Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I am in no way associated with iCarly, Schneider's Bakery, Nickelodeon, MTV Networks, or Viacom. Any similarities of characters, places, or situations, real or fictional, are purely coincidental, unless is state otherwise. This story is for my own entertainment and I make no claims of any type of ownership. However, please don't duplicate or replicate this story. I will not make any money from this story.

A/N: I wrote this before I gave up on the iCarly series, and with the 9/11 anniversary last weekend, I started thinking about this part of Carly and Freddie life together. This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series, and at this point in time, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college.

iServe

Late 2016

Everything seemed to happen so suddenly, despite the fact that I have known for years that this career path could lead to events like this. Now it's happening, and I'm shaking, that's how scared I am. I have been standing at this window at the Passenger Terminal on Joint Base Lewis-McChord looking at an empty aircraft parking spot. The C-17 military cargo plane carrying my Second Lieutenant Fredward "Freddie" Benson left five or ten minutes ago. Why had the idea of supporting Freddie throughout the ROTC program seem like such a good idea at the time, knowing he would become an Air Force Officer, and knowing we would most likely end up moving somewhere else? I have spend most of my life in Seattle acting like mother to my brother, trying to keep Sam out of trouble, studying for school, working on iCarly, and then four more years studying at college. I guess I saw his career as a way to see the rest of the world, find some adventure, and I do get a sense of pride when I tell someone that my husband is a United States Air Force officer. It seemed like a good idea, but now he is going over there for a year. I think I knew this could happen, but I chose not to think about it. Now I am scared that I will lose my Freddie. I let out a loud groan, "Was this what I really wanted?"

"Sorry, I didn't understand you, can I help?" an older woman in an Airman Battle Uniform asks, looking a little worried. She is a little taller than me and had light brown hair with streaks of gray in a tight bun. She appears to be in her late 40s, and with her look of self-discipline, she is very professional and a little intimidating.

Mrs. Benson, standing next to me with her arms around my shoulders, answers for me, "Thank you, but we're okay. My son, her husband, just left for his first TDY to Bagram."

I look at Mrs. Benson, and I am shocked to see tears on her cheeks. I turn toward her and gave her the tightest hug I could muster. I see the other lady has Senior Master Sergeant stripes on her sleeves.

She had a small smile on her face now, "Well, my son is also on that plane, and I have also been over there. They will be all right."

I couldn't bring myself to leave that window. Moving would mean that I am okay. I'm not. I know I can be selfish at times, but I just can't help myself, I want my Freddie back. As much as I support the military and I appreciate the sacrifices of our servicemen, but right now I just can't comprehend the idea that my Freddie is an active duty officer and deployed. Why him?

Mrs. Benson had to walk me back to the van.

I haven't been outside Bushwell Plaza since then.

The days pass slowly, and they are all the same.

Maybe I am in denial.

I wake up tired every morning at the same time. My entire body feels numb. Every day, I wear something of his, and huddle on the couch with his notebook computer and my phone waiting for his daily e-mails and sometimes daily phone calls, and I keep switching between the cable news channels and web surfing looking for news of what's going on over there. That couch became my place. That place quickly became littered with tissues as I would erratically start crying and would have to be comforted by my brother, Sam, or Mrs. Benson. Spencer remembers watching mom as she worried about dad, but he is so used to dad being TDY, he can't understand what I am going through. Sam tries to help me, but she has no one in the military, so she just can't comprehend what I am going through. Mrs. Benson does understand. Then every evening, I would fall into bed for another night of bad sleep. It is almost like I am dreaming a nightmare. That became my routine. I just wish this was a nightmare; you can wake up from a nightmare.

That routine lasts about a week before I wake up.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but I found myself sitting up in my bed screaming. The bed sheets are soaked with my sweat and my body is hurting. It feels like my heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. As I tremble and gasp for breath, I look around my dark room. It is just so empty. How do other women do this? Did they wake up from nightmares and have trouble breathing? I jump out of bed, grab my robe, and run pass Sam and Spencer to get to his apartment.

I find myself seating on his old bed, in his old bedroom, crying on Mrs. Benson shoulder with her arms around me. I am crying for what's missing in my life and what I might lose. I am regretting my choice of letting Freddie enlist. Why did I have to give up half my heart and sent it to Afghanistan.

She whispers, her voice thick with emotion, "Carly, you are going to worry yourself to death watching TV news non-stop. It's not going to bring him home any faster and hiding from the world isn't going to make the pain go away. You will just waste away, then what would Freddie be coming home to? A wife who couldn't live for him while he's fighting for us? Sweetie, you have graduated college and you have time to do some great things."

"Great things," I laugh/cried. "I remember when I was a kid; I had dreams of being a princess and being rescued by my knight in shining armor. By the time I was a teenager; I had dreams of being an actress in movies and TV. But I never evened consider carrying on our family military traditions. Right now, I am cursing the future I am living. I don't know if I can handle this."

"Trust me, I know this is not a lifestyle for the weak, but I know you are a strong woman. When Freddie signed up, they didn't tell you that you would be serving right with him. You may not be in the warzone, but your war is more personal. Carly, it takes a special woman to be a military wife. All marriages require each of you to work together to make the marriage strong, but being married to a serviceman has additional jobs. His job is to protect us from all threats, and your job is to protect him, by loving him and by taking care of the homefront when he is gone. He's may get a parade and be called a hero, but believe me, you are also a hero but you will not get a parade. Welcome to the world of the Silent Ranks."

"Okay Carly, this is what we are going to do. We will take this one day at a time, but let me tell you from personal experience, some of those days will be hell, but you will survive. You won't have to do this alone because you have your brother, Sam, and me. So are you are going to be alright tonight?" She asks with concern.

I blink away some tears and try to dry them with a tissue. "I'm finding that I can't sleep in my bed without him, and I have been having panic attacks each night since he left. Please, can I sleep here?" I try to give her a smile, without crying again.

"Sure Carly. You are always welcome here, and it's going to be okay. I miss my baby too. The most important thing to remember is that despite the time or distance that separate the two of you, you two began this life together, and by the Grace of God, the you two will end it together. Good night Carly." Mrs. Benson kisses my forehead.

The next morning, I think about my brave husband doing his job in Afghanistan. He wakes up each morning with a clearly defined mission, but I have to figure out my mission. That's the problem. At some point in our relationship, my Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson became my mission. Even with the help of family and friends, I don't know what do to without him. If I am lucky, I can find my new mission in life with honor and dignity that my husband will be proud of. So, with only half a heart, I get out of his bed and set out to do just that.