Oh look! My first prefacing Author's note. Wanna thank those of you who read the first part of this, whether you chose to let me know with a review or not. But to those of you who did let me know…

If you're here you've probably already read mycarlydotcom's stories, since I'm the new boy in school. If not, they do come recommended; more than a few are on my favorites list. Besides commenting here, mycarlydotcom was also kind enough to give this a beta read and critique for me to chew on.

Pickaxe881978 and Invader Johnny, thanks for the compliments. I did wonder if this might be well-mined territory; I'm glad to hear its more rare earth.

Pickaxe, I admit I knew Spencer calling Freddie "Fred" was a little OOC, but I wanted it for the rhythm of the dialogue – I've rationalized it to myself as being because those are dramatic moments when even Spencer might hesitate to drop a "Freddo."

Both of you thought Freddie might've been talking about Sam when he said he was "close to losing her forever." I think he thinks he was talking about Carly…

OK! Here's chapter two, hope you feel it continues to reward your attention.

Chapter 2

Very late, Freddie left Spencer and Carly's apartment and entered his own, locking the door behind him. He was so tired he wondered if he even had the strength to undress and put on his pajamas before falling, treelike, into bed.

Something like a dull ache was nagging in the back of his head. Something he couldn't quite remember? No that wasn't it...some problem he couldn't solve Even though he knew all the numbers were there. He had the feeling it had something to do with what he and Spencer had talked about, their feelings during the horrible moments when Carly and Sa-

Then he realized, and guilt hit him like a taco truck.

He remembered, he believed, everything he had thought as he watched helplessly while Carly and Sam were in danger. When it was all happening, he kept thinking about, could not stop thinking about, Carly slipping and falling.

She'sgoingtodieshe'sgoingtodieshe'sgoingtodie

The thought was devastating, but he could not stop his brain from reflexively going there. He pictured Carly, on the ground, silenced forever. He saw himself mourning. He saw a wake.

What he didn't see was Sam.

Of course he hadn't forgotten about her, he'd been just as worried about her, too. When he called for her to be careful, it was from the heart, and her screamed retort to the affect that it was a stupid thing to say had in a strange way reassured him. Frightened as she had to be for Carly and herself, she was still Sam. He liked it when she was Sam -

He still felt uncertain, like there was some big choice looming. But the only one he knew awaited him the next day was whether to film an iCarly segment in the studio or outside and that decision, he knew, he would make with the girls. This meant he would write a plan for the day, Carly would metaphorically tear it up to chase a white rabbit down a hole and Sam would literally tear it up, in his face.

His thoughts were all over the place, he realized; he supposed it was down to a combination of the anxiety of watching his two friends' struggle for their lives, the drink, and the lateness of the hour.

He found he was smiling slightly when he anticipated the heat coming from Sam's eyes as the snowfall of confetti fell in his hair. She was a blonde-headed demon, but he liked her to be...wait, wasn't he saying this before?

"Samantha the straight – haired daffodil" as he thought but kept to himself of the "girlier" Sam that Carly had once made...he didn't like her. Didn't like that Sam thought she had to be her to get a cute boy. Didn't like any boy who would insist that she -

Jesus, why do you care, Benson? another side of his skull screamed at him.

Because she's my friend.

No. Because I'm hers.

It was hard for Freddie to believe sometimes that the girl who had literally pushed him out of a plane – OK, he was wearing a parachute, but still – thought of him as a friend. Harder still – sometimes almost impossible - to believe that he thought of her as one. But it was undeniable.

At least, he'd stopped denying it sometime after they started speaking simultaneously sometimes. The first time it happened they'd slapped each other in surprise, her hitting him first, him hitting back (that he'd slapped Sam Puckett, even lightly, without getting his ass whipped should've been enough to tell anyone their relationship had changed). Even though she really wasn't hurting him physically anymore since he'd started working out and his puberty kicked in, he could still tell when she was tempering her hits. He knew better than anyone how hard Sam could hit if she was really angry and wanted to hurt; she wasn't and she didn't. She was just...genuinely shocked they were so in sync? So was he, but by the second time, they seemed to decide to start talking simultaneously was just something they sometimes did (and should probably stop). He'd begun to accept: They were friends.

And more.

As he climbed into bed, his self – interrogation continued.

What do you mean, more?

Not like that. I mean...we're a team. Just like she and Carly are a team on the show, we're a team off of it.

So why when his teammates life was in literal danger, hadn't his mind rushed to play out horrible scenarios the way it had with Carly? I mean yes, he was in love with Carly, but it wasn't as if he had no feelings for Sam. In fact he had more than ever. Yet even now...He braced and tried to force himself to imagine what would've happened if Sam had lost her grip.

But his mind wouldn't stay there.

No matter what he did, he could not picture a world without Sam.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a memory recurred to him. When he pulled her in the window (had he said anything? He couldn't remember) he'd thought she was already holding on as hard as she could. But...for just a second...had she somehow held on tighter?

I thought this was just going to be followed by an epilogue, but it growed in the writing tonight and now it's probably going to be two more chapters.