Author's Note: Hellooo, fellow iCarly fans! In light of certain grievances affected against us due to the facetiousness of both Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon in not airing new iCarly episodes on a regular basis, I can only hope that the amount of Creddie fans has not dwindled in the least, but increased in the interests of going from strength to strength. Too much of a far off hope? Hmm, interesting. I've had a pretty emotional week, so I haven't done as much writing as I would've normally hoped to have achieved. But I wrote this chapter in advance, which is good news for all of you ; ) Now without further ado...
Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or Carl Rahl.
Carly tried her best not to blink too much while the doctor examined her, the white light of his miniature torch blinding against her brown eye. It reminded her of another light she'd witnessed not too long before the accident, like something out of an obscure dream that she couldn't remember just yet. Then a distorted swirl of black clouded her senses, drowning out the light momentarily.
"Does the light hurt your eyes when I do this, Carly?" Dr. Bernstein asked in a benignly calm tone.
"No," Carly responded hoarsely, trying to steady her rapidly beating heart.
"That's good," Dr. Bernstein remarked succinctly.
He switched off the tiny flash light and placed it on a gleaming metal tray beside him next to a series of sharp and spindly metallic instruments. Then he focused the rest of his attention back on the pale and beautiful teenage girl, who looked positively shaken up by the ordeal she and her two best friends had undergone. She was sitting up on the hospital bed in the ER at Seattle Grace, which was a good sign to him.
"Well, you've sustained several bruises and cuts, but they're pretty shallow, Carly. Your vitals look good too. And you don't appear to have a concussion either, which I'm sure will put you and your brother at ease no doubt," Dr. Bernstein continued, an aura of efficiency all around him.
"Her brother is very much at ease about that," Spencer remarked while exhaling in evident relief.
Spencer had nearly gone into cardiac arrest when he opened the front door to his apartment with grocery bags in his arms and saw Sam lying across from him against his sculpture. He had dropped the bags on the floor and run towards her before he had spotted Freddie and Carly lying together behind the sofa. Then he had grabbed the home phone off of the coffee table and called 911 after checking that they all had pulses, since they seemed to be breathing, but shallowly. That had been 5 minutes after the iCarly trio had fallen down the stairs together.
"How is Freddie doing?" Carly questioned frantically while Dr. Bernstein rubbed small pieces of cotton wool across her skin and disinfected the cuts on her cheeks.
"Well, it's difficult to say at this point in time. Since his head hit the back of that sofa in your living room, it's possible that he's sustained a concussion. But he's with my esteemed colleague, Dr. Palmer, so he's in very good hands. If Freddie has a concussion, he'll probably only need a few days of bed rest. But he remembers everything up till falling down the stairs, which means there's no indefinite memory loss, which is a very good sign. His mother's with him right now and Marissa Benson is one of the best and most capable nurses at Seattle Grace. I'm sure Freddie's going to be just fine under her care." Dr. Bernstein stated with a reassuring smile on his face.
Despite his reassuring tone, Carly still winced at that vague memory of Freddie's head hitting the sofa with a loud crunch, the sound overwhelming her ear drums as she shivered slightly.
"And Sam, how's she doing?" Carly demanded anxiously.
"Your friend Sam is a strong one. Anyone else who hit your brother's sculpture would've sustained very serious injuries, but she was very lucky. She's only got that cut on her forehead and a couple of bruises on her arms and legs. Both she and her mom are putting up a bit of a fight with a nurse trying to clean off Sam's head right now, but she's perfectly alright." Dr. Bernstein answered with a pleasant chuckle.
"Thank God," Spencer murmured in relief while pinching the bridge of his nose.
A wave of relief meshed with guilt swam over Carly while she thought about Sam's body flying into the metal sculpture with a loud clunking noise. She grimaced while she tried to quell her disturbing thoughts.
"The position of how she landed is a curious point though," Dr. Bernstein added pensively.
"What do you mean?" Spencer asked curiously.
"Well…from what the paramedic told me – the one who found Sam lying against the sculpture said she thought the position for her landing was all wrong. Based on Carly's own testimony and Sam's overall posture on the ground in conjunction with where she probably would've been positioned on the stairwell before falling over the railing, Sam should've hit the sofa. Instead, Freddie landed against the sofa and Sam went in the opposite direction and hit the sculpture. Strange coincidence, that…" Dr. Bernstein mused in a professional manner.
"Yeah, I guess so." Spencer answered in a bewildered tone, not having understood anything the doctor had said.
But Carly understood all too well what the doctor was saying. Nothing had gone according to plan. If there hadn't been some sort of intervention, Sam would've definitely hit the sofa and Freddie the sculpture. But then Sam might've come out of it unscathed while Freddie could've been the one seriously injured. But as it turned out, the exact same result had still occurred. What had happened in those drastically long 3 seconds? And why couldn't Carly shake that image of blinding light followed by swirling black which had hit her corneas just as Sam had pushed Freddie down the stairs?
"If there's nothing wrong with me, can I go now?" Carly demanded in an abruptly rude tone, which took both Spencer and Dr. Bernstein by surprise.
"Yes, of course. If you experience any severe headaches, dizziness or nausea, come straight back to the hospital. It could be a concussion in that case. Otherwise, don't over-exert yourself and get as much rest as possible." Dr. Bernstein advised with a small smile on his face.
Carly nodded wordlessly at the doctor as Spencer helped her off the hospital bed and helped her put on her jacket. Then Dr. Bernstein opened the curtains hanging all around the bed and Carly followed closely behind Spencer out of the exit without a backwards glance.
After Pam and Sam had left the hospital together, Carly and Spencer drove back to their own apartment so that Carly could rest. They had popped into Freddie's hospital room briefly, where Mrs. Benson had sat with him throughout during his consultation with a doctor. According to her, Freddie needed to stay overnight at the hospital for observation before being released the following day. Carly bit back the urge to start crying during the car ride, her hollow eyes staring straight ahead as Spencer drove.
"Carls, are you sure you're ok?" Spencer asked worriedly for the umpteenth time once they entered their apartment.
"I'm ok, Spencer, really. Just shaken up and a little tired, that's all." Carly replied as calmly as she could muster, a shaky chuckle escaping her lips.
"You look a little pale though, kiddo. Do you want me to make you some soup?" Spencer asked kindly.
"No thanks, I think I'm just gonna go lie down for a little while and maybe take a nap if I can fall asleep," Carly announced quickly, making her way past the coffee table.
"Watch out for the stairs," Spencer remarked tactlessly before cursing out loud at his insensitivity.
Carly chuckled ever so slightly to show Spencer that it was ok.
"Don't worry about it, Spencer. I'm gonna take the elevator up to my room just to be on the safe side," she answered teasingly.
"Good idea. I'll come wake you up every two hours."
"Spencer, Dr. Bernstein said I don't have a concussion."
"But Dr. Bernstein could be wrong. Humour me just this once, will ya?"
"Fine. I'll see you in a little while." Carly huffed dramatically.
"Alright, kiddo," Spencer called out as he busied himself in the kitchen with making dinner.
Carly got up to her bedroom a few seconds later and shut the door behind her. She leant against the wooden frame of the door for a few moments while catching her breath. She didn't have a headache, but her head was still swimming as if she had one. She knew it was because of all the questions currently swirling around in her mind. And she needed some answers.
What exactly happened downstairs two hours ago?
Carly remembered Sam and Freddie bickering relentlessly before Sam had pushed Freddie down the stairs. Carly clearly remembered being behind Sam when she had done this.
Then there was that strange flash of white when she had realised that Freddie was going to get hurt badly, followed by that abrupt swirl of black.
They had changed positions somehow so that Carly had ended up between Sam and Freddie when they had fallen down the stairs and over the railing.
How had it happened?
Carly squeezed her head between her two hands till it throbbed in pain while she thought it over.
Sam had first been on her right as they fell. But when she had grabbed Freddie, Sam had suddenly switched to her left and hit the sculpture as she and Freddie had hit the sofa and the floor.
She had grabbed Freddie in midair.
But even more startling was that she had somehow knocked Sam out of the way and right into the sculpture.
But how?
And more importantly…why?
With a gasp of horror, Carly realised that she had done it so that Sam would take the full impact of the sculpture instead of Freddie. She'd done it to protect Freddie from getting hurt or worse, getting killed. And now she felt guilty because Sam could've been hurt in the process. But it had been Sam's fault in the first place – she shouldn't have pushed Freddie down the stairs.
Carly had miscalculated though. By pushing Sam into the sculpture and pulling Freddie along with her, she'd gone off course and Freddie had still hurt himself and gotten a bad concussion. More guilt swept over Carly, followed by a nauseating fear for Freddie's safety and livelihood, which mercilessly flooded her belly.
What was happening to her?
Then Carly shook her head stubbornly. What she was suggesting to herself was impossible. There was no possible way that she could've pushed and pulled at Sam and Freddie in the space of three seconds. Not unless she had super powers that she'd been unaware of up till this point.
Carly reasoned that she desperately needed some sleep and that she would feel better once she woke up. With that thought in mind, Carly shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the chair in front of her dresser. And as she turned back to face her bed, she emitted an involuntary scream.
Someone was standing in front of her bed waiting for her.
Someone encased in brilliant white light, but shrouded in swirling black.
Author's Note: Another relatively short chapter, but a good 800 words longer than last week ; ) I hope this clears up certain things about what happened on the stairwell last chapter. But do not despair if you're still as clueless as ever, we will solve the mystery together. Freddie and Sam will return as the story progresses, but this narrative is predominantly Carly oriented. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter of this story and put it on 'story alert', your interest in the plot and in my writing is overwhelming : ) Until we meet again next week, I will leave you with one final question: who is the stranger in Carly's bedroom?