Ghost of Freddie's Past
**Author's Note: In this story, in the present, Freddie, Carly, and Sam are all 25. MAJOR Seddie shipping here. Mature content consists of the following: Sexual Themes, Alcohol Use, Suicide and Death Scenes. Based rather loosely on the movie, Ghost of Girlfriend's Past.
Freddie's Perspective
My name's Freddie Benson, and life for me is just great. I've won over the girl of my dreams. Carly and I were at her apartment—The same one that used to be Spencer's. We were officially together, and getting ready to heat things up that night. Tonight was going to be great.
Well, it was. It was until I think I'd had one too many glasses of red wine. I was in the bathroom, feeling a little sick to my stomach, when I looked in the mirror, and saw him staring at me. I spun a 360, dropping my glass and shattering it on the bathroom floor, and there he was. So I wasn't hallucinating...
"Spencer?!"
"Hey, kiddo," was his response. No, no...This couldn't be Spencer...I mean, Spencer died in that car accident... I must have looked pretty freaked out, because he smiled, and said, "Don't be scared; I'm not some sort of paranormal ready-to-kill-you ghost. No, no...We're here to help you."
"We're?! Exactly what the hell is going on here?!" I charged at him, just making sure I wasn't having a drunken illusion. Well, he just teleported right behind me, making me spin another 360 to hold his gaze.
"Freddie, kid, calm down...I'm going to explain what's going to happen to you tonight--" I'd came at him again, and he did the exact same thing. "--if you'd stop that..."
I sighed. "Okay, fine—Look, no charging at you." I held up my hands in defeat. Spencer smiled, satisfied. "Now tell me—WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" Spencer grinned even wider, and said, "Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts—Well, apart from me, of course."
I blinked. "Three?"
Spencer said, "Yep. Three ghosts. One of past, one of present, and one of future."
I squinted at him, bewildered. "Okay, three ghosts. I'll make sure to keep that locked up in my mental notes here."
Spencer laughed at me. "I'm serious, Fredd-o...Three ghosts—Each to show you your life from another perspective. Maybe you'll see the mistakes in it."
I gaped at him. "What are you talking about? My life's perfect the way it is!"
Spencer simply sneered at me as he replied, "It's not always quite as it seems, Freddie," slipping through the bathroom wall. You know, typical ghost stuff.
I ran over to the door, opened it up, and shouted, "Spencer, what the hell is going on?!" But, he was gone. Okay, so maybe I AM just having drunk-vision here.
"Hey, you okay?" said Carly, rounding the corner. And I whistled. Carly + Sexy lingerie = HOT! She giggled. "So, you wanna go to bed and lock the door?" She had that frisky little smile on her face. I nodded. "Definitely..."
Carly smiled, and kissed me on the lips before saying, "I'm gonna go get some more wine, sweetie. Be right back."
"I'll be waiting..." I assured her. Then I made my way to our bedroom. Closing the door slightly behind me, I sat down on my side of the bed, and slipped my shirt off. Then I heard a voice.
"My, how you've grown, son."
My eyes widened as I turned to face the first ghost—My dad, Johnathon Benson, his appearance at age 30. "...Dad?..."
He smiled at me. "So, I see you've found yourself a pretty little lady, eh?"
I blushed, and then averted my gaze to the wall. "Uh, yeah...Carly? Definitely. And she's all mine, too..." Okay, I know, I know...That was ultimately stupid as hell.
"Well...," said my father. "I'm here to show you why you shouldn't be with her."
I groaned. I must be roaring drunk...Maybe I shouldn't drink anymore wine...
My dad snapped his fingers, and I suddenly found myself standing in a dense forest—A dense, muddy forest. I shot him a quick glare.
He shrugged. "Watch the little scene..."
I stepped behind some bushes, and I heard a little boy's voice shout squealing with laughter. He ran into my range of vision behind the leaves. He was covered in mud—And having the time of his life. It was me, at five years old. Then I heard a little girl's voice, and she ran close behind me. She scooped up a handful of mud, and hurled it at me, and I repeated the action. "Roar! I'm the Mud Monster!" I said to the little girl.
I glanced up at my father. "Who is she?"
He gestured to the me and the little girl in the mud. "Look closer."
Huh...She sure was cute—I mean, we were cute. Playing together, you know? It made me long for that moment again...To be able to relive it. But as I stared at the little girl, some of her features became obvious to me—Cute, petite, blonde curls...Baby blue eyes...and her stubborn little personality...
I was staring at a five year old Sam...
"What does Sam have to do with anything?...," I asked.
My dad sighed. "More than you know."
I groaned. "Can't you just give some straight up answers?"
My father grinned. "Sorry, Freddie...I can't. You have to figure it out—Who do you really love? I don't think you know, to be honest..."
I scoffed, "Who do you think I love, dad?"
He sighed as he said, "I just told you—You don't know, so how am I supposed to know?"
I sighed in defeat, and turned back to the 5 year old Sam and me. We were so...Well, naive. But...It wasn't in a bad way. I mean, we were five. We were so young, we couldn't even remember it, even when we, "first met." Heh...
"Kids...," I muttered, thinking of that day.
"Yeah, kids. They can sometimes do the damnedest things. I know you know, after all."
I shot my dad a confused glance. "Huh?"
And with a another snap of his fingers, my dad carried us forward in time by about—Oh, ten, elven years.
There I was, 15 years old, sitting alone, out on the...fire escape...
I got this rather...uninterested look on my face. "You aren't honestly gonna pull the whole, "First kiss," thing on me, are you?..."
He just sneered at me. Okay, I know this guy is—uh, was (He'd passed on naturally...) --my dad, and I love him sincerely, but...He was really starting to rack my nerves here...
And then there came Sam... She looked pretty that night...She actually looked like a girl in the pink shirt...
"Hey," she'd told me.
I'd looked over. "Hey..." A moment of silence passed, then she offered a meatball. I'd politely said no, and she just shrugged, and threw it over the edge of the fire escape. Then I'd said, "That was brave—What you said..." She'd stared at me. "You didn't think I'd miss iCarly?"
Huh...iCarly...I haven't seen or had anything to do with that since...God, I can't even remember—Years...
Then she apologized. Sam Puckett actually apologized to me...It was the best feeling in the world.
Then she'd chuckled..."It's so stupid..."
"What?"
"How people get so worked up over their first kiss..."
"So you're not lying? You've really never kissed anyone?"
"No..."
Then, I had the silliest, most naive idea ever. Just the thought of it...It made me laugh...
"What?" she'd asked me.
I chuckled, "Nothing—It's...stupid. It's--"
But Princess Puckett was persistent. "Tell me!"
"Okay! I was just thinking that--"
And, as if she'd read my mind, "--That we should kiss?"
And there I was...So immediately nervous..."You're going to break my arm now, right?"
She seemed thoughtful for a split second—The most terrifying split-second of my life—and then, much to my relief, replied, "No."
Then I said, "Should we? Just to get it over with?"
She was thoughtful again. "Just to get it over with," she verified.
I'd nodded. "Right. And we promise never to tell anyone." She scooted closer to me.
"Never."
I was scared..."Well, lean," Sam said.
And then we kissed. I remember the feeling...I hadn't felt like that with—Never mind...But it was simply...Wonderful. Except for when we pulled away. That was despair—the joy was over...
"That was..."
"Nice..."
"Good work?..."
"You too..."
She stood up from her spot on the windowsill. "Hey, Sam?" She looked at me.
"I hate you."
She'd chuckled. "Hate you too."
My father gestured for me to follow him.
And then a very important question popped in my head. "Hey, dad? How can they—I mean...Well, they, you know—Not see us?"
He'd chuckled. "Were you able to see me?"
I shook my head. "No..."
Then he smiled, and said, "Exactly."
Time travel gives me a head ache...
We stepped inside through the rather large window. And Sam was still there, looking back, with this...Expression of...Happiness and longing in one. "Yeah, Freddison. I really hate you..."
Was that...Sarcasm...?
And then the old man snaps his fingers again...
We were standing in the hallway—The one that separates Carly's apartment with the one that used to be my mother's. And there she was—AGAIN! This time, though...She looked sick...Wait—That's because she was. She had Poison Chocolate Fever...
"Yes she is! Missy's trying to get rid of me!" The plead in her voice was so obvious...
"I don't believe you," I simply stated. "Why would she be trying to eliminate you?"
"Because she hates me!"
"She doesn't hate you."
Sam sighed in defeat. "Fine. Don't believe me." Then she turned away and left. Well, she started to.
"Give me one good reason why I should believe you."
She rounded that corner—That familiar little corner. You know, even though I pass it everyday of my life—I've never payed any attention to it...Until she turned back to me.
"Because I came here. When have I ever come to you for help, for anything?"
I'd sighed when she left again. Then I turned to my door—and what my luck?--It was locked. I'd slid down on the door, glancing back, and I was actually able to see the expression on my face. It was shame. Shame at myself. I'd felt like I'd let this poor girl down...In fact...I had let this poor girl down...
I—as in me, not the Freddie at the door—looked down the hallway, and she was...crying...She was simply sobbing—Quietly, of course. That's when I really felt the guilt roll through my veins. Poor Sam...
"You actually cared about her," my father told me.
I nodded. I remembered...That was when I'd decided to give up my six month cruise for her. And I...
"You didn't want anyone to know—You didn't want any recognition. You didn't want to hold it over Sam whenever she did something cruel to you."
I sighed. "Well—Yeah, she had a point. She'd come to me...Me..."
My father stared at me, contently. "I was very proud of you right then. You've always been a very selfless and generous kid, you know that?"
I just gave him a look.
"What happened to that?..." His voice was echoic...He was fading...
And I didn't want him to go...
"Dad!" I got up and fell on him, but I fell right through him. Then I heard him say to me, "Go back home, son." I turned back to what used to be where I lived...And I was gone...Sam was gone...
I was back in the present!
And...Oh my God...I was shirtless!
I opened up the door to Carly's place and walked in...
"There you are!" came her voice—But she wasn't dressed in her sexy underwear anymore; she had a black turtle-neck sweatshirt and blue jeans, and her hair was pulled back.
Past...Present...
"Oh God, no..."
"Oh God, yes," was her reply. "I'm the ghost of your present. Who else would it be? Your mom?..."
"I was kinda' hopin'..."
"Okay, I know that's a lie, Freddie."
I nodded. "Yeah, you're right..."
"Now get a shirt on—My God..."
I blushed intensely, and ran up to her bedroom and grabbed my black tee-shirt, and slipped it over my head. And then Carly walked in. "That's better."
Then she pulled me toward our window, and pointed out to a figure right outside the building.
It was Sam...She looked tired, and she'd cut her hair about shoulder length—And it was straighter, too. It wasn't as curly as it was wavy...But it was limp. And dirty—or that could have been the red streaks that had started growing in it...
"She has red hair?" I asked Carly.
"I didn't know, either," was her response. "We'd gotten—or should I say I'd gotten—so wrapped up in each other, Sam was nothing more than a memory stored in the backs of our minds. But look closer..."
I did as told, and I noticed the position of her hands...They were holding her stomach like—like she was...
I shook my head. "No...She can't be...She can't have a..."
And then I felt a hard thud on the back of my head. "Ow! What was that for?!" I asked Carly.
"Cheat on me..." she grumbled.
"What are you talking about?" I'd lied through my teeth. She snapped her fingers, and we were at...Sam's...
And there Sam and I were—Her hair still shoulder length and fiery—on her couch...Making out. And I mean making out...
Okay...So Carly knew...
I glanced to the carpet, a little ashamed at myself. Yes, only a little. I was starting to get the vibe that Carly wanted me to be with Sam, as well...
But she still whacked me in the back of the head—again. "Would you quit that?"
"Would you not have sex with another girl when you know perfectly well you're with me?"
"Yeah, but we're not married. We aren't even engaged."
She glared at me. "But we are still together."
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. Carly gave a rueful chuckle. "Are you going to look?"
I stole a quick glance at the two of us...I was slipping her shirt off.
My eyes immediately traveled back to the ceiling. "I don't really want to." I know what happened that night...
"Good," was Carly's response. "Because I don't really want to, either."
She snapped her fingers, and Sam and I disappeared. But we were still at Sam's house. "I think part of your problem, Freddie, is that you just don't know."
I glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"You don't know who you want anymore...And one of these days, someone will get hurt."
She said the last part with such certainty it scared me...
"What do you mean someone's going to get hurt?"
"Well, maybe I said it wrong..."
I gave her a hopeful glance...That immediately turned into a look of despair once she said what she had to say next.
"We all are going to get hurt—Some more than others..." She stared at me when she said, "more than others..." It sent shivers down my spine.
"How hurt?..."
"Why don't we just show you?"
Then everything before me started changing slowly. The house turned blacker and blacker as Carly slowly faded in the same way as my dad. And the house...the house turned to...cinders—What the hell?...
The house was...burned down...
"Hello?!" I called, and my voice echoed throughout the empty street. I turned around, taking in what was left of Sam's house...Just blackened wood, ashes and...snow? I glanced up to the sky, and sure enough, it was snowing. Hard. And the wind started blowing. Hard.
Geez, I should have grabbed a jacket...
I turned around, and I saw a lone teenage girl standing in front of me...Her gaze...Just locked on mine...
She would've been beautiful if it weren't for her dirty, matted...sandy-blonde...curls...And her...hazel eyes...They had—Deep, shadows. They were obviously permanent...And she was so...pale, underneath all that dirt on her face—And there were tear marks...Her clothes were torn, and looked very light for this kind of weather...And she looked simply starving...
"Who are you?"
She didn't answer. She just stared at me with such...hate...Then she motioned for me to follow her, and right outside what used to be the door, I made out two figures in the now blizzard that seemed to have struck Seattle that evening. One was real small—She appeared to be about five. And the other must have been her mother—She was older, probably about my age. Eh, maybe a little bit older...
I glanced at the girl. "Will you at least tell me who they are?"
She snapped her fingers, getting my attention, and pointed back to the scene.
The older woman was leaning on the side of a building, panting heavily, doubled-over.
"Mommy?..." the little girl said, tugging on her mother's pants leg.
The poor woman couldn't even answer her daughter properly. She groaned as she collapsed in the snow.
"Is mommy sick?"
The girl beside me—somehow--cleared the snowflakes from around the mother and daughter, like there was a transparent force field there, and around us, as well.
My mouth fell open. My knees gave in. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "S-Sam?..."
The ghost-girl—The ghost of the future, I presume—glanced down at me.
Of course I knew that was Sam. Her hair was longer, and now more light-red than blonde, but it was still Sam. And "sick" was an understatement...
Sam was pale, sweaty...dirty...Even a little...bloody?...Her eyes had those dark circles under them. And her blue eyes had just lost that—Spark.
"Come here, sweetie." God, her voice...It'd lost all hope, it was raspy and barely more than a whisper.
The little girl sensed something was wrong. "Mommy?..."
Sam turned and replied, with a shuddering breath, "I love you, Sammie. I always will—You know that...right?"
Sammie nodded. "I love you, too, Mommy..."
Sam smiled a weak smile, and ran her fingers through Sammie's matted curls. Then she closed her eyes and her hand went...limp...
"Mommy?..." Sammie asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Mommy? Come on, wake up! Mommy!" The poor little girl was panicking by now. "Mommy! No...Wake up, Mommy!" Sammie shook her. No reaction from Sam what-so-ever.
"She's--" I couldn't say it. I didn't want to believe it...
Where was everyone?! How could nobody see these two, one lying...gone...on the snowy ground?!
The girl beside me said, "It's Christmas."
I looked up at her, shocked. She'd actually spoken.
"No one cares on Christmas—No one cares about anything but Santa..."
I sighed. "Where am I?"
She motioned for me to stand up, and she turned a headed in the general direction of Bushwell Plaza—She was on another silent streak, I guessed.
The first thing I heard once we got up to my floor—She, as in the ghost, was different; She must not like teleporting...--was yelling...even from outside the room.
I don't want to say exact quotes...
I, older now...By about a good 5, maybe 6 years...stormed out of the apartment, sliding my arms through the sleeves of my tan leather jacket. I must have been pissed off...
I was too caught up in my own life—Again--to even think of Sam. Again...
"What am I so mad about?..."
The ghost-girl beside me was silent for a moment, but then she sighed and said, "Finances...Love life...Your other child..."
And get this. I thought I heard the ghost-girl say, very quietly, "...My half-brother..." ...But I must have been imagining things...
"But, wait...What other child?..."
"The child you have with Carly."
My mouth fell open. The child...That I have...with...Carly?...Well...I guess it sort of makes sense; I mean...We WERE about to have sex, but...Then, this...
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. It's what happens."
"But...I ran off—What happens to me?"
Again, she motioned silently for me to follow her.
We walked through the snowy night time streets of Seattle. Then I saw the same little girl from before looking at me.
"Please, sir! My Mommy—She's--"
I rounded ferociously on her. "Look, kid, just leave me alone, okay? Do you see how much I care?!" Then I'd turned around and continued on my happy way, leaving Sammie alone and crying.
The ghost-girl gave me a look full of fiery hate.
We ended up at an old, run down hotel. We walked in, and I felt a little weird just waltzing on in—through the walls...
And here's something else ghosts can do...They can hover. Which we did, all the way to the third floor.
And we walked to room 312. My room...
And, naturally, straight through the door...
And there I was, lying on the bed, looking over at the night stand...
A switch-blade...
What did that have to do with this?...
I was answered when the 30-year-old me slowly, possibly reluctantly, picked up the knife...
And I was scared at that moment.
The me on the bed grasped the handle real tight, gritted his teeth, and brought it down--
I shut my eyes tight. I didn't want to see...I really didn't...But I still heard...For a split second.
I guess the ghost-girl pitied me, because she made the scene in front of me disappear. But we were still in the room—like how Carly did at Sam's. Except this time, nothing changed.
"Hearing the commotion, the doorman came running up—finding you'd bled to death."
"I-I...Look, I—Really don't want to--"
She held up her hand. "It's a horrible way to die, dad..."
The last word was full of such venom and hate, I flinched.
"Yeah, suicide! You left me! Even when my mom had just died!"
And then it dawned on me—How could I not see it? The ghost of my future was my...daughter...
And she disappeared in the same manner as all the other ghosts of my life.
And that's when true reality settled in. My life wasn't perfect. Carly wasn't the perfect girl...And there was nothing I could do about it.
I started crying. What, a 25-year-old man can't cry? I think eventually, everything turned black as I passed out.
I woke up back in my apartment feeling groggy and very nauseated... I could feel some weight on my chest, and there was something red and curly tickling my nose. I looked up as best I could—I didn't want to wake the girl on top of me—and I think I screamed...
My hand flew over my mouth. Don't wake her up...Don't wake her up!
"Surprised?" came an all-too-familiar voice.
"Well, no shit, Spencer!"
"Keep in mind you're 16 again."
"Uh...say wuh?..."
"And Carly doesn't remember anything."
"Um, okay?..."
"So don't slip up."
I blinked, and then changed subjects--"What up with Sam's hair?"
Spencer laughed, and then I said, "And are you now alive—Again?"
And Spencer laughed even harder. "Yes, Freddie—You are alive and back in time. It's called a second chance. And about Sam's hair—Some things we weren't able to turn back to normal...So, I'd come up with an excuse soon, before Carly asks."
Much as I'd hated to do it, I shook Sam awake. She opened her eyes, and she seemed tired. Like, real, real tired.
"Hey...You okay?"
"Am I—Well...I'm alive—So...I guess I'm..."
Then she closed her eyes and snuggled closer to me, sighing in contentment.
"Sam...?"
"Yes?"
"Hair...?" I held up a strand of her red-blonde hair, and she said, "What about it?..."
I groaned and said, "C'mon, get up..."
"Ugh..." Her eyes fluttered open, and then she gasped at her reflection in the TV.
Spencer was laughing his ass off. "Sam—You should have seen your face! Gold, baby!"
Sam just shot Spencer a very Sammish glare.
"You did this," she said. "That's the excuse."
I shrugged. "Yeah, 'Spencer came in the middle of the night, dyed Sam's hair red, and cut it.'"
And Sam and I laughed—Which, very surprisingly, isn't something we would normally do. Now, she might be laughing, but...I'd be screaming. Uh-huh, that's about right.
Once the laughter died down, she said, "But, wait...Where's Sammie?!" And as she said that, I could've sworn I saw a sandy blonde, hazel eyed...clean, beautiful, and happy...girl smiling at me—But I blinked, and she was gone.
"I have a feeling she's okay," I assured Sam, pulling her close. "She's okay..." I still decided to add, "And keep in mind she doesn't exist yet." Sam smiled with realization. I fell back down on the couch, and she fell with me, and we lied there together. I'd never been happier in my life.
Okay, okay...I know the ending's a little cheesy, but...Whatever, you know? I had fun writing it, and that's all that matters for me. Yes, it's a one-shot. Review nicely, please!