Summary: When Mrs. Benson starts behaving strangely (even for her), Freddie is determined to get to the bottom of it and goes in search of his father. With Carly's help, he faces his father, but what does the man want after all these years? Will Freddie reconcile with his father? Will Freddie and Carly find love along the way?

I don't own iCarly.

iFind My Father

Prologue

Freddie's POV

I'm shivering as the cold wind cuts through me like a knife. It's unseasonably warm for February in Seattle, but it's still too cold to be standing outside in the rain. My heavy black wool coat is brand new, and it's top of the line, but it still can't keep out the cold. I'm not sure if I'm freezing because of the weather or because of the ice in my heart. It's probably a combination of the two.

The rain is soaking through my hair. I feel it running in rivulets over my scalp. I can see the droplets falling from the ends of my hair as it hangs in my eyes. I could sweep the soggy locks off my forehead, but right now I like being able to hide.

I look down at my feet. I have sunk so deep into the mud that it is starting to cover the tops of my shoes. The hem of my pants is caked with mud as well. My mother would be hysterical to see how I've ruined these brand new expensive items if she were here, but she's not. She won't have to worry about cleaning or replacing my clothing this time. She'll never even know.

Why am I standing here ankle deep in mud letting the wind and rain ravage me? I'm here to say goodbye to the woman who has loved me and stood by me my whole life. Tears blur my vision as I gaze into the open grave. I see the gray casket lid dully reflecting the cloudy sky, and I turn my eyes up toward the heavens. Is she up there looking down on me? Does she know how much I loved her and how I will miss her? I wish I had told her more often how much I appreciated her—how much she meant to me. Now I'll never get the chance.

The rain falls like tears from the sky. I guess the angels are crying with me. Their tears hit my face and mingle with my own, but mine leave scalding trails of anger and regret. I see sadness in the faces of the mourners surrounding me, but their pain can be nothing compared to mine. They didn't know her or love her like I did. She wasn't their world. She was mine. She was my world, and I was hers. Now she's gone, and I'm alone. At the ripe old age of twenty-two, I'm completely alone in the world.

"Ashes to ashes," I hear the priest say in a practiced tone, "dust to dust." A shadow passes over me. I glance up to see a swatch of black vinyl over my head. I turn to look at the person standing beside me. Sympathy is etched on her lovely features. I see the remnants of tears on her own cheeks. Her tiny hand finds mine and squeezes gently as she steps a little closer to me and holds the umbrella over us both. I find a small measure of comfort in her support.

As the priest utters the last few words of his speech, I toss the white roses I've been holding into the grave. I reach down and pick up a handful of dirt and release it over her coffin. I look at the polished granite tombstone and wish I could have come up with something better. She deserves so much more than the few words I had carved into the stone.

"Here lies Marisa Benson. The best mother a son could ever have."

The soft hand in mine gives another squeeze. "Let's get you home," she says softly as she turns me toward the line of cars. I glance back over my shoulder to say one final goodbye to my mother as I follow Carly to the waiting limo.

"I'm going to find the man responsible for this," I vow to myself, "and I'm going to make him pay."