On the street corner of a busy Seattle intersection stands Carly, Sam and Freddie. Carly's dressed head to toe in her pink bunny suit, holding an Easter basket with toothbrushes each individually wrapped in their own plastic, and a tube of minty toothpaste still unopened inside. Carly sheepishly stood near the light post, waiting for an unsuspecting pedestrian that would get their mouth quickly cleansed, the toothbrush being manhandled by Carly's clumsy bunny hands.

Sam laughed as Freddie held up his camera, filming the small latino man get his teeth brushed, thumping his foot like a dog being scratched.

"Seattle is filled with weirdos." Sam exclaims when the man is out of site.

"Whatever, let's just go to another corner." Carly wearily grumbles.

"Wait! You got to hop like a bunny across the street." Sam informs her.

"Said who? The only thing weirder than this suit would be actually playing the part."

"C'mon, do it for the viewers." Sam begged.

Carly tucks her basket tightly in the crease of her forearm, holding it tight to her body as she began to hop out into the crosswalk, Freddie standing just a few feet behind her, still on the sidewalk, next to Sam. Carly hesitantly began to hop a few more feet, more than ready to just curl up on the road and dig a hole.

Cars and traffic slowed down thankfully, and Carly was almost nearing the end, a few feet away from hopping onto the rough sidewalk when out of nowhere the sound of squealing tires roared, and a taco truck took a slow and very sharp turn around the corner, now heading straight for Carly, and even in her bunny suit she remained in his blind spot, the large front end of the truck making it difficult to see her. Freddie lunges after her, ready to push her out of the way, but in the blink of an eye the truck disappears, and Carly's nowhere to be found.

Sam's panics as her heart begins to race and she looks to Freddie for reassurance that she was okay, but Freddie was gone too. Dead silence filled the air and Sam looked around her, confused to the rare emptiness of the Seattle intersection. She could only hear the echo of her own rapid breathing, before feeling herself back to the moment before it all happened, this time with the knowledge of it all about to happen.

"Carls, wait!" Sam shouts, but Carly ignores her, hopping back out into the crosswalk.

The truck reappears and Sam instinctively lunges toward the intersection, holding out her arms to push Carly from the intersection but suddenly everything freezes before turning black.

Sam wakes up, her heart pounding in her ears as she feels her neck and spine tingle with cold sweats, her thoughts still distant as she scans the room and upon seeing Carly snuggled against her body pillow, Sam sighs relieved, and finds herself drawn to getting up, walking over and sliding under the covers next to Carly, so desperately hoping to feel the same comfort she felt when she was three, being snuggled tightly in her mother's bed.

"Sam?" Carly stirs from her sleep.

"Yeah?" Sam mumbles half asleep.

"Bad dream?" She asks.

"Bad dream." Sam informs her, rolling over to face away, unable to keep tears from streaming down her face.

-XXX-

"Hey, how's Sam?" Spencer asks as Carly sleepily approaches the kitchen counter.

"Another rough night." She sleepily yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"What happened this time?"

"Another bad dream, but she wouldn't tell me what it was about. She just crawled in my bed at some point in the middle of the night and rolled under my covers next to me. It was so unlike her to be so… I don't like to say it but, needy."

"Carls, people with anxiety come off needy, but they really just want someone always there to assure them that everything is gonna be okay, and you can help them get what they need to feel better without them worrying that you're gonna get frustrated or annoyed, or even take off."

"Sam knows i'd never leave her. And I try and be very patient with her, never pushy." Carly defends herself.

"But don't you think that she's been burned before, and that's why she has trust issues? Everyone with Anxiety has a story, but everyone is too focused on asking 'What's wrong with her?' rather than 'What's happened to her?'. You've barely scratched the surface of her entire story."

Carly sighs, dumping more milk than she had intended into her small bowl of cereal, drowning her Grape Nuts in a pool of soggy mush. She groans, dumping some of the milk down the drain, holding her hand and using it as a barrier to allow only the milk but not the cereal to flow out.

"What do you suggest I do to help her feel safe and open up?"

"Don't push her, she'll let you know when she's ready. But from now on, when she shows signs that she's really needing you, or even if you're unsure, reach out and asks what she needs to feel better, and after that see if she decides whether or not she wants to talk."

"Spencer, it's so hard knowing that even her best days aren't really that great." Carly leans into her brother, and her puts a gentle arm around her shoulder.

"She'll learn that it gets easier to cope with, but it doesn't just go away." Spencer informs her.

Carly trudges back up the stairs, bearing the load of her cereal bowl, Sam's eggs that Spencer had prepared, and two rim-full glasses of orange juice for Sam, and one half full glass of grape for herself. Carly thrusts her door open gently with the side of her hip, walking in backwards as the door opens and setting down the load on her dresser.

Sam wakes to the aroma of the sunny side up eggs, the kind in which Sam loved to pushed down on or poke her fork into, watching as the yellow substance leaked from her egg and formed a pool around her toast, the toast harvesting the juices and flavor.

"Morning Carls." Sam called casually.

Sam's hair sagged in a messy top bun, drooping as it hung to the side of which her hair was parted, and Sam's face was pale, her eyes wrinkly around the corners, tired tears forming in her exhausted creases around her face.

"Sam, are you okay?"

Carly was completely unaware that Sam had heard her coming, Sam making a leap from the bathroom in the bed, rolling back over and snuggling herself beneath the covers before Carly could discover her bouts of nausea that had overwhelmed her just minutes before. She had felt embarrassed and overwhelmed, feeling as if her anxiety would come off as ridiculous, and meaning absolutely nothing to Carly, telling her once again that she was normal.

"Just peachy." She smiles suspiciously, and Carly narrows her eyes.

Sam's body furiously shook, knowing that anxiety doesn't stop or even disguise itself from others, no matter how badly she didn't want Carly to discover that she was in the middle of a slight bout of anxiety, causing her to feel slightly nauseous. Her breathing quickened and she began to sound as if she had just ran a marathon, her eyes welling up and Sam shook her head, taking back what she had just said as she rocked back and forth in Carly's bed, unable to control the emotions she had tried so hard to mask.

"What do you need? What can I do so you don't feel like you need to hide this from me?" She whispers.

"Don't tell Freddie anything without me knowing anymore, and promise me you'll try to be patient." She grumbles through the tears, clearly embarrassed.

"Sam, he already knows, and he doesn't care about anything except you and your well being. Nothing's going to change how he feels about you as a person." Carly smiles, holding Sam in a hug as she rocks with her, trying to calm her overly-excited body.

"But I don't want him feeling as if he should feel bad for me, because I don't want his sympathy." She remarks annoyed and Carly laughs.

"That's understandable. We're here to help you feel better and understand you, not sit around listening just to accomplish nothing for you." Carly reassures her.

"Carls?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we try and give therapy another shot, but with you know, a different therapist that isn't all up in my business?"

"Sure, I'll find one that orders room service during their sessions." She teases.

"Thanks for not setting me up with some sleazy guy, like the one who worked out of his basement that my mom took me to when I was eight. Or the one I saw in the old parking garage of the factory in town." She informs her, shivering at the vivid memory and Carly laughs.