The Two Columns: Rise and Fall - Part Two

By the time Freddie went home after school, played a few online games (once again losing spectacularly to Lord Gibson), and visited his favorite model from the Gloria's Secret website, he was feeling a lot better. Not completely, since somewhere in the dungeon of Freddie's mind, Dark Freddie repeated Sam's warning with a nauseous sense of glee, but better enough. Freddie's disposition improved to the point where he could ignore that insidious voice on a conscious level, though not necessarily on a subconscious one.

As he rode up the elevator to the studio, where Carly would be waiting for him, he found it increasingly difficult to quell his dark alter-ego. That voice bobbled at the rim of awareness, threatening to take over. Freddie wouldn't let it. He wasn't going to do this to himself. He was going to enjoy every minute of his relationship with Carly come hell or high water. No matter how much it stormed inside his brain. Or outside it for that matter. It had been raining and thundering all week.

It only took ten seconds in the iCarly studio, dialogging with Carly, for Freddie to realize that his hopes were sunk. Sam had been right all along. Carly wasn't so much interested in him as her idea of him, which had transitioned from geeky techno-nerd neighbor to life-saving hero. Perhaps this had even been fueled by other things, such as his growth, both physical and emotional, their dance at The Groovy Smoothie the other night, the weakening of Freddie's formerly obsessive crush. Either way...

This is all wrong, Freddie thought while he was in the studio with Carly. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

So he did the only thing a boy who always thought with his heart would do. He ended it. He did it with all the gentility and class he could muster, and fortunately, Carly appeared to take it quite well. While he had done it, he experienced a brief period of peace. It surprised him, how serene he felt while actually performing the deed.

He gave himself a way out of course. The first column had not finished falling yet. 'No, I do,' he had said when Carly asked if he wanted to date her. To prove this, he and (presumably) Carly would wait a while, and, if the gears were still turning by that point, they would resume where they had left off.

Freddie knew though that this was probably it. He had just flushed what would most likely be his only chance with Carly Shay down the toilet. As the elevator door closed and the cables dragged the cart down the shaft, his peace eroded and the reality of what he had just done hit him like a lead weight.

When the elevator doors opened again, it was a very solemn Freddie that trudged out. He carried every pound of the heavy mass that had hit him. He entered the Shay's living room and went right past the eldest Shay, barely acknowledging him.

"Hey, Freddo," Spencer greeted. He stood in the kitchen next to the island counter, snacking on a bowl of grapes. Spencer watched as the boy walked by. Spencer's lips, which had been curved in their characteristic smile, molded into a concerned frown. Not much got by the surprisingly perceptive man. "Freddo?"

The defeated, expressionless look Freddie gave Spencer told him everything. Spencer had had his own doubts about the relationship, and did not expect it to last, but kept quiet and positive about it for the sake of Carly and Freddie. He offered the Benson boy a small, conciliatory smile. Being Carly's brother, he was probably not the best candidate to talk to Freddie about what had just happened.

"See you tomorrow?" Spencer asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

Freddie nodded at Spencer. He was hurt, but he would be okay. That latter part was the important thing. He withdrew his attention from Spencer and headed for the door. Freddie wanted to get out of the loft more and more with every passing second. When he opened the door though, instead of finding a frame full of empty air, he found a frame full of Sam Puckett.

"You're in my way," Sam said. Freddie let her brush past him with no resistance. His only desire was the familiar comfort of his bedroom. Ignoring the customary ache in his heart, he shuffled quietly toward 8-D.

Sam stayed in the Shay's loft a grand total of four seconds. Soon upon entering, her eyes interlocked with Spencer's. Information passed wordlessly from one set of lights to the other. The blonde turned around. She caught Freddie before he reached his apartment door.

"What's with you?" she asked his back. She hadn't said it in an unkind way.

"Like you don't know," Freddie responded. He kept his posterior to the blonde.

Fine then. If that's the way you wanna play it. "Look Benson, if there's something on your mind," Sam began. She grabbed Freddie's limp form by the shoulder and forced him around, so that he faced her. "Then spill."

Freddie's head lolled to the side at first. He seemed uninterested in any of the blonde's words. Eventually though, the muscles clenched in his jaw. Freddie gradually came back to life.

"You were right okay?" he exclaimed. His arms went out at his sides. "Carly didn't really love me. She never loved me, she never will, I feel all weird and mixed up inside, and now I just wanna be left alone."

"Why?" Sam said. She betrayed not one ounce of sympathy. "So you can go waste time in your room feeling sorry for yourself. This is a good thing. Maybe you're finally wisening up you big dork!"

"You don't get it!" Freddie said. All his confused, uncertain, and disappointed emotions rose to the surface. He could barely control them. "I've loved her for three, and a half, years! Since the moment I saw her." Freddie stared directly at Sam when he said this. In a ruthless sort of way, he was glad to see that her twin sapphires had finally donned the thinnest sheet of pain. "This whole time I held out for her, hoping that one day she'd love me back. But this last couple of months, I don't know if I like her as much now as I used to. And this past week, when I finally had everything that I ever dreamed of, it was just all...wrong. She didn't like me the way she was supposed to, I didn't like her the way I was supposed to, I think I'm having different dreams now, and..."

Freddie gripped his hair with his hands. He didn't want to break down in front of Sam. He didn't even want to shed a tear in front of her. But try though he might, he was so confused, and worried, and unsure, that two small droplets of moisture began to trail down each respective cheek. He looked at Sam, not knowing what else to do or say.

"Don't you understand?" he asked quietly. A foolish question he thought once it had departed from his lips. What in their history together made him think that Sam would?

The blonde seemed unresponsive in the beginning. Freddie feared he had gotten too personal, and that this would repel Sam. He wanted her to understand. He wished she would understand. Judging from her reaction however, she was a moment's decision from walking away and leaving him to wallow in his misery.

As it turned out, Sam would do no such thing. While Freddie thought she was doing nothing, she in fact was tucking her hands inside the sleeves of her shirt, so that she had about three inches of slack for each sleeve. When she had done this, and saw that Freddie had gone quiet and that she had his attention, she moved up to him. She stood very close. Taking the edge of her right sleeve, she gently pressed it against Freddie's right cheek and removed the tear. She then took her left sleeve, gently pressed it against Freddie's left cheek, and removed that tear as well, wearing an odd frown while she did this. She stared at Freddie afterward, oceanic eyes dulled beyond even sympathy. Their dreary light shone with empathy.

"Maybe," Sam said in a reluctant tone. She peered at the ground, nodding to herself. "Maybe I do understand."

Freddie sniffed. The breakdown had been staved off. Barely, but it had been denied nevertheless. He gazed at the ground as well. He still wasn't sure what to do or say.

"C'mon," Sam said. She was looking at Freddie again. "Let's go get a smoothie. That worked pretty well back in sixth grade, right?" Sam took a few steps away, and then stopped. Freddie had not moved a foot. Keeping her cool for once, Sam grabbed Freddie by the sleeve and lightly tugged him along. "C'mon," she repeated. "Let's go."

"We don't have our raincoats," Freddie said after several paces. Sam threw him a sidelong look. Her empathetic facade had already begun dissolving.

"It's not that bad of a storm Benson. Besides, what fun is it if you don't get a little wet once in a while?"

Sam was right. Getting a little wet once in a while did help. It certainly helped that evening, where the prospect of what his mother would say at the sight of his soaked clothes diminished his throbbing grief over Carly. It certainly helped when he and Sam entered The Groovy Smoothie, and Freddie saw a stray lock of drenched hair clinging to Sam's jawline, finding that he sort of liked the way it looked.

Sam was also right about the storm. The one that had dumped on Seattle all week wasn't that bad. It was nothing, compared to the monster that was coming. Within the year, Freddie would return to the iCarly studio for another decisive face-off.

And it wouldn't be with Carly.

"I think he was right," Carly told Spencer.

They had been sitting on the couch, talking for the better part of a half-hour. The brunette had come down shortly after Freddie had exited the loft. When she found Spencer standing next to the island counter, with a bowl of unfinished grapes and a peculiar expression on his face, she had asked if he had seen Freddie, and they eventually wound up sitting in front of an idle television. Spencer's serious, big brother side quickly took over. This didn't happen often, but Spencer could tell that tonight he would need it.

"Maybe he was," Spencer said in reply. Freddie of course had been right. Carly was not truly in love with him. Her older brother believed, however, that she should come to that conclusion on her own.

Still, there was nothing wrong if he helped guide her along the way.

"Look, I know it's confusing. Fredddo's...growing up. He's not some creepy little dude spying at you out of his peephole anymore."

"He still does that," Carly admitted reluctantly.

"Yeah, I know," Spencer conceded. Wish I had thought of that when I was his age. "The point is, he's been going through some changes and I think you've started to realize that. And, maybe you got a little jealous when you find out that him and Sam kissed. Or that now, he's not paying as much attention to you as he used to."

"Yeah," Carly said. There was a kernel of truth in everything that Spencer had said, as much as she wanted to ignore it. She almost hated herself now. What she had done, her lack of foresight, had probably hurt Freddie. The guilt she felt after he had broken his body to save hers returned. At the same time, although it made her feel even more guilty, she felt somewhat relieved. The sky wasn't falling after all. She hadn't fallen in love with Freddie.

"You're growin' up too," Spencer said, smiling as he tousled his sister's hair. Carly giggled back at him, in spite of herself. "You're goin' through some changes, and some of them are difficult to understand. But you know I'm always here for you, right?"

Carly nodded. She loved her big brother. It was moments like this that she remembered just how much.

"So are we good?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah."

"Can we stop talking now?"

Carly frowned. She slowly nodded again. "...Yeah?"

"Good, 'cause those grapes went right through me."

Spencer vaulted from the couch and zoomed for the bathroom, leaving his sister chuckling, shaking her head, and thinking.

The first column fell a little more each day. It had taken a deep tumble during that one week, during Freddie and Carly's short-lived relationship, but it attained a steadier pace in the weeks and months that followed. Freddie noticed its downward progression in bits and pieces. On one day, he would discover that Carly's smile was not quite as radiant as he used to believe. On another, while watching TV with Carly and Spencer on a typical Sunday night, he decided to head out early. For no particular reason. He just wanted to go to his room and do other things. The old Freddie, the unwounded Freddie, would never have left Carly to go do something else.

As for the second column, it rose with the velocity of a runaway freight train. And the stealth of a practiced hunter. Freddie only noticed this in bits and pieces as well. In the beginning anyway. On one day, he saw that Sam's stool in Environmental Science was empty, that she had stayed home sick, and this knowledge prevented him from properly concentrating during all his other classes. On another, he caught sight of one of Sam's hands and couldn't help but thinking about how small it was, and how it would feel to hold it.

While the mostly oblivious boy went about his day, that wound in his heart festered. Soon, the pain had spread throughout his chest, and even to his shoulders and upper arms. The thunderbolt was recharging.

Or maybe, it had never stopped. Maybe, when it had dealt that first blow on the fire escape and spilled his soul-juice all over the place, it had somehow kept going, pulsing more strongly with each beat of his damaged organ.

Whatever the case, it was only a matter of time. Little by little, day by day, Freddie's feelings for Sam grew. Eventually, he would have to face this.

He would fight it. He would deny it. But that storm was coming. Oh baby, it was coming. The thunderbolt would strike again.

Except that next time, it would show no mercy.

Over several more months...

The fight between Sam and Carly was definitely the worst one. Their friendship had actually ended. iCarly, for a short period of time, had actually ended. Once more however, with help from their tech producer, they patched things up.

The fight was different. It was a lot more...genuine. When Sam and Carly traded barbs during this one, they went for the throat. And it had all started with minor annoyances they found in each other's character. Annoyances which were brought to full, painful attention through their interaction with Fleck and Dave. Annoyances that, although otherwise unimportant and encountered on a regular basis, had grown into intolerable aggravations. How odd, that something so small could evolve into something so large.

Except maybe it wasn't so odd. Maybe there was more to it than met the eye. Maybe, it wasn't such a coincidence that this fight, the worst fight, occurred shortly after Freddie and Carly's brief relationship. Maybe, during those days when Freddie and Carly were holding hands and smooching in the halls, Sam never quite had her say. Her full say, more than comparing nerds to bacon. Maybe, the blonde was slightly angry at her best friend, for mistaking her feelings and confusing Freddie as well, putting the boy through crab that he didn't need. Maybe, just maybe, she was even considering calling off their fight and letting bygones be bygones, but quickly quashed this idea when Carly reminded her so brazenly that Freddie loved her. What words the brunette had chosen. And maybe, just maybe-maybe-maybe, her rage multiplied when she had seen Freddie's warning look about having him choose sides, because she knew full well who he'd join, even if it was over some sense of loyalty that she knew he didn't even feel anymore, but only retained out of habit.

Maybe.

Freddie was sitting at his stool in Environmental Science...and was actually paying attention.

He had gotten over the grief from his failed relationship with Carly, Sam and Carly were friends again, and the show was back on track. He and Sam were talking again too, which he found he missed terribly during the schism between the webstars. And, impossible though it seemed at first, he felt like he was finally starting to get over his maniacal crush on Carly.

In short, life was good.

Mr. Henning was beyond relieved. The boy had been daydreaming and zoning out in his class all semester, and he had just about had it with Freddie's limited attention span. Maybe now he would finally learn something.

As for Puckett...well, she never paid attention in class. Henning wasn't holding out for any miracles on that one. She daydreamed and zoned out ten times more than Freddie ever did. Oddly, every now and then, he thought he caught her peeking at the Benson boy. A split-second here, split-second there. Though perhaps this was just Henning's imagination. He didn't understand young people these days anyway.

They did things for each other now. Helpful things, every once in a while. When Sam threw a tantrum on the couch and left her can of soup behind, Freddie brought it over to her. When Freddie got a fork hurled into his flesh by an ornery former popstar, Sam yanked it out.

Today for instance...

"Here you are Princess Puckett." Freddie was standing next to his locker, holding a laptop with both hands. The laptop however did not belong to him. Its true owner was the blond girl, who was standing in front of Freddie. "Good as new." He handed the computer over to the blonde.

"Does it work?" Sam asked. Her laptop had been malfunctioning for the past two weeks. Unable to fix it herself, and having reached the point where her frustration outweighed her pride, she had given it to Freddie.

The Benson boy beamed smugly at the blonde. "Oh yeah. I gave it a new processor and everything. This baby runs like a beast now!"

"Does it work?" Sam snapped.

"Yes!" Freddie exclaimed, equally loud.

Sam's eyes widened in relief. "Finally. I thought I was gonna have to get a new one."

Freddie grinned at her. He had gotten so into revamping Sam's laptop that he forgot to keep track of time, or how much money he spent on spare parts. What he had registered was that this was a unique chance to be of some use to his friend. To show off a little perhaps. As their friendship had grown, Sam's opinion of him became more important to Freddie. Important enough that he didn't even need a contract these days to perform a techie favor for her, like when Sam wanted him to bolster her website.

"No ma'am," Freddie told her. "Your laptop's been Fredified."

Sam snorted at Freddie's bad joke. Her gaze went downward, and in an very unclear voice, she mumbled: "Maybe some day you'll want to Fredify me."

"What was that?" For Freddie heard noise, but nothing intelligible.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Nothing." Her brows then rose sharply. "Oh hey, wait." The blonde thrust a hand in her pocket. The crinkling of plastic ensued, followed by the withdrawal of an aptly plastic bag. The clear bag contained a dozen red strips of meat. On the bag was a black header, which bore white words in an elegant cursive script that said: 'Bolivian Porta-bacon.' Sam held out the bag so Freddie could see it.

"Bacon?" Freddie said. "Bolivian Porta-bacon?"

"Yep," Sam said. "Mama knows how to reward her subjects."

"I'm surprised you haven't scarfed it down already," Freddie said. He meant it too. "Why are you offering it to me anyway; isn't that your favorite kind?"

"Fine, if you don't want it, don't take it." Sam cradled the bag against her chest. "I just figured you might be interested in Bolivian bacon," she continued, staring at the bag as she spoke. "Since I mentioned it before. You know, bacon so good it can make someone..." Sam's gaze shifted to the side. "...think they're in love."

Freddie snatched the bag out of Sam's intimate embrace. He chuckled to himself while he ripped it open. "C'mon Sam, no bacon can be that good."

"Freddie wait!" Sam tried to swipe the bag away, but she was too late. Freddie had already shoveled the first strip into his mouth. Not longer after, his entire body froze. Sam recognized that rigid stance.

"Oh man," she moaned to herself. Setting her laptop down at a safe distance away, she hurried back to Freddie and clasped him by the arms. First-time consumers of Bolivian bacon had to be monitored very closely. Their reactions to the unparalleled savory goodness could be...intense.

"Oh...my..." Freddie garbled through a mouthful of meat. His eyes resembled those from a character in a horror movie, who at long last has come face-to-face with the killer.

"Can you hear me?" Sam demanded. She shook Freddie for emphasis. "Are you there?"

"So...good. Can't...handle..." Freddie began quivering violently.

"Stay with me Benson. If you don't come out of this on your own, I'm going to have to give you a sedative."

Freddie came out of it on his own alright. When he did, he grabbed Sam by her arms and pinned her against the lockers. Endorphins rushed his brain. Sam's hair had spilled over her face, so that one eye was covered just like that time at the mall.

"I think I love you!" a possessed Freddie announced. He was standing so close to her that Sam could feel his breath.

"I..." The syllable had escaped out of Sam's mouth before she could stop it. A faint blush tinged her cheeks. If Freddie had ever seen Sam blush before, he might have recognized it. If his brain hadn't been assaulted by chemical pleasure at the moment, he may have seen it. Either way, the gesture was lost on the tech producer.

Sam came out of her daze as well. Seizing Freddie by the shoulders a second time, she whipped him around and slammed him into the lockers. Their positions reversed.

"Snap out of it!"

Freddie didn't require foreign bacon for this. For one glorious half-hour, the power to the Bushwell had returned. They had just started to get comfortable when it went off again. Carly and Spencer had left to canvass the building, just in case someone else had gotten their hands on a generator and was trying to keep it to themselves. Freddie and Sam meanwhile lay on the couch like slugs, waiting for either the Shays to bring them news of salvation, or to simply lay there and expire. Whichever came first.

This brought Freddie to his current problem. He was laying on the sofa, next to a girl, alone. Said girl was wearing a tank and very short shorts. It had been a long time since he had seen this much of said girl. And now, she was beginning to sweat, which once Dark Freddie took note of, he wouldn't let him forget.

"Massage my leg, will ya?"

One of Sam's bare thighs landed on Freddie's lap. Freddie stared numbly at the limb. Oh, this wasn't happening. This so wasn't happening. It was all just a great big joke, fabricated by the gods, who were watching this while they sat on their clouds in the sky and screeched themselves into hysterics.

"I think the heat gave me cramps. Now that that old man is gone, I guess you'll have to fill his shoes. Rub it hard too, 'kay?"

Hah! Dark Freddie cackled. She said 'hard.' 'Hard!'

Shut UP! Freddie told his evil counterpart. How many times do I have to tell you it's just hormones! There's nothing else to it! Besides, maybe that bacon's still having an effect!

That's a lie and you know it.

"I'm waiting Frederina."

Freddie gulped. Okay. I can do this. I'm not gonna chicken out, no siree. I'm a man. And that's just a leg. Sam's leg. I see her legs everyday. I mean, I don't see this much of them everyday, and she doesn't usually plop one on my lap, and I've never professed my love to her in a bacon-induced frenzy before, and...

Freddie abruptly stopped thinking. As dispassionately as possible, he grabbed Sam's leg and began massaging it as hard as he dared. Sam reclined over the sofa's arm chair, stretching towards the ceiling.

"Oh yeah! Keep it up Fredward. That feels so goooooooooooood!"

"I CAN'T DO THIS!"

The Benson boy threw the offensive leg off of him and leaped to his feet. Sam, who had been tossed off the sofa and onto the ground, stared incredulously at him from a supine position. She scrambled to her own feet. When she had recovered, she closed in on Freddie, glaring steel-blue daggers at him.

"What was that all about?"

It was Sam's turn to receive an incredulous stare.

"What was that all about? I – you – it's..."

Freddie couldn't focus any longer. He spotted a lone drop of perspiration, trailing down Sam's neck. It went past the collar bone, sliding downward, parallel to the strap of her tank. Then it turned. Now it went on a diagonal. Unlike most blobs of sweat, this one never faltered. It kept sliding down, down-down-down, further and further until it headed for, it headed for, the danger zone. Danger zone. It headed for her...

"What's wrong with you?"

"WILL YOU PLEASE TAKE THOSE CLOTHES OFF!"

Sam gaped at him. Stunned at first by the intensity of his outburst, then by the meaning of what he had just said. Her eyes widened.

Freddie slammed a hand over his mouth. His legs quivered horribly, like when he had just swallowed his first helping of Bolivian bacon, though this time he quivered from fear.

"I...I meant to say...I meant to say...change...change your clothes...I..."

Aw crab! I said it! I just told Puckett to show me her goodies! Slip of the tongue or not, she's gonna kill me. Goodbye world. It's been nice knowin' ya!

Thankfully, Sam didn't kill Freddie. Instead, her mouth slowly curved into a smile. Then a big smile. Then a big, big smile. She sidled up closer to Freddie, giving him a look that would have made Satan jealous.

"You," she said, poking Freddie in the chest, making his chest and arms ache that familiar dull ache, "think I'm hot. Don't-cha?"

Dark brown eyes blinked very rapidly.

"I knew you were thinking dirty thoughts. That time we danced at the mall. Somewhere deep inside that nerdy, nice-boy exterior is a little Dark Freddie, isn't there?"

That's me, Dark Freddie said happily.

Freddie wrenched himself to full awareness. He clasped Sam around the arms. They seemed to be doing that to each other a lot these days.

"Sam, look."

Another demonic grin from Sam forced Freddie to remove his hands. Bare arms were better than bare legs, but not by much.

"I'm sorry about the bacon incident, okay? If this is all an attempt to get back at me for that, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just, couldn't control myself. I don't really love you."

Something about Sam's face told Freddie he hadn't quite said that right thing. Again. His back became slick with sweat.

"I mean, I love you as a friend. I mean I like you as a friend. Not that anyone couldn't love you as a friend. Like you as a friend. I mean love you as more than a friend. R-romantically. Wh-what I'm trying to say is–"

"I get it okay," Sam said. She patted Freddie on the shoulder, not in a seductive way but in more of a companionable manner. "It was the bacon talking. I been through it too, don't think I don't know what it feels like."

If Freddie wasn't mistaken, he thought Sam sounded kind of...disappointed.

Sam rolled her eyes. "You're alright Benson." She patted him once more on the shoulder and turned away. She then halted in place, back still facing him. "You're still stupid...but you're alright. C'mon." Sam walked toward the exit to the loft. "Let's go see if Carly and Spencer found anyone yet."

Freddie released a massive sigh. His hormones had him in their grip again. Each time, they had grown stronger, but he had managed to escape their prison-hold somehow. This latest one however had been too close for comfort.

"Good. For a moment there, I almost wanted to Fredify you."

"What was that?" Sam asked. Freddie had mumbled that last sentence.

"Nothing!"

"C'mon!"

"I can't!"

"Put you're back into it!"

"I can't fit it in! The opening, it's just too small!"

"You better fit it in or I'm going to be very upset! Do you think I want to buy a new mattress!"

"I'm pushing with all my might! Can't you help? I mean, this thing is so big! It's really a two-person kind of activity!"

Sam groaned like a gorilla. She hoped that when she called Freddie to come over and help lug her new king-size mattress from her front porch to her room, that she could just kick back and watch. Apparently however, the Benson boy lacked the muscle to get the job done.

"Fine, get out of the way and let me do it."

Freddie collapsed on the floor. Sam stepped over him, picked up the mattress, and aimed it at her door. Freddie hadn't the strength to turn it on it's side, so he had resorted to trying to push it through by sheer force.

"Honestly Benson, would it kill you to work out once in a while?"

"Up-up-up. Aren't you forgetting something?"

Freddie growled in his throat. He was sitting on a blue-green bench, ready to start his first official set of bench press exercises, with Gibby as his spotter. Except that Gibby was more than his spotter. Gibby was his trainer.

"No Gibby, I don't think I'm forgetting something! I warmed up properly, drank approximately two ounces water, and practiced the right form." Freddie bent his arms at the elbows, forming two ninety-degree angles.

"Yeah. And you forgot one thing."

"What are you–"

Freddie saw that Gibby was staring at Freddie's shirt. Unlike his trainee, the Gibson boy was already shirtless.

"Aw Gibby, do I have to?" Freddie peered around at the Bushwell Plaza's exercise room. There weren't many other people using the facilities, but there were some, and one of them was female. "There's a girl here."

"Hey," Gibby said, in a tone that would accept no excuses. "If you want to work out the Gibby way, then you have to work out, the Gibby way. Now take it off!"

Miserably, Freddie doffed his shirt. Humiliating though it was, he couldn't embarrass himself in front of Sam again.

He'd show her who worked out every once in a while.

"Oh, hey Sam."

Freddie leaned with one arm against the wall of the iCarly studio, staring at Sam, who had just entered. He had worn a shirt with very short sleeves that day, and made sure that his right arm, the better toned arm, was the arm he leaned against. He contracted his triceps needlessly.

"Do you know where Carly is?" Sam asked.

Freddie shrugged. "Don't know."

"Ugh." Sam started to leave.

"Hey."

The blonde stilled. She peered at the Benson boy.

"So, you uh, you notice anything? You know, anything...different?"

Freddie contracted his muscles more forcefully.

"About what?"

"Oh I don't know." Freddie gazed idly around the studio, protruding his lower lip. "Anything. Anything at all. Maybe about me?"

Sam's features tightened. Her eyes swept over Freddie's appearance. A curious light flickered to life inside them. They moved up and down his form, studying him carefully.

That's it. That's it. Go to the arms. Those are the parts I've worked the hardest on. Come on. Yes, yes! Look you blonde-headed demon. Look to your devilish heart's content! Wait. No wait. You're going too high. That's too high. What are you-

"Oh, did you get a haircut?"

The blonde had said it in a nice voice too. It seemed that she had chosen to be less of a demon today, and had actually tried giving Freddie a genuine compliment. Though this in itself was good news, Freddie was far from pleased.

"Y-yeah! Gibby's grandpa cut it. You know, after he did such a nice job with Spencer, I couldn't resist."

"Do you want it?"

"I want it!"

"Do you want it?"

"I want it!"

"DO YOU WANT IT!"

"I WANT IT!"

With all of his savage force, Freddie shoved the barbell into the air, into Gibby's hands, who guided it onto the metal holders. Freddie sat upright, huffing and puffing, exhausted victory inscribed on his countenance.

"Jeez Benson," Gibby said. He rarely praised Freddie during their workout sessions, but even he had been impressed with Freddie's recent efforts. "What's been driving you lately?"

Freddie wiped the sweat off his brow, and said nothing.

It was all just an act now. He didn't hate her. Not anymore. Not even a little bit. He just reacted to her that way because...well, he always had.

Like when they had finished remodeling Carly's room, and Sam had jumped on top of him. He complained when it happened, but truthfully, he didn't mind so much.

Or when she had gone bonkers the other day and spanked him. Literally spanked him. He complained when it happened, but truthfully, he didn't mind so much.

Or right now. When they were both sitting on the Shay's sofa, alone once again and, lo and behold, she placed her leg on his lap. A few seconds later, her other one joined it. He complained when it happened, but truthfully, he didn't mind so much.

Perhaps this was why when Sam, who was reading on the sofa next to Freddie, planted her legs on his lap a second time (she had removed them after he had 'complained' earlier), he said nothing. He just kept reading his own book. True, he had gotten slightly tired of reading, but he supposed he could survive through one more chapter. Just one more chapter.

Freddie saved the file to his external hard drive, and clicked out of the program. He played through the recently recorded video at quadruple speed, making sure everything came out right. As he did, he saw that he could no longer deny it.

Fredward Benson had kept a video journal for longer than he could remember. At least since he was six, when he had received his first camera for his birthday. He thought it would be cool, being the techno-geek that he was, to leave more than just a written record of his life behind. People who would watch these videos would see how he sounded. Not just how he sounded, but how he sounded during X, Y, and Z days of his life. What could be cooler than that?

While Freddie played through this recently recorded video at quadruple speed, seeing not how he sounded but how he sounded, it became undeniably clear.

The contents of his video journal, the types of things that he spoke about. They were changing.

"Go get her Boogie Bear!"

"Eat her alive!"

Freddie and Sam were sitting next to each other in the theater, watching the latest release in a long line of Boogie Bear films. They were all carbon copies of one another, and featured none of the plot-lines from the original books, but they were worth it for the laugh.

At least Freddie and Sam thought so. They hadn't even snuck out of a dopey romance movie to attend this one. They had come by themselves, for themselves.

Freddie felt the inclination to put his arm around the back of Sam's chair again. This time, he didn't fight it. It wasn't such a big deal, was it? Besides, she had no problems putting her legs on his lap. Putting his arm around the back of her chair made them even, the way he saw it.

They spent a lot of time together now. A lot of time. It had happened so fast too. One day, literally, Freddie was going about his business when he realized that he probably spent more time around Sam lately than anyone else. Carly was a close second, but more and more, he found himself preferring to waste the hours with the blonde instead. And so he did.

"I WANT IT!"

Freddie hammered the barbell into his spotter's arms. Duke, the wrestler who used to harass Freddie but had become his friend, had to replace Gibby since the Gibson boy was no longer strong enough to safely monitor Freddie's workouts. The beefy wrestler let out a long whistle as he guided the barbell to the holding rack.

"Whoa. Gibby was right. You're an animal."

Freddie grinned.

"Uh, Carly," Freddie said. He gestured at the empty space on the sofa cushion, on which Carly was preparing to settle. "I...was going to sit there."

"Oh," Carly said. She moved out of the way. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks."

Freddie plopped onto the sofa. Next to Sam. Where he always sat these days while he, the blonde, and the Shays watched movies and ate snacks. Because for some reason, sitting someplace else just didn't feel right.

When he had sat down, Sam peered at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, so no one but Freddie could see.

"In five, four, three, two!"

After Freddie had delivered the countdown, he and Sam dug ferociously into their burgers. Each had ordered a standard quarter pounder from Inside Out Burger. Freddie knew that he could never consume more than the blonde, but that didn't mean he couldn't eat faster than her. On this regard, he at least stood a chance. He had been working out a lot too, which had increased his metabolism, so he was more than eager to try out his new powers.

"I win!" Sam raised her arms in the air victoriously. Freddie hadn't even finished half of his burger yet. He was still no competition for the disposal otherwise known as Samantha Puckett.

"No way, you cheated!" he shouted at her. A baseless accusation, but hey, he had to say something.

"You were sitting there the whole time Benson! If I cheated, then give me the deets!"

"I'll give you the ketchup!"

Freddie squeezed the plastic bottle until he had extinguished all its internal air. Red liquid spurted out of the container, flying into Sam's face. The blonde looked like she had been mauled by Boogie Bear.

"You dork!" Sam swiped an item off the table where they had been sitting. Freddie cringed when he made out its identity through her fingers. "Say 'ello to a lil mustard!"

The Benson boy got sprayed by the yellow substance. Mustard was his least favorite condiment. Which Sam knew all too well.

And he had never been happier.

"So what, big deal."

"It is a big deal Sam!"

Freddie and the blonde were standing on the fire escape, late on a Tuesday night. The Benson boy had practically dragged Sam out of Carly's apartment, so he could show her.

"This is the closest the moon's been to the earth in over twenty years. And during a full phase. Isn't it, I don't know, kind of beautiful?"

Sam made a 'pshing' noise. "You think the moon's beautiful?" She sounded as if she seriously doubted this.

"Well, yeah. Don't..."

Freddie had been craning his neck to stare at Sam but stopped. There was a mild breeze in the air that night. Presently, it had entered that private space in the fire escape and seemed to be focusing all its attention on Sam. The blonde's golden hair floated gorgeously in the breeze, like something out of a dream, while milky moonlight had splashed over her face and shoulders.

"...you?"

"Tickle-attack!"

Freddie locked his arms around Sam's leg in an impenetrable grip he had learned from Duke. The blonde had draped the limb over his lap yet again, and now she was going to pay for it. Freddie's fingers quickly went to the bare sole of Sam's foot.

"AH! FREDDIE! DON'T YOU – HAHAHA – I SAID DON'T...DON'T..."

Sam went into hysterics. Just as Freddie had suspected, she was very, very ticklish.

"This is what you get Puckett!" Freddie shouted, laughing very hard himself. "I'm not a footstool. And now I've found your one weakness! Maybe I can't out-eat you, but I know your weak spot!"

"I COULD KILL YOU!" Sam let loose an ear-splitting shriek "I COULD KILL YOU! I COULD KILL YOU!"

"I could kill you!" Sam shouted. This time, she was not laughing.

"You could kill me?" Freddie scoffed. "YOU'RE the one who got me detention!"

"I didn't force you into ditching class Benson! You joined me out of your own free will!"

"You still goaded me! I haven't had a high-school detention before! Now I do, and it's gonna be on my permanent record!"

"THEN DON'T HANG AROUND WITH ME ANYMORE!"

"FINE! I WON'T!"

"Dude, you're slipping."

Freddie couldn't even lift a fraction of what he had done in the previous session. He had thought all the excess rage from his fight with Sam would help, but it only made his form sloppy. He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and with the world in general.

"Something wrong?"

They met in the hall. In the intersection between 8-C and 8-D. Brown-haired boy. Blonde-haired girl. He hadn't called. She hadn't knocked. They simply couldn't take it anymore at the same time, reached the same decision at the same time, and happened to meet at that exact spot. At the same time.

"I'm sorry," Sam exclaimed, as if someone had accused her of not having been.

"Me too!" Freddie responded, as if someone had been pressuring him to reply faster.

"I shouldn't have made you skip class. I just thought we could have some fun."

"No, I decided to skip class. You were right, it was my own choice."

"Can we just do something together? You and me?"

"Anything. I'll do anything with you tonight."

'I can't slow down,

I won't be waiting for you.

I can't stop now,

Because I'm dan-cin'!'

Up in the iCarly studio, Freddie and Sam were jittering and jiving. And grinning. The clock on Freddie's laptop read past one in the morning, but they didn't care. They had the music on full blast, and they way they saw it, they would keep on dancing until either someone complained, or they passed out.

Personally, Freddie hoped someone would complain. He didn't want to pass out. Because he didn't want to miss a minute of this. He had just had his worst fight ever with Sam. It made him so miserable. So terribly miserable. But they had worked it out. Now they were together again. It made him so happy. So terribly happy. How could he not be? Here he was, dancing opposite to the girl who had somehow, against all odds, probably become his best friend in the world. She was smart, she was funny, she was companionable, she was beautiful, she was sexy, she was...

Freddie stopped dancing.

"What's wrong?"

When Sam had said this, and looked at him, and he at her, the ache, that awful ache, returned. It now covered his entire body.

Oh no.

He could not stop staring at her.

Everything's perfect. Everything's too, perfect. Everything except for one tiny thing. One tiny, wonderful, but terrifying thing. Just what is it?

He could not stop talking about her.

That maybe, she's become more than just my friend. Maybe she's even become more than just a really good, maybe-best friend. Maybe, she's become a lot more.

He could not stop thinking about her.

It's happening. Oh dear God, I don't want it to happen. I never thought it would happen, but I think it actually is. I think I'm...I think I'm...

He could not stop...falling for her.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?"

Freddie's hands gripped the railing of the fire escape until his knuckles went white. The wind, which had been so gentle that one night while he showed Sam the enlarged moon, whipped at him with unrelenting fury. His hair flapped in it, brown tentacles weaving in the air like a madman's.

"I can't stop staring at her, I can't stop talking about her, I can't stop thinking about her. It's all happening too fast. It's all happening way too fast!"

Freddie stared up at the starlit sky. He felt so helpless. "I never wanted to fall for her. I swore I wouldn't. Why are you doing this to me?"

The Benson boy's hold on the railing intensified.

"It took nearly four years for me to get over Carly. And I barely made it out alive. I can't let myself fall for Sam. There's no way she'd like me back, and if getting over her would be any harder than Carly, which I know it would be, I don't think I could take it!"

Freddie stared spitefully at those white pinpricks.

"Why couldn't you have just taken your time? Why couldn't it have happened nice and slow? Little-by-little, so I could have gotten used to it?"

Ah, but it did happen little-by-little, Dark Freddie said. It happened so subtly, you didn't even see it until it was too late.

"That doesn't matter! It was still too fast!"

What do you think this is, the movies? You think everything happens in life all nice and neat? Well guess what Benson? Sometimes it happens fast. Sometimes it happens so fast you're not ready for it. It's not fair, but what did you expect? You were blasted in the heart by lightning! And you've got the wound to prove it.

"I'm NOT falling for her!" Freddie glared at the sky, never removing his eyes from it. "Did you hear that? You haven't won yet. I'm not falling for her. At least not yet. Not until I've had more time to get used to it. Not until I've had more time to recover from getting over Carly. Not until I know there's a chance that Sam will ever like me back."

Time's up. You're scared and you're making excuses. Your wound is approaching its limits. Now how do you think you're going to heal it?

"Just a little longer," Freddie moaned. He hung his head past his shoulders. "I just need more time, that's all I'm asking for."

Freddie would get his time. Six months of it. After that, his will, though not necessarily his fears, would be broken. It would fall. Just like that first column.

It would fall on the night of 'The Fever.' And it would only return, reforged and fully matured, on the night of that fateful, monster storm.

Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, it's characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.

AN: Okay. That was really long, and probably a little too fast. I admit it, hehe. But maybe a little realistic? I know I've fallen fast sometimes, even with someone I knew previously. Anyway, the next chapter will return to the previous pace. The next chapter will start sixth months from where this one ends, just so Freddie can calm down a bit. What is The Fever? Well next chapter will be sort of a build-up. And the one after that will be where things are going to happen. I think you guys will really like it. This story's long overdue for some serious Seddie!