Mega rant-y Emma is mega pissed off: So FF[dot]net has been acting like a total ass hat. My chapters keep disappearing for some unknown reason. I've contacted support to try and figure out this fuckery but they've yet to get back to me. I really hope it gets sorted soon, or maybe it already has... idk. The other thing they don't let you do is put ? and ! together… WTF is with that? ! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Damn, now I need to lighten the mood… uhhh, RAINBOWS!

Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly it would need to be moved over to HBO, because of all the… well yeah, you get the idea.

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FOUR:

…I hope you're as happy as you're pretending.

/

Bushwell Plaza's annual roof top 4th of July party. Probably my most favourite day of the entire year; I always looked forward to it. Carly and I would count down the days together every year and spend the whole night in our own bubble, just us, just laughing and talking, watching the night sky light up in full technicolour. In the back of my mind I always thought of it as a kind of 'pre-date'; a practice run for what was to come in the future. I imagined that the moments spent together every year on July 4th would ultimately lead us somewhere, that the romantic undertones that came with watching fireworks together would make her finally see me the way I wanted her to. And I really couldn't help the feeling I had, that this particular July 4th, the last one before we went to college, would be the turning point. The stars would align and everything would just fall into place.

I really hated being wrong.

This year there would be no Carly to laugh with, to talk with or to have rest her head on my shoulder when it got late in the evening, and there would definitely be no special 4th of July broadcast of our web show. No. None of that. This year I'd have to spend my night rehashing my college plans and, of course, the Freddie Benson ten year plan, to all the old ladies in the building who just loved to tussle my hair and pinch my cheeks.

It was humiliating to say the least. They'd been doing it since I'd moved in, and I always thought that perhaps over the years as they watched me grow into a young man that the cooing and bruising of my face would lessen or just stop completely. How stupidly naive of me.

The other dreaded thought that now surfaced was Sam; I'd have to deal with Sam tonight. Sam and her fondness for physical and emotional torment mixed with her intermittent confusing moments of pleasantness.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

She'd never been to one of these parties before, and honestly, I preferred it that way. It made the alone time I spent with Carly just that much more special and just that much more romantic. I actually never knew the reason why Sam didn't join us, I suspected that Carly had extended invitations to her but she never showed and I never gave it a second thought.

I put that on the proverbial back burner in my mind for now and climbed the last few stairs up to the roof, trying to not let my sullen mood get me down too much. It was 4th of July weekend after all, and there were positives in that; I just had to find them. Stepping out onto the roof everything looked amazing as expected. My mom and Spencer plus a few other tenants had spent the afternoon decorating to make this year the best one yet. They succeeded.

Red, white, and blue lanterns were hung from string, bordering the entire roof top. There were several tables filled with mountains of glorious food, a table dedicated for just sparklers and other mandatory 4th of July paraphernalia, another table just for drinks and punch and candy, plus there was an enormous American flag painted on the far wall. Each star illuminated by a fairy light and each stripe shining with hundreds of the same. Spencer's handy work I guessed. It was pretty spectacular.

I spotted him standing under a garden arch welcoming all the guests, a banner reading, Happiest of July 4th's to you all! attached to the arch just above his head. I inwardly smiled, it was so cheesy.

I made my way over to him to give him my praise on the work he'd put into this evening, but before I could even say anything, he spoke faster than I was able to formulate words.

"Welcome friend! To this year's Bushwell Plaza roof top 4th of July hoopla." He beamed, emphasising each word slowly and spreading his arms wide. "Here is your party bag."

Spencer would forever be a man-child. I smiled at him. "What's in it?"

He snapped out of his trance and whispered in my ear. "I don't know, your mom put them together. I'm afraid to look."

I let out a small chuckle. "Let me guess. Hand sanitiser, a book on removing stains, burn cream and a box of bandages?" My mother might have mellowed considerably, but that didn't mean first aid and cleanliness weren't her top priorities.

Spencer opened up one of the bags and peered inside. "Whoa. That's impressive."

I laughed and took the bag from him making my way over to the table of sparklers to stock up. With a group of young kids to compete with you had to get in early on these kinds of things or you would miss out altogether.

Damn kids thinking they can have all the fun.

I placed a few boxes of sparklers into the bag and a couple of party poppers when I heard whispers coming from underneath the table. I bent down, lifting the red and white checkered table cloth to find a small girl and a slightly smaller boy huddling under there, no more than eleven I guessed; a bucket of water balloons sitting between them.

"HEY!" The girl screamed at me. "Put the cloth down, we don't want her to find us!"

I frowned and asked quizzically. "Who?"

"Mama. The master of the water balloon." The young boy informed me.

I had to smirk. Sam.

Still holding the cloth in my hand I straightened up and looked around for the blonde in question. I narrowed my eyes and scanned them over all the huddles of people enjoying the festivities. I thought she might have set up her base of operation behind one them but I couldn't spot her.

Just as I was about to turn back to the kids under the table and offer my help in the obvious battle taking place, I saw a flash of blonde along with a streak of red, white, and blue bolting out from behind the wall a few feet away. Sam was donned with an American flag as a makeshift cape fast approaching where I was currently standing.

The kids instantly screamed once getting sight of her and scrambled out from under the table, sprinting in the other direction, almost knocking me over in the process.

"Yeah, you better run!" Sam bellowed, juggling three water balloons and chasing after the two petrified eleven year olds. I noticed a very timid boy running behind her carrying a similar bucket to the one the other kids had, it was filled to the top with balloons, some falling out as the boy tried to keep pace with Sam. I wonder how many threats it took for that kid to cave in to her demands.

I watched as the kids ducked and weaved in and out of the other party goers and watched Sam aim balloon after balloon at them. She got a fair few hits, the kids however weren't so lucky.

"Yeah. How do you jerks like me now?" I heard her taunt just as she had them cornered, she continued to deliver what imagine to be her sharp threats while the girl and boy trembled under her intense blue daggers.

Then out of nowhere a high pitched war cry erupted from behind me. I turned around to see a group of about fifteen kids all at similar ages come thundering around the corner right up to Sam and begin pelting her with their balloons. It was a frenzy of kids and screaming, laughter and water, painted faces and party horns all with Sam standing in the middle. She was giving her best fight but ultimately losing. I expected her to flip out at any second, to scare the kids completely shitless with her murderous rage but she just laughed and screamed with them as they ambushed her. At one point she picked a small boy up by his waist and used him as a shield against the hundreds of water balloons hurtling through the air. He didn't seem to mind, giggling hysterically along with her and the rest of the group.

She looked so playfully mischievous, so completely happy, like she had not a care in the world. Just like the Sam I was used to; as if the last few weeks of roller-coaster emotions and shocking secrets were all in my imagination. I found myself smiling as I watched her laugh and spin in the midst of all the chaos and children. I guess I'd kind of been missing this about her in recent weeks.

I'd seen her like this a thousand times before, perhaps not in the same setting but I'd seen it all the same; in between her insults and aggression Sam was always happy. But it was all different now; just completely and astronomically different. Now it came loaded with a whole new set of thoughts and feelings that rose in me involuntarily.

I couldn't help but wonder just how genuine her smile really was, or if she was as truly happy as she seemed behind all that laughter. Everything had changed, and if it wasn't for Carly's sudden departure, would I have ever seen Sam in this way, thought about her in this new regard at all? My instincts screamed "NO!" before I even had a chance to ponder the idea. No, no I wouldn't have. Before that fateful night, I'd easily be able to brush Sam's behaviour off as just 'Sam' and look the other way, just like I had always done. Now I was in my head way too much, over thinking things relating to Sam way too much, and it was really pissing me off.

I felt the grin on my face plummet and my brows furrow in confusion. I'd seen more intense emotion from Sam in the last five weeks than I had done in nearly ten years, yet here she was pretending as if nothing had happened, pretending that she was fine. Then again, that's Sam for you, she's the master at pretending; at keeping everyone oblivious to what's going on behind her walls. That much I knew.

It all ended a few minutes later in a fit of laughter and several very wet, very overly excited children. Sam lowered the boy to the ground and gave her congratulatory high fives to the group before jabbing a finger at them and shouting "This isn't over!" She then spun on her heel and headed in my direction.

"Fredhead." She greeted me, while examining her now soaking shirt.

It looked like she'd had a fairly heated argument with a garden hose and a flock of suicidal birds. I couldn't help but chuckle at her appearance.

"Have fun?"

She mirrored my smile. "You bet!"

"How long had that been going on?"

"Oh a few hours. Can you believe these kids have never had a water balloon fight before?" She paused, shaking her head disapprovingly. "So deprived."

I kept my smile as Sam brushed past me, making her way behind the wall she'd appeared from earlier. Following her around there, I found an elaborate very 'Sam-like' hang out area all set up.

There were two camper chairs facing out to the balcony, a cooler on the ground filled with drinks, and knowing Sam, an abundance of snacks, a table to the left against the back wall covered with empty water balloon packets as well as a garden hose that appeared to be connected to an unseen water source from around the corner. She also had a table positioned in between the two chairs with an iPod dock resting on top playing soft rock music. It was surrounded by empty packets of sparklers, streamers and party horns, and of course, several empty fatcake wrappers.

I just continued to grin. It was all very 'Sam'.

This particular spot had a pretty great view of the Seattle skyline and I'd put money on Sam having come up here in the early hours of the morning to mark her territory just so she could get the best view of the fireworks that were scheduled for later this evening.

"Nice set up you got here." I finally said, nodding my head in approval.

"Pretty sweet right?" She agreed, turning up the volume on the speakers.

I flopped down into one of the chairs, resting my head on the back looking up at the evening sky letting the music and the soft hum of the party behind us wash over me. I breathed deeply and relaxed sinking further into the chair. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad after all; I just needed to relax and not let-

Wait, why are there two chairs?

"Man I'm completely soaked." Sam announced, scrunching up the bottom of her shirt trying to squeeze all the water out.

I lifted my head to look at her and then it happened. One of those things that just seems way too far out of the accepted norm of behaviour that I wasn't really sure if it was actually happening. I barely registered her movements, time seemed to slow and my breathing became shallow.

Sam removed her cape from around her neck carefully laying it out over her chair before lifting her red polo shirt up over her head in one fluid motion, throwing it to the ground carelessly. I could feel my eyes raking over her body and I lacked any ability to stop. Her tiny denim shorts and black tube top clung to her curves like glue, accentuating every womanly feature she now possessed. The ones that I'd only recently notice; the ones that could bring any boy to his knees.

But I wasn't just any boy, and Sam wasn't just any girl.

This is wrong. So wrong. Deadly wrong.

I just continued to stare, or was this considered ogling now?

Whatever it was, I seemed to be in a catatonic state of mentally deranged leering as she flicked her head over, shaking out her long, wet, blonde curls. She raked her hands through her hair before snapping an elastic band off her wrist and gathering it all on top of her head forming it into a messy, yet completely adorable, bun. She straightened up, tucking a few loose strands into the elastic; I swallowed thickly. I'd never seen her with her hair up like this before, and seeing it now only added to my already dry as the Sahara throat and sweaty palms.

Get a fucking grip Benson!

It wasn't right to be thinking about Sam this way, to be looking at her this way, but my imagination ran wild. I'd definitely been watching too much porn, or maybe not watching enough? This was all just misplaced sexual frustration right? Yeah, that's all it was. I'd have the same reaction if it were any other girl.

But it was Sam standing in front of me; wearing very little and looking shockingly similar one of those girls from the wet t-shirt contests I'd seen on TV; thank fuck she wasn't wearing anything white.

A mixture of emotions coursed through my veins, I felt confused, and nauseous, and aroused, and…

Oh shit no.

I gathered a deep breath, and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to adjust my crotch with as much subtlety as I could muster. I made some embarrassingly strangled groan like sound which made Sam look at me like I'd sprouted another head.

"What?" She questioned, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

Crap.

I blinked furiously, awkwardly clearing my throat nearly chocking on the thick air. I really needed to stop staring at her and respond. "Nothing." I finally replied, or more like squeaked.

Smooth.

And it was nothing, absolutely nothing, one hundred percent nothing. Just hormone induced insanity.

Stupid fucking hormones.

She relaxed her icy blue eyes and gave me a questioning look before turning to get a drink out of the cooler. I took several deep breaths and rubbed my face with both hands in an attempt to rid my mind of the few lingering sordid images that were floating around in there.

When I finally found my cool and refocused my eyes I noticed something on the back of Sam's neck as she was crouching in front of the cooler. From where I was sitting, with my eyes still a little blurry, it looked like a fairly innocent bruise. In a decision that seemed to require no actual thinking, I shot up out of my chair and moved over to her, examining the mark on the back of her neck closely. It almost looked like-

Is that... no way, a tattoo? When the hell did she get that?

"What the fuck are you doing?" She snapped, spinning around to face me, our noses just inches apart.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to point to her neck as she slapped my hand away.

"What is what?" Sam tried to play dumb.

In a rare moment of bold confidence or complete insanity, depending on how you look at it, I grabbed Sam by the arm and half spun her around so that I could make my point. Her eyes widened and she gasped in shock, obviously not expecting that kind of reckless act from me and obviously not prepared to retaliate, because she just stood there limply as I held onto her upper arm.

"That. That right there. What is that?" I demanded.

Roughly pointing to the spot on her neck I felt her quiver slightly from the contact of my hand on her. I quickly pushed the thoughts that now surfaced in my mind from that small quiver aside and turned her back around to face me raising my brows; her cheeks flushed lightly pink.

"Well, what does it look like, Einstein?" She said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"A tattoo?" I hedged. I already knew what it was but for some unknown reason I needed her to confirm it.

"Pretty badass right?" She smirked, breaking free from my grasp.

I frowned. "When did you get that?"

"Oh I don't know. Some time the past." I gave her my best 'I'm not in the mood look' before she huffed dramatically and replied, "About a year ago ok? Jeez."

"Well let me see it."

"What, didn't you already get a good enough look?"

I sighed, letting my own exasperation surface and shot a cold glare her way. She groaned in defeat and turned her back to me. It was black, simple, something written in foreign writing with a date below in roman numerals.

"Well what does it say?"

She spun around and gave me her practiced bored expression. "Nubs are the enemy." She had the audacity to grin at me.

I narrowed my eyes at her with a frown and she rolled her own, plopping down into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh.

"It says 'such is life' in Greek." She mumbled in reply.

"Why Greek?" I queried, dropping myself down into the chair beside her.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "It looked cool. And the dude that did it said hardly anyone ever chooses Greek, so..." She trailed off, opening her can of soda and taking a swig. "What's with all the questions anyway?"

I knew I was pushing my luck, but I just couldn't seem to stop. Ignoring her completely, I continued with what was fast becoming like the Spanish Inquisition. "And the numbers?"

"Just a date." She shrugged, staring intently at the can of soda in her hands.

"Well what significance does March 8th 2004 have?"

"It's just a date." She shot with obvious tones of annoyance.

Still filled with the same boldness mixed with blind insanity from before, and my verbal filter apparently on the fritz, I questioned her again. "It must mean something. Just tell me."

She paused for a while contemplating her answer, pursing her lips and scratching her head. "A new constitution was signed by Iraq's governing council on that day. I think that's pretty important to be documented in tattoo form don't you?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Why can't you just tell me what it means?" My voice rising in frustration.

"Because it's really none of your business." She spat, slowly emphasising each word, fixing her steely blue eyes on mine in challenge.

Hate washed through me. I'd moved past the point of being just annoyed with her and had entered right into the thick of pissed off. What was this big secret that she just wouldn't share with me? Why did she always do this, always dodge questions and dance around the truth? Why couldn't she just be real with me?

FUCK THIS!

I could feel myself rapidly losing control and my face distort into what was likely to be the most menacing glare I'd ever given anyone in my life. I could see that she was becoming even more uncomfortable with my threatening look, but I didn't hesitate, not even slightly.

What the fuck is your problem Benson?

After what seemed like an eternity of just staring her down, she finally looked away from me, visibly flustered. I could see her breathing heavily as she focused on the view in front of us.

"Look. I don't know what your freakin problem is tonight, Fredward, but you're not getting an answer that isn't a lie... so just drop it." She spoke low but firm, never locking eyes with mine.

A few seconds passed and her expression changed into something reflecting thoughtful sadness. Instantly my boldness and anger dissipated, quickly replaced by fear and stress. I swallowed back the heavy guilty feeling in my throat and just fidgeted with the can of soda in my lap.

Where the hell did that come from?

We sat there, in what was for all intents and purposes, the most awkwardly tense silence of my life. I slumped even further into my chair in the hopes that I could make myself disappear into the ground below, that maybe, just maybe, a black hole would swallow me up right on the spot. I had no idea what to do, much less say and the silence was becoming unbearable. I didn't even register the sound of the music still playing from the iPod next to us until I leant back in the chair and closed my eyes.

I sighed. "I like this song." I felt her head snap up in surprise. "Who sings it?" I lolled my head to the side and opened my eyes lazily to find her quirking an eyebrow at me.

Thinking she wasn't going to respond I nearly told her to forget I said anything, but she broke our eye contact and finally replied, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that." Pausing for a moment a small smirk played on her lips before she continued. "Remind me to sit you down one day and teach you about this new thing called 'music'. It really is the most nifty thing."

I gave a small laugh in both agreement and relief, glad for once that she was 'Sam' and would rather just forget the last few minutes ever happened than spend the next two hours awkwardly discussing what the fuck my problem was.

"But for the record, and I hope you're taking notes, it's Florence + the Machine."

I nodded, I'd heard Sam play it before. "Kiss with a Fist, right?"

"Yes... thank you Captain Obvious." She smirked before crushing her can of soda under her beat up Converse. "What are you doing back here anyway?" She sighed, leaning back into her chair. "Thought you'd be foaming at the mouth from just the thought of telling all the old timers about the Freddie Benson ten year plan."

"How do you know they'd ask me that?"

"Please." She scoffed. "They live for that shit. An over achieving nerd in their midst. It's probably the closest thing they'll ever get to meeting a celebrity." She stopped and tucked her legs up under her. "Plus they already asked me when I got here."

"Oh? And what did you tell them?"

"To get bent."

"Sam."

She huffed in irritation. "I told them I didn't have one."

"Everyone has some kind of plan, you know."

"Yeah, well I'm not like everyone."

No shit. Understatement of the year right there.

"So you're saying you don't have a plan... like... at all. Not even a two year plan?" I was stuttering and I'm not even sure why I asked, I already knew the answer to that particular question. I guess I just needed to hear it out loud.

She laughed. "Please, I barely have a two minute plan." She paused, letting her eyes fall back to the sky above us. "Plus, this whole college thing seems very..." She trailed off wrinkling her nose appearing to search for the right word. "Mature?... I'm not sure I can handle that kind of pressure."

I blanched, a little stunned to learn that after being accepted into college she was just going to turn her back on higher education. I knew that Sam wasn't one for learning, but I figured that the privilege of just being accepted would be enough, and it wouldn't require anymore thought or decision making.

"So what, you're not coming to UW with me?" I cringed at my choice of wording. I saw her lips quirk and her mouth open up to reply with what I knew was going to be a poke at my lack of balls but I quickly interrupted her. "Don't!" I jabbed a finger at her for emphasis.

She suppressed her grin and opted for just rolling her eyes at me. "Haven't made up my mind yet."

"Well what would you do instead?"

"Anything. Everything. I could travel the world, hitch-hike my way across the country... or I could stay in Seattle get a job in some kick ass music store before being swept off my feet by some brilliantly gorgeous rock star. Who knows?" She beamed, grinning with excitement at the possibilities.

I processed her words for a second. "Well that's very blasé of you." I swallowed the agitation that rose in me from her vagueness.

"You know me, Benson. I'm living for the journey, not the destination." She smiled proudly at me, impressed with her own insightful motto.

I looked at her in awe and couldn't help but smile back at her satisfied expression. She was so laid-back and indifferent, about almost everything. She didn't over analyse or worry herself sick about where she would be tomorrow, next week, next year. I guess I was actually a little envious of her, which I didn't think was possible. My whole entire life was basically mapped out, from college, to the job I wanted to land, I even knew which house I would share with Carly and our 2.3 children. And as much as I knew I wanted all those things to happen, right now in this very moment, I couldn't for the life of me seem to remember why.

The time to look away from each other and play the moment off casually had long passed, the air grew awkward again, but it wasn't charged with tension this time, it was thick with something else that I couldn't quite place.

I still had my eyes locked with hers when I heard someone scream, "NOW!" from behind the wall. Before either of us had a chance to even register what was happening a bucket load of ice water was emptied on top of our heads, the unexpected shock sending us both to our feet. I spun around spluttering incoherently to find the same boy and girl that were hiding under the table form earlier in absolute hysterics over their little prank.

Sam shot into action, immediately moving around the chairs to grab the garden hose still sitting on the table. I rushed to stand behind her as she aimed it at the kids before uttering, "Any last words?"

The kids stood their ground and returned Sam's defiant stare. Without any warning the rest of the group came tearing around the corner launching balloons and buckets of ice water at the two of us. Sam just cackled as she opened up the hose on them, more laughter and screaming ensued from the group as they got closer and closer completely surrounding us. We were outnumbered and somehow they managed to tackle Sam to the ground and extract the hose from her, or maybe she just wasn't putting up that much of a fight.

I was again entranced by her happiness, smiling to myself, watching her laugh in the middle of all the mayhem.

/

A/N: What's with all the hate about the baby otter's last chapter? I wasn't threatening to kill them myself (I would never!); in fact I was doing them a service. As were the rest of you saints who reviewed. YOU GET A COOKIE! Anon reviews are now activated, so for all you lurky lurkersons out there who love to lurk you may now review. Bad sex for life if you don't!

If you're interested, here's Sam's tattoo:

όπως είναι η ζωή
III. VIII. MMIV.

[BETA'd by iCarlyAngst]

Chapter title comes from the song 'The Quiet Screaming (Dashboard Confessional Mix)' by Brand New.