A/N: Hi there! Alright, so this is my first ever Sam/Quinn (Fabrevans, Quam, however you name it) fanfiction. It's not my very first story, and I usually don't write two stories at once but something just made me want to do this fanfic so bad.

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues

Whisper in my Ear

Chapter 1

Monday, 5.15pm

/Sam Evans

I've been staring at the monitor for approximately two hours, and the glare of the screen was starting to hurt as my eyes begin to water. I'm scrolling through all the e-mails we've received over the weekend, reading each and every one of them with intent, sifting through the more important ones and jotting them down on a notebook. Some are pretty interesting tales of personal experiences and detailed accounts. Others are more desperate, seeking immediate attention and help.

This one that I'm reading right now, it particularly shouts out to me—and it's not because there's an intriguing photo that had been attached. I pick up the discarded pen on the table and scribble down the necessary pointers before clicking on the image icon. The computer gives a sort of hum—given how ancient it is—and the picture finally loads, filling up the entire span of my desktop.

"Whoa," my teammate and best friend, Finn Hudson, whistles from behind me. "That's insane."

I do not answer him. Instead, I squint at the suspicious-looking photograph and try to analyze the pixels. My investigative side kicks in, and I'm questioning its validity, skeptical and wondering if it had been manipulated by any sort of software. It's an image of a living room, most likely taken at night. The surroundings are relatively dark—given that it was lit only by a table lamp beside the sofa—yet the obvious thing that stands out is a hazy outline of something tall at the corner of the room. It looks like a man, an apparition of some sort, and I quickly give the e-mail another read through.

"Wow, Sam," Rachel Berry quips from her desk. "That's a really clear apparition. What's the story behind it?"

I spin around in my swivel chair to face my two comrades, tapping my pen against the armrest. "A baby-sitter. She's been coming over now and then to help a family friend take care of their 1-year-old baby, and she's always felt uncomfortable in the house or she's being watched—paranoia if you will—and recently she thinks she's started seeing shadow figures at the corner of her eyes. Obviously, she'd brought it up to the husband and wife, but they hadn't really believed her. On occasion, she would also feel like she's been touched, or her hair's been tugged, and she hears voices calling her name." I stop to take a breath and then gesture over my shoulder back to the screen. "She took that two nights ago, and now she just doesn't want to go over, but she's also worried for the baby."

"Jesus," Finn murmurs and I nod in agreement.

"Are we taking the case?" Rachel asks, her huge coffee-coloured eyes growing like round saucers. She gets all excited, especially when such cases involve families that need our assistance.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know yet," I answer her. "I still have some more e-mails to go through. Do you know where the Chang-Changs are?"

"Mike's down at the local library to go track down those house records you needed for the South Oak Mansion case," Finn says, ticking it off with his fingers. "And Tina's supposedly down at the student lounge trying to finish up on a report."

"Oh, and Artie's at the store," Rachel adds in. "He's looking through the new catalogue to see if we need anything."

"Will they be back for the meeting?"

"I've texted them exactly ten minutes ago to remind them about it," the Jewish brunette informs me, a wide smile on her lips. It's like her own personal pat on the back.

"Okay, thanks."

I go back to my computer, the photograph still splayed across the screen and minimize it. That way, I won't have to search for it again when the meeting commences. The rest of the e-mails aren't as captivating as that previous one, and I make a point to include a big asterisk right next to the bold words on my book.

And then Mike jogs into the room, a thick binder in his hands and I see the colour-coded tabs sticking out from the side. Seriously, he has to be the most organized dude I've ever met. Granted, he's Asian—which, if you think about it, doesn't exactly prove anything—but he's always had this small pinch of OCD that goes a long way with his straight-A grades. His notes are always neat and precise, and he always knows where things are.

"Hey, Mike," I call out, giving the guy a small wave. "How's it going with the records?"

"Not bad, actually," he says and plops the stack of documents in front of me. "Turns out, the house was once a temporary shelter for Civil War soldiers. The first owner, Harley Jones, actually built that mansion in 1856 for his second wife. He was a doctor, and during the war, he allowed for injured soldiers to rest and recover."

Mike then enthusiastically starts flipping through the pages until he finds what he's looking for. He points to a photocopy of an old newspaper article and I lean over to read it as he continues with his animated explanation.

"He made front cover of the local newspaper for saving all those lives, too," he goes on, directing me to another article even before I can finish skimming through. "One day, he found out that his wife was having an affair with one of the soldiers, and was furious. He killed the soldier, gave him a needle and put the guy to sleep, and locked his wife up in the cellar. She was given bread and water everyday, but she was forbidden to leave the room. She fell into depression shortly after and hung herself."

Rachel gasps, appalled by the story.

"What's her name?" I ask.

A slow grin spread over Mike's lips, and it instantly clicks in my head.

"Jane?"

"Bingo!" he declares victoriously, punching his fists up in the air.

"Isn't that the name we caught on audio during out EVP session?" Finn wonders, ever the slow thinker.

"Fuck, yeah!" Mike exclaims.

"Language, Mike," Rachel chastised.

"But didn't the voice sound like a male?"

I am about to answer him when Artie Abrams enters the room, rolling in his wheelchair with a box in his lap. Crippled from birth hasn't stopped the guy from being my best technical support manager, though. He's probably the most important person in all of our investigations.

"Hey, guys!" he chirps happily.

"Hey, Arts!" I slap him a high-five as everybody else echoes my exchange.

"What have you got there?" Rachel jumps in impatiently, gesturing towards the parcel.

Setting the box atop Mike's research, Artie rips open the tape the seals the opening. He glances around dramatically, creating a lame form of suspense as he places his hands on the flaps. "Are you ready for this?"

I roll my eyes, because this cannot get any more ridiculous.

Nevertheless, Mike, Finn and I entertain his notion and nod our heads as Rachel is clasps her hands together comically in anticipation. She resembles a cartoon character and I have to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Artie makes a big show of deliberately revealing the contents of the box. It's a portable hand-held device, some sort of gadget and I hope it isn't another sound recorder.

"What's that?" Finn voices out the question on everybody's mind.

"It's an Ovilus," Artie answers, like that's going to account for anything.

"Right…" Mike trails off, quirking an eyebrow skeptically.

I glance at Rachel, wondering what kind of remarks she's about to offer. "What does it do?" she quizzed and gingerly plucks the object out of Artie's hand.

The bespectacled boy sighs, snatching the Ovilus back. "It's an electronic speech-synthesis device that utters words depending on electromagnetic waves in the air, by using an EMF Meter."

Four blank faces stare back at him, his jargon making no sense whatsoever. He turns his attention to me. "I mentioned this to you last Wednesday," he says. "It makes out words that we can't hear."

"Oh, right," I snap my fingers. "The Ovilus. So, does it work?"

"The guy in the store tested it out a few times just now, but I don't know what he's basing it on," Artie admits. "It's just an additional toy that we can look into. It might not even be accurate, but we can give it a shot."

I motion for Artie to pass the object to me and I curiously examine it for any form of instructions or terms and conditions. "Is it returnable?"

"As long as it's in good shape."

I continue inspecting the hand-held device, twisting it around to test its weight. It is relatively light, and so I'm sure it wouldn't be a big hassle during our investigations.

"Hey, guys!"

Heads pivot round towards the doorway and Tina Chang strides into the room in all her ever-bubbly glory. An automatic response is about to leave my mouth when I realize that she isn't alone, for right behind her is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She's looking around the room, timidly studying the surroundings, and to me, she has the most amazing eyes ever. They're hazel, outlined by her long lashes and right now, they're taking in everything around her. She has rich blonde hair that reaches just below her ears, her fringe sweeping across her forehead. It looks so soft, I just want to run my fingers through the golden strands.

She's perfect.

A modern-day Aphrodite.

And just like that she takes my breath away.

"Everyone, this is Quinn Fabray," Tina proceeds to introduce to the group. "I bumped into her in the student lounge and she told me that she's really interested in what we do, so I brought her over. I told her she could join us for today's discussion and from there she can decide if we're a good fit for her and vice versa. Wouldn't hurt to take in a new member, right?"

That last sentence is directed at me as the Chinese girl turns to me for approval. I just shrug my shoulders because quite frankly, I just don't trust myself to speak right now.

"Quinn, that's Artie. He's our technical advisor," Tina continues. I watch as Quinn extend her arms and shake the guy's hand. "That's Mike. We're not siblings, and we refuse to fall into the clichéd category of being an Asian couple, but he's really smart. He does most of the background researches in our cases. That's Rachel—"

"Hi, Quinn! We have Modern Literature together, don't we?" the brunette asks, practically grabbing onto Quinn's hand.

"Uh, yeah, I remember you," Quinn says and just hearing that angelic voice for the first time, it triggers the butterflies in my stomach. I can tell that she's slightly overwhelmed by Rachel's pot of huge smiles and aggressive enthusiasm, which, I really don't blame her for. Anybody who first meets Rachel Berry can't help but be swept in her whirlwind of energy.

"That's Finn. He's an investigator, like me."

He's got this goofy look on his face, and I reckon I know that look. It's probably a replica of my expression at the moment. Quinn gives him a kind smile as she shakes his hand. I see her discreetly wipe her palms on her dress and I chuckle slightly. Finn and his clammy hands are never a pleasant feat.

"Last but not least—"

"I'm Sam Evans," I say, trying to be as charming as possible. She accepts my hand and as her fingers curl over, I can't help thinking how tiny she is. Her smile widens and God, she's even prettier up close. I hope she can't hear my heart pounding in my chest.

"And what do you do?" she asks.

"I'm the lead investigator in this team. Welcome to Project Paranormal."

A/N: So…let me know what you think :D