Author's Note: Hey guys! So...I'm not really sure about this story. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided to make into something more, and if I'm being totally honest, it's not my best Seddie piece and I don't know where it's going to end. But it is going to be Seddie, and hopefully just that fact will make you guys happy. :) Read and review. Would love you forever! 3

- Janna x

I've never owned iCarly and I never will.

Chapter title comes from the lyrics of "Life in Technicolor Part II" by Coldplay.

Story title comes from the lyrics of "Is It Any Wonder" by Keane.

1. baby, it's a violent world

It was time to get away.

That was the simplest of solutions, wasn't it? Most practical? Most logical?

Her blue eyes firmly glaring at the back of the door that had just been slammed on her, she was forced to make up her mind. She was leaving. Right now. Possibly forever.

In what world was it right for a mother to refuse her daughter at the door?

Pam Puckett's, apparently.

Sam – and she hated to admit it – was, in a sense, messed up. Her father left their family when she was four (just an innocent little child, really), her parents formally filed their divorce before she even started kindergarten, and Pam thought it was reasonable to separate her from her twin sister, Melanie, at the age of six. Melanie was Sam's best friend, not just her twin. Sam had thought she could never allow someone to get that close to her ever again.

If it wasn't for meeting Carly at the age of eight, she didn't know where she would be right now. (And she possibly wouldn't know where she'd be right now if it wasn't for meeting Freddie, either, but that's a story to save for later.)

But that was the sad part of it all – Carly wasn't even here anymore. She now lived her fabulous life in New York, safely and soundly living in a dorm room (probably a really crappy dorm with even creepier people living in it – hey, it was New York), but nonetheless, she had people who cared about her here, at home. Unlike Sam.

Hell, she was eighteen now. Legal. She didn't really have to live with her mother anymore. But she needed to. She didn't have anyone or anything else to live for. She didn't go to college like Carly and Freddie. She barely escaped high school with a diploma.

Although…she really shouldn't be surprised that her mother had slammed the door on her face. Pam Puckett needed her to be someone she wasn't. And that someone was her twin, Melanie. So maybe she was supposed to take initiative by the slamming of the door to grow up, move on, move away, do something.

She still stared at the door, considering her options. And she came to one conclusion: Freddie. He would know what to do.

Sam turned on her heel and exited the corridor, taking the stairs down to her apartment building's lobby. She knew what she was doing.

Didn't she?

x

Freddie Benson didn't particularly like being woken up in the middle of the night, but there was a knock at his door, at around 2:30 AM, and he let his curiosity get the best of him. He glanced over at the curled figure of his roommate, Tom, snoring away from his side of the room.

Freddie shook his head in the dark. Drunken Tom was never fun to deal with. But such is college life.

The knocking was becoming more persistent, and Freddie was just tempted to go back to bed, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

He stumbled out of bed, his feet shuffling on the carpet, and warily looked through the peephole at the door. He was surprised to see Sam Puckett standing there, her expression looking like a mix between anger and sadness (a look that never crossed her face, he will admit – but he was used to seeing her look pissed off all the time).

Freddie opened the door cautiously, hoping she wouldn't start yelling at him for some unknown reason. "Sam? What are you doing here?" He noticed she was carrying a duffle bag. And it looked heavy. Oh no, she hadn't committed a crime had she? He had known her to have a vicious streak, and she managed to land herself in juvie quite a few times, but he was not going to start his own record at the age of eighteen, being an accomplice or an accessory to her crime, whatever.

Or, the worst she could say (or do) is…

"I need a place to crash." Sam said, crossing the doorway to throw her bag down on the couch in the living room, while pushing Freddie out of the way.

Freddie groaned inwardly. This was not was he was expecting, clearly. "Sam…" he started, motioning to the sleeping Tom, "…you can't stay. There's not enough room, and –"

But he was suddenly cut off by her harsh tone, "My mom just threw me out. Where am I supposed to go?"

He gaped at her sudden outburst, but closed his mouth while trying to think of something tactful to say. What could he say? He was supposed to be her friend, and it seemed like she actually needed him.

"I'll just sleep on the couch, don't worry. I'll be gone tomorrow," she continued, while she started taking things out of her bag, placing them on the coffee table. She could feel him staring at her, wondering, possibly questioning what happened, but she didn't want to answer. Her eyes looked up to meet his, and he just nodded simply.

"We'll just talk in the morning." Freddie gave her a half-smile, and decided to go back to bed, leaving Sam to collect her thoughts and get comfortable.

"Thanks," he heard her whisper behind him.

x

Sunlight filled the small living room the next morning, and Sam could feel its warmth on her skin. She slowly opened her eyes, her nose wrinkling at the smell of fresh coffee. It all seemed familiar, but then she realized she wasn't where she thought she was. She looked over at the two beds on the opposite side of the room. Empty.

A cheery blond guy smiled brightly at her from across the kitchen, lifting a cup of coffee and pointing at it. "You want?" he asked in a strong English accent.

She nodded as she lifted herself off the couch, and sluggishly made her way to the kitchen. The guy handed her the cup of coffee, which she accepted gratefully.

"You must be Samantha," the guy said, still smiling at her, "Freddie's told me a lot about you."

"Sam," she corrected quickly. "And I bet what he's told you has not been good."

The guy laughed, which Sam liked the sound of. He was actually quite attractive. And he had an accent. She couldn't help but smile back at him. His personality was infectious.

"I'm Tom," he extended his hand to her. Sam shook it. She took a sip of her coffee, wondering where Freddie had disappeared to.

"Class, he has a class," Tom said, reading her mind, "and I actually have to go soon, if I can even make it out the door. Got a bit too hung over last night," he said shaking his head, "But…you're welcome to stay, though, if you'd like. Freddie should be back by one."

Sam looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was just past 11. "That's okay, I can just come back later."

Tom shrugged. "Alright, but Freddie will want to see you as soon as he comes back. He told me he wants to talk to you." Putting his cup in the sink, he grabbed his bag that was sitting beside the kitchen table, and smiled at her warmly. "Don't worry, love." He winked as her as headed for the door, and turned back to her again. "Keep yourself busy. He'll be back in no time."

Sam nodded at him, and headed back to the couch, where she had her things laid out. She just sat there, watching the time go by and sipping coffee.

She took Tom's advice and did busy herself…she showered and changed, she even straightened her hair. She packed some of her things away. She flipped through the channels, looked through the magazines, even found some amusing photo albums of Freddie's she hadn't seen before.

Sam was acutely aware of the lock turning and Freddie stood in the doorway. "You're still here," he said, his tone –what was it? surprised? Is he relieved? – jolting Sam out of her glancing through his childhood photos.

She looked up at the sound of his voice. "Tom said I could wait."

He let out a deep sigh as he dropped his bag beside the door and went over to sit right next to her on the couch. He stared at her for a moment, not really knowing where to start. But he knew he should start somewhere.

"So…" he trailed casually, "Want to fill me in with what happened between you and your mom last night?"

"Not really," she said bitterly, not looking at him. "Let's not talk about it, alright?"

He pursed his lips as he tried to think of some way to not upset her any further. But he couldn't. He needed to know. She wouldn't just show up on his doorstep without some good reason not to. Right?

"Look," she said, still thumbing through the photos, "She kicked me out. So I came here, hoping you'd be able to help out. And…" she continued, as she turned another page through an album, "I can leave, you know. If you think I'm cramping yours and Tom's style."

He shook his head slightly. "Sam, it's not that I don't want to help you. I do."

"But?"

"But nothing." He said this firmly, not completely convinced. And neither was she. "Well, not exactly…I have school, a job…"

She scoffed.

"I can help you, Sam. But if running away is your solution, you might have to look elsewhere."

She looked down at the page, disappointed, but didn't let him see it. She needed to think.

What if she can't come up with something else?

She doesn't know what to do, and Freddie's there, but he's not really here.

It was time to get away.

That was the simplest of solutions, wasn't it? Most practical? Most logical?

Author's Note: Okay...like it, love it, loathe it? Please review! :)