't ever forget him, thereby associating the forget-me-not with undying love. Instead of pointing this out he just reached over, pulled a small bunch of the flowers from a part of the box where he thought the missing flowers would go unnoticed, and handed them to her.
"What's this for?" He hadn't been quite sure if he saw her cheeks turn pink or not.
He shrugged. "You said you liked them." Then he was sure that she was blushing.
It was a year later that he had realized he liked her as more than a friend. After several sleepless nights he finally worked up the courage to ask her out. She had thought it was a trick and threw the flowers he had just given her in his face.
"Wait!" he had called, running after her as she fled down the school hallway.
She stopped running and turned around, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "Don't mess with me, Benson. Believe it or not, I actually do have feelings."
"I know you do," he said. "But I wasn't kidding. I really do want to go out with you."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do. Come on, do you really think I'd risk having my face rearranged by asking you out if I didn't really want this?"
"Well what about..."
"I'm over her," he responded quickly, knowing what she was about to ask.
She looked him over skeptically. "Fine," she said finally, making him perk up. "Friday night, Cheesecake Warehouse, seven thirty. You're going to pick me up at my house. And don't try any funny business Benson. If I find out this really is a trick your face won't be the only thing that will pay dearly."
He gulped slightly, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Great," he said. "I'll see you then."
She watched him walk away. Then she walked down the hall, bent down, and picked up the flowers that she had thrown a moment before. Blue forget-me-nots, just like the ones he had given her a year ago.
After that he started giving her forget-me-nots every time something important happened in their lives; always the pale blue variety that reminded him of her eyes. When she agreed to go on a second date with him, he gave her forget-me-nots. When he first told her that he loved her, he gave her forget-me-nots. When they graduated from high school, his graduation present to her was a whole ham and a bouquet of forget-me-nots. When he asked her to marry him, he gave her forget-me-nots, though those didn't last long because they were crushed when she launched herself onto him, kissing him passionately to let him know her answer was yes. At their wedding, she had carried a bouquet of forget-me-nots that he had picked out for her down the aisle. When their daughter Maggie was born, he stayed by her side for the whole delivery, despite becoming woozy several times, and as soon as it was over he had given her the forget-me-nots he had brought with him. Every birthday, anniversary, Christmas, or any other date of importance: always forget-me-nots.
Then one day she came home from her job at the deli. (Being an invisible ninja hadn't quite worked out, but she liked her job because her boss was nice and let her snack on the ham when she was hungry). She had been way more tired than usual, even for someone like her in their late fifties. She was TOO tired, and when her husband asked when this had started, she told him she had been feeling more and more exhausted lately. Being the stubborn woman that she still was, she had insisted that it was nothing, but her husband had insisted that she go see a doctor. After being shuffled back and forth between every kind of doctor she had ever heard of, becoming sicker and sicker every day, she finally found out what was wrong with her: leukemia.
He came to visit her in the hospital everyday, and everyday he would bring her blue forget-me-nots, until the hospital room started to look like a blue garden. He would always set the flowers down in the room when he got there, then give her a kiss and tell her he loved her and that even without her long curly hair, which she had lost due to the chemotherapy, she was still beautiful.
They kept this up for almost a year before he got the call.
"Hello?" he had said. He didn't really want to answer the phone. He was just about to head out the door and go for his daily visit to the hospital.
"Mr. Benson? It's Maria from Seattle Memorial Hospital."
"Oh, hi Maria." He had gotten to know the hospital employees very well over the last year, and Maria in particular because she was the only nurse his wife could tolerate. All the others were "too prissy." That is, according to his wife they were. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?" He suddenly became very worried. There was a pause on the other line before Maria finally spoke up again.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Benson," she said. "I'm afraid she's gone."
No. She couldn't be gone. He had just seen her yesterday. She had seemed so happy to see him. A person couldn't just go from happy to...dead in one day. Especially her. She was just too stubborn to die. He knew Maria could hear him crying on the other end, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
"I'm so sorry," she said again. "If it makes you feel any better, she died peacefully."
That didn't sound like her. If anything he'd always thought she'd go out with a fight. And he'd surely never thought she'd go before him. She was always the strong one, not him.
"I think she knew that it would happen today," Maria continued. "This morning she was talking about you so much, all about how great you were and how much she loved you…she wanted me to tell you that. That she loved you. And she wanted me to give you something too. If you want to come by the hospital, I have it for you here."
"Sure," he finally managed to croak out. "I'll be right there. Thanks Maria."
At the hospital he walked quickly past the room that had been hers. He couldn't manage to even look at the number on the door. The 239 just brought back too many memories.
Maria had been sitting at her desk when he walked up, sorting through some paperwork. When she noticed him she didn't say a word. She knew she had said enough over the phone and that he wouldn't want to talk anymore right now. Instead she just reached under the desk and pulled out an old worn out book. 'The Penny Treasure.' His wife's favorite book as a kid, and probably the only novel she had ever actually read all the way through. He had been curious when she had asked him to bring the book to her from their home a few weeks before, but she had refused to tell him why. Now the book had a yellow sticky note on the cover that said in familiar messy scrawl: Page 239. He almost chuckled at how ironic the number was. Almost.
He gave Maria a slight nod of thanks and then had left the building. He was going to wait until he got home to open the book, but his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to go ahead and find out as he sat in his car in the hospital parking garage, the overhead light illuminating the car just enough so he could see the words on the note.
He turned to page 239 and caught his breath. There were two things resting on the worn out page. One of them was another note. The other was a pressed flower. He read the note.
"Dear Freddork, I hate to say it but I don't think I'm going to make it much longer. Don't ask how I know, I just do. I know that it's going to be hard to live without me. After all, I am pretty flippin' awesome. But I need you to be strong for me. I may always call you a wuss and a sissy, but the truth is you're a lot stronger than you realize. You did put up with being married to me for nearly thirty years after all. That takes balls Benson.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and that if there does turn out to be some sort of afterlife like they say, I won't ever forget you. You're my dork, and I'm your demon, and that's the way it'll always be.
Love always,
Sam
P.S., That forget-me-not in the book is the first one you ever gave me when we were fifteen. I felt like a total pansy (no pun intended) for pressing it in a book, but now I'm kind of glad I did. I just thought you might like to have it."
Tears spilled down his cheeks and onto the pages of the book as he gingerly picked up the old flower, its petals faded from the pale blue that they once were to an even paler grayish turquoise. It was still beautiful. He studied it for a while before placing it gently back into the book. That night he placed the book by his bed so he could sleep with it close to him, and there it stayed every night from then on.
The funeral was a small one. Other than himself, the only people who showed up were Maggie, Spencer, Melanie, Carly and her husband (who still went by Gibby after all these years), and Carly and Gibby's son Charlie, who just happened to be married to Maggie. They had just discovered the week before that Charlie and Maggie were expecting their first child. Sam had been so happy when Freddie told her the good news. It made him sad to realize that Sam would never get to see her grandchild.
Though there were no dry eyes at the funeral, Carly cried more than anyone else by far. Sam had been her best friend, and Carly had never been one to hide her emotions well. Freddie on the other hand did his best to be strong and keep the crying to a minimum. He knew Sam would've wanted it that way.
The funeral ended, and after a while of standing around talking in quite voices and exchanging fond memories here and there, everyone finally left except for Freddie and Maggie. Charlie had decided to give them some privacy and wait in the car.
They just stood there for a while, looking at the grave as if she would come back if they were only patient.
"You know," said Freddie after several minutes of silence, "you're so much like her." He looked over at his daughter, her curly brown hair blowing in the breeze and her pale blue eyes wet. "When I look at your eyes it's almost like she's still here."
"You're such a dork, Dad," she said through her tears, giving him a playful punch in the shoulder. They both chuckled softly, their eyes becoming wetter by the moment. Then Maggie started crying harder and her father pulled her into a hug.
"I miss her, Dad," she said into his shoulder.
"I miss her too, Mags. I miss her too."
That was over a month ago. Today was October 12, their thirtieth anniversary. He finally came to the spot he was looking for and stopped, staring at the gray headstone with watery eyes. He was almost surprised to see it still looked the same as it had the last time he saw it. Even after several weeks, her death was still so unreal to him. He read over and over again the words engraved into the stone:
Sam Puckett Benson
April 17, 1994 – September 3, 2053
Amazing wife, mother, friend, and lover of meat
She will be missed
Freddie had insisted that they put 'Sam' on the headstone rather than 'Samantha.' She always was a Sam. Samantha never fit her personality, and everyone who'd ever met her knew it. He knew she would've wanted her headstone to use the name she had always gone by.
He knelt down by the grave and carefully placed the fresh flowers on top of the dirt. Looking at the pale blue flowers was like looking into her eyes again, somehow even more so than when he looked into his daughter's eyes. He got up to leave, but not before giving the flowers and the grave a final glance and whispering something he hoped she'd hear if by chance her spirit was still floating around somewhere.
"I'll never forget you Sam."