Chapter 2: After
Disclaimer: iCarly belongs to Dan.
Considering the truck she was in had been pushed off a bridge and that she had been knocked out, not to mention that she had spent over an hour in the water, Sam really had very little to show for it, other than an extremely large goose egg, which her mother said made her look like a dehorned unicorn.
That was easy for her mom to joke about, Sam guessed. If it hadn't been for Freddie, Sam would have died, but Pam Puckett waved that off. You're fine, she said. So much for motherly comfort. Although they had been working on their relationship, her daughter's injury wasn't enough to keep Pam at the hospital. She hated hospitals.
"They're just keeping you overnight for observation. If something's wrong, they'll call me," Pam said, and left. She did look like she might throw up, but still Sam thought she could have stayed around for Sam. Plus, Sam didn't want to be alone with her thoughts. In truth, she would have preferred Carly to be with her, but visiting hours were over, and only family was allowed to stay with the patient. Even though Sam thought Carly was more family to her than any Puckett ever would be.
But Carly was with Mrs. Benson. Carly said she had been freaking out about Freddie, and Spencer and Carly were comforting her.
Freddie had saved Sam's life. And he died doing it.
The doctor released Sam the next day. Carly asked her if she wanted to come over, but she had said she wanted to rest. Rest. As if she hadn't been laying in a hospital bed all night, thinking about the accident. The accident that had happened because she liked old bridges.
Sam stayed in her room all day. Her mother knocked on her door once and asked her how she was doing. Sam had said she was fine, and her mother left her alone after that. Motherly concern was still in short supply. Sam thought about how Freddie's mom would have reacted. She thought Mrs. Benson was a different kind of crazy, but at least she showed she cared.
Mrs. Benson. Sam remembered how she treated Carly after the taco truck incident. She couldn't imagine what she would think of Sam.
The next day, after much nagging from Carly, she went to the Shays' apartment. She knocked on the door, something she hadn't done in years, maybe since the first week she had met Carly. Spencer opened the door and pulled her into a hug.
"How you doing, Sam?" She shrugged. She was afraid to talk, afraid she would cry again, like she had in the hospital, like she had in her bedroom, like she had on the grass when the officer told his partner that Freddie wasn't breathing.
Carly ran down the stairs and gave her another Shay hug. She pulled back and looked at Sam's forehead.
"Does it hurt?" Sam nodded. Sam could feel the tears looming in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want anybody to see her cry. But she couldn't help it.
"Did you hear, Sam?" Spencer said. She turned to him. "They found the driver. He's been arrested. He should be arraigned tomorrow."
Sam shrugged. What did it matter if they found him now? They should have found him before he drove the truck off the bridge, before Freddie drowned. Before Sam had gotten them kicked out of the carnival. Before Sam had come into Freddie's life.
"You okay, Sam?" Carly asked and placed her hands gently on Sam's cheeks, forcing Sam to look at her. And tears fell.
"It's my fault, Carly. I made him drive him on that bridge. If it wasn't for me Freddie wouldn't have died."
Carly shook her head. "Sam, it's not your fault. It was a drunk driver. And Freddie understands. You know he..."
"He died!" Sam said.
"Well, you know," a voice said from the doorway. "I'll probably do that at least one more time."
And Freddie Benson smiled at her.
"He's not breathing."
Sam looked at the officer, sure he had misspoken, but he didn't even look at her. The other officer joined him. Sam was frozen. Freddie wasn't breathing.
One of the officers checked Freddie for a pulse. The other swept inside Freddie's mouth and then began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Sam pulled up beside him and grabbed Freddie's hand. It was cold. Or maybe it was her hand that was cold. Everything was cold.
The officer who had checked Freddie's pulse glanced at her, and then went back to concentrating on Freddie. They had been working on him for about three minutes. Sam was afraid they would stop. She didn't say anything, but inside her head the phrase Freddie's dead was bouncing and rebounding.
She heard a cough. She looked at Freddie, caught in one of the flashlights, spewing dark liquid out his mouth. He tried to say something.
"Just stay still, son. The ambulance is almost here."
"J-" Freddie whispered. "JWC 669."
"License plate," the pulse-checker said to the other officer and moved away, using the radio on his shoulder to call in the information.
"What's your name, son?" the other officer asked.
"Freddie Benson," he whispered.
"Who is this young lady?", the officer said, pointing at Sam.
"Bane of my existence," Freddie said and smiled. The officer returned his smile and asked him a few more questions, all of which Freddie answered correctly. Sam didn't smile. A few minutes before, Freddie had been dead. That's what she thought about.
"You okay, Sam?" Freddie asked. He raised her chin gently with his index finger and looked at her forehead. "I think mine's worse," he said, pointing at the side of his head where the bandage was. "Plus, I drowned. Well, nearly drowned, since drowning implies remaining dead..well...I'm figuring that all out. I'm thinking of doing a report for school, and I want to make sure I get the terminology correct. You know Briggs will mark me off for it, even if I did die."
"That's not funny, Freddie," Sam whispered.
"Of course it is," he said and leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on her forehead, an inch away from her wound. He pulled back and looked at it. "Yeah, I think mine is worse." He turned to Spencer. "I believe you said something about spaghetti tacos, Spence."
"Coming right up," Spencer said, going to the kitchen.
"Are you guys going to school tomorrow?" Carly asked. She had taken one of Sam's hands in her own without Sam knowing it.
"Don't see why not," Freddie said.
"You're still injured," Carly said, gesturing at his head.
"Carly, it's not a big deal. I'll be fine. Besides, I'd rather be at school than home. My mother's afraid of letting me go to the bathroom by myself, as if I would somehow drown myself in the toilet." Spencer chortled in the kitchen. Carly frowned, while Sam continued to look at the ground, her hand limp in Carly's.
"Freddie, you know that you have a new nickname. Gibby texted me that it's already getting around."
"A nickname?" He looked interested. "What is it?"
"Harry Potter." He looked at her with a confused expression. "As in 'The Boy Who Lived.'"
Freddie laughed. "Harry Potter. That's pretty cool. I mean it's no Freddork or Freddweeb, but it's not bad. Right, Puckett?" And he gently nudged Sam and smiled at her, before going into the kitchen with Spencer. "Spencer, do you think I should wear glasses tomorrow, maybe draw a little lightning bolt on my forehead?"
Spencer pondered the question. "Do you have a wand?"
"Sam, are you all right?" Carly whispered.
"I don't think so, Carls."
"So, did you see a white light or something," Spencer asked Freddie. Carly turned around.
"Spencer!"
Freddie held his hand up. "It's okay, Carly. No, no white light. No relatives calling out to me. I did see something, but that could just have been a dream."
"What was it?" Spencer asked.
"I don't mean to be mysterious, but I really prefer to keep it to myself for now," Freddie said and looked at Sam. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her and looked up. He smiled at her. He seemed full of smiles today.
"No problem, Freddo, but you know, if you ever want to talk about it..."
"Thanks, Spencer."
"Who wants spaghetti tacos?"
Sam didn't. She didn't feel like eating ever again. Freddie had died. And the fact that he was now in the kitchen, laughing and pretending to cast spells, did nothing to change that.
A/N: I know this chapter is a little short (at least for me). I wanted to get it out there, though, since I received so much feedback about NOT killing Freddie. I was going to reply back to people that I had no intention to kill Freddie, before I realized, well, yeah, I kind of did.
Thanks for reviews from: TheRockAngel, inkwriter822, Zetay121, AlexaJohn185, ShooshYeah35, Geekquality, and iloveyou-ihateyou.
Since the majority of the comments were about not killing Freddie, I apologize for what I did at the start of this chapter. That was my original plan, though; I didn't do it just to torture you. That was just an added benefit.
