AN-Okay, so this oneshot actually isn't really a request like all my other oneshots here are. About a year ago, I got a request to write a really sad oneshot, and I wrote this one. But then at the last minute, I decided to just go ahead and write another one where Mrs. Benson died and put that one up instead. I kept this one though, just to have around, and I found it today when I was going through some old oneshots and figured why not put it up? Just a warning though, it's pretty sad, but I hope you still enjoy it! I'll go back to putting up the rest of the requests I have tomorrow.

Lover

Freddie laid on the old recliner in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know how long he had been laying there, in the dark, and he didn't care, for he felt as if that was all he had the strength to do at that moment.

He heard the doorbell ring, but he didn't budge. He didn't want to see anybody. But he heard a key turn in the lock and the front door opened. Part of him wanted to quickly lock his bedroom door and continue his solitude, but it seemed as if he didn't even have the energy for that.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later Spencer appeared at his doorway.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hey," Freddie mumbled in a cracked voice.

Spencer made to sit on the bed, but then, realizing that it was perfectly made and untouched, seemed to think better of it, and instead sat himself down on the arm of Freddie's chair.

"Freddie," he said gently. "You can't just sit up here forever."

Freddie didn't reply. He didn't even look at the man.

"Here," Spencer said, handing him a sandwich. "I picked this up for you, there's more downstairs for the kids too. Eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Freddie said, even though he couldn't even remember when his last meal had been.

"Look," Spencer said. "I can't even imagine how you're feeling-"

"Don't," Freddie said firmly, finally looking at him. "Don't. Just…I'm sick of hearing that."

Spencer nodded.

Freddie slowly got to his feet and tossed the sandwich that Spencer had given him in the trash.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice coming out harder than he had intended.

"Because I'm worried about you," Spencer told him. "We all are. You-You don't seem well."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Freddie cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, I've got four kids who are so depressed right now they won't even come out of their room, a ton of people knocking on my door at all hours bringing over casseroles and flowers and cards that I don't want, and I'm now a widower…so yeah, I don't think I'm doing well, Spence."

"Freddie-I-We-You need to talk to someone," Spencer sighed. "It's been a week since Sam-"

"Please don't say it," Freddie said heavily, sitting back down on the chair. He looked over at the bed on the other side of the room, and he could feel his heart squeezing as he longed more than anything to be laying in it right now with Sam at his side.

But he would never get that chance again.

"Freddie," Spencer said softly. "You-You're pushing everyone away. You won't talk to me, you won't talk to your mom, or Gibby, or-"

"If you came over here to try and get me to tell you all my feelings and stuff, you can just leave right now," Freddie said firmly. "I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I'm sad, and that I wish more than anything I could just rewind to a week ago, or that I-that I haven't been able to even sleep in our bed since she-since she-" and suddenly he couldn't control himself anymore, and he broke down.

"I can't do this, Spencer," he sobbed. "I can't. I need Sam. This isn't right, she should be here."

"I know she should," Sam said, placing a comforting hand on Freddie's shoulder.

"I keep going back to that day," Freddie said, taking the tissue that Spencer handed him. "And I keep thinking…if only I had gone to the grocery store instead…then she never would've been on that sidewalk when that man…when he…"

"Don't blame yourself for what happened," Spencer said firmly.

"She didn't want to go to the store," Freddie said weakly. "She had been trying to beat this one level on some app on her Pearpad, and-and I was working, and-and we needed eggs, so I told her to go pick some up. And-And she told me to do it myself, and I told her that she wasn't even doing anything important so she should go…if I hadn't made her go…she wouldn't have been walking by that man, and she wouldn't have gotten-she wouldn't have gotten sho-"

"It's not your fault," Spencer said. "There's only one person to blame for what happened to Sam, and he's going to be rotting in a jail cell for the rest of his life. It's more than he deserves."

"I just want her back," Freddie said weakly. "I-What am I supposed to do without her? I can't just get on with my life! It's like no matter what I do, all I can think about is Sam."

"That's normal," Spencer told him.

Freddie scoffed. "No. Normal would be if Sam was here right now telling me how much of a-how much of a nub I'm being. Nothing about this is normal."

"I-I just meant that what you're feeling right now…there's nothing wrong with that," Spencer said. "Sam was your wife. But-But you can't lock yourself in this room forever. It's important for you to realize that you're surrounded by people who love you and are here to help get you through this."

"I don't think I ever can," Freddie said weakly. "I-I never even thought something like this would ever happen to us. And then it did…right out of the blue. I didn't even get a warning. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her…The last thing I said to her was to remember to pick up some yogurt while she was getting the eggs."

Spencer squeezed his shoulder. "Nothing will ever make what happened okay…It wasn't fair. And it's going to take a long time for things to get easier, but-but they will. They really will. I know you don't believe that, but you have to, otherwise you're going to make yourself crazy. Besides…you've got four other people relying on you to help them get through this too."

"I know," Freddie said heavily. "I know, but…I don't even know how to talk to them. They lost their mother. How can I even begin to help them?"

"Just be there for them," Spencer told them. "And let them know that we're all here for them too. Just like we're all here for you."

Freddie sighed and looked out the window, not saying anything.

Spencer slowly got to his feet. "Eat something," he said. "Try to get some sleep, and then…talk to someone. The kids, me, your mom…anyone."

Freddie didn't reply, he just continued to stare out the window at the blue sky, realizing how much it failed in comparison to the once sparking eyes of his wife.

….

Freddie's head twitched as he lay asleep on the recliner later that evening. His dreams filled with the recollections of that day…

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he was so intent on getting a very important email sent that he couldn't be bothered to pick it up. Whoever it was would just leave a message.

"Daddy, your phone's ringing," his thirteen-year old daughter, Ashton, said, as she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

"I know…I'm working though, I'll get to it later," Freddie said, not looking up from his laptop.

And then he felt his phone go off again, causing him to loose his train of thought on what he was writing.

Groaning in frustration, he pulled his phone hastily from his pocket and saw an unfamiliar number flash across his screen.

"Hello?" he answered, somewhat grumpily.

"Hello, is this Fredward Benson?" a voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, this is he," Freddie said, figuring he was in for the usual telemarketer speech.

"I'm very sorry to have to inform you of this," the voice said gently. "But I'm calling from the Seattle Medical Center."

"What?" Freddie frowned. "Why? What-What's wrong?"

"Your wife, Samantha Benson, was just rushed in here," the voice told him, and he felt his blood run cold. "It seems there was a robbery at the bank on Forester Street, and as the burglar was running out of the bank, your wife…your wife was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The burglar fired his gun, intending to shoot a police officer who was chasing after him, but he ended up hitting your wife."

"N-No," Freddie said weakly, griping the end of the table.

"I'm sorry," the voice said. "But we couldn't save her. She passed away in the ambulance on her way to the hospital."

Freddie felt dizzy as he got to his feet. He thought he was going to be sick.

He hung up his phone, a blank expression on his face.

"Dad," Jason said, walking into the room. "Do you know if we have any of those chips that-"

"Jason," Freddie said weakly, fumbling for his car keys in the nearby drawer. "Jason, watch-watch your brother and sisters."

"Dad?" Jason frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Hey, dad," Emma said, joining the two. "Galaxy Wars is on, if you-Dad? What's wrong?"

But Freddie didn't answer her as he ran out the door.

And then he was at the hospital, where the nurse he had spoken to on the phone tried to calm him down as he angrily yelled that there had to be a mistake; that the phone call he had just received was a joke; that he wanted to see his wife.

It took Freddie several moments to get his wish, for the nurse kept insisting that he was in no state for that, but a doctor came over and told her that someone needed to make an ID on the body, so the nurse reluctantly led him down a hall to a window.

"Mr. Benson," she said gently. "You don't have to do this now."

"It's not her," Freddie said firmly. "It's a mistake."

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look as she rapped on the window, getting the attention of another doctor inside the room. She said something to him through the glass, and a moment later he wheeled a metal gurney over to the window with a long white sheet covering something on top of it.

"Mr. Benson," the nurse said again. "You can come back…You're in no condition-"

"It's not Sam," Freddie said shakily. "It's not my wife."

The nurse sighed, and then turned to the doctor on the other side of the window and nodded.

Slowly, the doctor pulled back the white sheet, and Freddie's legs gave out as he saw her.

The nurse quickly grabbed a nearby chair and helped him into it, signaling for the doctor to cover Sam's body back up.

"No!" Freddie sobbed. "No! No! No!"

He jerked awake suddenly, and just like every night, after he had been woken up by this nightmare, he thought for a wild second that it was just a nightmare, and Sam was laying next to him, fast asleep.

But he wasn't in bed, and Sam wasn't next to him.

He slowly got out of the chair, rubbing his eyes, forcing himself not to look at his and Sam's bed.

He headed over to his doorway, and walked out into the empty hallway. Silence was never something that was common in the Benson household before, but for the past week, it seemed to be the only thing that could be found.

He walked downstairs to the kitchen, where a large plate of sandwiches was sitting out, curtsey of Spencer. But he still had no appetite. He leaned against the island, wondering whether or not the garbage disposal was up for having the numerous casseroles people felt the need to keep brining him dumped down it.

Suddenly he heard footsteps padding down the stairs and Tyler walked into the kitchen. He seemed surprised to see Freddie.

"Hey," Freddie said in a cracked voice.

"I'm hungry," Tyler said in a voice that lacked the usual spark in it. Instead the nine-year old seemed completely out of it.

"Oh, um, here," Freddie said quickly, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and placing one of Spencer's sandwiches on it. "Your Uncle Spencer dropped these off earlier."

"Thanks," Tyler mumbled as he turned to head back upstairs.

"Hey, why don't you eat down-" Freddie began, but just then the doorbell rang for the second time that day, cutting him off.

Praying that it was not another well-wisher here to tell him how sorry they were for his loss, Freddie dragged his feet to the door and opened it, only to find Carly standing on the front porch, holding a large box and bag.

"Oh…hi," Freddie said.

"Hi," Carly said softly, and as she stepped into the light, Freddie noticed that she looked nearly as bad as he knew he did. "I just…I was just doing some cleaning, and um, I found some of…some of Sam's things she had left at my place. Just some purses…shoes…I didn't know if you wanted them, or if I should-"

"I'll take them, thanks," Freddie said, taking the box from her. "I'll just…go through them later. How-How are you?"

Carly shook her head, hugging her arms to her sides tightly. "I still can't believe she's gone…" she whispered. "I-I know we went to her funeral, and we saw…but part of me keeps thinking that she's going to call me up telling me to meet her at the Groovy Smoothie."

Freddie nodded. "I know."

"Oh…Freddie, I-I'm sorry," Carly said. "I-I know this must be harder on you."

"Sam was practically your sister," Freddie mumbled.

"And she was your wife," Carly said gently.

Freddie didn't say anything; he didn't think he could, with the lump that was rising in his throat.

"How are the kids doing?" Carly asked.

Freddie sighed. "Not well…Jason and Emma are both so angry, Ashton can't go more than a minute without crying, and Tyler's really confused about this whole thing."

Carly nodded. "Yeah…I'd expect that. Um, did-did Spencer come by here earlier?"

"Yeah, he did," Freddie said. "Did you send him?"

"No," she replied. "He-He came to see me after he left here. You know, to try and comfort me…I think that's how he's coping with this; he's playing the big brother role for everyone."

"I know," Freddie nodded.

"Anyway, while he was talking to me," Carly said. "He-He mentioned this grief therapist…he told me I should make an appointment there. And I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go see him with you and the kids soon too." She handed him a small business card with the name and number of the therapist. He stuffed it in his pocket.

"Maybe," he mumbled, having no intention of ever seeing this doctor.

"I just thought it would be good for you guys," Carly said softly.

"Thanks," Freddie said quietly.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes.

"Here," Carly finally said, breaking the silence as she handed Freddie the bag in her hand.

"What is this?" Freddie asked.

"It's-It's your anniversary present," Carly told him. "Sam was working on it over at my place…so you wouldn't-so you wouldn't find it and see."

Freddie felt his stomach clench as he remembered what would've been his and Sam's nineteenth anniversary was just a week from that very day. He thought back to the engraved necklace that he had picked out for her that was sitting in his sock drawer.

"I just thought she would've wanted you to have it still," Carly said, a few tears falling from her eyes. "She worked really hard on it."

Freddie put his arms around the girl. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

"You're welcome," Carly sniffed as the two pulled apart. She wiped her eyes. "Um, so I-I need to go now. But call me…if you need to talk. Don't worry about the time."

"You too," Freddie said, offering her a small smile.

"Bye," Carly whispered as she headed out the door.

Freddie sunk down onto the couch and opened the bag and pulled out a large sheet of poster board.

It was a magnificent collage, and Freddie felt a fresh set of tears setting in as he realized how much time Sam must've put into this.

It was their life. In the center of the collage was one of their wedding invitations, surrounded by pictures of them at their wedding; the two of them at the alter, sharing their first dance, Sam smearing cake all over his face. ..

And then there were pictures of their family. Them holding each of their newborn children, a family picture of them all at the beach, all of them laughing on their last vacation to a theme park.

There were even pictures of them dating. He saw images of them at their senior prom, graduation, college, doing iCarly…The ticket stub to the first movie they ever saw together so many years ago was placed right in the middle of a picture of him and her with Ashton after an awards ceremony at her school and the two of them outside the Fat Cake factory.

All around the border of the collage were words that made Freddie feel a familiar warmth as he red them: Nub, Fregut, Dork, Tech-doof…Baby, lover, husband…It was every name that she had ever called him.

He flipped the collage over and saw that Sam had written something on the back of it.

What's up, Frewad, it read. Congratulations of surviving nineteen years of being married to me. For some reason I haven't killed you yet, so whatever it is that you're doing, keep it up. Since you're so impossible to buy for, I decided this year to make you your present. And it came out pretty stinkin' awesome. Anyway, since I should probably write something at least a little romantic here, let me get started before I wind up puking all over this thing and I have to start all over…I love you. I know I don't say it every day like you do, but that doesn't mean I don't feel it. I love you so much that I wonder what I would ever do without you. You listen to my rants about pointless things, you always tell me I'm beautiful, even if I look like a mess, you're such an amazing father to our four kids, and you never make me feel like anything less than a princess. I can't believe its already been nineteen years…it seems like just yesterday you and I were in high school, running to Carly to referee our fights; funny how time flies when you're having fun, huh? So happy nineteenth anniversary, Freddie. I can't wait to spend the rest of them with you when we're both old and shriveled sitting on the porch of our retirement home on the beach. I love you more than you will ever know.

Tears fell onto Sam's letter to him.

"We're not gonna grow old together on that beach house, Sam," he whispered, clutching the collage. "We're not going to have any more anniversaries. We're never going to get to do any of the things we planned on…because you're gone. You're gone, baby! You-You're-You're-" he couldn't even finish his sentence as he sobbed.

A few hours later, Freddie was back up in his room. He carefully set Sam's collage up on their dresser. It was beautiful. He slowly opened up his sock drawer and pulled out the little box with the necklace in it he had bought for Sam. He took out the silver chain with a small heart on the end of it, which he had specially engraved. He flipped the charm over and read his words: Sam, you're my everything.

She still was. No matter what, she still had his heart. He draped the necklace over a corner collage.

Maybe it was the gift, or maybe it was just him, but suddenly, Freddie felt a little stronger. So, taking advantage of this new feeling, he headed back out of his room to do what he knew he should've done a while ago.

He knocked on each of this children's doors.

"Hey," he said as the four of them poked their heads out of their rooms. "Come with me."

He led them back to his room, and then, taking a deep breath, he sat down on his and Sam's bed for the first time since Sam had passed away. He patted the space next to him. "Come on," he said. "Up here."

Jason, Ashton, Emma, and Tyler sat around him, looking up at him.

"Okay," Freddie said heavily. "Here we are. I know I've been pretty out of it lately…I still am. I-I'm still not over this, and I don't think you guys are either-"

"Really?" Emma snapped bitterly.

"We lost your mom," Freddie said softly. "She's gone now…and she's not going to come back."

Ashton looked down at her lap as she began to cry. "Stop saying that," she whispered.

"Sweetie, it's hard-" Freddie began, putting his arm around her.

"We know it's hard!" Jason said loudly. "Telling us that isn't going to make it stop being hard! Nothing's going to change what happened, so why can't everyone just leave us alone and stop telling us that!"

"You can't just sit up in your bedroom, locked away," Freddie said patiently.

"You have," Jason pointed out vehemently.

"I know I have," Freddie nodded. "Because…Because that was the easiest way I could think to cope with this. I never imagined I would lose your mom this way, you guys. We're all in the same boat here. And we've blocked everything out for long enough."

"But I want mom back," Tyler said weakly.

"We all do," Freddie said. "You're never going to stop missing her. And if life was fair…you would have her here right now. But it isn't…Jason, it's not fair that your mom's not going to get to see you when you get your college acceptance letters. And girls, it's not fair that she won't get to see your first day of high school. And Ty, it's not fair that your mom won't get to see you grow into a teenager. You have every right to be angry and upset and sad about that, but you also have to realize that the horrible feelings you get when you think about that are only going to be a thousand times worse when you isolate yourself. You don't have your mom, but-but I'm here for you. And I know I'm not perfect, but I'm gonna try my best, okay guys? I know there are going to be times when you really need a mother…especially you two, Emma and Ashton, but...we've just got to try and make this work."

Jason looked right at his father. "You'll do it, dad," he whispered.

"Yeah," Emma said shakily. "I know-I know you'll manage."

"We'll help," Ashton added softly. "You don't have to this all yourself, daddy."

Tyler nodded. "We love you, dad."

Freddie smiled as he pulled the four kids into a hug. "You guys have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

And for a few moments, the family sat on the bed, crying, though each feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his or her shoulders as they realized that being surrounded by each other really did help somewhat with the pain.

"Okay," Freddie said, drying his own eyes. "Now, you know if your mom was here…she'd be telling us to stop being a bunch of depressing downers and do something. So here's what we're going to do. We're all going to go downstairs and have ourselves an all-night marathon of Boogie Bear movies and pay-per-view MMA fights while we pig out on pizza and Fat Cakes."

"Sounds like mom's perfect night," Emma said, giving a small smile.

"I know," Freddie nodded. "So you all head down to the living room and start the movies, and I'll be down as soon as I order the pizzas."

The kids nodded as they heaved themselves up off the bed and started downstairs. Freddie picked up Pearphone from the dresser; he hadn't used it since he had gotten that call from the hospital…But as he began to dial the pizza place, he noticed his voicemail icon was blinking. Figuring it was Spencer or someone checking up on him again, he looked at his message log and almost dropped the phone as he saw that the voicemail was dated from a week ago…it was from Sam.

What did he do? Listen to it? Well, the answer to that question seemed fairly obvious as he found himself quickly selecting the message and pressing his phone greedily to his ear, desperate to hear his wife's voice.

"Freddie!" he heard Sam say excitedly. "Oh my God! You'll never guess what I just found at the grocery store! You ready for this? Bacon flavored ice cream! It's real! I always thought it was just something Carly would make up whenever she wanted to get me somewhere, but it exists! Oh man, this is, like, the best day ever! There's only a few more tubs of the stuff at the store, so remind me tomorrow to come back here and stock up. Holy chiz…I'm practically crying for joy right now. Hang on, I'm gonna send you a pic, because you need to see this stuff in all its glory, and it will be a good little distraction from all your lame work junk you're doing. Anyway, I'll see you at home, make sure you have my big spoon out and ready for me!"

Freddie slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, Sam's voice still echoing in his head. He quickly saved the message and then went to his inbox where, in fact, an unopened picture message from Sam was waiting for him. He opened it at once and saw his wife grinning ear from ear as she held up a tub of ice cream with a pig on it. He couldn't help but chuckle at how ecstatic she was over something so simple as an ice cream flavor. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked so carefree; this picture perfectly captured the essence of Sam.

Freddie set the picture as his new background, knowing that he'd have to use all his willpower to keep from staring constantly at it.

Taking a deep breath, and one last look at the anniversary collage, Freddie walked out of the room and headed downstairs to his children.