A/N: A little spoiler alert before you start reading this chapter…there's a nice little Sam/Quinn development in this update, which I hope you will all like. It's another sort of filler chapter, though, but I'm trying to move this story along towards the paranormal side as soon as possible. Just bear with me for a bit, okay? I swear it'll come.

Enjoy!

xXx
CeruleanBlues

Whisper in my Ear

Chapter 3

Tuesday, 12.30pm

/Mike Chang

It's lunchtime, and the cafeteria is full of students milling around. The group of girls behind me are gossiping about their new history teacher or another, and they keep squealing every ten seconds. Either way, it's not exactly the most conducive environment to be in while I'm perusing through the document reports for the South Oak Mansion case. I've managed to pull some strings last night and when I woke up this morning, there was a package sitting at my doorstep.

I'd nearly shit my pants at the brash delivery—pun intended—considering the amount of classified information that was in there. Well, it's not like sitting in a room full of nosy teenagers as I'm reading them makes it any better. I'm highlighting important stuff as I go, my chicken burrito still left untouched, mentally calculating the estimated cost of the entire property. It's just really sad that old man Harley Jones hadn't left a will, not a peep and not a zip. I wonder what the state's going to do with his house. For all that it's worth, I suppose it's probably going to end up being a town attraction.

"Mike! Hey, Mike!"

I glance up, and my eyes about pop out of their sockets when I see Aphrodite Reincarnate—something I heard from Sam in class that morning—making a beeline for me. Craning my head around, I look over my shoulder to check if there are any other Mikes behind me because there is absolutely no way that Quinn Fabray is talking to me. I turn back again and she's plopping down in the empty seat in front of me with a gorgeous smile upon her lips.

At that instant, in such close proximity, I finally figure out why Sam's already smitten by this girl. He wouldn't shut up about her in Chemistry, and I was so close to burning my ears off just to save myself from the torture. She tilts her head to one side and asks, "are you okay?"

I snap out of it. "Yeah, yeah," I reply her sheepishly, and like the weakling I am, I start to blush. Damn that Evans. He's spreading unnecessary girl-issue diseases to me. "Hi, Quinn. What's up?"

She gently places her ring binder on the table, all of a sudden looking a bit uncomfortable. Please God, don't let her ask me about Sam. I may be his best friend, but I'm a terrible wingman.

"I'm just wondering if I can have a look at those reports on Harley Jones?"

I probably have a stunned expression on my face because she breaks into another smile.

"I want to know what those articles say about that case," she goes on to explain. "I have a feeling that there's something we're overlooking. Are there any witness accounts?"

When I finally—embarrassingly—get my voice back, I say, "all the reports state that Jane committed suicide. There's no inconsistency in that, and witness accounts are really limited. The ones that are mentioned are all quite vague; nothing much aside from the obvious."

"Do you mind if I have a read?" she asks, gesturing to the stack of papers in my hands. "I just—I really feel like there's more to what we know."

"She committed suicide, Quinn," I tell her politely, trying not to sound too patronizing because I know what it feels like to get so caught up in a case. Perhaps she's just overwhelmed by all of this or something, but certain facts are simply not questionable. "What more is there?"

"I'm just having a hunch," she admits quietly, and I notice the disheartened look in her otherwise flawless features. "If she were to commit suicide, she would've done it the day Harley killed the soldier."

Well, that certainly is a new perspective, isn't it? I ponder the possibilities.

Just maybe…

With a resigned sigh, I detach the necessary reports from my folder and slide it across to her. She brightens a little, the sparkle returning to her perfect hazel eyes, but as she reaches out for the documents, I keep my hands there to stop her.

"I'm not agreeing with you on that, Quinn, because I've read these over a million times," I inform her. "But you have your own thoughts and I respect that. Just don't get too disheartened if you don't find what you're looking for."

"I won't," she mumbles unconvincingly.

I lean forward a bit. "Why would Harley kill his own wife?" I question her. "He loved her."

She shrugs her petite shoulders. "You don't abuse the woman you love, do you, Mike?"

"No," I mutter under my breath, and then I realize where she's coming from. "But why so interested, Quinn?"

She's quiet for a while, and I guess she's contemplating whether or not she should tell me. I watch her every movement. Somehow, this girl fascinates me. I mean, she's not my type or anything—she seems a little too intense for my liking—but there's this strange energy, it's drawing me in.

However, before she can open her mouth to say something, my cellphone beeps to signal an incoming text message. I glimpse down at the screen and it's my roommate, Noah Puckerman.

Dude, I need your fucking essay. Now.

That lazy asshole.

He's going to steal my work and then submit it as his own. Again. For the third time this month, and he's not even going to bother rephrasing anything at all. Puck—that's how he wants people to address him by—is a huge bully, and a big-time douchebag but he has a brain the size of a pea. The only thing saving his butt right now is his football scholarship. Even then, he probably needs a decent point average. Hence, his incessant need to bother me with things that aren't my business.

"I've gotta go," I tell Quinn apologetically. "My roommate's being a jerk and if I don't get back to my dorm immediately, Lord knows what he might do to my laptop."

She chuckles, giving me an understanding nod. "He sits in front of me in Geography," she says, and for a moment I'm confused until I realize she must've seen Puck's name on my screen. "Snores like a truck."

I roll my eyes and start packing my stuff as I stand up. "Tell me about it. I've resorted to using noise-canceling headphones and a vibrating alarm clock every night. Sometimes I just want to smother him with a pillow and ship his body to the North Pole."

"North Pole? Don't you think that's a little too harsh?"

I smile down at her. "You're something, Quinn Fabray, you know that?"

"I do," she replies mock self-righteously.

However, I can't help throwing a bone out for my dear friend. "Do you also know that Sam's in love with you?"

Quinn blinks, and a beat later I see the colour creep into her cheeks as she bites on her lower lip and looks away. "Does he, now?"

My eyebrows shoot up when I recognize the implication behind her reactions.

Who would've thought?

Sam Evans, you are one lucky bastard.

Tuesday 3.25pm

/Sam Evans

I'm all alone in the headquarters, feet propped up on the table; reading through the new stuff Mike's sent over to me regarding the South Oak Mansion case, and I'm intrigued at the findings. Frankly, I don't even know where the dude gets his information. They're so highly classified, there's no way they're even legal. I do another brief skim down the article, wondering how much a doctor would've earned back in those days, especially in the midst of a war.

Harley Jones wasn't particularly an important figure in history. He didn't dictate decisions and he didn't deal with politics, so it baffles me to no end how he could afford such luxuries. His family wasn't wealthy in any way; his dad was only a clerk in a bank while his mum was a librarian. Being the only son was the only thing that had allowed for him to attend the local medical school.

I hear a knock on the door and glance up, expecting to see one of the guys, but instead doing a double take when I see Quinn Fabray by the entrance. Are you fucking kidding me? Am I dreaming?

"Hi."

Hastily, I swing my legs off the table. "Hey," I blurt out, clearing my throat. "Hi, erm, did you leave something here? Do you need anything?"

She gently shakes her head, her short golden blonde hair swishing from side to side; a soft smile on her doll-like features. "No. May I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," I say, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment.

She walks over, and as she gets nearer, my hands start clamming up. I quickly wipe my palms on my jeans, sticking my tongue out to wet my lips as Quinn pulls a chair and sits in front of me, placing her ring binder on the desk that's separating us.

"I've read through the articles on the South Oak Mansion case."

"Oh?" I'm actually impressed.

"Some things don't add up," she tells me, but I'm suddenly distracted as I gaze into her beautiful eyes. Quinn's flipping through the pages in her folder until she finds the right article and then jabs a finger at a highlighted portion. "How did a woman, locked up in a room, attain rope to hang herself?"

"What?" I grab the binder and spin it around, reading over the particular paragraph. "At approximately eleven-thirty in the evening, Jane Winston-Jones was found dead in her house. The husband of the deceased, Mr. Harley Jones, a local general practitioner, is distraught over the loss. She was believed to have killed herself with the aid of a rope. At present, Mr. Jones has refused to speak to the press and has demanded privacy."

I mull over it for a moment.

"Who keeps a rope in the bedroom?" Quinn wonders out loud. "If she'd wanted to commit suicide, she could've done it with her clothes, or a towel or something, but somehow she found a rope. How's that possible?"

The passion in her voice, the strong determined tone, is so different from any other girls I've ever met. Rachel is just annoying as hell, loud and a tab bit obnoxious. Tina is just the sort of girl who goes with the flow and doesn't really question anything, but Quinn, she's got a mind of her own and this puzzles me a little.

"Quinn, can I ask you something?"

She pauses for a bit. "Sure."

"Why do you care so much about this case?" I ask because it genuinely interests me, the amount of effort she's putting into our investigation.

She's regarding me in a perplexed manner. "Well, isn't this our—your—job? To solve these mysteries?"

"Yeah, but we're not exactly the FBI. There's only so much we can try and solve, especially dealing with the paranormal. We don't have any other evidences to disprove the claims. For all we know, Jane probably really did kill herself and we're just going round in circles."

I can tell she doesn't like what she's hearing, and I seriously do not want to be the bad guy in the situation, but regardless, I'm still the leader of the group and it is my job to ensure that my investigators aren't getting too attached to a particular case or straying too far away from the facts and reality.

"Can we at least do another investigation there? I would like to have a look at least."

It pains me, what I'm about to do next, because she's staring at me with those big pleading eyes, and I reckon if I don't say anything quick, she might have me wrapped around her finger and I'd give in to her request.

"Quinn, we're presenting our findings to the client tomorrow," I remind her. "And after that, we're closing the case."

"Oh."

She seems so disappointed that I'm tempted to reach out and have her in my arms. "I know what it feels like, Quinn." Damnit, I can't stop saying her name. "But sometimes you have to let it go because, let's face it. Regardless, we're dealing with the paranormal—an affiliation to the past that's just caught in the present—and it's something we can't change. Like I've said, we're not the police."

"Well, I know, it's just…" she trails off, and I'm getting curious.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Quinn?"

Her silence makes me think that I've landed closer than I thought. She tears her eyes away from mine and I lean forward to try and catch her gaze again.

"Quinn?" I softly prod on, not wanting to spook her.

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right," she sighs. "I'm just getting hung up on this. I probably should just let it go."

"That doesn't mean that I don't appreciate your efforts though," I'm quick to let her know, because I really do think she's doing a splendid job with her own mini investigation. "For a rookie, you've got a great eye for detail."

For a brief second, the corners of her pink lips twitch upwards. "Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome."

"Can I ask you one more thing?" Her tone is shy, almost timid as she slowly lifts her head to look at me. She doesn't wait for me to answer, though. "Mike told me that you're in love with me. Is that true?"

My eyes grow wide in horror, and I'm just wishing for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I can feel a blush whooshing up to my face but all I can think of are the million and one ways in which I am going to kill that best friend of mine.

He told her.

He fucking told Quinn Fabray.

"Is that true?" she repeats and I detect the slight sense of uncertainty.

There are two ways to go from here, I reckon. I can suck it up, be a man and admit my feelings—no matter how humiliating it is—or I can be a coward and deny the statement, simultaneously destroying any chance that I can possibly have with his blonde Goddess. When it comes to the opposite gender, I've always been a pussy—pun intended—and as much as possible, I tend to avoid anything that would involve my imbalanced teenage hormones because girls have this undeniable power to reduce me to a socially awkward mess.

I clear my throat and decide to take the plunge. "What exactly did he say?"

"That you're in love with me."

"And, what do you think?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "That's what I'm trying to find out. Are you in love with me, Sam Evans?"

My head's getting a little dizzy from all that blood stimuli, my ears are hot, and I fear that I may just pass out any second. "Well, not exactly, but—" I mumble, my words coming out in a slur. "Define 'in love'."

"Sam, you just knew me yesterday."

I run my fingers through my shaggy hair, somewhat uncomfortable. I've never been in such a predicament before; I don't know exactly what to do. "I know, I mean, God, you're gorgeous, and you're sweet and you're smart and witty, and I've never met a girl like you before, and I guess, you know, I like you a lot, Quinn Fabray."

Oh shit, I'm rambling like an idiot.

"You like me?"

"A lot."

And then we sit there in silence for what seems like an eternity, with me staring up at the clock on the wall, counting the seconds that pass. I can feel her watching me, and as the time hits a full minute, I finally find the courage to meet her hypnotic hazel eyes. It's like a Jedi mind trick, and I'm not sure if she's even aware of what she's doing to me.

"So, are you going to kiss me now?" she murmurs.

It is then that I'm aware that our noses are barely an inch away. I'm definitely positive now that she can feel my heart hammering through the fabric of my clothes, and these hands of mine are shaking so bad, I figure I ought to seize the chance before I really collapse or something. And so closing the remaining gap between us, I capture her soft lips in mine.

The kiss itself is tender and precarious, nothing grand or award-worthy, but it tastes sweeter than honey and is everything I'd imagined and more. She pulls away first and as her eyelids flutter open, I'm once again drowning in the depths of her dark pupils. A flash of emotion crosses her features, and suddenly I'm worried that I might be a terrible kisser.

"Is something wrong?"

Just like that, though, the expression is gone and she's smiling at me.

"No, but I'm just thinking now would be a good time to take you up on that offer for a burger."

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing my story! Please keep them coming, 'cause I really love to hear about your views and your comments. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, so do not hesitate to voice out should there be any faults in my story.

Alli2345: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you're liking my story so far :D

Mandorac: I'm so glad you liked the previous chapter, and also the wonderful comments! At the moment, they haven't gone into a proper investigation, but I promise you that it'll happen soon. Frankly, I can't wait till I get to that point, because I think that it'll be rather fun to write! Thank you so much for reviewing and I'm glad that you like the story!

Fabrevansgleek: Thank you! :D

Agustinag: Wow, thank you so much! I've always been a huge fan of Ghost Hunters, Ghost Lab and Paranormal State, and although I'm quite a wuss when dealing with real-life paranormal stuff (truthfully, I've never been on a single investigation), the other side just captivates me. I'm glad you're liking it so far!

Burnthiscityxx: I think I fangirl-ed for a while when I saw that you've reviewed my chapter! Thank you so much for reading and commenting! I love your stories, they're amazing! I'm glad that you're liking my story so far! Hope you've enjoyed this update!