Chapter Two: Time Takes Its Crazy Toll

She knows she probably looks like a moron with her mouth open wide, jaw having dropped to the floor. But she's in good company since Freddie's pretty much looking the same way. Possibly worse. Hopefully, worse. Because the high-schooler-Sam in her suddenly kicks in and she seriously wants to one-up the guy she hasn't seen in forever.

Libby's tugging on her hand and she knows that the kids are getting a little nervous that neither one of the adults have made a move nor a sound since they locked eyes. Except, what does one say?

"Sam?" he says softly, as soft as his eyes.

Her heart breaks a little because she hasn't heard his voice in a long time. Hasn't heard him say her name in too long. She opens her mouth and before she knows what to say, but something in her head clicks with the force of a punch to the gut and it forces her to her knees in front of the rather perplexed five-year-old boy. "Oh my god..." she gasps and the confusion on Nate's face turns into surprise when Sam has both her hands on each of his cheeks. "This is Nate, Freddie! Nate..."

Then after one realization comes the next one and the one after that. Suddenly she's looking at the little boy with new and wiser eyes. It's Freddie's little mouth and Carly's brown eyes staring back at her curiously and her heart breaks a little more because she should have known this little boy from when he was a baby. She missed out five years of being Auntie Sam and getting to spoil the kid silly.

"Momma." Libby's voice cuts through her thoughts and the tugging resumes, but this time on the back of her blouse.

But Sam can't get enough of Nate. Nate. Carly's little boy. So really, she can't be blamed when the tears start to fall or when she pulls Nate into a tight hug. When she feels his tiny arms go tight around her, her heart doesn't just break. It shatters completely.

"I'm your Auntie Sam," she tells him and she chuckles when she feels him nod. She knows then that she's just head-over-heels for this boy.

"Sam," Freddie says again and she knows that she's gotta let go.

It takes her a few moments, though. There are tears and snot (because she's such a toddler sometimes) to wipe and her heart beat to calm. With shaky knees, she makes it onto her feet and she tries her best not to start crying again when she hears her daughter assure her best friend that her mother is not, in fact, crazy. Promise.

It's sort of blur what happens next. Libby will inform her later that it was "really funny, momma, but kinda scary, too" and also make her feel guilty about her daughter possibly losing a friend over what transpired. Apparently, she pushed Fredward Benson.

In fact, she kept pushing him until he fell on his a—butt. He fell on his butt.

She remembers towering over him, though. Yeah, she remembers that part because she was trying her hardest not to kick him between his legs.

"Sam, what the hell?" he whines and it's like they're teenagers all over again. Except then she did it mostly for fun and now? Now, she's just furious.

She points an intimidating finger at him (or might not have been intimidating at all. Again, things where kind of a blur.) and responds in a low voice. "You're a... a... You, Fredward Benson, are..."

The difficult thing about being a parent is how careful you need to be with the words you use. Seeing as how impressionable children are, cursing is out of the question. And that just infuriates Sam further. It's evident, though, that Freddie (aka newly-acquired archnemesis) realizes her predicament and finds it funny. In fact, he finds it funny enough to laugh.

At her. Sam Puckett.

Oh, hell no.

"Five years," she spats and he automatically shuts up. Good. Because that's really the one thing she wants to say and reiterates further, "I've waited five years." It's the only thing she wants to say. So she takes Libby's unwilling hand in hers and stomps the three blocks back to her car.

Actually, it's more stomps her feet until she makes it to the sidewalk and then pretty much limps the rest of the way. Stupid, stupid, prettiful heels. It's disgusting how much of a fashion slave she's become. Carly's probably laughing down at her at how much of a female she's become.

Carly.

"Mommy?" Libby asks tentatively from the back seat, unusually timid. "Is that what gramma meant when she said you used to be wild?"

Sam grits her teeth and tightens her grip on the steering wheel as she turns into the supermarket parking lot. Libby, for all her 'Me! Me! Me!' attitude, is astute enough to realize that momma is in a bad mood and remains obedient for the rest of the trip, only asking to buy a few things and not the one hundred other things she usually begs Sam to put in the shopping cart.

It's only after her fridge and cabinets are weighed down with food does she begin to feel better. In fact she pops in the Girly Cow DVD without launching into negotiations for an improved morning disposition the following days. Instead she sits down with a plate of ham and presses one of the numbers on her mobile's speed dial.

"Hey, Sam!" Spencer greets her cheerfully.

"Spencer," she begins, through a mouthful of pork, "please tell me I don't have to kill your wife."

"Don't kill my wife?" he answers automatically and then, after a pause, adds, "Please?"

"Let me rephrase: stupid Freddie Benson."

She can hear the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line followed by some muffled conversation and then finally Spencer's sudden awkward laugh. "Freddie? What about Freddie?" he stammers. "I don't know what you're talking about. Hey, you know what I do know about? Cheese. Let's talk about that."

"Lemme talk to April, Spencer."

"I don't think—"

Sam groans. Honestly. She just needs someone to tell her something that makes sense. Today, if possible. "Just let me talk to her. I promise not to kill her after."

A moment later and the phone changes hands and April Shay's voice is in her ear. "Sam! So nice to hear from you today! How was Libby's first day."

"It went all right. She made a new best friend today," she replies, deceptively calm. "The cutest little boy I've ever seen. Oh, and he's related to you, too. Yeah, he's your nephew. And then I had the pleasure of seeing his father."

"Sam," April chokes out. "I wanted to tell you but we decided to just let things run it's natural course and... Okay, no one really had the guts to tell you. We tried bribing Gibby but he says he still has trauma from when you were teenagers and we even asked Socko but—"

"I'm not mad."

There's a short pause. And then, "You're not?"

"I'm not mad," Sam insists and sighs as she pushes away her now empty plate. "I was just surprised. I wasn't prepared. Although, even if someone told me, I doubt I'd be prepared even then. I mean, it's been five years, you know?"

"Five years is a long time," April murmurs in agreement. "A lot of things can happen in five years."

"Yeah. Life happened."

It's finally Friday and Sam's walking back to her car after dropping Libby off at her classroom. Yes, dropping her off at her classroom. In fact, Libby insists that Sam enter the room and proudly gives her a tour of every single thing that the kindergartner can think to point out. Miss Young doesn't seem to mind so far but Sam's giving her another couple of weeks. Actually, she's giving herself another couple of weeks, too.

Mornings are for sweats. Sweat pants and sweat shirts and sweaty shoes that are disgusting and should really be thrown out.

Mornings are not for Sam to put on makeup and fix her hair into some semblance of order. But it's for her daughter and Libby's always a good reason to be doing something.

She's juggling her mobile and her Skybucks tumbler while trying to fish her car keys out of her purse. It's a daunting task but it must be done. She can feel the key ring slide triumphantly onto her pinky finger when someone suddenly taps her on her shoulder. A startled yelp escapes her lips and of course she has to drop her phone and her tumbler, too. She manages to catch her phone but the tumbler takes an ugly, well, tumble that loosens the lid and empties her wakey-wakey juice all over the sidewalk.

"I'm so sorry."

It's really too early to get into anything with anyone so she just bends over without complaint and reaches for her tumbler. It doesn't look broken at first glance but it is, indeed without her much needed caffeine. "It's all right," she mutters. And really it's too early to be genuinely polite either. She looks over her shoulder and—

Freddie Benson. Her eyes narrow. Except he's not really looking at her. Not at her face at least.

"Holy shi-chiz, Freddie!" she exclaims, turning on her heel to fix him with her evil glare. "Were you checking me out? Or a better question: Do you want to die?"

"Whoa, hold up." He has his hands up and he's backing away. As if that will save him. Honestly, she's never been so annoyed at the sight of a person. And that's including her ex-husband. "I wasn't checking you out. I mean, I was checking you. Not out. Just, you know, making sure you're okay... and stuff."

Same old Freddie Benson. Still a stammering nub.

Sam rolls her eyes as she digs through her purse again for that elusive key chain. She feels his eyes on her, expectant eyes, eyes expecting her to say something. Huffing a little, she manages to fix him with another glare before finally fishing out her keys.

Probably sensing that she's planning on leaving without saying anything else, he finally speaks up. "Sam, we need to talk."

That's it.

"We should have talked five years ago," she says simply, before she skirts around the car to the car door. She would have made it too except Freddie's hand is on her elbow, gentle but very firm.

"I wasn't ready, Sam," he explains quietly. "I was in a lot of pain and—"

"I was in pain, too, Freddie." She whirls around and her tumbler almost escapes from her hold once again. "I miss her, too. I loved her, too. It wasn't just you who lost her. And then I lost you, too. You know what that's like? I lost my two best friends. I kept in touch with everyone. Spencer, Gibby and even Brad... because we needed each other."

His eyes are downcast as he shakes his head. "I know and I'm sorry. But... seeing you... It was hard, Sam. I see you and I remember Carly and it hurt."

She tries to take it all in but she can't. She can't. Because in her head, it's been five years and one explanation after all that time isn't going to make things all right. She's not even sure that three hundred plates of ham would do it and if ham can't solve a problem, what can?

"I needed you, Freddie. I needed you most of all." This time, when Sam walks over to the door of her car, he doesn't stop her. For some reason, she's a bit miffed. She needs the effort from him, needs him to try harder, needs for him not to give up so quickly. So she throws him a bone. "Listen..."

"What?"

She sighs as she unlocks her door, deposits her purse in the backseat before sliding in and lowers the passenger window so she can talk to him. "Another second and I'll be running late... But, I'm not really angry person anymore. Well, I'm still kinda angry; I mean, single mother with a crap ex-husband! Hello!" It's such a lame joke that it makes her feel sort of dirty. "I don't need to hold grudges and I don't need to give you a reason to start holding one, too, you know?"

He bends down, his hand on the roof of her car as he peers through the window. It's only now that she's calm does she get a really good look at him. Five years hasn't changed him too much. However, the sparkle in his eyes is gone and it's been replaced with a tiredness and dullness that isn't at all familiar. "What are you saying, Puckett?"

"Come over tomorrow for lunch," she tells him and takes a pen and pad paper from her glove compartment. She quickly scribbles down her address and hands it to his noticeably eager hand. "Bring Nate. The kids can play or something."

He glances briefly at the paper in his hand before giving Sam what she can only describe as a grateful smile. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate this." A brief wave and he starts walking away.

It takes a moment more for Sam to realize that the second has long passed and running late is now here.

After some mad driving through Seattle traffic and what was possibly the most boring meeting of the century, the fact that Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett are going to have lunch tomorrow has finally sunk in. Lunch for the first time in five years.

"Dani!" she hisses once the writers have been dismissed. Sam grabs hold of the redhead and steers her to her office. Entirely unnecessary, but I lock the door behind me. "I need your help!"

Dani's already sitting on Sam's cushy office chair by the time she turns around, her friend swiveling the chair like a six-year-old on a sugar high. "What's up, Puckett?"

"You remember Freddie, right?"

Dani places both of her hands on Sam's desk to stop the chair from moving further. "Freddie? With the gorgeous head of hair and the luscious ass? Married your friend who passed away five years ago and haven't seen him since then? Until Monday came and suddenly your daughter is best friends with his son?"

"Huh." Sam shakes her head and flops down on the sofa at the other end of the room. She rolls onto her stomach, her face mushed up against one of the throw pillows. "I guess I won't ever doubt if you're listening to me. Anyway, little-miss-married-with-three-kids, I ran into him again at Libby's school and—"

"Aaaand?"

Turning her head, she sees Dani's leaning over her desk, eyes all alight with anticipation and has to roll her eyes. "And I decided to bury the hatchet..."

"Wait... You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Seriously, Dani?" Sighing, Sam flipped over onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes. "I did the opposite of kill him; I invited him to lunch."

"Lunch? Lunch? Oh, the horrors! Lunch! How could you even—lunch, Sam? Lunch? What a despicable human being you are, Samantha. I can't even look at you right now. You disgust me." Sam takes a peek and sees Dani flailing her arms in the air. She can really get into it when she wants to. "Lunch... I want no part in this, do you hear? No part. Oh that, poor man. Poor, poor man..."

"Are you done?"

Dani holds her hand up and closes her eyes. "You are a dear, dear friend Sam, but I cannot abide by this lunch. I beg you, please rethink this. Before it is too late. Think of your daughter! What will she think about her mother and this lunch..." And with that last line, she drops her hand and gives Sam a cheeky grin. "Done now! So what's the big deal with the lunch? It's just lunch."

"Oh it's just lunch? I thought it was a Shakespearean play from how you went on."

"I always wanted to be an actress," Dani says with a dreamy sigh. "Anyway, I don't see what you're stressing about. You know how to cook so I know that you're not worried about that. Don't tell me you want fashion advice or I will push you out the window. And please don't tell me that you're nervous because this is the first time in how many years that you're going to have a meal together at your home which he's never seen and may actually have a conversation about your lives. Because, that sounds pretty far-fetched."

"Stop being so sarcastic!" At this point, Sam has managed to kick off both her shoes and curl into a smallish ball. "And yes, I am nervous."

"It's lunch! What can go wrong?"

Author's Note:

Finally updated! I struggled if I should play around with the points of view and change between characters (the first draft was initially done in the POV of Nate) but I think I might save the kiddie POVs for the following chapters. I needed this chapter to be more about Sam and Freddie, to get a feel of what I'm working with.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story and my other stories! Apologies if I've been neglectful in replying to them. I did respond to some but there are others that I've missed. But I've loved them all :) Again, thank you!

Okay, as is usually the case when I start writing, I have no idea where this is going. Except that Sam and Freddie will end up together. This will not be an overly long story. Plotting is not a strong suit and I've always disliked stories that go "and then this happens, but person D appears and sabotages plan Q and so they have to go here to find the magic key, except it won't work without the witch doctor's chant, and don't get me started about the map"... You get what I mean. I don't see this making it beyond ten chapters. Actually, making it beyond eight chapters would be a miracle. So yeah.

Btw, last chapter's title is from the Carpenter's song of the same name. Now, without the use of Google, can anyone tell me what song this chapter's title is from?