Flashback:
(Freddie's POV) May 11, 2012 8:24 P.M.
While Freddie is making disgusted faces at the tv screen, Sam is chuckling her head off.
"How are you finding this amusing?" Freddie says, his eyes wide. He looked at the blonde who's head was lying in his lap. "She's dying as she's giving birth!"
"So?" Sam says, looking up at him. Her golden curls were scattered all over his legs. "It's fake. And this movie really, really sucks."
"You were the one who wanted to watch Breaking Dawn," Freddie scoffs. "We both knew it was going to be awful."
"Carly said it was good though," Sam says, with an edge on her voice. "I thought there'd finally be more killing."
"Yeah, right." Freddie snickers. "You know, you're a lot more girly then you let on." He goes on, with his voice high in a fake girl voice as he imitates Sam, "'My name's Princess Puckett and I love hot shirtless vampires!'"
"Keep talking that way, I dare you." Sam snaps.
"I'll shut up." Freddie closes his mouth. "But really, why did you want to watch this?"
"But I knew there was gonna be a birthscene in it," Sam says. "And those are always hysterical."
"Hysterical?" Freddie echoes.
"How badly they attempt to reinact them." Sam explains. "I mean, that hardly looks real at all."
"You've seen someone give birth?" Freddie asks.
"My mom's drunken friends. They randomly decide to get wasted on their due date. It's kind of funny, watch a few drunk chicks trying to handle that kind of situation." Sam says, laughing.
Oh Sam. Only she would find humor in that. Freddie just sighed and said, "Can we watch something else?"
Sam blinked at him. "Like what?"
"Something that doesn't have this...birth scene." he replies awkwardly.
Sam just snickers and begins flickering through the movie channels. "How about something scary?" Freddie suggests.
"Splice?" Sam asks when it comes up. "I never saw it, but it looked good."
"But it's already half-way through," Freddie objects.
"Who cares?" Sam says. "Come on, it's supposed to be scary. It has to do with genetic tests on people or something like that."
"Okay." Freddie says, and Sam clicks the channel. She leans back against Freddie and he wraps his arms around her waist.
It becomes clear about 25 minutes into the movie that this movie is not scary and mostly boring. When the Splice creature (Dren or something like that...) stabs the cat in the neck with her stinger, Sam laughs.
"You find that funny, too?" Freddie says, exasperated.
"Yeah, I mean, you didn't expect it." Sam says.
"You like unexpected endings?" Freddie asks her.
"Sometimes." She replies.
The movie goes on, and finally Sam says, "Wow. This movie really, really, really sucks."
"It was kinda hard to swallow after the human/hairless creature thing sex scene," Freddie argees, pushing away the popcorn.
"Gimme that," she says, shoving a handful in her mouth.
"Come on, can we watch something else?" Freddie asks.
"Like?" Sam says with her mouth full.
"Something really, really scary." Freddie says.
"Okay, you pick." And now that Samantha Puckett has food in her possession, she is in her own little world. Freddie rolls his eyes and flips through the movie channels.
He gives Sam his famous smirk. "How about The Fourth Kind?" he asks, his voice low and dramatic.
"Not scary enough," she replies.
"Come on, I've seen part of this movie before. It's really, really scary." Freddie says.
"Ugh, fiiine." Sam groans.
"Okay, fiiine." Freddie smirks, playing the movie.
Sam managed to stay calm and collected the whole time. Freddie knows she's seen some scary things in her life, but if this movie about aliens has got Freddie nearly shaking, surely it'll get Sam at least a little bit afraid.
But no, she kept a blank, bored expression the entire time. This was worse than when she watched Splice, where she was managing to find some humor.
"This isn't scary," she claims.
"I'm liking it," Freddie objects.
"Yeah, well..." Sam blinks at him. "Can you get me more popcorn."
"Sure," he stands up and goes into her kitchen. As he's getting it, he notices something outside her window. He peers outside.
He couldn't make out anything in the darkness. He peers closer. Suddenly, he hears the five-note whistle he's been hearing constantly when he's with Sam.
And then she'll suddenly vanish.
He looks over his shoulder. For once, Sam did not hear the whistle, and her eyes were still fixed on the movie.
It's time for him to figure this out.
He slowly, quietly opens the backdoor.
"Freddie?" Sam calls, her voice lined with confusion.
Before Freddie could reply, two cold hands grasped his shirt and pull him outside. He barely has time to gasp in shock when one of the icy hands grabs his neck and presses down. Suddenly, everything was going-
And he was engulfed in dizzying blackness.
He knows he was only out for a few minutes, because when he came to, Sam was at the backdoor, screaming her head off. "Freddie!" she shrieks over and over again. She searches in the darkness, looking for him. "Freddie! Freddie!"
"Sam!" he calls, surprised by how weak his voice sounds. Almost immediately, Sam scrambles her way towards the sound and bearhugs him, harder than ever before. And that is pretty hard, since it is Sam Puckett, the girl who knocked out a truck driver with only a carton of milk.
Sam presses her face to Freddie's, and Freddie feels how wet her face is with tears. "Sam," he coughs. "Sam, it's okay."
Sam suddenly was feeling around his neck, as if she was looking for something. "Samantha, it's okay." He breathes. "Sam-" She grasped him tighter, if that was possible. She dragged him inside.
She sobbed into his shirt. Freddie has only seen Sam cry...two times? Maybe three? He doesn't know. All he knows is that this is the fourth, and it's incrediably sad.
"Sam..." he begins.
"I thought you were dead!" she whimpers. And Freddie realizes at that moment, she's never been so afraid. Not when she was about to fall off the building with Carly or when she nearly got pulzerized by a wood-shredder. No, this is the same amount fear when Freddie got hit by a car. Her eyes are blazing with terror and horror and every emotion no one should have to deal with.
And Freddie hated that anyone had to deal with that.
(Freddie's POV)
Was that Sam? He looked out his window. His headlights illuminated the three people who were walking on the street. All of them looked beaten and bloody. Then he realized that yes, that was Sam.
He screeched the breaks, stopping the car. He rolled down his window as Sam ran towards his car.
"Freddie!" she gasps. "Open the door! Quick!"'
"Wait! Goldielocks!" The dark-haired girl beside her says. Half her face was swelling up and she was holding her hand as if it was broken. "Do you know who this even is?"
"Oh," The guy with tufty brown-blonde hair says. There is a cut on his forehead and both his eyes were black and blue. "Goldielocks, this isn't...!"
"Shut your mouth and get in the car," Sam spits, her golden hair damp with blood. She has another bruise on her jaw and her lip was bleeding. Her shirt was torn, and Freddie could see a cut on the exposed skin.
Freddie could see headlights up ahead. Sam's eyes widened twice their normal size. "It could be the Fatherhoods," Sam gasps to the two other people, who look just as terrified.
Suddenly they all bundle into Freddie's car.
"Annnd now you're in my car." Freddie says, exasperated.
"Just drive!" Sam almost screams. "Hurry! They're catching up!"
"Who's catching up?" Freddie asks.
"Just drive!" All three people screamed at one time.
"Okay, okay!" He slams on the gas, hearing the sastifying sound of tires screeching. He looked in his rear-view mirror to see the two people in the back assessing their injuries, while Sam, who was in the passenger seat, was wiping away blood from her face.
"Sam, what happened?" He asks.
Her eyes widen at the word Sam, and she glances at the backseat to see if her friends heard. They don't look at her, as if pretending they didn't hear. She glances to see how far away the other car is.
"Did you hear me?" Freddie repeats, almost impatiently.
"Look, I appreaciate you saving our lives over there," Sam says, her teeth clenched. "But we kinda have another issue at the given moment."
Oh, yeah. He's supposed to be driving a getaway car. He grits his teeth and says, "What were you doing back there? Why are you all bloody?"
Sam glances behind her again, and the two people fixed their gazes on her. Questioning. Just like Freddie is. It looks like a lot of people have questions for Miss Puckett.
Freddie keeps driving, makes some difficult turns, and eventually they drive out to an open road. The girl in the back sighed, her long dark hair slick with blood. "We're in our territory," she whisper to the guy beside her. "They wouldn't dare follow us."
"Who wouldn't dare follow you? What is going on!" Freddie interrupted. The girl just fixed him with an icy gaze and didn't reply. "Why won't any of you tell me?"
"Look, can you just drop us off right here?" Sam asks, her voice rough. Freddie looks at her neck and sees that someone must have punched her there, and her vocal cords seemed choppy. "Please?"
Now anger was overcoming Freddie. The calm, collected Fredward Benson still has his moments with fury, but didn't everyone? He slammed on the breaks, probably giving them all whipblash.
The two in the back immediately got out of the car. When Sam opened the door, all Freddie is capable of saying is, "You're really going to do that?"
Sam pauses.
"You're really going to just walk out of this car?" He says. He doesn't look at her, and he doesn't sound angry. His eyes are focused on the road, and his voice is blank and monotone. "You're just going to walk away again?"
Sam glances at the two people who are waiting for her outside the car, then back at Freddie, then the two people, then back at Freddie.
"Just go then," Freddie says calmly. "Just walk away again. You clearly can't face this situation. So just go."
Seconds go by. Then maybe a full minute. Finally, Sam just shuts the door. The two adults sprint off and Freddie begins driving again.
Freddie's always been one with words. He always could confront people using words, quotes, even poems. But no matter what, when it came to Sam, he was always at a loss for words. So for minutes they drove around on amonyous streets in complete silence, trying to find words to say.
Finally, Sam says, "Well? What do you want to know?"
Freddie glances at her. "What do you think?"
Sam rolls her eyes. "You've always been like this," she growls. "Always needing to know the truth. Well, think about it, Benson. How great can the truth really be in this situation!"
"I don't know!" Freddie shouts, making Sam jump. He then realizes that she is still bleeding pretty badly. "Look, you're bleeding everywhere. I'm gonna take you to my place so I can stop it."
"Why?" she asks distantly. He knows why she's asking this. Why bother helping her when all she's done is screwed him over.
"Because that's what friends do." He replies tightly, gripping the wheel of his car. That's also what bfs and gfs do. What lovers do.
Sam is silent. They pull up to his apartment and they walk inside. They go up the elevator and Freddie opens the door to his room with a key. They step inside.
Sam looks shaky, as if this was the first time she's been in a apartment since their iCarly days. "You own this place?" she asks.
"Yep." Freddie says.
"You live alone?" she says in her husky voice. There's an edge on her voice as well...is that what Freddie thinks it is.
"Of course. Now get to the bathroom." Sam nods and Freddie leads her to the bathroom, and instructs her to sit at the edge of the bathtub. He begins to clean her face and shoulder off, wiping away the blood. She keeps her eyes focused on the tile floor in the bathroom, never looking up at him. Freddie notices old scars on her, some of them looking bad and some not even healed yet.
"Don't you take care of yourself?" Freddie grunts as he rips a bandage of the roll with his teeth.
"As if there's a whole list of people who are looking out for me," Sam says, gritting her teeth.
"Well, when someone does look out for you, all you do is leave them." Freddie says as he puts the bandage on her shoulder.
"Yeah," Sam scoffs. "That's exactly what happened."
"Well, it's not like you ever give me any insight." Freddie responds, placing another bandage over her wrist.
"The truth will only make you hate me more." Sam says softly.
"I don't hate you." Both him and Sam lift their faces up at the same time, and Freddie realizes that their lips are only a few inches away.
Sam turns her head away. "I don't see why you don't," she says weakly. "All I've ever done was kept running." She blinks a few times, looking tired.
"Careful, you lost a lot of blood." Freddie says, hurrying to his fridge. He comes back with an apple juicebox and a twinkie. "Eat this; it'll help."
Sam obeys, her eyes fixed on the floor. "Now, one second, I have to check your blood pressure." Freddie goes to his cabinet to get the thing his mother always used on him. He's not sure if Sam even needs her blood pressure checked, but it seems like something his mom would try on him. A few minutes later, he comes back into the bathroom.
Sam is asleep in the bathtub, her blonde curls falling over her eyes.
And he realizes that might be the most comfortable place she's slept in a long time.
Flashback:
(Ultraviolet's POV) May 11, 2009. 1:56 P.M.
Lies.
That's all Ultraviolet ever knew. Well, that and death. But death is the more appealing one out of the two, since it's just over after that.
Lies live on, which only lead to more lies. More lies. Then it becomes a whole mess. Ultraviolet knew that better than anyone. But surely it can't get any worse than your parents leaving you, your sister abandoning you, and your only family being a just-as-challenged guy and a girl they rescued?
It does.
Especially because of what Ultraviolet is doing now. She waits in the open, with a knife in hand, waiting for him to come.
He won't come.
More lies. This time to herself. If only he knew how much she prayed he wouldn't show up. How much she wished he would change his mind and forget her. But he never, ever does. He always comes.
She wishes he doesn't.
She wishes she didn't.
But they always meet up.
The breathless blonde guy runs up to her. Before she could react, he presses his lips against hers. She slams her palms against his chest.
"What was that for?" he asks, crestfallen.
"We can't do this anymore," Ultraviolet says, her voice sounding rushed.
"You say that every time," the boy said roughly.
Ultraviolet looked at his red wristband. The unspoken message between each Fatherhood. All of them wear some kind of red clothing. She begins to speak again, "You know what they'd do to us if we got caught?"
"We'd die," the boy laughed. Ultraviolet understood the amusement. When you've been in a gang for years and years and years, and have seen countless death for no good reason, it suddenly becomes a laughing matter.
He gently presses her against the brick wall, and his lips go to her neck. She freezes at the soft touch. So wrong. So forbidden. She hated it just as much as the impulse to keep coming back.
"C'mon," he grumbles. "Open up."
Ultraviolet was silent.
"Is it because of that guy that keeps following you?" he demands. "That X whatever?"
"No!" Ultraviolet says stiffly. "Leave him alone."
"Every time he nearly catches us, you're not up for anything."
Ultraviolet turns away. "It's complicated."
"Do you have something going on with him?" he asks. "Or, at least used to?"
"No." she replies. "I've known him all my life. He's practically my brother." But that was a lie. These three emotions have been tearing at Ultraviolet for months now: Love for someone forbidden, love for someone who'd never return it, and the will to live.
"Look, Cashmere, I-" Ultraviolet was cut off my the five-note whistle. The Comeback's secret call for communication. They were near.
"Quick! Hide!"
"Why?" Cashmere asks, his blue eyes wide. "But-"
"Get down!" Ultraviolet slams her palms against his chest, and he immediately dashes out of sight, his blonde hair disappearing in the dark. She lets out her own whistle to let them know souls were here, and within seconds two bodies ran towards her.
"Ultraviolet!" That was X-Rated's voice. The second pair of footsteps were soft and weightless, so she guessed either Twinkletoes or Hummingbird was with him. Then another set of footsteps. Goldielocks.
"I'm here!" she called back, softly.
"Where the hell have you been?" he hisses at her. X-Rated's eyes are blazing with fury and... What? What else is there? "We thought you were dead!"
"And that's not such an outragerous thought," Ultraviolet says bitterly.
"Do you not get it?" Hummingbird snaps. She's so tiny, only standing 4'8". "You had me and X-Rated and Goldielocks petrified. Why are you wandering on the edge of our territory?"
"Are you waiting for someone?" Goldielocks asks. She's only fifteen years old, but she's just as deadly as any of them.
"No," Ultraviolet says stiffly. "Come on, let's just get out of here."
"This isn't over," X-Rated threatens. Ultraviolet just ignores him. She knew they were closer than close, that they loved each other because they were the only family they had. But in any other way... She remembers Cashmere's ice-blue eyes.
"Look, I was thinking of going on a killing spree," Ultraviolet says, her voice low. "Still furious about finding Copper dead. I know it was them, X-Rated. I just knew it."
"Okay..." X-Rated looks doubtful. "But, you shouldn't go alone. Not without us." He gestures towards himself and Goldielocks. Goldielocks nods, making her innocent little curls bounce. If only they knew a few seconds ahead of time that she would drop them without a blink.
As they make their way back to their reststop, Ultraviolet knew he didn't believe her. Goldielocks and Hummingbird may believe her, but there's no convincing X-Rated.
If only he knew.
(Sam's POV)
Sam attempted to open her eyes, but the massive headrush that hit her made me fall back against the cool, clean surface. There was a bright light around her, and whatever she was propped against was smooth and cold. Her head was pounding, worse than any hangover she ever endured. Her whole body aches, especially on her neck, and she can taste blood in her mouth.
Wait. Think like a player, Sam says to herself. Here's a new puzzle, just for her. She's in a dizzying mess that is burning and aching and she feels as if she's going to break any second. The answer to this puzzle: she's not home. That's all that matters. Her home is sleeping in an abandoned alleyway, on the ground, snuggled next to Ultraviolet and X-Rated. And she is not there at the moment.
She attempts to jump up, but her body is screaming and she falls back down, barely stopping a wince. The light's too bright so she doesn't open her eyes; she's stuck in a blinding, painful world. She's been in far more dangerous situations than this. After all, how many other people can survive fifteen stories underwater without air? Somehow, she did. But that's a different story for another time. She must rely on her other senses at the moment.
Hearing: She thinks she can hear the faint sound of a tv.
Taste: Blood
Smell: Blood
Touch: cold, smooth, curved base of some sort
She's lost on this one.
She attempts to stand up again, her feet pushing up, but she slips and falls back down. She can't stop the whimper that escapes her mouth. She suddenly hears footsteps approaching her.
"You're up."
Then all the memories of what happened last night rushed into her mind. And she thought that was a dream.
"How are you feeling?" Freddie's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You've never looked better."
But two can play at this game. "Never felt better either, Benson."
She hears Freddie move closer to her. He knelts down, and she's still trying to figure out where she is.
"You ready to talk?" he asks calmly.
"Yes, I'm truly up for talking." she replies, her voice just as smooth.
She felt Freddie touch her cheek with his hand, brushing a curl out of her face, the thin hair stiff with blood. "That's okay, I can wait." He says, his voice icy. "I've been waiting for about three years now."
"Oh, that's good. That means you can wait a bit more." Sam finally opens her eyes. She looks around and sees that she's in his bathroom, and that she's in his bathtub. He's sitting beside the bathtub, looking down at her.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and he stands up. "You aren't leaving until you give me at least some information." He growls. "I don't care if you kill me right here, right now-and I'm sure you can. You're not leaving without giving me an answer."
He begins to walk away.
She suddenly says, "Freddie, what happened? Where am I?"
She can sense in his slighter breathing that he's confused, probably not knowing that she forgot what happened. So he says, "You and some other people were out, and I drove by. And you needed help. So I dropped them off, but you stayed... And now we're here."
Sam couldn't believe she had stayed, but in a way, she was glad she did. She falls slightly back. "Okay." she says.
"Okay?" he says.
"Okay." she says.
"Okay?" he says.
"Okay." she says.
"Okay." he says.
He walks away, and Sam sits in there, thinking. He can't know what happened. What happened was probably ten times worse than he thought. How much does he know already? She sits in there, waiting for him to come back.
But he doesn't.
She wonders if he's trying to make her go through what he felt, the betrayal and anger and grief at her disappearance. But what he doesn't know is that he got the better end of the deal. How he was the one who suffered the least.
She wait as long as he wants to.
So long passes. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. She senses it's in the middle of the night. Ultraviolet and X-Rated must be freaking out. But they knew she could get away from Freddie if she needed to. But she wouldn't escape. Not now.
"So, how's it coming along?" he finally says. He came back; she opens her eyes and sees him walk in.
"You ready to talk or not?" she snaps.
"Sure, let's here it." he smiles.
"First of all, I need to ask you something-" she begins but is cut off by Freddie's annoyed voice.
"No. No questions. Just tell me what happened."
"No. You tell me first."
"No. You."
"Freddie, shut your mouth or I'm not talking."
He's silent.
Then he says, "Fine. What do you need to ask?"
"What do you know already?" Sam asks.
"Well, it's funny you mentioned that." Sam bites back a wince as Freddie leans in, only a few inches away. She knows they're not in for a warm welcome. He has the same snarky look he had when he told the world he loved her at Trouble Waters. "You know, you've always been mysterious, but this is new even for you. I wake up one morning, and everything is normal, except you show up at Bushwell Plaza. That was frightening but great, since I thought I'd learn where you went. And then, when I get to work, I find out through high FBI tracking and high-censoring cameras, that you, Samantha Puckett, are part of this organization that murders innocent people." He sits back, looking sastified with himself. "You can start there."
"Heh...well..." Sam snickers half to herself and Freddie narrows his eyes. "Apparently you know a lot less than I thought you did."
"Well, now it's your job to fill me in." Freddie says.
They're just going back and forth with the insults, aren't they?
"Well, Freddie..." she begins slowly. "You're probably feeling pretty-"
"Broken? Angry? Furious? Sad?" Freddie spits out.
"You want answers but you keep interrupting me." Sam says calmly.
"Fine. Speak." He growls.
"I...I left because of the organization," she says, her voice shaky. "Well, that's part of it. I didn't want to leave."
"Why did you leave that day though?" Freddie asks, the sarcasm gone, now his voice layered with confusion. "I mean, they had pictures of you in that organization from even before we started iCarly."
"There's this rule," Sam says roughly. "Th-That we're not supposed to be with anyone-you know, like, that way-outside of the Clan. The organization, I mean."
"You could've told me," Freddie says, his voice wearing down. "We could've sorted something out. If this organization is dangerous, I could've gotten you out of it."
"They've been my life since I was seven." Sam snaps. "They saved my life."
"Sam, will you look at yourself?" he grasps a mirror and shoves it in her hands. "Look. This isn't the Sam you left behind."
Sam looks at herself in the reflective surface. Her face was bruised, there was dried blood in the corner of her mouth, and her hair was stained red with blood. No, this wasn't the eighteen year old Sam Freddie had last saw. This is the twenty year old Sam that made too many mistakes. The Sam that betrayed her family. The Sam that Freddie should just forget about.
"Wait, Freddie." Sam says. She realizes that in order to get Freddie to forget about her, he must know the real truth. The reasons why she left. Then he'll get so mad that he'd want nothing to do with her, and then she'd get away.
It doesn't matter how she feels because she has no say anymore.
"Freddie, there's more to the story." she says. Freddie looks at her, his eyebrows arched. "I-"
Sam heard a thump. She looks up and sees Freddie turn around.
"What-!" Freddie began.
Suddenly, two people swarmed into the bathroom. Freddie barely has time to say something before X-Rated grasps his neck and lifts him upward. Ultraviolet looks down at her.
"Sam, what happened-" she begins.
Sam's eyes are focused on X-Rated, who has Freddie imprisoned in his arms. Freddie's mouth is opened in a silent wail, because X-Rated has his vocal cords cut off. Sam sees the knife in X-Rated's hand. And the fear in Freddie's eyes. X-Rated lifts his weapon to Freddie's throat.
And is about to end his life.
