Summary: A segment on iCarly involving baseballs takes a tragic turn; Sam is blinded. Now, there's only one person who can get through to her. Seddie. Requested by Boris Yeltsin.

A/N: Wow, I'm really spitting our stories here!

iCan't

"How is she?!" Freddie asked in a panic, as he entered the Puckett household. His face was etched with worry. He still couldn't believe it. Out of all people, Sam gets hit in the head with a baseball? I mean, I know she can be a bit hostile at times, but deep down, she's a good person, and totally doesn't deserve this. "Did the doctor get any results yet?"

In the hallway stood Carly Shay and Sam's mother. They both looked completely frazzled and at loss of what to do.

"I don't know." Carly answered, sounding worried. "I actually don't know, Freddie."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Freddie asked, frustrated. "You're her best friend. I'm sure from talking to her you'd be able to tell –"

"That's just it!" Carly exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "She won't talk to me. She won't talk to anyone! She answered the phone when the doctor called, he told her probably all this doctor-y stuff, she hung up, and now she won't talk to us!"

"No way." Freddie shook his head. It must've been worse than he originally anticipated. "Hey, why don't I try?"

"Are you kidding? She'd eat you alive!" Carly stated.

"At this point, we've really got nothing left to try." Mrs. Puckett finally spoke up, in a quiet, fearful voice. "Go ahead, Freddie." He nodded, not quite sure what exactly his plan was to talk to Sam, but knowing he had to try something.

He walked up the stairway, and turned directly right. He'd been to the Puckett's home once or twice, and remembered where it'd been.

The door had the words "Keep Out" written, almost incoherently, in Sharpie. That's weird…I'm sure Sam's handwriting was neater than that…

He knocked twice on her door. "Sam?"

Nothing.

"Sam? Hello? Are you in there?" Still nothing. He thought a moment, and smirked. "Alright then…guess I'll just….you know, walk away…and go eat these pork chops myself…"

"Slide them under the door." Mumbled Sam's voice, from the other side of the door. "Then go away."

"I don't think they'll fit." Freddie lied. He had no pork chops. "I think you'll have to open the door. Then I'll leave."

"I can't."

"Well, try then."

Freddie heard a few bumps, footsteps, and clatters, but soon enough Sam emerged at the door, wearing sunglasses. She sniffed the air.

"I don't smell pork chops." She said, angrily. "Go away, Freddie." Freddie jumped through just before the door came to a close.

"Ugh, stupid people." Sam complained. "I don't get what the big deal is about me having some alone time. And what's Freddie doing here anyway…?"

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "Who are you talking to?"

Sam let out a yelp and turned around. "Freddie, how did you get in here?!"

"Didn't you see me come in?" he asked. Was Sam going crazy? Was that it?

"Oh, I wish." She muttered under her breath. "I didn't. And if you know what's good for you, you'll leave by the time I count to ten."

Though Sam kind of scared Freddie, he knew he had to stay…even if it meant possible injury. "Look, Sam…"

"Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…" Freddie scanned his brain, trying to think of anything he'd learned about injuries to the head…mental retardation…head trauma…blindness…comas…Wait, blindness. A sinking feeling hit Freddie's stomach. Okay, Sunglasses… not seeing me come in…is Sam…? "Five…four...three…you're dead meat…one…" Sam didn't turn around and leap at him. She didn't move at all. Freddie was frozen and silenced in shock. No way… "Yes…he's gone…"

"Actually, Sam…I-I'm still here." Freddie said and gulped. Sam gave a frustrated scream and sat, missing her couch, and then let out a louder scream.

"Just leave, you little dork!" she screamed. "You're making it worse."

"Do you need help?" Freddie asked dumbly. "Um, let me help you up…"

"No, I can do it myself, thanks!" she scowled, hoisting herself up and feeling for the couch. Finally she was sitting down, and let out a sigh of frustration. "Look, Freddo, I'm really tired and not myself right now, so if you could just –"

"No, I'm here to know what happened, and I'm not leaving 'til I do." Freddie sat down. Sam was right about one thing – she really wasn't acting like herself. "Sam, did the baseball blind you?"

"Maybe, what's it to ya?" Sam answered, too quickly. Freddie waited, and Sam sighed. "Fine, fine. You happy? I'm sentenced to a world of darkness for the rest of my life."

Freddie honestly didn't know what to say, or feel, for that matter.

Part of him wanted to rip Gibby to shreds for missing the base and hitting Sam instead.

Part of him hated himself for letting anything happen to his friend. You know how people sometimes wish others' pain upon themselves, in order to take away the pain from that other person? Well, that was what Freddie felt like doing. And he didn't even care that, just a few seconds ago, she'd called him a dork. None of that mattered.

What was he to do? He didn't know any blind people. He didn't know how to help.

Not even the most advanced technology he could find would bring color back to her eyes. He suddenly realized her reasoning for wearing sunglasses and frowned, a little shaky. It really just wasn't fair.

"Freddie? Are you still there?"

Remembering that she couldn't tell, he replied, "Yeah. I'm s –"

"I don't want your pity." Sam answered.

"Okay, good, because I don't pity you." Freddie answered honestly. "I just want to help. So does Carly, and your mom, and everyone else. We're friends, aren't we?"

"More like frenemies," she smirked. He smiled. Sam and smirks mixed. He was starting to see the old Sam again. Suddenly, she frowned again, and Freddie echoed. "Well, I'm pretty sure that once I step out of this room, my life's gonna change a lot. And it's gonna suck. Think about it. How am I going to do iCarly?"

"We'll find a way." Freddie reassured. "There's no way we'd be able to do it without you."

"And how am I gonna walk and read and write and play sports and give wedgies and –" She lost the strength to continue and collapsed onto Freddie's shoulder. He tensed up but then relaxed. She probably just thinks I'm part of the couch. He decided it'd be best not to correct her; that wouldn't exactly help things out.

"Sam, giving wedgies isn't what makes you who you are." Freddie explained with a slight laugh. "It's what you say, and how you say it, and what you think, and how you handle it." He paused for a moment. "What you feel, and how you react to it."

"Yeah, but –"

"Lack of one sense isn't going to change who you are." Freddie continued, and smiled. "You're still gonna be the same obnoxious girl you were yesterday."

"Me? Obnoxious?" Sam gasped, lifting her head off of Freddie. "Where'd ya get that idea?" She punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he rubbed the spot where she hit. "You've got good aim for someone who can't see their target."

"I've done that so many times, I don't even need to see." She laughed. He couldn't believe how happy he was making her. It was crazy.

"Hey, there's that smile I love!" he pointed out, and then stopped, realizing what he had said, his face becoming flushed.

"Wait, what?"

"I, I – Nothing." He stammered.

"Alright, whatever you say…" she smirked.

"So," Freddie regained his composure. "You've got a spastic best friend and a frozen mother worried sick about you downstairs. Do you think you're ready?"

He watched as Sam thought about it. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get it over with. Mind helping me? I'm not in the mood to crash into anything else." She put out her hand, and he took it.

"Yeah, of course." He slowly but surely guided her out of her bedroom, and down the stairs.

"Sam!" Carly and Sam's mom exclaimed in unison. They both started talking at once until Sam silenced them, and the whole thing was explained.

"Aw, Sam!" Carly pulled her into a hug. "I know it must be so hard, but I'll be here for you for always, okay?"

"I know." She smiled, returning the hug.

Sam's mother was crying, and ran to her daughter after Carly was done. "I can't believe I let this happen to you" she wailed. "I'm a failure as a mother. I'm so sorry, Sam!"

"No, no you're not." Sam reassured. "Really…I'm actually beginning to accept it. Kind of."

"Alright, well, I'm sure you need your rest, before we figure out how exactly this is going to work." Sam's mom sniffed, wiping her tears. "I apologize for crying. Sam, Freddie, I think you should go home for today. You'll see Sam soon."

"Okay, I understand." Carly nodded, and she hugged Sam. "Bye, my misbehaved best friend. Be strong, I know you can."

"Thanks, Carls." Sam thanked her friend of eight years. Freddie approached Sam tentatively.

"Bye Sam, I'll see you soon." Freddie smiled.

"Even though I can't see you soon," Sam replied. "I guess that's acceptable." She hugged him, and whispered into his ear, "By the way…I knew I was leaning on you and not the couch, you geek."

She turned away from him, and her mom grabbed her shoulders and began guiding her up the stairs.

Freddie watched them disappear up to the second floor, feeling dumbfounded, happy, and sad all at the same time.

A/N: Yeah, it's a bit short, but I hope it was liked.

How'd I do, Boris? I hope this was what you were thinking you wanted to happen.

What did everyone think? Review please!!

-Colors