Need To Know: This is the sequel to There For You and All Around Me, both of which are Flyleaf songs. This is based on the song "Sorrow" by Flyleaf and is told in Freddie's POV. The first poem mentioned and read is a slightly self-modified version of the acoustic version of "All Around Me" by Flyleaf, and the second poem mentioned and read is the song "My Immortal" by Evanescence. Paragraphs in italics are lyrics.
(I know this is really long, but it's not as long as All Around Me, and if you liked There For You and All Around Me, then I think you'll like this. Again, I worked very hard on it and it took me a lot of time and thought just to finish. I made it so that I think it'd be worth your time to read.)
Disclaimer: iCarly and all affiliations are property of Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon. The lyrics and song "Sorrow" are property of Flyleaf. The lyrics and song "All Around Me (acoustic)" are property of Flyleaf. The lyrics and song "My Immortal" are property of Evanescence.

Sorrow

Sometimes life seems too quiet
Into paralyzing silence
Like the moonless dark
Meant to make me strong

17 days… 48 days… 74 days… 96 days… 139 days… 9 months and 11 days… 1 year and 2 days… 1 year, 3 months, a week, and 3 days.

And it was the 25th again. And Carly wasn't leaving her room or her inhaler. And Spencer was sculpting something in his room, refusing to answer the door or the phone.

And that picture was so wrinkled from folding and unfolding it that it was about to fall apart in my fingertips.

I sighed as I stared at the door in front of me, then the doorknob. I raised my hand up a few times, readying to knock or even force my way in. Yet every time, my hand fell back down to my side and that familiar tough-girl voice in my head echoed, "Wimp."

It haunted me. Every time I did something that reminded me of her or I backed down from something, I could hear her voice in my head, taunting me or teasing me or calling me one of her nicknames… Or even telling me 'thanks'.

Carly hardly ever talked anymore. She'd become a zombie, or a ghost, or someone completely transparent. She only spoke when spoken to, and she was barely passing in school. She was at risk for failing first semester of junior year already. She missed school a lot, and she hadn't been seen outside of her apartment on the 25th of any month since… The Accident.

She never asked me to come over anymore. She never even glanced at me when we passed each other in the building or in school. We had an entire class together and not once during that class had she ever said a word to me. It was like she wasn't even there most days. I didn't think she'd visited the iCarly website in over 6 months. I left her a gift in front of her door on her birthday, but all I got was a card in front of my own door that said, "Thank you."

For the past three and a half months, I'd been willing myself and willing myself, my own nagging thoughts eating away at the back of my brain, to just knock on the door. I wasn't sure why I was bothering now. Of all days, I couldn't expect to get any response on that day. Yet it was killing me. Every other day for the past three and a half months, I'd been coming to that door and daring myself to knock on it. And every other day, my hand had been raised and then somehow pulled back for fear of the response I would or wouldn't get.

And every time I wimped out, something different but all too familiar echoed in my head… "Freddifer."

"Wimp."

"Nub."

"Freddork."

"AV nerd."

"Fudgeface."

I shook the voice away every time I heard it, trying to rid myself of the memories. But that was impossible. The whole world around me had practically gone silent, yet I was going deaf.

I'd lay there at night, and sometimes I'd sneak out of my room when I couldn't sleep and I'd sit in the hallway next to their door. I would rest my head against the wall and I could hear the fans going inside, or the heater, or Spencer's snoring or his sleep talking. A few times, I even heard him worriedly mumbling, "Carly… No, Carly, please stay with me… Don't do this to me…"

I could only imagine he was probably having nightmares about… that day.

And a few times, I could hear her moving around – shuffling around in the kitchen, cooking something, baking something, or going through a photo album, or even just sitting on the couch and watching reruns of Girly Cow, laughing softly to herself. I smiled to myself when I heard her laugh. It killed me that she never laughed in public anymore. No matter what anyone did around her, she just wouldn't even smile. Not even Gibby could make her smile.

She carried her inhaler around all the time. I always saw it in her hand, or being pulled out of her purse, or an obvious bulge in her pocket. The teachers at school tried to go easy on her for the rest of freshman year and the first half of sophomore, but after that, they got kind of tired of how she refused to participate and the way she nervously fidgeted with her inhaler whenever she was being spoken to. She was a wreck, unable to be fixed and too visibly damaged. She was sloppily put together, like an old car on its last wheel – shaky and wobbly and about to break down in the middle of the road.

She wasn't Carly Shay anymore. Without Sam, she was someone completely different.

Familiar breath of my old lies
Changed the color in my eyes
Soon he will perforate the fabric of the peaceful by and by

I remained standing in front of that door for… I don't know how long. My legs were starting to get tired from standing in one spot for too long, and my heartbeat had dulled back to normal. I turned to go back to my apartment when there was a click on the other side of the door to 8-C. I spun around in time to see it open and reveal a pale Carly Shay, clad in her pajamas and wrapped in a pink, flowery, fleece blanket. Her hair was a mess, but she smiled weakly at me. The apartment was dark behind her and the only light was the steady flicker from the TV in front of the couch, which was turned down to a low volume. I couldn't help but remember all the times the three of us had spent on that couch whenever I saw it.

"Hey," she greeted softly, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't used it in days… which she probably hadn't, actually.

I gaped at her, my mouth open but no words coming out. It was such a shock to see her that I didn't even know what to do. And I hadn't even knocked on the door – she must've heard me hesitating.

"H-hey," I greeted back nervously, blinking. I finally gave her a crooked smile.

"What're you doing out here?" she asked curiously.

I noticed she was fidgeting with that damned inhaler. One hand was holding the blanket corners together in front of her to keep it wrapped around her shoulders, and the other was gripping the inhaler, turning it over and rolling it around between her fingers.

"I, uh…" I tried to come up with a viable excuse, but there was none. Besides, how could I lie to Carly? "I was gonna knock on your door… just to talk to you… but I guess I never got around to it. I couldn't sleep."

She nodded in understanding, then stepped aside. "Come in."

I nodded and obliged and stepped into the apartment, turning around to see her shut the door and lock it again. I wasn't sure if I should sit down or what, so I remained standing, watching her slow and careful movements. That was another way she'd changed: she did nothing in a rush or without ease anymore. Every single movement she made was in her own time, at her own pace, and very carefully, as if she were afraid if she moved too fast she'd miss something or fall off the earth completely.

She turned around and stared at me with those penetrating brown eyes, not bothering to force a smile for me. "You want something to drink?"

It was a little awkward, no doubt, to be standing there in the dark with her, in our pajamas, and be treated like a guest, but I tried to act normal. "Uh, yeah, sure."

She walked past me and into the kitchen, going straight to the fridge. While she got out some juice and poured it into two glasses, I stood behind the couch awkwardly. She must've noticed, because she told me from the kitchen, "You can sit down, y'know…'

I quickly nodded and walked around to the other side of the couch, taking a seat on the far end. It was still warm from where she'd been lying on it. There was a Girly Cow rerun on the TV – one I'd seen a good five or six times.

Carly came back to the couch with two glasses of juice in her hand and handed me one. I took it and took a grateful drink, my mouth dry from being so nervous around her. I hated that… being so nervous around Carly. She had become one of my best friends – well, one of two best friends – and there I was, unable to find anything to say to her, barely able to knock on her door, my palms sweaty and my heart racing. What had become of us?

"So you couldn't sleep?" she suddenly asked, setting her glass down on the coffee table after taking a couple of drinks from it and relaxing back into the couch, gripping her inhaler in one hand and pulling the blanket tighter around herself with the other.

I nodded. "Yeah… You couldn't either?"

I tried to avoid the subject of how I was standing outside her door like a creep for God knows how long.

She shrugged. "I never get to bed before two or three anymore. It's just… a habit, I guess. Spencer goes to bed really early now, so I kinda just hang out down here and watch TV or whatever."

I bit my lip and leaned forward, setting my glass down beside hers before leaning back into the couch as well and trying to relax. I didn't say anything else and instead focused my eyes on the TV, trying to lose myself in the storyline of the cartoon.

Sorrow lasts through this night
I'll take this piece of you
And hope for all eternity
For just one second, I felt whole
As you flew right through me

We sat on the couch like that for a while. I'm not positive how long exactly, except that we watched about four different Girly Cow episodes, so it had to have been at least two hours. I dozed off a couple of times, and the last time I did, I woke up to find some infomercial about an "amazing towel" on the TV and something warm in my lap. I blinked a few times and squinted through the darkness to see a familiar head of dark hair resting in my lap. The pink fleece blanket was connected to it, and Carly's feet were sticking out at the other end of the couch. She was curled up beside me, her head in my lap and her chest steadily rising and falling as she breathed. She was sound asleep, her hands curled together in front of her chest.

I smiled to myself, loving how peaceful she looked. I softly brushed away some of her hair to be able to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted just slightly, but she looked the most peaceful I'd seen her in over a year.

I quickly noticed the inhaler she still had gripped in her palm, her grip loosened, though, from being asleep. I carefully used both of my hands to open her hand and pull the inhaler away, setting it down on the end table next to my end of the couch. I then opened her palm up and stroked it softly with my thumb, able to see the indentions and red marks left on her skin from where she'd gripped the inhaler so nervously for so long. I wondered if she used the inhaler as almost a safety blanket, taking it everywhere she went and even sleeping with it.

I sat there and watched her sleep, stroking her hand in mine methodically. It soothed me more than it probably did her. I'd missed her so much… just the warmth of her body resting against mine put me at ease.

I watched her pale face under the dim glow of the TV. I could see her eyes darting back and forth beneath her eyelids. I guessed she was probably having some sort of dream. Her lips parted and she started mouthing things, though I wasn't sure what they were. I just kept watching her, fascinated by how beautiful I still found her. My childhood crush had never died down or faded away; it had only blossomed into what I could only describe as love. Seeing how strong she was, and then that kiss we shared… it would never leave my mind.

She suddenly rolled over and rested on her back, her head still in my lap. The blanket shifted to uncover most of the front of her torso – her blue pajama shirt and matching flannel pants – and I noticed how skinny she'd gotten. Now that I thought about it, I realized I hardly ever saw her eating anything. She never went to lunch at school, and only once in the entire school year had I seen her even munching on a granola bar in the hall. She was always drinking water and nothing else. Along with her inhaler in her hand, she usually had a water bottle sticking out of the top of her purse.

I glanced at her sleeping face again, making sure she was asleep, before lifting my hand from hers and slowly moving it down to her stomach. I took the bottom of her T-shirt between the tips of my index finger and thumb and gently slid it up, letting it brush against her soft skin as it rose. When I stopped, her ribs and tummy were revealed, and I noticed a huge change from the last time I'd seen that part of her – the summer before last, the one before Sam died, when Carly had last gone swimming. Instead of looking healthy and glowing, her skin was pale and her stomach was nearly bare. Her ribs stuck out unusually far, and she almost looked sickly. I grimaced, wishing there was something I could do to bring her back to being the Carly I knew.

But no one could bring Sam back.

I grazed my fingertips along the brunette's soft skin, taking in the feel of it. I felt her shiver underneath my touch just slightly, and goose bumps formed under my touch. She moved her head more and slowly opened her eyes. I stopped the movement in my hand and instead rested it on her warm stomach.

"Sam…"

It was soft, almost nothing more than a breath, but I could hear it in the quiet living room, the dark surrounding and engulfing us. It was a cry, almost pleading, for something long gone. No doubt she'd just dreamt about Sam.

"No, Carls… it's just me," I whispered back, bringing my other hand up and gently brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes.

She softly smiled, closing her eyes in relaxation and continuing to whisper just audibly. "Oh… you're still here."

I nodded. "Yeah. I wasn't gonna leave you here alone."

"I'm not alone… I'm never alone," she whispered back matter-of-factly.

I furrowed my brow at this point, a little confused. Was she sleep-talking? "Whadd'you mean?"

She opened her eyes wider and looked up at me, seeing me upside-down because of the position of her head on my lap. "Sam's always with me… and you. She visits me every night in my dreams."

I was silent, unsure of what I could possibly say in response to that.

"Doesn't she visit you?"

I slowly shook my head, still not positive if this was a real conversation we were having. I hadn't seen Carly talk about her so calmly since The Accident. Any time Sam had been mentioned at school, all I'd seen of Carly was a blur as she ran off to the bathroom or to leave school entirely. Yet there she was, explaining to me how she still regularly saw her deceased best friend every night in her dreams.

"N-no," I managed to reply in an almost silent whisper. "I… no."

"Oh," she said, resting her lips again and slowly closing her eyes. She breathed in through her nose deeply, her stomach rising beneath my hand.

I wondered to myself if I should mention the voices I heard in my head… or rather, the one voice. Maybe it wasn't a sign that Sam was visiting me or watching over me or anything, but it was surely a sign that she'd had a lasting effect on me.

A few moments passed by in awkward silence as Carly continued to rest her head in my lap, her breathing steady and her stomach rising and falling underneath my hand.

"Maybe… I should go now," I whispered, causing her to open her eyes and look up at me tiredly.

She only nodded, slowly sitting up and rubbing her neck from where it had been oddly positioned. She turned around and curled her legs up underneath her, facing me. I sat still for a minute, biting my lip, then moved my hands to balance myself as I got up off the couch.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed her arm reach out, as if to grab me and pull me back. But just as quickly as it had reached out, she retracted it. I turned around, standing, and waited for her to say something or to ask me to stay – I prayed for her to ask me to stay, because the last thing I wanted now was to go home and sleep alone in my bed, worrying about her – but she only stared up at me with tired eyes.

"I guess I'll see you later," she mumbled.

I shrugged a little and gave a weak nod, then turned around and slowly walked toward the door. I'd had something on my mind for a while, though, and had been debating speaking up. My mind raced, arguing with itself as I took each step across the wood floor to the door. I finally made a decision and stopped, turning around again. My hands were at my side, nervously fidgeting with my pajama pants, and I met Carly's curious eyes watching me.

"Uh, Carly…"

She raised her eyebrows, signaling for me to go on.

"I… I'm sorry about… that night. I feel like I was taking advantage of you when you were weak, and… that was wrong of me. So, I'm sorry. Really."

There. I'd said it. It had taken over a year, but I'd finally said it.

Her face was blank as she stared at me. I think she was more surprised than anything. However, I quickly noticed the tears building up in the bottom of her eyes. She blinked rapidly a few times, trying to get rid of them, and swallowed hard before answering, "It's… okay. I understand."

I nodded nervously, feeling extremely awkward, but took advantage of the small bit of courage I had built up and added, "If you ever need anything, though… I'm always here. I'll always be right over there, in my apartment, and you have my number. I swear, I won't try to be anything but a friend to you."

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down now as if trying to force back tears. She didn't say anything, so I took it as my cue to leave. I quickly and quietly opened the door, then closed it behind me until it clicked shut.

I slept a little better that night knowing I'd finally gotten out the apology I'd been owing her. But it still didn't rest my worries about her and her unhealthy state.

Left alone with only reflections of the memory
To face the ugly girl that's smothering me
Sitting closer than my pain
He knew each tear before it came
Soon he will perforate the fabric of the peaceful by and by

It was about a week later that we were in English class together again. Nothing had changed, really. Now and then Carly would actually smile weakly at me if our eyes met in the hallway or in class, but other than that, she was still as silent and drifting as ever. It wasn't like I expected everything to change and go back to normal overnight just because we'd finally talked to each other or anything. I was just hoping to gain some progress, to dig past the rough exterior that was built over the Carly Shay I knew.

I guessed that those small smiles were as much progress as I was going to get.

On this day, the week after Carly and I finally talked again, our English teacher gave us a new assignment: to write a poem. But not just any poem… an ode. As part of the eleventh grade English curriculum, we'd been writing different kinds of poems all year. Most of them had been short, or descriptive, or silly, or all three. However, this was different. Odes were serious.

The teacher told us that we could make them silly, but in the past, she'd had students stand in front of the class when it came time to read their odes and burst into tears before they'd finished. She said odes tended to bring out the most emotions in people. She said it was touching who kids wrote odes to, and what they wrote them about.

She told us she wanted us to express ourselves and our deepest, most heartfelt emotions. She said if we were afraid of crying in front of the class, then that was fine. But reading our thoughts and feelings aloud was also a healing process, and could sometimes be better for people than anything else.

She then informed us about the basics of how an ode is written, and that we had a week to make our decision – serious, silly, or in between – and write our odes. Either way, it was not an option whether we read them aloud or not. We had to stand in front of the class and read our odes.

During the entire speech coming from the teacher, I was growing more and more nervous. Not for myself, though. I was nervous for Carly. I kept glancing at her to see an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes on the teacher as she listened to the instructions and paid attention. How hard would this be for her? It was her chance to tell the whole class, including me, how she really and truly felt… if she wanted to. Either way, she'd have to do her first public speaking in front of her classmates since The Accident. Would she break down? Would she have an asthma attack? Or would she skip school completely and avoid the whole thing, make up some excuse to get out of it like she had been doing for the past year?

We were given the rest of the class time to start on our odes. I watched Carly from where I sat, an empty piece of notebook paper on my desk in front of me and my pen in my hand. She sat at her desk, alone across the room, and listened to her PearPod. I could tell she wasn't working, merely doodling on the paper in front of her. Another option occurred: would she skip out on the whole project altogether and pretend it didn't even exist?

I only watched her for a few minutes before sighing silently and returning to my paper, forcing myself to start on my poem. I was doing a completely meaningless one to trees, because English had never been my strong subject. I wasn't into expressing myself through words and rhymes. It just wasn't me. Besides, I still didn't know how I actually felt inside about everything. There were puzzle pieces scattered all around inside of myself, but I didn't have the courage to put any of them together. So I pushed it out of my head and distracted myself, just like I'd been doing for the past year.

That night, I lay in bed, having a restless sleep. It had taken me longer than usual to get to sleep, especially considering how tired I was, and I kept thinking about Carly and English class and the odes. I kept getting the urge to tell my side of the story, to write an ode and tell the class, and my best friend, how The Accident had affected not only myself, but the one person I cared about most; how it had ripped our worlds apart; how it was slowly eating the girl I loved alive, inside and out. I wanted to show everyone else that there was so much more behind the façade she put up everyday, and that it felt like I was the only one who could see it, who could stop it.

Most of all, I wanted Carly to know that I felt like a one-man army in my battle to save my best friend.

I was awoken by a distant sound. I sat up in bed to find the top of my pajama shirt damp and my forehead covered in perspiration. Then I heard the sound that had woken me up in the first place.

I had to strain my ears to really hear it, but it was there. Our apartment was dead silent at that time of night, so any little noise like that could wake me up if I wasn't sleeping very well. And heaven knew nearly any sound would alert my mother to wake up and check on me. But this was a sound that I knew even my mom couldn't hear. It was muffled, but it was something I would be able to hear from a mile away, just because I knew what it was.

I quickly got out of bed, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead as I left my bedroom. I tip-toed to the door and peeked out the peephole to see the mostly dark hallway, only dimly light by a few lights on the walls. The sound was louder now, and clearer, so I knew that was where it was coming from. I inspected every bit of the hallway that I could from the small peephole. Finally, I spotted her.

I had to move to my left more and look out the peephole at an odd angle, but I strained to see what I knew to be the form of Carly, sitting against the wall next to my apartment door in the hallway. She was crying, her knees brought up to her chest, hugging herself. I could tell she was trying to keep her sobs silent, but I could always hear when she was crying. For the first few months after The Accident, if I listened carefully, I could make out her sobs from her living room across the hall. Nearly every night for almost six months…

I bit my lip and silently took the door handle in my hand, but froze. I wanted to comfort her, but what would I say? What would I do? Why was she sitting outside of my apartment door, sobbing, if she didn't want my help? Why didn't she just knock, or text me, or even call me?

There were too many questions, and too many viable answers. I fought with myself for a few minutes, and eventually decided that I would open the door and try to comfort her. But just as I was about to, she stopped sobbing and stood up. I remained frozen, watching her. She glanced up at my door with red, puffy eyes, wiping at her nose. She then stood up and dragged herself back to her own apartment, opening the door and disappearing inside.

And my chance was out the window.

I didn't sleep a single minute for the rest of that night.

Sorrow lasts through this night
I'll take this piece of you
And hope for all eternity
For just one second, I felt whole
As you flew right through me

A week passed with more restless sleep on my part, but no more sobbing on Carly's part. She managed to show up to school every day, though, which was an improvement, because I couldn't remember seeing her in school for more than three days straight in a long time.

The day that we were expected to read our odes aloud in class was inching closer and closer, though, and I was getting more and more uneasy. I'd finished my ode two days after it was assigned, but I was still curious about Carly. More than curious, I was worried. It felt like I had to prepare myself for the day, just in case.

Just like my mother had always told me, "Better safe than sorry." I guess that was always the case, no matter what, huh?

It was a Friday afternoon, and the class was the fifth period of the day. I was one of the first in the classroom, as per usual. I set out my ode and a couple of other supplies, then sat at my desk and watched the door for Carly. I hadn't seen her yet that day, but that wasn't all that uncommon. We only had that one class together for the year and every other class was fairly far away from each other. She also had a habit of disappearing during lunch, so there were many days that I didn't even see her in the cafeteria or anywhere near it.

As the hand on the clock inched closer and closer to time for the bell to ring, my hope dwindled. I silently prayed that she hadn't stayed at home. I kept saying in my head, Please, Carly, please… Just today… Be strong…

Somehow, two seconds before the bell rang, Carly walked in the room behind a group of other kids. They all took their seats just as the bell rang and the teacher closed the door. When I saw that Carly looked just like she did every other day, and no sadder or more lost, I silently thanked whoever answered my prayer. Maybe she was finally going to be strong, if even for just a day.

It didn't take long for the teacher to jump right into having everyone read their odes. A few people didn't even have them done, which wasn't unusual in the least bit. I went ahead and volunteered to read mine first. It was pointless and dumb, and I wanted to observe Carly for the rest of the class anyway, so I figured it would be best to get it out of the way.

I went to the front of the class and read my ode, not putting much emotion into it. It was about nature, so everyone else in the room basically tuned out after the first line. When I finished, the teacher complimented my "descriptive writing" and "creative usage of words." I smiled and thanked her and handed my poem over.

The next person went ahead and read their ode, which turned out to be silly. The class laughed when they were supposed to and the teacher chuckled at the end. But my eyes were on Carly. She kept glancing at the teacher, then back at the paper in her hands. She looked unsure and unconfident, as if she were contemplating something.

By the time the fourth person went up to read their ode, things had reached a sadder tone. The previous ode had turned out to be about a pet that had died. And this ode wasn't looking much happier. The reader ended up tearing up halfway through, and almost choked on each word in the last sentence. It was kind of heartbreaking, but again, most of my attention was on Carly. She was looking more and more unsure by the moment.

A few people and quite a few tears later, the class and I realized that we'd gotten into the sad part of odes. The teacher was right: kids did get emotional when it came to writing poems about specific people or events. I eyed Carly and noticed that she was getting a little teary at a few of the odes, but was quickly wiping away any signs of tears. She hadn't been seen publicly crying since The Accident.

The teacher had called nearly everyone's name – somehow avoiding Carly's – and Carly was still looking unsure. She gained my full attention and interest when she suddenly pulled out her notebook and started scribbling something down hastily. She wrote feverishly, as if she were trying to get a lot on paper in a little bit of time. I watched with curiosity and question as she now paid no attention to the readers and only to what she was trying desperately to write down.

My observations were interrupted by the teacher's voice calling the name that always caught my attention.

"Carly Shay."

Her brown eyes shot up and met the teacher's. The teacher gave her an expectant look, as if she didn't have much faith in Carly. I cursed her for that from somewhere inside of me.

Carly only took a second to finish writing something else on the paper, then she ripped it out of the notebook. She picked up the other one she'd had sitting with her for the entire class in her other hand and began glancing back and forth between the two, as if trying to make a decision. A few seconds later, she seemed to have made up her mind, because she set down the original paper and took her messier, freshly-ripped-out paper up to the front of the class with her.

On her way up to the front, I spotted her free hand slipping into her pocket and pulling out her inhaler, concealing it in her palm just before she stood in front of everyone. I knew it was like a safety harness for her, and she was trying to treat it as so without anyone knowing or noticing. But I knew. I always noticed.

I felt a million miles away as I watched her stand there before everyone – the teacher, our classmates, and even me. The inhaler clutched in her left hand was causing her knuckles to go white from how tightly she was clutching it, and the paper in front of her was shaking. Her hands were shaking. Her face was flushed. I felt myself begin to grow pale just from watching her.

Again, I prayed for Carly. Please don't let her have to use that inhaler, I asked internally. Please give her strength, if only for a few moments.

Her crackly voice sounded out-of-place when it emerged from her mouth. But it was obvious that she was forcing herself to speak, to read from the paper. She said no introduction to her poem, no title… she just began reading. I listened with perked ears and an intent concentration, hanging on her every word as I heard her speak for the first time since the previous week.

"My hands… th-they're searching for you,
my arms are outstretched… towards you,
I can feel you, just on my fingertips…
my tongue d-dances behind my lips for you.
I'm still alive.
This fire rising through my being,
burning…
I'm not used to seeing you… like this…
I'm still alive.
And I can feel you…
all around me.
You're thickening the air I'm breathing,
I'm holding on to what I'm feeling,
I'm savoring this heart that's healing.
I float above my body,
and I hear you whisper
that you love me…
I love you, too.
I need you.
I begin to fade,
into some unknown place…
I'm still alive.
Angels shooting by,
and wings that shouldn't be mine.
Oh, God, I'm still alive…
You're giving me a choice,
and I can barely hear your voice…
past all the screaming…
Where do I turn?
I'm still alive.
I can feel you all around me…
You're thickening the air I'm barely breathing.
I'm holding on to what I'm feeling…
Please don't leave me.
Please don't leave me.
I'm still alive.
You offer me your hand,
I'll give you mine,
and now you'll own me –
all I am –
and I see you.
You said you would never leave me.
You said you would never leave me!
I believe you.
I believe...
I'm still alive.
I'm still alive.
We're still alive.
And I can feel you…
all around me…
thickening the air I'm breathing.
Holding on to this heart…
that's slowly, slowly healing.
I'm still alive…
I'm still alive."

By the time Carly stopped speaking, I was gaping. Tears were running down her cheeks silently, and her knuckles were completely white from gripping her inhaler as tightly as she could. Her nostrils flared with each breath she inhaled and exhaled. She stared down at her paper, not daring to look up at the class or the teacher.

I finally snapped out of it and glanced around the room to see that everyone had about the same reaction as me. They were all either gaping, or had their hands over their mouths… all in pure shock and wonder. A few of the girls had tears in their eyes.

I knew that no one imagined Carly's pain could be so deep. I didn't think I even knew…

I looked back up at her just in time to see her crumple the paper in her hand and shove it in her pocket. She wiped hastily at her eyes with her free hand, glancing around the room to see that no one's reaction had changed. She finally looked at me to see that I looked just like everyone else… and then her expression seemed to change. Her face dropped and she turned and dashed out of the classroom, the door slamming behind her.

I quickly reacted by standing up. "Carly!" I rushed out and followed her, chasing her down the hallway for a bit before finally catching her by the arm near a water fountain. I spun her around, forcing her to face me and stop running. She did, but she looked down, full-on crying now. Tears were streaming down her face and she almost couldn't breathe. She was shattered from her confession.

"Carly, I… What was that?" I asked, unsure of what to do.

She sniffled and looked up at me, choking for a second on a knot in her throat. She got past it and finally said to me, angrily, "She was my best friend, Freddie! My best friend!"

I gaped at her wordlessly. "What? Carly – "

She yanked her arm out of my light grasp in frustration. Her brown eyes were wild now, so many emotions swirling inside of them that I couldn't even read them anymore. "You don't understand! No one understands! They never will! They just stare at me, day after day, like I'm some kind of freak!"

"Understands what, Carly?! That you lost your best friend, the person you cared about most in your life?" I started yelling back, unable to restrain myself. I felt all of the pent-up emotion from the past year bubbling up in my stomach. "Well you're not the only one! She was my friend, too, and maybe she wasn't my best friend, but YOU ARE! And you refuse to heal or move on and I'm losing you, Carly! I'm losing the only girl I love in this world!"

More tears welled up in her big, brown eyes. "I'm lost without Sam! I don't know what to do with myself! She's everywhere, Freddie! Do you even understand what that poem meant?! She's the reason I had an asthma attack! She's the reason I carry this damned inhaler everywhere I go!"

She held the inhaler up for me to see, but I only glanced at it. My eyes remained steady on hers, insistent on proving my point and understanding hers.

"She's the only reason I chose to live," her voice softened with that statement. "She's everywhere with me. I see her every night in my dreams, and I feel her when I'm awake, no matter how far away I try to get… I can't. I never can."

She suddenly smacked me in the chest, purely angry and frustrated. It didn't hurt, but it startled me, and I stepped back, speechless.

"I watched her DIE, Freddie! She's the only person that fully completes me, and she's gone! And I try to move on, but I can't! Because she's always in my heart, and in my lungs, and-and in my head!" she continued to yell, becoming more and more hysterical. "I could have stayed with her! I had a CHOICE! And I chose to come back for YOU, and for SPENCER! You always thought Sam was so selfish, but she's NOT, Freddie! She's not! Because she wanted me to come back here for YOU GUYS! I could be with her RIGHT NOW, BUT I'M NOT! I'M HERE WITH YOU, AND I'M MISERABLE, AND I'M BROKEN, AND I'LL NEVER BE THE SAME! NOTHING WILL EVER BE THE SAME!"

Her voice had become so loud it was echoing through at least half the school by then, but neither of us cared. We stared into each other's eyes, both recognizing the pain and the scars and the pure torture inside of ourselves. And neither of us could do anything about it.

And then, I realized, I finally knew the truth about that day, and I knew the truth about what was going on with my best friend.

Her final statement was still ringing in my ears as I did nothing but watch her run away from me – down the hall, around the corner, and down the stairs. She was fleeing the school, and I couldn't blame her. And I wasn't about to try and stop her.

Where could she go to escape the pain she was in every single day? How would I fix this? Would I ever see the old Carly Shay again? Or was she completely gone, having died with Sam over a year ago…?

And we kiss each other one more time
And sing this lie that's halfway mine
The sword is slicing through the question
So I won't be fooled by his angel light

Despite what had just happened, I had to turn around and go back to class sometime. So I did, my head racing with thoughts of what I should do. I guessed I could tell them it was an emergency and I had to leave, and then call Spencer to make sure Carly was at home…

That's what I did once I got back to the classroom. I gathered up my own things, then Carly's, and carried them both out of the room without any more questions from anyone, despite all the stares I was receiving. As soon as I'd walked out the front doors of the school (not signing out because I decided I would deal with my mom and her discipline later), I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Spencer's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah, Spencer, it's me. Listen, it's kind of a long story, but Carly just left school and I wanted to make sure she was at least on her way home. Have you heard from her or anything?" I quickly explained.

"N-no. Wait… what? Why'd she leave? Is she sick? Did she have an attack?" the older man immediately began bombarding me with questions, concern in his voice. I could hear him moving around, probably getting up and getting ready to leave at any second if he needed to.

"No, she just… had a breakdown. She yelled at me in the hallway and…" I didn't know how to explain it to him, so I just came out with it. "It's Sam."

There was a split-second of silence before Spencer announced, "I'm coming to pick you up and we'll go look for her. Are you at school?"

"Yeah," I replied. "But try calling her first, see if she answers her phone. I have no idea where she plans on going."

"Okay, I'm on my way now. Hang tight," he told me and hung up.

I sighed and set the bags in my hands down beside me on the sidewalk. It would be a good ten to fifteen minutes before Spencer made it to me. Knowing I had this much time, I decided to look through Carly's bag for clues as to where she might have gone or who she was going to, if anyone.

She didn't carry much around. Among class notebooks filled with a minimum amount of notes and assignments, I found a half-empty water bottle and a granola bar. I also found a laminated picture of the three of us from about a year and a half ago.

Thinking there wouldn't be anything, I gave in to curiosity and went ahead and opened her English notebook. I also picked out the paper, the one that she'd left sitting on her desk and that I had picked up and shoved into her bag. I looked it over to see that it was the first ode she had written and had probably been planning on reading to the class. It was short and about nothing in particular – something about nature, like I'd done.

But when I started flipping through her notebook, I found a couple of other odes that had been started and never finished. Most of them were scribbled out too much to really read into, but there was one at the back of the notebook, finished and stained as if tears had dripped onto it more than a few times. It was hastily scribbled, but obviously heartfelt and something that had poured out almost faster than she could get it on paper.

I held the notebook in front of my face and read the ode carefully, taking in each and every word, scrawled in Carly's handwriting:

"I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along…"

I gaped, once again having been left completely shocked and dumbfounded by Carly's words and her hidden emotions. This was a whole other side of how she felt. And when you put both odes together and then looked at how Carly had been acting… God, I regretted ever yelling at her. She didn't deserve that. She never deserved any of it.

She was a good person. What had she done to deserve losing her best friend? And now she was haunted by it, and by the choice she'd had to make – to leave Sam behind and continue living life. And what was I doing? Trying to force her to move on and forget Sam completely? Trying to change how she felt and tell her to "forget it"?

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach, realizing how much more pain I'd just put her through. She had been so strong for so long, and here I was, coming to break it all down and crush it. What kind of a "best friend" was I to her? I then understood why she'd kept to herself since The Accident… because other people only brought more pain.

I had just slipped the notebook back into Carly's bag and looked up when I saw Spencer speeding through the Ridgeway parking lot towards me. He pulled up to the curb of the sidewalk and came to a screeching stop, then motioned for me to hurry and get in. I grabbed the bags and rushed over, opening the back door and placing them in the backseat, then getting into the passenger's side seat and buckling my seatbelt. He sped off, leaving the school behind and heading in the direction of Bushwell Plaza, the Groovy Smoothie, and the other surrounding places where Carly, Sam, and I had always spent so much time together.

At the first red light a few blocks away from Ridgeway, Spencer glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, "She didn't even take her bag?"

I shook my head. "Nope. She just… she was crying and she ran outta the room. I chased her and caught her and we kind of… got in a fight, I guess. And then she left."

He looked over at me suspiciously, but also worried. "A fight? About what?"

I shrugged and turned away from him just as the light turned green and he was able to continue driving. I gazed out the window instead, absent-mindedly looking for any sign of Carly. "The past year and three months."

Spencer didn't say anything to that, because he knew just as well as Carly and I did exactly how much time had passed since Sam had been gone. He was more of the person to change the subject whenever Sam was brought up in any conversation, whether Carly was around or not. The blonde girl he'd watched grow up had become like another little sister to him. Not to mention, talking about The Accident only reminded him of Carly's incident – which, might I add, was my fault – and that was the last thing he wanted to think about.

I still couldn't believe I'd given Carly those pills without permission from my mom or Spencer. I'd been so stupid, so eager to please. All I'd wanted was to see Carly be happy and get the sleep she so desperately begged for. I just wanted to be the one to give her what she wanted for once. I had never been able to really appease her in any way, because I was no "bad boy," and I was no best friend like Sam was. I was just her nerdy neighbor and tech producer, and I wanted so much to change that image.

I'd always been on a quest to win Carly's heart… which was actually incredibly selfish of me.

This time, it was about way more than Carly's heart, or who she would choose to give her love to. It was about Carly's safety and the assurance that she would live a normal life and find happiness again – any kind of happiness. She was so vacant and distant anymore, it was painful just to watch.

And I hated thinking about how stupid I'd been – kissing her at the worst possible moment, giving her sleeping pills when she was so depressed and ready to sleep forever – but I was ready to admit that I'd made mistakes and had been very possibly the last thing Carly had needed in the year since Sam died. I was also ready to make up for it.

Spencer and I drove around Kennedy Square and its surrounding areas for about four hours, stopping numerous times to check out alleyways and stores, cafés and restaurants. We questioned everyone we saw, even the completely clueless hobos. Yet to no avail.

We both took turns dialing Carly's number on our cell phones so much that our phones died about two hours into the search. Spencer plugged his into the car charger and left it on, just in case Carly happened to call him back, but the phone remained silent. We were even stopping at the loft every half-hour to see if Carly had given up and gone home yet.

When the sun began to set and the streetlights came on, we both sighed in defeat. We were tired and weak and hungry, but we were determined to find her. So we parked the car in the garage for Bushwell Plaza and began treading around on foot instead.

We called Carly's name at every corner, searched every alleyway, and continued to question every hobo. We ended up circling all of Kennedy Square in two hours, and by the end, we were even more tired and hungry, and we figured that Carly was probably even more lost.

As a last resort, we brainstormed and decided to call of Carly's friends – or potential suspects – and question them. We called Wendy, who said she hadn't seen Carly or even talked to her in a good two days, but said she had heard about her breakdown at school that day and was worried. She informed us that she'd given Carly's cell a couple of calls and sent a couple of texts since school let out, but she hadn't received any answers or replies. We then called Gibby, who basically said the same thing. We called Kathy, Shane, Principal Franklin, Wesley, Gary, Mark, Jake, Reuben, Shawn, Benji…

No one had seen her or even heard a word from her.

We continued our search as two guys determined to find the most important girl in their lives. But as the evening dragged into night, the sky got darker, and the people on the sidewalks became sketchier, we lost hope and morale. What were we supposed to do? We'd called everyone we could think of and looked everywhere Carly would've gone and kept coming up with the same results.

Surprisingly, it wasn't until about eleven-thirty that Spencer received a call on his cell phone from my frantic mother, who wanted to know if we'd found Carly yet and if I could come home and get to bed. I took the phone from Spencer to try and talk some sense into my mom.

"Mom, no – no, we haven't found Carly yet," I explained, cutting her off from interrupting me with more screeching. "Look, we're both really worried and we just wanna find her. Can you please just let me help? Spencer needs my help right now, and Carly needs me."

"Fredward, you need to get home right this instant! I'm serious, young man!" my mother insisted. "I know that Carly is missing, but if she's still not home by the morning, then Spencer needs to call the police. Until then, walking the streets at this time of night with only the two of you is extremely dangerous, and I don't want you to have any part in it! It is nearly midnight and you still haven't taken a shower!"

"Mom, it's Friday night! What's it matter what time I get to bed?!" I argued back, even though I already knew her answer – it was the same every weekend.

"Fredward, if you don't keep up a steady schedule every night, you'll fall out of rhythm and find yourself tired once Monday comes around," she told me for the billionth time. "Now, I want you home and that is that. I'm your mother and you listen to me. I want you clean and in your bed by midnight and no later. Do you hear me?"

I groaned and gave Spencer a defeated look before answering her, "FINE! I'll be home in a minute."

I flipped the phone shut and handed it back to Spencer, who stuffed it in his pocket. He sighed and patted me on the shoulder.

"Well, maybe your mom's right for once, kid," he admitted sadly. "I should probably just… go home and wait, see if she comes home. And if not, then I'll just call the police. They can probably get way more done in a day than you and I can in a whole night. Besides, I don't want you getting into any trouble with your mom."

I shrugged as we headed off back towards Bushwell Plaza. "I'm just scared, Spence… I wanna know that she's okay and that she's not…"

I didn't finish the sentence because what I was thinking was too terrible to even be uttered aloud. But somehow, Spencer knew what I wanted to say, and he nodded, not saying anything either for fear of what it would actually sound like. We silently agreed that we were both deathly worried for the safety of Carly Shay, and that we were praying with every inch of ourselves that she was okay and would be home soon.

Sorrow lasts through this night
I'll take this piece of you
And hope for all eternity
For just one second, I felt whole
As you flew right through me
And up into the stars

I lay in bed that night after showering and eating, unable to think about anything or anyone but Carly. I was exhausted and sleepy, yet I couldn't get my eyes or my mind to just stop so I could fall asleep. My worry had my brain running overtime, and it didn't look like I'd be getting any rest until I at least knew where Carly was.

Nearly two hours of lying motionless in bed finally allowed me to drift off into something that I wouldn't really call rest, but more like unconsciousness due to exhaustion. Images flashed on and off inside my head as I drifted back and forth between the conscious and the subconscious. I fought to sleep, and it worked for a while. That is, until I was woken up by a sudden addition of weight next to me.

I awoke with a gasp, the suddenly mango-scented air filling my throat as my eyes popped open. I saw only pitch black, with just a hint of moonlight coming in through the window next to my bed. I was perspiring again, a sign of a restless night for me. But it only took a few seconds of bringing my head fully into the conscious world to realize what had woken me up and what was different about my usual surroundings.

I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes, opening them wider in hopes that I'd be able to somehow see something in the darkness. When I was unable to, I reached over and opened the curtains on my window just a tad. It was enough for the moonlight to seep in and reveal a silhouetted figure lying in bed next to me, curled up right between the edge and my body. I propped myself up on my elbow as I studied the figure.

I squinted, wondering who in the hell it could be, or if this was just a dream or a hallucination of some sort. Didn't exhaustion cause hallucinations sometimes?

I heard soft breathing and felt silky hair tickling the skin on my neck. I dared to reach out and gently place my hand on where I thought the silhouette's shoulder would be, but it turned out to be its upper arm. That's when I realized who it was.

"Carly?" It was only a whisper breaking through the dead silence in my room, but I felt her shake just slightly underneath my touch as she was awoken by my voice.

She turned her head to look at me, which was when the moonlight finally caught her face and I could make out her disheveled hair and smudged makeup. Her eyes were deeply bloodshot, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision and see me well enough. She only nodded in response to my question.

"What… what're you doing here?" I whispered when I realized she wasn't going to say anything back.

She turned her face back to where I couldn't see and whispered back to me, "I'm sorry."

I noticed how weak her voice was, and how slightly slurred her words were, especially when whispered. "Where have you been? Me and Spencer spent all night looking for you. We've been so worried… Are you okay?"

She nodded her head in reply. "I went to a party. I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "Quit apologizing… We were just so worried about you… You went to a party? Whose? Where?"

She let out a soft sigh. "I dunno, some senior's… I heard about it at lunch and decided to go. I walked around the other side of town until it started, then I spent the rest of the night there."

"Why did you leave?"

"I passed out and woke up and everyone was gone. I got scared and walked back here."

"…Why did you come here?"

It wasn't really a question like I didn't want her to be there, which was what I was afraid she'd take it as. It was just a query, because it didn't make sense to me. I figured, of all places, she'd have gone right home, up to the safety of her room, and stayed there for God knew how long. The last place or person I thought she'd come to after that day was me.

She answered me in her soft, vulnerable voice, "I… don't know. I just got the feeling to come here instead of going home. I can leave – "

"No," I quickly interrupted. "I don't mind at all, really. It's fine that you're here. I just thought… Well, Carly, to be honest, I thought you were done with me. I thought you'd never talk to me again considering how much I've screwed up…"

I saw her shake her head back and forth against the pillow, as she was still lying down in the same position I'd awoken to find her in. "You haven't screwed up, Freddie…"

"Then what can I do? What am I supposed to do?" I asked her.

"Whadd'you mean?" she asked, confused and still sleepy.

I sighed. "I feel… like I'm losing you, Carly. And I wanna help, but I don't know how. You've distanced yourself from me and Spencer so much that it's impossible to even get through."

I saw her eyes look away from me, almost in shame. She didn't say anything in response.

"Today was the first time since The Accident that I actually understood what you've been going through and how you've been feeling," I admitted. "I… saw the poem in your English notebook…"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "There's so much I haven't told you… or anyone."

"I know. That's why I want you to tell me… I'm here, Carly. I'm waiting. I'm ready to be anything you need. Maybe I can't be, but I can try."

There were moments of silence, and then I thought she'd fallen asleep again. But she must've just been thinking about what to say. "She's everywhere, Freddie… This wouldn't be so hard if she weren't everywhere. I can never escape."

I didn't say anything, giving her some time to continue. "I-I hear her voice, I see her in my dreams, I feel her… everywhere I go. Everything reminds me of her. And it feels like no one can look at me without seeing her, too, and remembering…"

I swallowed hard, starting to feel nervous at what I was about to confess. Just like she hadn't told anyone else these things, I hadn't told anyone else what I was about to tell her.

"I hear her voice sometimes," I confessed. "In my head… at random times. When I'm doing something, or when I wimp out of doing something… or when I'm reminded of her… I hear her voice in my head."

She looked up at me with her smudged makeup and red, watery eyes. She blinked. "She's always there, Freddie. It's not just in your head. It's her."

I opened my mouth to say something, but she interrupted before I could. "And don't call me crazy, because I'm not. I know it's her."

"I wasn't going to call you crazy," I softly told her. "I believe you. I know. I know it wasn't just luck that you didn't… die… that day. A-and I know that Sam would never leave you alone, even when it seems like she's left completely."

Carly closed her eyes and I watched as a tear rolled down her cheek and into her hair. She finally rolled over to face me instead of straining her neck. I reached down and pulled the covers up and put them over her, then gently wiped away the tears on her cheeks with my thumb as more came from her eyes.

"When you… kissed me," she choked out, more tears rolling down. "I… I saw Sam's face. That's why I pushed you away. I-I got scared. I didn't know…"

"Shh," I whispered, continuing to wipe away the tears. "It's okay. Just forget about it."

We laid there for a few minutes. I listened to her breathe and let her calm down, hoping that knowing I was right there would at least assure her a little bit and maybe set us on the right path to move forward. But I knew I could only hope.

I laid my head back down and slid my arm underneath her neck, relaxing. I eventually whispered, "So what'd you do at that party?"

She shrugged weakly and mumbled, "Drank some… tried some stuff… I tried a cigarette and a couple of other things… But mostly I just… tried to get away."

I frowned.

"It didn't work…" she added in conclusion.

I decided to drop it and not ask anymore questions because the party she went to wasn't my biggest concern, and it definitely wasn't the most important thing there. I contemplated pulling her in closer to me, but decided against risking it. She surprised me, though, by voluntarily moving towards me just a bit and snuggling up against me, wrapping an arm around me and burying her face in my chest as we both lay on our sides facing one another. My heart beat a little faster and I was frozen for a couple of seconds, but I gave in and relaxed, awkwardly wrapping my other arm around her and holding her against me. I heard her sniffle.

I glanced over at my nightstand to see what time it was, but instead, I noticed the familiar inhaler sitting next to my clock. I smiled softly to myself and pulled Carly a little bit closer.

Just before we fell asleep, I thought about how hard the road ahead would be for both of us – moving past Sam's death and everything that she'd left behind, but also moving on with life, and what was going to happen to the both of us.

Before I slipped into unconsciousness, I whispered out, "I love you, Carly."

That night, I saw Sam in my dream, standing at the foot of my bed, watching Carly and I. She had a genuine smile on her face while her voice echoed in my head, "Take care of her, Fredward."

And then, just like that, she disappeared.

Joy will come...

end.

A/N: First, I'd like to THANK YOU if you read this. I know that was really long, but hopefully it was worth the read. Again, it wasn't as long as All Around Me. I got the idea for another sequel, based on this song, out of nowhere. I just felt like the song fit perfectly and that it would be interesting to see Freddie's POV and take on the whole thing. I figured we couldn't have some Cam and Sam's death without eventually having Creddie. I worked really hard on this and it took me way longer than the other two did. I tried to keep the continuity and everything. Let me know what you think, good or bad, and feel free to give me your critique. That's what I want!
Big thanks to iPepsi for taking the time to read this before I posted and make sure it was acceptable.
And I'd like to dedicate this to croaker001 - I know it's not ALL Cam, but it's built on a Cam foundation and I can only hope you found it acceptable! I promised some great Cam stories dedicated to you, so believe me, there are more to come!