Genre: Romance/Drama/AU
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Just my imagination and if iCarly was mine, it would be called iFreddie by now, so. Dan Schneider (Le Nickelodeon Troll) owns everything.
Pairings: Sam/Freddie – Seddie! Brad and Carly – Barly. Maybe Wendy and Gibby, but I don't know who you call that… Wibby?
Summary: They live in an alternative universe, above ashes of war. The horror seems to stop when a religious organization takes over the entire nation, organizing the chaos. They live under new rules now; everything should be organized and properly prepared. Even the marriages should be carefully planned. Alternative universe, maybe a bit OCC, I don't know yet. Inspired in this amazing THG fic called Five Loaves of Bread: Dark Toast
There is an ache in my neck that never seems to go away. The tension in my shoulders make the muscles tight, only increasing the pain I feel. Rubbing usually only makes everything worse, but I can't help myself, I just do it. There were times pain was the only thing that kept me sane – kept me grounded – and I used to abuse my own body, just so I was able to feel something, anything.
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, in a dark room, and I try and lift my hand to rub my neck – I wanna feel pain, otherwise I just feel numb. My hands are strapped with white tubes. They lose themselves inside of my veins. I can see a green substance, like liquid fire burning my insides, but I don't want it to stop. It feels agonizing, like something is eating me up inside, and my toes hurt, like they're being broken again, but I don't ever want that to stop.
It all smells like this anti-bacterial soap my mother used to buy me. It's clean and it stinks. My heavy lids threaten to close, but I don't feel tired. One of my eyes wants to fall asleep, but the other is wide awake. My feet are bare, and the floor is wet, covered in some thick, hot liquid, like fresh blood. A droplet falls on my hand, and it smells like a dead fish. I bring my palm to my mouth and lick it off. It's definitely blood. I've tasted blood many times before, I would've recognized it even if it was masked with sugar.
They keep falling, like rain pouring down on me, and I just lift my head and open my mouth to taste it. The flavor is raw and hot as it burns my tongue. It starts to melt my face, but I don't feel a thing. I'm just numb.
I can see it better now, my white room, the walls tainted with blood that falls from the sky. My hands start to melt like butter on a pan, and the floor is on fire, engulfing my legs, destroying every part of me that's still intact.
The smell of my burning flesh is a reminder that I'm still here. I'm only slowly starting to fade away. I'm turning into ashes – I'm starting to disappear – and it's so beautiful that I can't stop looking at it. It's mesmerizing. I'm burning, but somehow I'm still alive. I'm melting, but I'm not dead yet. It should hurt, but it only feels good, good enough to kill me, but it doesn't. I'm on fire, and I'm alive, and it doesn't hurt me – I'm just invincible. I'm unbreakable.
The door is open, and a light comes into the room, shimmering over me. It illuminates all that I am, and brings a sense of peace I haven't felt in a long time. Maybe now I'm dying, only, I feel more alive now than I ever had before. In the middle of the burning room, with blood and ashes, she walks in, wearing a clean white dress. Her feet are bare, but they're covered in blood like my own, and her hair shines like a golden halo.
I stretch out my arm to touch her. I wanna reach out and feel the warmth that seems to radiate off her, but my hands are tied. A red droplet of blood falls over her chest as she comes closer to me, smiling like an angel. And then suddenly her whole dress is red, and her eyes aren't blue anymore. They are big and black and they frighten me. She reaches for me with one of her arms, and I just want her to touch me.
I want to feel the softness of her, I want to be close and let her hold me, take care of me. She shimmers and I want some of her light, I need some of it. She puts her hand on my chest, over my heart, then her nails cut through my skin. The pain is excruciating now that her whole hand is inside of me. The sting and the pain are real, like nothing I've ever felt before. It's not good – it doesn't make me feel alive. Her hand is out of my chest now, and she holds my heart in her hand. I watch her smile as I fall backwards. Now I'm hurting. It doesn't feel good. I'm dying. I'm dead.
She killed me.
The room is white, and doesn't have blood coming out of the walls, but still smells like anti-bacterial soap. The environment is way too familiar. I've been here before, I know this place. The throbbing pain in my neck is real as well as the tension that tightened up my muscles. My mouth is dry. I need water. My mind still acknowledges a few needs my body aches for, like water, a cold and relaxing bath, and a back massage.
Lola used to give the best back massages, but I can't have that now, can I? My arms are wrapped up in medical tubes, but there's no green liquid coming out of them. I sit up and try to reach out to the back of my head so I can rub my neck. I need something that's going to help me feel alive again. I need to feel some sort of pain to keep me sane. It's always been like that whenever I lose myself. I need the pain to come back to life.
Pain is what I've been used to, and I was a fool to believe that was going to change anytime soon. I put my guard down, and now I've paid for that. Everyone is the enemy. Sleep with one eye open. Never let your guard down. I forgot the three most important things my captain taught me, and I've learned my lesson. Once you're in a battlefield, you never leave, and no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to get out of there.
Maybe I should just stop. I should stop believing things were going to improve for me. I should stop wanting things that I can never have. Happiness is not in the cards for me. I don't deserve it. That was never the plan, it was never for me, and I was an idiot to even want it. I don't have the right to expect nice things – I don't have the right to wish for something I'll never have. After everything I've said and done, I was a fool to think life was going to reward me with peace and love.
Love.
What a foolish thing that is. When in my life had I known such a feeling? And why the hell had I thought that after everything I've done that I deserved it? My mind has been tainted with this idiotic feeling, and I forgot what's really important. I feel like I'm back to square one, where I had to remember to take my meds, eat, and comb my hair. I can already see Brad holding a list of things I have to do every day. One step at a time:
1) Wake up and brush your teeth.
2) Take a shower and comb your hair.
3) Find something clean to wear (no pajamas).
4) Eat your breakfast.
5) Take the green pill.
6) Do something productive to entertain yourself.
7) Have lunch
8) Take the blue pill.
9) Wash the dishes.
10) Read a book.
11) Do the laundry.
12) Eat your supper.
13) Take the white pill.
14) Take a shower.
15) Go to sleep.
I memorized that list. There was a time when I didn't even need to remind myself to do those things, I would just get up and do it – I was getting better. Partially it's my fault. If I wasn't so damn foolish to think I didn't need my medicine, I wouldn't be out of control. I need to be prepared for the worse, always keep my guard up, always wait for the enemy to attack. The pills are most likely going to stay with me for the rest of my life – I can never stop taking them. And I need to stop thinking that things are going to get better. They won't. One day I might be slightly okay, but never better, never cured.
Most importantly, I need to accept that my mind is no longer mine. I need the pills to keep it in check – otherwise I'll lose it for good. I need to stop trying to make improvements, and just get on with the plan. The list is what I need and if I follow it for the rest of my life, I might be okay. I try to remember where I put it. Did I throw it in the trash? Maybe I should just write a new one. One step at a time. I need paper and a pen.
"Hey Freddie. Good to see you awake. How are you feeling today?"
Dr. John comes into the room wearing his usual kind smile, and I hate him for that. He reminds me too much of my father and it hurts to look at him, but at the same time, I feel safe. We already established how much I need pain to stay sane.
"My neck hurts."
"Well, I'll see if one of the nurses can do something about that."
He pulls one of the chairs to sit close to me, his usual notebook in hand, and a silver pen in the other.
"Can I have a piece of paper and a pen?" I ask.
"Why do you need that, Freddie?"
"I want to write something."
"And what is that?"
"A list."
"A list? What is this list for?"
"A few things I have to remember."
"Well, wouldn't it be easier if you told me. I could write it down for you."
"It's the list you gave to Brad when I got out of the hospital. I want to remember what I'm supposed to do."
"Oh, that list…well, I guess I can hand it to you once you're good to go. How does that sound?"
Before I can answer, a nurse opens the door. She carries two small, very familiar cups with her. She hands them to me once she's close enough, and I can see her tag – it says Lisa. She's probably somewhere around fifty or sixty, has grey hair and wrinkles under her eyes. My aunt's name was Lisa. She's dead. A Chinese soldier killed her.
"Here you go, Mr. Benson."
Usually I prefer to take the pill without the water – the taste is raw and real – but I'm just so thirsty. She takes them back and closes the door behind her. I wish I could keep the cups. I like to draw faces on them.
"You can't stop taking your medicine, Freddie. I thought we talked about that."
"We did. I just thought…I thought I was getting better. But I know now I was wrong…and I won't stop taking them again."
"Okay, I'll trust you on this. So, how did you sleep?"
"I had a weird dream."
"Wanna tell me about it?"
I really don't, but I learned a long time ago that talking can actually help, so I do it. I've been sharing most of my nightmares with Dr. John for quite some time now, and there's no point keeping this from him.
"I was sitting in my bed. There was blood on the walls, and on the floor. It was raining blood and I was on fire, but I was alive…until…until she came into the room and tore my heart out."
"Who came into the room, Freddie?"
"Sam…Sam came into the room and killed me."
"Can this have anything to do with what happened last night?"
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Okay, we won't." He nodded, putting his notebook down. "What do you feel comfortable talking about?"
"Do I have to take the green pills again? They make me moody."
"Just for a while, like the first time, remember? Then we'll switch those for the red ones."
"Okay."
"Do you feel comfortable enough to see someone?"
"Who?" I look at my hands, finding my fingers very interesting. "Is Sam here?"
"Yes, in fact she hasn't left the hospital yet. Do you want to see her?"
I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear what she has to say. She's a liar. What's the point of seeing her if she's only going to lie to me again? As much as I try to think about her otherwise, I can't. But what really bothers me is the fact that I don't want her to see me this way. I'm ashamed of myself and I don't want her to think I'm insane. I shouldn't be concerned about what she thinks, but I do, and that makes me angry. I can't be angry right now.
"No. I don't want to see her."
"Bradley is outside as well. Would you like to see him?"
"No…I don't want to see anybody right now. Is that okay?"
"It is, Freddie. Well, I guess I'll just go now and let you rest for the day. Anything I can get you?"
"A piece of paper and a pencil would do."
"Okay, I'll arrange for that. Just promise me you'll only use the pencil for drawing." He chuckles.
We have this thing, this nutcase inside joke. It always helps improve my mood.
"I promise. No stabbing, no suicide, just drawing." I smirk.
"Alright. Keep it on the paper then."
He hands me a pencil he took from his pocket and a piece of paper from his notebook.
"See you later, Freddie."
"See you later, Doctor."
I sink back onto the bed and put the paper aside. I don't feel like using it anymore. Suddenly my body is tired, even though I must've been sleeping for hours on end. I sink back into the covers and my eyes slowly close. I began to feel the sadness crawling its way inside of me and for the first time I let myself accept that I've been hurt. I'm broken hearted.
It's time to eat, but I don't feel hunger. The nurse brings me the all too familiar hospital food. Call me crazy, but I actually like it, it tastes like…like my mother's food. My father being a doctor and my mother being a nurse, you would expect them to be at least a little careful with what I ate, and they were. But it got a lot worse after my father died. My mother kind of…lost it. Always worrying about bacteria, feeding me with vegan food with no salt, giving me tick baths…it wasn't cool.
I devour the food in less than a minute. It goes down my throat dryly, tasting like nothing, and once I'm done I just want to drink water. A lot of water. The blue pill always makes me so thirsty. I drink four cups of water and resume lying in bed, looking at the tree outside of my window. The leaves are dark brown with some orange in them. I guess it must be fall or something. I hate fall, but then again, there's not a lot of things I like these days.
I liked Sam, and look what that got me.
My body is limp after a while, and I don't feel like moving. I haven't yet used the paper, and I wonder if I will – I can't remember why I asked for it in the first place.
"Mr. Benson?" Lisa calls from the door.
"Yes?"
"Do you wish to see someone now?"
I think about it for a second. Brad must be freaking out in the hall, and I'm not doing anything anyway. Maybe I should see him. Yeah, I wanna see him…but not her. I don't want to deal with her yet.
"Can you bring Brad in here?"
"Of course." She nods and closes the door behind her.
I know he's going to ask, but I don't want to answer, I don't want to tell him what happened. I don't want to talk about it, or think about. I feel like a pussy for acting this way. I should take it like a man, not end up in the hospital like a coward. On the other hand, I don't want to see Brad anymore. I don't want him to think I'm a coward. Too late, though. He's already inside of the room before I can call the nurse back in.
"Hey man…how are you doing?"
He's being careful. He's walking on eggshells, like the first time I was in the hospital. This one time I snapped and told him to stop talking to me as if I was crazy – well, I was crazy. I shouldn't be complaining.
"I'm fine. How are you?" I shift on the bed, trying to make myself comfortable.
"I'm good. You scared the hell out of me." He says, sitting in a chair next to my bed.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to bring you trouble."
"Hey…we're family okay? We take care of each other, that's what we do, and besides, how many times have you taken care of me?"
"I lost count." I smile.
"Exactly. Now, Freddie…I was told you have a terrible pain on your neck…want a massage?" He smirks, wiggling his fingers.
"No, but thank you, lover." I chuckle. "I guess I'll just wait for the nurse."
"She's cute." He jokes.
"Yeah…she reminds me of your grandma." I smirk.
"Ha ha. Not funny."
He stops talking for a while, looking down at his hands. I know what is going through his mind, I know what he wants to ask, but I don't want to answer it.
"If I ask what happened last night, would you tell me?"
"No. Not yet."
"You can talk to me, you know…about anything."
"I know. It's not you…I just don't want to talk about it. Yet."
"Okay."
Another awkward moment of silence passes by.
"Do you want to see Sam? She's worried sick, you know. She almost stabbed me when I told her you were here. Whatever happened between you two last night, she's sorry. I know she is."
"I don't want to talk about her, Brad. And don't let her fool you – she's a better liar than you think."
There's anger and bitterness masked with hurt in my words. I can tell he noticed it.
"Look, I know you're mad. I don't know why, but I know you're mad. Just…don't sink back to that place you were before…with all that hatred and bitterness inside of you. Please?"
"I'll try. No guarantees, though." I shrug.
"I have to warn you about something. It's probably not the best time to talk about it, but I feel that you should be prepared for when the time comes…"
"What? What do I have to be prepared for?"
"Frank Ellis was here today."
"Why the he-oh…"
I realize where this is going. I shiver a little, not wanting to hear what he wants with me.
"He's going to make sure you're not insane. If he thinks you're crazy…he's going to lock you up in a nuthouse…and Sam…she's going to be remarried."
A sharp pang cuts through my chest. Even if I don't want to admit it, I'm afraid…afraid of what's going to happen to her, afraid someone will hurt her, afraid to be without her – because being with her will hurt, but being without her might actually kill me. Even after what happened, I don't want to lose her. I can't. I won't.
I lean forward and grab him by the collar of his shirt.
"You can't let that happen, Brad. You can't let them do this…you have to protect her."
"I'll try Freddie, I'll do the best I can, but you're the only one who can stop this from happening."
"What do I have to do?" I release him and lay back onto the bed.
"Not be crazy? Or at least act like you're not." He teases me, but I don't feel like joking right now. "Look, soon you can go home, and I know you're upset, but let her take care of you. Try to solve your problems, not keep them in. It's bad for you. Take your meds, and if you feel like freaking out, call me, and I'll be right there."
"I can do that."
I start to toy with my fingers, not meeting his eyes, and he knows exactly what I'm thinking. There's this thing about us where we can read each other's body language, or look at each other's eyes and we know…we just know what the other is thinking or feeling.
"She's outside and she won't leave, you know. She might've lied about whatever, but one thing I know for sure, Freddie, is that she loves you…she does."
"She just doesn't want to be remarried. I happen to be a very good husband, and she knows she has the upper hand with me, which she might not be so lucky to have with her next husband."
"That's not true. I know she loves you. I can tell. You know I can read people very well."
"You lost your edge man, you're getting older." That's my lame attempt at a joke, but neither of us laughs.
"Nah, I don't think so." He shakes his head.
"Maybe she'll get lucky again, and her next husband will be sane."
"Hey, don't say that okay!" He hisses. "She's not going to be remarried. In fact, she said she'd rather die than be without you."
I avoid his eyes at all cost. I want to believe that, I really do, but I don't. I want to believe it, because I know that I can't be without her – I'd rather die as well.
"You want to see her?" He asks carefully.
"No."
"Okay. Is there anything that you need?"
"Music."
"Music…huh…want me to sing to you, love?" He smirks.
"No thanks." I laugh. "Can you bring me my phonograph?"
"I can do that. What do you want to hear?"
"Oasis. I have a record at home, it's rare, but I found it. Can you get me that?"
"Sure. I'll be back real quick."
"You don't have to stay, Brad."
"Nonsense! Your words don't make sense to me, Fredward Benson."
"I mean it. You should go home, your wife needs you, she's pregnant."
"Wendy and Gibby are keeping an eye on her. They want to come and visit you."
"Oh God, please no!" I groan.
"Okay, okay, dude. I'll keep them away." He chuckles. "Sure you don't want that massage?"
"I'm good, thanks."
"Alright, listen. Ellis is supposed to come here tomorrow morning. I'll be here with you during the interview, and Dr. John will supervise it. So take your pills, eat, and behave like a good boy while I go gather your toys, okay?"
"Yes, mother, I can do that."
"Great. Want a kiss goodbye?" He leans in and puckers his lips.
"Dude, control your feelings for me, I'm still not one hundred percent crazy." I push him backwards with a laugh.
"Okay, I can do that. I'll be right back, alright? Chill out and take your meds, crazy boy." He says, standing up.
"Alright mommy, now get out of here and bring me my stuff!" I yell when he's making his way out the door.
Brad leaves, and I feel my mood improving. With a sigh, I lie back and relax. I can almost feel like myself again. That feeling of peace doesn't last long once I remember the risk I put Sam in by going bananas. The angst and anxiety start to crawl back into my chest again. I can't let them take her away from me. I'd rather live in a lie with her for the rest of my life than live without her at all. I'm going to protect her and not let anything happen to her. I'm just not ready to forgive her yet.
There's this song in my head, from ten years ago when I started to expand my taste for music. I was seven, maybe eight…definitely eight-years-old when I heard it for the first time. My neighbor was around sixteen and he used to wear black clothes and make up. My mother didn't like him, but he was nice. When my parents were working and my nanny was asleep, I used to go over to his place and we would spend the afternoon listening to music – he introduced me to the world of rock n' roll. There was this one song, though, that sometimes plays inside of my head. It goes something like this:
Hold me now.
I'm six feet from the edge, and I'm thinking.
Maybe six feet ain't so far down.
Please come now, I think I'm falling.
I'm holding on to all I think is safe.
I wish I knew the rest of the song. I can't remember anymore. I wish I knew what happened to him…Jimmy, I wish I knew what happened to Jimmy. The last time I saw him was the day my father went to war – he went too and never came back.
"Freddie?" I didn't realize Dr. John was here.
"Oh…didn't hear you coming in."
"Were you distracted?"
"I was thinking about something."
"Something good?"
"I'm not entirely sure."
"Listen, Mr. Ellis is here for your evaluation."
His voice is serious, and I shudder a little. It's now or never. I have to be good…or at least act like I am. I have to do this right. I nod and Dr. John steps aside and lets Brad and Frank Ellis into the room. I don't like him at all, but I'm not going to let that be a problem. He walks in smiling, and I feel my stomach churning. The bile crawls its way up to my throat, but I can't afford to vomit now.
"Mr. Benson, I must confess I didn't expect to see you here again." He takes the chair next to my bed while the others stand.
"I didn't expect to be here either." I say.
Brad gives me an encouraging smile, and Dr. John nods his head.
"Now, Freddie, want to tell me what happened?" He crosses his legs and starts to scrabble something on his notebook.
"I stopped taking my meds and didn't feel well."
"And why did you do that?"
"I thought I didn't need them anymore."
"Did your doctor tell you that?"
"No."
"Then why did you assume that?"
"Because I was feeling better."
"Oh, Freddie. I know you're a smart boy. If you don't listen to your doctor, how can I trust you'll listen to who really matters?" He asks me, the smile never leaving his face.
"I will!" I start to panic a little, but Brad shakes his head, telling me to relax, so I do it. "I learned my lesson."
"Your doctor tells me that as long as you stay under medication, you're not a threat to yourself or others. But if you don't listen to your doctor, how can I trust you'll keep taking your medication?"
"He's going to be under supervision." Brad answers for me. "I'll be keeping an eye on him, and so will Sam."
"And I will be making sure everything is okay." Dr. John steps in. "We'll meet every week and make sure we're progressing."
"That didn't work the first time." He claims.
"I have new methods." Dr. John says.
"I wasn't paying attention." Brad confesses, looking down at his shoes. "I should have been."
Ellis looks between the three of us, like he's trying to figure something out. After a moment, he smiles that smug smirk of his, and scrabbles something down again. His eyes shift back to me, boring into mine.
"I want to leave you here for a few more days, just so we can make sure you're good to go."
"But I was supposed to go home today." I mumble.
"Freddie, Freddie…" He sighs. "We need to work on this together. We don't want to put you into a psychiatric facility and leave sweet Samantha to be remarried, do we?"
"No!"
"Then let's agree to do what's best for you, huh?"
I look down and nod.
"We're in this together, so let's help each other out."
I hate that he keeps saying we, as if he gave a crap about me. He doesn't. We're not together in this.
"Many men would be more than eager to be paired up with such a lovely young woman – we'll have to be careful if we want to keep her, right?"
I clench my jaw, and his smile grows wider.
"She's mine." I say between clenched teeth.
"Then you should take better care of her. That's your job. How are you going to accomplish that by being mentally unstable?"
I take a long, deep breath. I'm trying so hard not to jump on him and do some damage to his face. Control Freddie, control…this is for Sam. You swore to protect her, and you'll do that, even if she doesn't deserve it. You always keep your promises.
"We'll work on it and we won't have any problems." Brad says. "None of us want the trouble right now."
That's definitely Brad's threatening tone, and I see Ellis tightening his grip on his pen. Whatever the hell he was talking about seems to make Ellis a bit fearful and angry. Soon enough, he resumes smiling at me.
"Of course not. It would be a shame to see such a lovely couple end up like this."
"That won't happen." I say.
"Alright, Freddie, that is it for now. Tomorrow I'll be back here so we can have a little chit chat."
He stands up and Brad opens the door, stepping out. Dr. John follows him, and so does Ellis, but he stops and returns. He leans in, and I see Brad clenching his fists. Once he's close enough, he whispers so only I can hear.
"You're lucky to have so many people around you to keep you in check. But let me tell you this: one false step, and I'll catch you."
With that, he leaves. I never really wanted to kill someone so much before in my entire life.
A/N: Sorry, I was supposed to update yesterday, I'm sorry. I've been busy, with the baby and the tests coming. But there you go, one more chapter. Sorry for the delay. I'll try to do some writing this week, but I can't promise anything. I'm working on a project and two paper works, so I'm kinda busy, but I'll do my best. I want to answer your reviews as soon as I can, but I don't always remember. Oh, and BTW, I want to thank the people who recommended me songs. "Turning Pages" and "Come Away To The Water". Thank you guys so much, I love those songs!
Edited by clarksonfan ;-)
All American Rejects – Straightjacket Feeling.
In case you're wondering, the name of the song Freddie mentions is "One Last Breath" by Creed. I love them to death!