AN: This is rated T for now but will most likely be changed to M for future chapters. I made the chapters shorter (than my previous story) in the hopes of having more readers but I can make them longer if you like.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

What's Up With Sam?

Chapter 1

Carly's POV

"Freddie?" I asked with concern in my voice, "have you noticed something weird with Sam?" I entered the living from the kitchen with a bottle of water in my hand.

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning away from the TV and looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"I've just noticed something…off lately," I replied, my eyebrows furrowed. "She's been acting different."

"Different how?" he wondered, muting the TV and setting the remote down on the coffee table.

"She's just been…distant lately. I mean, she hardly ever comes over anymore or spends the night. She doesn't seem interested in doing iCarly. And whenever she is hanging out with me, she never…" I trailed off, hoping Freddie didn't notice the blush forming on my face.

"Never what?" Freddie wanted to know.

"She's just different," I replied, not wanting to go into detail. I couldn't tell him that she's not as close to me anymore. That when we talk, she avoids eye contact. She scoots away from me when I sit close to her on the couch. When I try to take her hand, she pulls away. And she started to offer hugs less and less as time went on. I couldn't tell him all these little things that we used to do, that we don't do anymore, because I couldn't tell him I was in love with my best friend. Hopelessly in love with her and I haven't told anyone yet. Not even Sam. I only recently admitted it to myself even though I've been feeling this way for years now. Possibly since I first met her when we were eight and she tried to steal my tuna sandwich.

"Don't worry about it, Carly," Freddie tried to assure me, "Sam's just being Sam. She's distant sometimes. She doesn't like to show her emotions."

But she always used to let me in. Maybe not anyone else. But always me.

"Something's different," I mumbled, plopping down on the couch next to him. "She usually opens up to me. We're best friends. Best friends notice when something's wrong." Sam had been my best friend for over eight years now. What could make her suddenly change? Unless… I turned back to Freddie, "Haven't you noticed it? She's been different since the accident."

Two months ago, Sam saved my life. She had pushed me out of the way of an oncoming taco truck and had gotten hit in the process. When I'd looked up after she'd pushed me to safety, my heart dropped seeing my Sam laying unconscious in the middle of the road. I'd pushed myself up and ran to her, kneeling down and cradling her head in my lap. Tears were slipping down my face profusely and I was shaking uncontrollably, shrieking her name over and over. Freddie had called 911 and I'd ridden in the ambulance while the paramedics worked on her.

She'd actually died on the way to the hospital.

Died.

As in, her heart stopped completely. No signs of life.

My Sam. Dead.

But they were luckily able to bring her back.

Later, the doctor had told us her heart was stopped for two whole minutes. Even though it felt like an eternity. Two minutes. Two minutes that I was losing my mind in the back of that ambulance. Two minutes the paramedics worked to resuscitate her. Two minutes I thought I was going to die at the thought of losing Sam. Two minutes is an agonizingly long amount of time to know the one person who means everything to you is dead.

All because I wasn't watching where I was going. Sam had put her life in danger to save me and I was inconsolable when her heart stopped. By the time we had arrive at the hospital, they had found a pulse, but she was still unconscious, and they rushed her into surgery. When Spencer and Freddie arrived at the hospital, I was a mess. I collapsed in Spencer's arms and continued to sob uncontrollably.

Sam had come out of it with a concussion, a broken leg and arm, and several bruised ribs. But it had taken a whole week for her to actually regain consciousness. I had visited her every day while she was in the hospital. During that week of her being unconscious, I thought I was slowly going mad. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she stays in a coma forever? What if she doesn't know me if she does wake up? What if I never get the chance to tell her I love her? That I'm in love with her.

I loved everything about Sam. Not just her gorgeous good looks but her boyish style and mischievous personality. I've loved her for so long but only actually acknowledged it about a year ago. I came close to telling her a couple times but I was too chicken. I didn't want to risk losing her as a best friend. Then the accident happened and it just got put on the back burner for a while. I was miserable that whole week she was unconscious. I barely ate or slept and couldn't pay attention in class, only thinking about Sam and waiting until school let out so I could go be with her until visiting hours were over.

Then one day, while I was slumped over her hospital bed, resting my head on her arm, I felt her hand tighten in mine. I looked up and saw the most gorgeous blue eyes staring back at me.

"Hey, Cupcake!" she said with a scratchy, shaky voice and smiled.

Sweet relief filled me, after a whole week of constant worry. I was so happy that tears were streaming down my face and I leaned over and kissed her forehead. She smiled up at me and tried to ask me if I was alright but her voice was so dry. My heart melted at the thought of her concerned over me. She was the one in the hospital bed and her first question was if I was okay. I told her I was fine, thanks to her, and to only worry about getting better and out of the hospital.

"Good," she replied with a weak smile, "I was worried I'd failed at my job." When I just looked at her confused, she continued, "My job. Protecting the Cupcake." I smiled again at her nickname for me and threw my arms around her in a hug but she winced in pain and I quickly let her go. She's always so protective of me, it's adorable.

She was able to leave the hospital after another week and I insisted that she stayed at my apartment so I could take care of her. Her mother was never a good caretaker and was hardly ever around anyway. Over the next few weeks, I relished in taking care of Sam. Sharing my bed with her, making her food, bringing her school assignments while she was out for a few days, helping her in the shower. I loved every second of it.

I didn't love the fact that she was in pain and needed my help in the first place. But I loved tending to her every need and being the one to make her feel better. And when she went back to school, I helped carry her books to her classes, since she was on crutches, and made sure she got enough to eat at lunch. During that time, I slowly started to notice small things. Changes in her behavior. It wasn't anything major at first. Only little things that I would notice, being her best friend and all. She seemed the most agitated while she was still at the hospital. She kept asking when she could leave and seemed really uncomfortable there.

She had just gotten her casts taken off only two weeks ago. All outwards signs of the accident had faded. And over the past two weeks, her behavior was confusing to say the least. One minute she was comfortably cuddling with me on the couch and the next she looked so nervous she was sweating, trying to put space between us. One evening, she was having dinner with Spencer and me and right in the middle of a sentence she just got up and ran out the front door without any explanation, leaving half a spaghetti taco on her plate. And Sam doesn't leave food unfinished. It was extremely unsettling. The next day at school, she'd just played it off like it was nothing.

"Well, she has been nicer lately," Freddie replied to my question about noticing Sam's odd behavior, bringing me out of my thoughts about everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"I'm serious, Freddie. This isn't funny. She's not acting like Sam," I commented.

"And that's a bad thing?" Freddie quipped. When I glared at him, he straightened up and added, "She did go through a traumatic experience. Something like that can change a person. Have you asked her about it?"

I sighed and replied, "Not yet."

"Well, don't sweat it. Sam will go back to normal. She'll be back to vandalizing public property and running from the cops in no time," he said as if it were so simple.

Which was another thing. Sam hadn't been getting in trouble at all since the accident. No bullying kids at school, no fighting, no criminal activity at all. And she hadn't insulted Freddie once, which was alarming. None of these things would be cause for concern if it were anyone else. But they were all puzzling behavior from Sam.

And some of the more concerning things; Sam seemed tired more often than not, she had been eating less than normal, she was avoiding her friends, and she hadn't been her usual self. She hardly cracked jokes anymore. It was like her personality did a 180.

We had taken a break from doing iCarly ever since Sam had been in the accident and it didn't seem as if we were planning to do it any time soon.

"And don't worry," Freddie continued, "she'll come around. Sam loves you. She couldn't just drop you as a friend." My heart jumped at Freddie's words. But I wasn't so sure. I was worried about her. And our friendship. I needed Sam in my life.

But he was right. The next day, when I came home from school, there she was, sitting on my couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table and a sandwich in her hand, watching Seattle Beat on TV like any other day.

"Hey, Cupcake," she looked up at me with a smile once I came through the door.

I smiled back at her and felt a sudden sense of relief rush in at the familiar sight and the endearing nickname she had been calling me for years. It made my heart flutter every time I heard her say it.

She patted the seat next to her and said, "Come watch with me." I shut the door, tossed my backpack on the floor next to the coat rack and bounded over to her with a smile that I couldn't hide. When I plopped down next to her, she didn't scoot away but instead handed me the remote. A generous gesture that wasn't lost on me. "It's almost over. You can pick what we watch next," she added with a smile. When I took the remote from her hands, my fingers grazed hers and I felt the familiar electricity that I always felt when I touched her.

I was so happy and relieved to see her, my heart was soaring and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her but I just settled for smiling at her and she smiled back. She finished her sandwich and leaned over to set the plate on the coffee table. Once she settled back down on the sofa, I noticed the bruises and tiny cuts all over the knuckles on her left hand and grabbed it holding it closer to my face.

"Sam, what happened? Did you get in a fight?" I asked with worry etching my face.

Her features went serious and she looked like she was caught.

"Uh…yeah…just some douche bag at school. He took the last slice of pizza at lunch. It's no big deal," she replied trying to cover her uneasiness.

I could tell she was lying. I'd known her for years and I could always tell when something was up. She rarely lied to me. Only for a good reason. And when she did, I think she felt so bad about it that she was never any good at it. She could lie easily and believably to anyone else. Not to me. I lightly grazed my finger over her busted knuckles with care and she gulped nervously, like she was suddenly uncomfortable with my touch. She pulled her hand free from my grasp and turned back to the TV.

I just continued to stare at her. She was so beautiful with her long, curly blond hair, piercing blue eyes, long eyelashes, smooth skin. And her body was magnificent. I forced myself to clear my thoughts and focus on the rest of her, not just her beauty. Her breathing had picked up when I grabbed her hand, her fingers trembling slightly as I caressed her knuckles. Her facial features had seemed guilty for some reason and her body language was giving off something she didn't normally radiate when she was around me. She was withdrawn. Detached. She acted like she wanted to be anywhere but in my presence.

My heart dropped. This was not normal. Sam and I were usually so close we were touching most of the time. She would lay her head in my lap as we watched TV and I would play with her hair. We would stand so close during iCarly, our shoulders would touch. And she never pulled away whenever I hugged her or casually took her hand. I felt an ache in my chest and a burning sensation in the back of my throat that signaled the impending arrival of tears in my eyes. I held back. I could tell she could see me watching her out of the corner of her eye and she looked uncomfortable.

"Why are you lying to me?" I finally asked.

"What?" she replied, turning her head to look at me.

"Why are you lying to me?" I repeated.

"I'm not lying to you. I got in a fight. No big deal," she stated casually.

It would have been normal behavior if she had been in a fight but I could tell something else was going on and I knew I wouldn't like it one bit.

"I can believe you got in a possible fight but I don't think it was because someone took the last slice of pizza at lunch," I said, forcing my voice to remain normal and not sound like a girl about to cry. What was she up to? Something illegal? Were they defensive wounds? Was something horrible going on at her house?

Sam sighed and turned her body so that she was facing me on the couch. She looked anywhere but in my eyes. She pushed her long sleeves up to her elbows in a move to get more comfortable and that's when I saw it. A large bandage on the top side of her right forearm, stained with a small amount of blood.

"Oh my god, Sam! What happened?" I questioned with concern, unable to keep the shock out of my voice. I grabbed her arm to inspect it closer and she immediately pulled it away and lowered her sleeve again in an attempt to cover the bandage.

She finally looked me in the eye. A hint of anger there at being caught. "It's nothing, Carls," she simply stated. Her features softening when she saw the hurt in my eyes.

"That is not nothing, Sam! Tell me what is going on with you!" I shouted. "Did…did you do that to yourself?" I asked with worry, tears filling my eyes.

Sam looked as if I had slapped her. Her expression wounded. I didn't normally raise my voice to her but when I did, she looked like a remorseful puppy who had just been kicked by its owner and my heart went out to her.

"No, I didn't do this to myself," she replied sincerely, "and I'm offended that you'd think that."

"Then what did?" I asked more calmly but with concern in my voice. Tears were brimming my eyes, threatening to overflow. I was afraid to hear the answer but more afraid that she wouldn't tell me and just continue to pretend that everything was fine when it clearly was not.

When she didn't say anything, I desperately whispered, "Please, Sam. I'm worried about you." The tears were now falling down my face. I couldn't hold back any longer.

She had regret in her eyes. I could tell she wanted to open up to me and felt bad about hiding something from her best friend. I sniffled and more tears fell down my cheeks. She reached over and caressed my face, brushing the tears away with her thumb and I immediately leaned my face into her loving touch. This was more like the normal Sam. She wasn't this way with anyone other than me.

I reached a hand out and gripped my fingers in the front of her button-down shirt in an attempt to pull her closer. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in for a hug. I readily returned the embrace, slinging my arms around her back and she rested her chin on the top of my head. We just sat there holding each other while I let the tears silently fall. It felt so good to be wrapped in her warm embrace. She smelled so good, like Sam. Like vanilla and the fresh outdoors. I rested my face into her neck and just reveled in the feeling of Sam.

But my concern for her quickly shot out of my head when I felt the familiar throbbing sensation between my legs. Damn it! I thought. Get ahold of yourself, Shay. Sam needs you right now. This always happened when I was close to Sam. My body just reacted on its own. My heart beat quickened in pace and I could feel my face go hot. Nobody had this effect on me except Sam. I could feel her rubbing my back in an effort to soothe me and I felt my lower regions clench and unclench involuntarily. I tried to get my body back under my control but Sam's touch always unraveled me, even though her touch was always in a non-sexual way. But it didn't matter. My body just knew it was Sam and responded on its own.

I tried to focus on the topic at hand. Why was Sam injured? Why was she keeping things from me? And why had she been so distant over the past few weeks? Suddenly, I could feel Sam's heart pounding through her chest and she started trembling. Her breathing picked up.

"Sam?" I asked, my voice muffled by her shirt. "You're shaking." I pulled back just enough to see the look of fear on her face and tears brimming her eyes. She looked like she was in pain. "Sam, what's wrong?!" This sudden change in her behavior had been happening more and more lately. She'd be fine one second, and then completely different the next. She didn't answer me. She just pulled me back into a hug, my face in her chest, and I clung to her tightly. Something was deeply upsetting her and my heart was breaking for her. I didn't know how to help her if she wouldn't tell me what was wrong. "Please, tell me!" I openly sobbed. "Please!"

AN: I hope to have the next chapter up in the next couple days. Please review.