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"Honestly, Gibby. I do not want to hear about your weasel. Plus, I don't even think it is a weasel."

Gibby stopped walking and turned to him.

"Not a weasel? Well, Freddie. What else could it possibly be? I feel like I don't even know you…"

Freddie rolled his eyes and kept walking.

"It's a fer-, you know what. It's not even worth it."

"I'll have you know Sampson is capable of abstract thought that you and I could not even begin to understand."

Freddie turned the corner of the hallway to his apartment door and mumbled under his breath, "it's you that I could not begin to understand."

Freddie pulled out his keys and put them in the door.

"Hey, Freddie, look at this."

Freddie groaned and slammed his forehead onto the door.

"No, Gibby, I will not look at another one of your 'weird moles' that you found!" he growled.

"No, Freddie, it's a-," Gibby started.

"Gibby!" Freddie spun around and stopped when he saw what was in Gibby's hand.

"Here let me see that," he took the envelope from Gibby. It was addressed to him.

"Do you know anything about this?" Freddie asked as he opened the letter.

Gibby shrugged in response. "Well open it up and see what it says."

Freddie opened the letter and read the first couple of lines. Gibby noted how his expression change to one of shock and his shoulders tense up.

He also saw how the letter was shaking.

"Gibby…you need to go."

"Freddie…what is it? You look all chizzed out."

"Gibby," Freddie looked up at him and there was something manic about the look in his eyes, "you. Need. To. Leave."

Gibby started walking backwards, holding up his hands, "okay, okay, geez calm down." He turned around and walked around the corner of the hallway and mumbled, "you don't have to tell me twice."

Freddie didn't hear him.

Freddie,

No need to beat around the bush here. I'm heading out.

I'm going some place to make a name for myself. Gotta stop relying on your brains and Carly's sympathy to get me through life, right? Well, I have a pretty good feeling that I can be okay. But I definitely wasn't okay in Seattle.

I could have told you goodbye in person, I guess. Maybe I was scared I would stay, maybe I was scared I would kill you, maybe I was scared I would cry. Either way, you're getting this letter instead.

I'm not really awesome at talking about my feelings, especially with you. But, I guess that's something we both have in common.

I just really cared about you, ya know? And you kind of took that and just threw it away.

I don't blame you really. I mean, she's beautiful and funny and smart and small and polite and well, everything I'm not. It was her, really. Deep down, you always wanted, needed that. I guess it took me for you to figure that out, and I'm happy I could help you come to that realization. Actually I'm not really happy at all, I wish I could have not have gotten caught in the cross-fire.

But whatever, my happy ending wasn't in Seattle. How could any happy endings happen here anyway? Too rainy. I'm going somewhere bright and warm, to find my happy ending.

You've been a good friend, most of the time. I knew what you did for me with the whole Missy thing. Giving up the cruise or whatever. You actually probably don't even remember what I'm talking about. But I never forgot. That was so kind, and I'll always appreciate that.

Anyway, I've got my motorcycle and the open road calling my name. I hope you have a good life, I know you will. Especially since I won't be around to mess things up anymore. This will probably be the last time you'll hear from me, and I think that's for the best.

Goodbye, Freddie.

Hate,

Sam

Freddie blinked once. Twice.

At that moment he felt nothing. No pain. No sadness. No fear.

It's like his heart literally froze in his chest along with all of his other functions.

Then it cracked. And he started to shatter.

He fell into the wall and he tried to use it to help him stand, but it was no use because his legs were shattering.

"No," he whispered as he staggered sideways and forward.

He was breaking and he couldn't stop. He didn't know what to do; how to put himself back together.

"No, no, no" he said again to no one.

Suddenly he closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe, how to think. He crumpled the letter in one hand and opened his eyes with a new fire burning in him.

"No," he said firmly.

And then he started running.

It took Sam 18 hours to get to L.A. from Seattle. She only stopped twice. She didn't need to sleep, adrenaline was powering her.

She drove by the ocean the entire time, which also kept her awake. The sun rose and set again by the time she had finally arrived. She drove through Beverly Hills and then stopped when she reached Santa Monica. She drove past the beach shack like restaurants and kept driving until she saw less and less tourists.

She found a place to leave her motorcycle out of sight, and ran through the dunes until she finally reached beach. She smiled as the warm night air blew her hair around her face. She kept running along the beach until she reached a stretch of shore that was completely empty of people, except her.

She walked closer to the ocean, and stared into the night sky, peppered with stars. Some salty mist from the ocean sprayed her face and she closed her eyes and smiled. She didn't know why her eyes started to sting with the threat of tears, but they did. She shook her head trying to get the small lump out of her throat.

She looked back at the ocean and knew she wanted to see how it felt. Slowly she unbuttoned her jeans and pealed them from her legs. Then she gently lifted her long-sleeved shirt from her torso and pulled it over her head. She let both articles of clothing drop in the sand.

She laughed and shook her head back and then ran splashing into the ocean. She dove in headfirst so the luke warm water completely surrounded her. She resurfaced and let the water lift her body so that she was floating on her back.

With her hair forming a gold halo around her head she let the warm waves rock her as she stared up into the night sky.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt okay.

Freddie flew out of the bus, which dropped him off at the end of Sam's street. He ran and ran until the only sound he could hear was the sound of his tennis shoes hitting the wet pavement over and over.

He repeated the mantra She didn't leave. Find her. She didn't leave. Find her. over and over again in his head. He couldn't think for one second that he was too late because that thought was too much to handle; it would consume him for sure.

Finally he rounded the curve to Sam's house. He could see it in the distance. As he got closer and closer he saw that there was someone was walking out of her house. Soon he was there, standing in the street, and he froze.

He saw the blonde hair curling down her back, braided up into a simple ponytail. The light blue of her dress was almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Sam," he breathed.

She blinked at him with tears in her eyes and pained expression on her face.

Sam.

Oh, Freddie. Poor stupid Freddie. When has Sam ever worn her hair up or a dress?

Oh, well he'll figure it out soon.

The next chapter we'll see a little bit of Sam's new life in L.A. And we'll also get Carly's reaction to all of this.

Please review!

Lucy:)