Right. I decided to do an iCarly fic. It's kind of dark, though. Seddie. Um, enjoy? R&R!

She sighs, Running a hand through her tangled blonde curls. She's thinking how she got here, sitting on this old fire escape, crying her eyes out over a boy she swore she hates.

She's singing, her soft voice ringing through the air.

"I know I told you,

I hated you.

I know I made you,

Believe…

I know,

That I was wrong,

And I shouldn't have said,

That.

I would,

Just tell you,

How sorry I am,

But you've pushed me away,

And I can't blame you, now.

I'd take it,

Back,

Just so I could,

See you smile again.

I wish you here,

Your arms around me,

Telling me that,

It'll work out,

Someday.

But now,

I've crushed it,

Yeah.

I've done it again.

I don't expect you,

To forgive me.

I know,

You won't,

So it's okay…

I just want,

You to know,

That I love you,

And that I'd take back ,

Everything I said.

It's from the,

Bottom of my heart,

So take it,

Please, take me away from here…"

She's crying harder now, the last words she chokes on.

She knows her mascara is running down her face and she looks like a mess, and she knows he won't be there to fix her.

He won't help her piece her heart back together, holding her and telling her all she needs to hear. He won't rub those soothing circles on her back, or sing her a lullaby to stop her tears.

Not anymore.

She'd taken what they had and she'd broken it, like she knew she would. She knows she's a bitch. She knows she never deserved what she got.

Except this.

Oh, she deserved this.

She knows neither of her best friends will help her now, since she's made sure the other girl knows just how much she has, compared to her.

Oh, all the things she wishes she had, the other girl has thrown away, seeing them as small trinkets. All the pretty gold jewelry he'd gotten the other girl, she'd claimed to love, simply tossing it after.

She'd gone after the other girl, saving all of those necklaces and bracelets. She treasured them. She doubted he'd even realized. After all, she'd never told him, and as nice as he is, he himself is oblivious to the value and awe she hold for all the things they have.

They were both rich kids, unlike her. She scraped by, buying only what she needed. She stole only when she just couldn't afford it, but she always tried to pay the back, whether by a small favor or a seemingly random act of kindness.

It's not like her mother helped, she mused. No, her mother stole the little bit of money her daughter had, using it for drugs, sex, and beer. All that money she'd saved, collecting it when she found it dropped in random places, and doing odd jobs like mowing lawns, babysitting, or walking dogs.

Of course, she made it seem like she always had enough to her friends, pretending to enjoy the shopping and all the useless things the other girl bought. She wished she saw the world through their eyes, for it must be a beautiful place.

But she'd seen too much, knew to much, and done too much to claim the innocence that so clearly shone from the other two. She'd done things the others scorned, and she'd pretended to agree, simply to help their fantasy lives progress with out a little bump like knowing some people had no choice, and that she was one of them.

She hated this, what she became. It wasn't always this bad, bad for the past two years everything's gone downhill. And she'd kept it all locked away for them. They didn't need to know how hard life could be, when you've got no other choice and nothing to sell to get enough money for food to live other then your own body.

So she never told them. Never told them all the things she'd done and still does, just to survive. She acts like everything is fine, even when she wants nothing more then to curl up and just die sometimes.

But she can't.

She's Sam Puckett, That's why she can't.

She's the strong one, the unbreakable. Nothing can faze her, throw as many punches as you like. You both know she's going to be the last one left standing, every time.

She knows now she has to go home, that she can't sit up here and cry anymore. He isn't going to come to her, and she needn't wait for him. So she stands, wiping the sleeve of her hoodie across her smudged face, at she flinches when her fingers brush across.

Her face is sticky, the kind of sticky when you cry your eyes out and your makeup is all down you face and all you need is someone there holding you. It slightly puffy, since she'd been crying for hours and she'd fallen on her way up. Her knee and her scraped palm throb with the memory.

She brushes the pain away, telling her self it is nothing but a message, and her phone is off the hook. So she stumbles down the rusty steps, praying to a god she never believed in that he won't see her out his window as she passes by, or if, even worse, it's open and he's sitting on sill like he does when he's upset.

She reaches his floor, and holds in a gasp. Luck, it seemed, was not on her side.

He's there, alright, and he's watching her. His chocolate brown eyes don't waver from her blue ones as he eases himself out and onto the escape with her. She knows she's begun to tremble, and she hates herself for appearing as weak as she did in front of him.

She watches him through the grating as he climbs, meeting her on the landing between the eighth and ninth floors. Pain rips through her when she sees that he, too, had been crying, his eyes red and trails from the tears running down his smooth, pale cheeks.

She backs up to let him have more room, so he's not on the edge. He moves with her, cornering her up against the wall, hands lightly pressed on either side of her waist.

All this time, they never looked away from each other. Finally, she can't take his searching stare and she breaks her gaze, choosing instead to study the hand she had subconsciously place on his chest when he'd gotten her pinned.

Her nails were dull, any traces of polish chipped off a week ago, and the tips clipped short. The ring he'd given her in the fifth grade rests on her ring finger, the small silver band carved so delicately in the shape of two hands holding her birthstone, a sapphire.

He finally speaks, his voice cracking as if the effort was causing him pain.

"Why?"

It was a simple word, really. Just one little syllable, but it held so much meaning. She heard the anguish in his voice, having know him for as long as she could remember. Nobody would have guessed, but she'd known him much longer then she'd known the other girl. The other girl had moved here - Seattle - in the fourth grade, when they'd all been ten.

Now, seven years later, the trio were inseparable. At least, they were, until she'd smashed the fragile bonds that held them together. She had to. She couldn't let them see how she's wasting away in this rough world, not when they were so happy. They'd get over her betrayal and forget, but they'd never forget the knowledge of how hard life can be and how little you can do when you're only seventeen and you can't afford enough food for you and your mom.

She's pulled out of her thoughts as his warm breath fans over her blushing face, the smell of mint making her nose tingles. He'd sighed when she hadn't answered. She gathered all her courage, raising her eyes to his. She blinks as her bangs slip over her eyes, and she's once again bathed in mint as he automatically blows them away.

She hopes he can't see how broken she is now. How in the past month she'd finally seen that no matter how hard she tried she was never going to make it. She was going to drop out, get a job, and support her mother as best she could. When her mother passed, she planned to simply take her own life. Why would she need it? She had nothing to live for.

Yes, she had a sister, but they were as alike as orange juice and toothpaste and got along just as well. Hell, her sister might just be glad to see her gone, so she wouldn't have her as a blemish on her pristine reputation as her boarding school's golden scholar.

He shifts, again jolting her from her thoughts. His arms are closer, and one wraps around her waist to hold her in place while the other cups her cheek and wipes the tears that still seem to be flowing away.

"I know, I know you don't mean a word of what you said, so don't try to defend yourself. I've known you for way too long, Princess, to not know when you're lying through your teeth and acting like it doesn't kill you like it does me. So please, just listen.

"I know you think you've been protecting us from the shit you go through on a daily basis, and, in a way, you are. You're taking all the pain and keeping it from hitting someone else. I can see that though, and I know what you've tried to do. You've protected Carly, but not me. I know you think I'm a sheltered, spoiled rich kid with a PearPhone and a PearPod and all the newest technology, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the world.

"Princess, you're wrong. I know what's going on, I won't try to deny I haven't done much to help it, but I know it's there."

Here he pauses, and she's stunned. She'd been wrong about him, and she didn't know why this still surprised her. He always finds a way to prove her wrong, whatever she thinks about him. If she thinks he's mean, he'll turn around with a random act of kindness for a complete stranger. Selfish? He'd given away all his old tech stuff to a homeless shelter and volunteered there, teaching them how to use it and create a web show to promote the shelter.

She opens her mouth to reply, but it's blocked when he rests his thumb over her lips.

"Sam." He sighs her name, and she fights the urge to throw her arm around his neck and kiss the life out of him. She'd tell him she'd loved him for as long as she can remember, but frankly, the thought scared her. It scared her shitless.

"I'm not an idiot. I know you don't want to do this to me, or too yourself. I'm sure you've probably convinced yourself it's all for the better, or something like that. I don't think you realize how much we need you, hell, I need you. You're my best fried, and there isn't anyone else I'm closer too. Not even Carly. If you leave, you're taking a rather large chunk of me with you.

"I need to know why you think you need to leave though. Why now? What's changed in the last month? As far as I know, Sam, nothing. So don't leave because you think you need to protect me, because I'm a big boy now. I can handle it. There isn't anything you could do that would make me even start to dislike you either, so don't think it's that. So, please, explain." He finished.

She looked down at her other hand, mildly surprised to see it'd found it's way to his stomach. She can feel the muscles he'd somehow acquired in their sophomore year, when he'd inexplicably started to work out a lot and get much stronger. She could feel the ridges through the thin fabric of his penny tee. This one read Peanut Tea, which made no sense to anyone other then him and herself.

He'd made it after she'd drunkenly thrown peanuts at him and managed to knock the entire bowl into his iced tea when she laughed so hard she collapsed. He'd told her he made it to remember how genuinely happy she'd sounded when she laughed that night, and that should have told her he'd known all along. But she still didn't know how much he knew now.

Did he know all the things she'd done? Or just what she'd gone through?

His hand slid down to her collar bone, playing with the charm on her necklace and jolting her, yet again, out of her thoughts. It's a simple silver chain, and she'd put the key to her house and the key to her room (she never trusted her mother) on it, along with the original pendent, a small rhinestone cleft note. She'd had it for a while, so most of the stones had fallen out.

She looked up at him again, and he gave her a broken smile. "Please," He murmured softy. "Don't do this. Tell me what happened." He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against her own.

She closed her eyes, gathering her resolve together. She opened them, finally realizing he'll never let her go without an explanation. This makes her angry, though. Who does he think he is? Preventing her from leaving! Bullshit!

She darkens her gaze to a glare, and he frowns. "Freddie, I don't know what you think you know about me, but it's clearly wrong. I'm fine. I'm leaving because I can. Don't you get it? I'm not a good person to get attached to. I've told you this, remember? Number one rule of Sam. Never expect me to be permanent or anything, I could leave at any moment. I'm just…bored, I guess." She says defiantly, and she has the feeling he knows she's lying through her teeth.

It's confirmed when he tenses, then his arms slip away and he backs up. She can tell he's pissed by the set of his shoulders, and how his mouth is a thin pink line, and he's avoiding her eyes, trying to control it. She feels terrible, she hates making him angry. She knows his temper can be as bad as her own, and that's no small feat. His fists are clenched, and she's mortified to hear a sob escape from her own mouth.

She's done crying, or she told herself she was. Her eyes are closed, and she misses how at that small whimper, a sound he's never heard in all his years of knowing her, all his anger dissolves, and it's replaced by a deep sorrow.

After all, he knows how strong she is. He knows it takes everything crashing down around her for even a single tear to escape, and here she is, bawling her eyes out. SO he closes the distance between them again, wrapping his arms around her.

She finally submits, throwing away her pride as she lets lose and cries into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt in the fists she's made on his chest. He holds her tighter, shocked at her display of emotion. It's at that moment he sees she's more broken then he'd ever thought.

What had happened to her?