Disclaimer: The iCarly name, characters and show belong to Dan Schnieder. I own nothing.

Here it is guys, the next chapter. I'm hoping for another two chapters. :)

I know I've been updating pretty quickly, and if that makes my writing seemed rushed, then tell me. :L I just really enjoyed writing this. :)

Anyway, tell me what you think. R&R. :D

iMake My Move.

Trapped was an understatement for how Freddie felt at the moment, he'd even given up trying to escape after he woke up again this morning, with the instant need to vacate his stomach. It didn't matter anyway, his mom would just press a button to make him pass out if he tried anything. So he sat, in front of the blocky old TV, watching its fuzzy resolution, and listening to it hiss static. In place of the desperation to escape, was a simple longing to see Sam. The need to get away from his mom didn't come first. To see her, to be with her again was all he thought about. He would've gone through all of the photos that he had of the two of them on his phone, letting them comfort him, but he left it on Spencer's bedside table. At least he was still wearing the same shirt that he cuddled her with. On a whim, he gave it a whiff.

Smells like her hair.

It was the only thing he had right now. Nothing in this motel room made him feel home, even with his mom in the bathroom, still cleaning the shower nozzle, like she normally would, he didn't feel home. The thing was though, to him, that wasn't his mom. His mom was bat-crap crazy sometimes, sure. But this? This wasn't bat-crap crazy, this was straight-jacket crazy. Had he not come to that realisation then, we would've come to it when she came out of the bathroom, looking directly at his shirt.

"Freddie… that's not the same shirt that you… you uh… kissed Samantha in, is it?" saying Sam's name like it was forbidden.

He knew what would happen if he said 'yes', she'd probably want to burn it. He knew what would happen if he said 'no' too. She'd still burn it.

"Freddiekins. Tell me that's not the shirt you were kissing her in." she smiled, maniacally.

"Mom, it's no-"

"YOU'RE LYING TO ME!" she burst, her nostrils flaring. "GO TAKE THAT OFF, AND CHANGE INTO SOMETHING… UNTAINTED!" pointing like a lunatic at the bathroom.

He didn't have a choice, either way, he'd lose the only memento of Sam. At least he could do it on his own terms, and not have it ripped off his unconscious body. Unwilling, he got on his feet and walked to the bathroom, snatching a white shirt his mother held up, closed the door behind him, and took his shirt off. The fabric slid past his face, giving him a faint image of Sam and him two nights ago. In a rare moment of self admiration, he studied himself. Everything but his face boosted his self esteem, his Fifty-push-ups-a-day program had given him suitable arm and chest girth. But getting knocked out twice, and having the person you love be torn from you, had a near-horrifying effect on his face. His complexion grew sickly and his eyes were sunk into his skull. He needed out, feeling the urge to escape fill him again. Looking in the mirror made him realise how desperately he needed to get out, and see Sam. An idea came to him, to help him escape, and the key to it was in the palm of his hand. Literally. Putting on the other shirt, he walked out of the bathroom clutching his grey tee.

"Please don't burn it." he said as he clutched the shirt, but really, he was counting on exactly that.

"But honey, I need to. It has her… stink on it. We can't have you wearing that. No, we definitely can't." she explained.

"Fine." handing her the shirt, clinging onto it to sell the ruse.

A hollow, eerie smile plastered itself onto her face.

"I'm proud of you Freddiekins. You're on the way to accepting that your mother is going to be the only person that'll love you, and take care of you." his mom professed. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's girls that I don't trust!" she proclaimed. She held the shirt up to his face. "Now, I'm going to see if they have an industrial washing machine, and a barbecue!" and like that, she went looking for the front office.

He buzzed into action. Her purse had everything he needed to take from her for this escape to go smoothly. Car keys, gas money, and that pesky remote. Wasting no time, he put on his shoes, tucking in the laces, and snatched the purse. Cautiously, he cracked the door open slightly, looking for any signs of his mother. From where he was, he could see both the main office and his mom's silver Prius. Which were completely opposite each other, but still close enough for it to be difficult. The back of his mom's head came into vision, completely unaware that he was slinking along the second floor balcony. He turned into the stairs. Jogging down them until the last step. Hugging the wall, he peered around the corner to see his mom. She was talking to the clerk on the other side of the parking lot. He also saw that the car was just a close run from where he was. So close that he could taste it. His heart pounded. He wanted this to go without a hitch. Finally, he took a deep breath, and made a break for the car. His heart was exploding with anxiety, but he made it there. The drivers door was on the other side, but he still made it. It wasn't over yet though. Creeping slowly, he moved to the front of the car. Keeping his head down and his mother's bag firmly clamped in his hands, he edged his way past the grill. Stopping before going for the door, he saw his mom was getting mad at the clerk. Slowly, he got to the drivers door, retrieved the keys from the bag, and unlocked it. A light burden was lifted from his chest, but there was still the weight of being caught on it. Biting his lip, he slipped into the seat, fastened his seat-belt and checked the rear view mirror. His mom was still fuming at the clerk. There was no better time than this, he decided, and keyed the ignition. Granted, he only had two weeks of driving experience, all at the driving class he had at school, but all he needed to do was get to the freeway, and from there he'd only need to keep his speed steady. He locked the doors, and keyed the ignition, hearing the purr of the engine coming to life. Whilst he carefully backed up, he looked into the rear-view again, and saw that his mother was going back towards the room.

Good.

Once he was clear, he shifted the car into drive, and drove out of the parking lot.

BANG!

A mass hit the window, afraid to look, he kept driving, turning onto the road.

"FREDDIE! GET OUT OF THERE! YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF!" she yelled, running along with the car, slamming on the window.

Seeing that there was a clear road in front of him, he knew what to do.

"Mom, I'm sorry." pressing down on the accelerator, leaving her behind, screaming into the afternoon sky.

Freddie had done it, he'd freed himself from his mom, and after a few short turns, he was cruising down the freeway, with on girl on his mind.

"I'm coming Sam… I'm coming."

In Seattle, Carly was back on her feet, and ready to do the show. The same however, could not be said for Sam, who was finding it hard just existing without Freddie. Still, she wouldn't let anything stop her from doing iCarly, there was just too much dedication for it.

"Sam, you sure you can do this?" asked Carly.

Sam had been pacing the studio, trying to gather up enough energy to go on normally with the show. It was there, but only barely able to keep a smile up for her to reply.

"Yeah. We don't need the nub." she already regretted saying that. "Let's show 'em some pointless comedy!" she exclaimed, with half a heart.

In Freddie's painful absence, Brad had come in as their tech producer for tonight. Of course, he brought fudge, which she didn't feel like eating. While most girls would find his ability to make fudge and his shining hair attractive, Sam only saw the gap that he was trying to fill. With the tap of a few buttons, Brad finally lifted the camera, and began to count down.

"Alright guys, show's live in…"

You can do this.

"Five…"

Just get through this half hour.

"Four…"

He'll come back.

"Three…"

You're in control here.

"Two…"

Oh no…

"One…"

And with that, Sam couldn't take it. Freddie would've skipped that. She never knew why, but it was his thing. Not wanting anyone see her cry, she ran down the stairs, and into the kitchen. There was only one place she could be alone, and it was just across the hall. Pulling open a drawer, she found the Benson's emergency key, and ran to their apartment, unlocking their door, and heading straight for the fire escape. There she sat, finally giving in to the tears. In two days, she's cried more than she's ever cried in her entire life. Last night, she cried herself to sleep, because she missed him. This morning, she wept because she wanted the bacon that Freddie cooked. And now, she bawled her eyes out because she knew that Freddie was so far from her, with close to no chance of coming back. Crying like this, over a boy, wasn't normal to her. Did it mean she was becoming a normal person? A person that doesn't hit and taunt people. A person that cries because they had something taken from them, instead of tearing it out their hands to get it back. Or was she always like this? Just a normal girl, with the tough exterior that covered it all up. Maybe. Wiping her tears with her red and white stripped top, she felt the chill of the Seattle air creeping to her hollow core.

Freddie's gotta have a sweater or something…

Pulling herself up, she made her way to Freddie's room, looking for a sweater. The moment she stepped into his room, she didn't want to go back out into the cold. The whole room smelt like him, a smooth scent, a cross between vanilla and a fat-cake. Closing the door behind her, she wandered to his dresser, looking through the drawers for a sweater. Instead, her eyes were drawn to a pale brown jacket that hung from behind his door, the same jacket he brought with him on their date to Pini's. She pulled it off the hook, and nuzzled the collar with her nose. The strong scent of Freddie made her heart race. Clutching onto it like a child holding a blanket, she brought it over to his bed. It was the closest she could ever be to him, and the thought of her never seeing him again tugged at her heart and her tear-ducts.

"Just please come back to me Freddie." she whispered to the jacket. "For the love of God, just come back to me!" wept Sam.

Don't forget to R&R. :)