Disclaimer: I still don't own iCarly.

A/N: This chapter was a bit confusing to write because I kept forgetting that some of what I was trying to say isn't mentioned until chapter 3 so I had to fix it. I want to say a special thanks to IAMCAGE, for basically keeping me sane during writers block moments and helping figure out certain things. And thank you to the readers who have reviewed, favorited, added to alerts, etc. I appreciate everything you guys do.

That said, here's chapter 2. Enjoy.

Chapter 2

The Groovy Smoothie is the same after six years. T-Bo still knows my favorite smoothie and has it made before I even reach the counter. At least some things never change. Freddie is watching me as I chew on the straw of my now-finished smoothie and the silent conversation we're having with our eyes is enough to make me want to jump over the counter and slap him for keeping everything away from Carly. "Are you guys okay?" Carly's voice brings my eyes to her and she's looking between us as if she's waiting for us to fight.

Freddie and I nod and the nub finishes his smoothie. "It's been a while since all three of us were here together," he murmurs with a glance toward me. I want to pummel him, but I can't with Carly sitting here. She'd just get disappointed or something, and after being gone so long, that was something I don't think I can handle right now. But I feel the need to get back at him, just like I used to.

"What happened to your arms?" I point to his scarred arms and raise my brow. "Did you get into a fight with a cat or something?" He shoots me a warning glare and I smirk. "Don't tell me you got jumped, Frednub. Or did you?" I glance at Carly, whose eyes are wide. Freddie's glare is burning holes in my brain, but it doesn't bother me. "So tell me what happened, Freddork. What have I missed?" Carly looks between us, trying to figure out what's going on, but she would never be able to guess. Freddie and I are glaring each other down, and I swear if looks could kill we would have destroyed each other. I frown and turn to Carly. "I'm going back to my mom's. I won't leave again." She looks dead inside. I grab her chin so she'll look at me. "I promise, I won't leave again."

She nods slowly and I smile, throwing my cup in the trash on the way out. I drew a cigarette from my back pocket and lit it as soon as I was out of view of the Groovy Smoothie, which Carly would kill me for if she found out. She hated smokers, but it definitely helped me the past six years. The walk home is a long one, as I pass the hobos I haven't seen in years and a few I've never seen before, and I notice my favorite bum is sitting against the front of my apartment building.

Okay, maybe calling her my "favorite" was a little strange, but this woman was like the future version of me. I wasn't calling her or myself a loser, nor do I think I'll end up on the streets. I actually do plan on doing something with my life. So did this woman. Mercy used to be a doctor. She was the best damn brain surgeon in the state of Washington, until she lost her husband. He was a good man, a psychologist, but one day he got into a bit of trouble and he was killed. All of Mercy's money was taken from her to pay off her life debt, and she lost her job for criminal involvement.

I smile and offer a simple greeting and she hugs me, obviously glad to see me. "How have you been, Samantha?" she asks. Normally anyone who called me Samantha would be introduced to a punch in their face, but for some reason I didn't ever feel like doing that when Mercy did it. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I ran into some trouble a few years back." I shrug. "It's been rough for me, I guess. Can you believe Freddie knew where I was and kept it from Carly? That's not right. Carly's my best friend and I spent all this time thinking she hated me, when she didn't even know. God, Mercy, I was worried that I had lost my reason for living." She raises her brow. "You know what I mean. If it weren't for Carly being my best friend I probably would have been dead in a ditch somewhere, you know?"

Mercy nods. "Maybe Freddie kept it from Carly to protect her from what you were having to deal with. I mean, from what you used to tell me about Carly, she doesn't seem like the type to be able to handle what you do. Maybe he was saving you from Carly's disappointment. Maybe he was protecting your friendship with her."

I shrug. Maybe she has a point. "I'll have to talk to him about it later. It was good seeing you again, Mercy. I'll be here more often." I hug her and dig into my pocket for some change, placing it in her hand and closing her fingers around the cash. She doesn't usually accept money from me, but I need to give it to her. I have no use for it right now.

I climb the stairs to the fifth floor and open the door to my mother's apartment to find her sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a full bottle of vodka on the coffee table in front of her. Her eyes raise to mine and the corners of her mouth twitch because even though she's a total wreck and borderline horrible mother she still cares about me and has been waiting for me to come home. I had called her as soon as I had had a chance and she'd said we were going to celebrate, Puckett-style. She stands and hugs me loosely because there's still some negligence of emotion when it comes to someone other than herself, but I don't mind because she's still my mother. "So how are you doing, kiddo?" she asks, and she's sitting on the couch now, watching me like I'm so much better than that clear liquid right now.

I shrug and sit next to her. "I'm doing as great as a criminal can do," I reply. Today's been full of surprises and emotion that I'm seriously too tired to even care about any other response and I just lean back into the couch and close my eyes, hoping to get some sleep before any potential fights start because I hate arguing when I'm suffering from fatigue. Mom seems to catch on because the next thing I realize is that I'm being shifted until I'm lying down and a pillow is slipped under my head.

When I wake up, the apartment is dark, save for the hall light. I notice the bottle of vodka is still sitting untouched on the coffee table, and I have to give my mother props because six years ago she would have finished ten bottles by now. I can definitely get used to this. I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes, squinting at the clock above the TV that reads eight thirty-seven. I only slept for four hours. "Hey, Mom, are you here?" I call out into the apartment.

I hear a creak as her bedroom door opens a few minutes later and she comes into the living room with a gift-wrapped box. She holds it out for me to take, and I eye it suspiciously before taking it. "I went out to get some food and I found this so I figured I might as well get it for you." I look at her. "I'm trying to change, Sam." I'm surprised, really, that my mother decided to change for me.

I rip the box open and pull out the cheap little charm bracelet with charm pigs. Clasping it around my wrist, I stand and hug my mother, something I haven't done in a long time. "Thanks, Mom, it's awesome." I reach for the bottle of vodka. "So what do you say about a little celebration for my homecoming?" I offer, opening the bottle and take a gulp. The warm liquor is foreign to me after six years and I shake my head, swallowing what was probably three shots worth. "Damn!"

Mom's just laughing at me as she takes the bottle and takes a smaller drink. "You know better than that," she jokes, passing the bottle back to me. I shake my head and set it down on the coffee table. "What, you're wimping out already?" I stick my tongue out at her and go to my room, which is surprisingly the same as it was when I left, except cleaner. Damn it, Mel. I had written her a few times during my absence, and she had mentioned coming home once or twice. She never said she cleaned my room.

I notice my pack on my bed where Mom must have put it when I took a nap earlier and open it, pulling out the bundle of letters, all addressed to Carly Shay. I set the bundle of letters on my desk and toss my pack across the room toward the closet. Thinking about earlier today, I probably shouldn't have started teasing Freddie about getting jumped. I mean, he basically did it to save my life and here I am laughing about it. I could fucking hit myself for being so stupid and ungrateful. He shouldn't have even been there. Damn it, why was he there? I look at my pack and bite my lip before picking it up and grabbing the other bundle of letters from it. The ones Frednub had written me.

Hey, Puckett. Sorry I couldn't respond to your last letter sooner. My mom made me go to some stupid convention with her. Seriously, the people there were insane, and I thought my mom was crazy. God, I'm glad to be home. Anyway, I can't write a long letter this time because she's decided it would be beneficial for her to dig through what isn't hers. I know, it fucking sucks more than anything. Don't worry, she won't find the letters you send me or the ones I already have. I have a safety deposit box that she doesn't know about, and I have no intention of her ever doing so.

Listen to me. You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. I shouldn't have even been there. Neither should you have been. But you and your damn "reputation"…you could have been killed. I know you say you can handle yourself, and believe me when I say that I know you can, but he had a knife. And you weren't moving. Did you want to die? I don't get it. The cuts have almost healed but they'll be scars, thanks for asking. I'm kind of surprised that you did ask, considering you usually don't care if I get hurt at all.

I can't visit you again. It's too risky and if my mom finds out, God help us both. If you need money, I can still send you some, but it won't be much. We just graduated and I got a lot of money, but I have to pay for college. You know? I hope you're going to get at least your GED. That would be good for you, even though I know you hate school and everything involved.

Things aren't the same here without you. I guess I miss you picking on me, but hey, it's a relief in a way too because you really did bruise my shoulder when you punched me last time. That's all I want to say right now because chances are you're laughing about that last part and I don't know if that means you'll do worse when you come back or if you're actually going to be a little nicer.

I have to go for now, but I should be able to write more next time. Take care of yourself and do whatever you have to in order to come back. You're missed. I'll keep your letters hidden so keep writing.

Freddork

Carly hadn't been mentioned at all. I had asked how Carly was doing, but he had never answered. Maybe it was because he couldn't in this particular letter, but thinking about it now, he never mentioned Carly in any letter he had ever written me. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow, if I can get him alone.