iClue

Disclaimer: Clue: Not mine. iCarly: Not mine. Tacos: MINE!

Author's Notes: And so, another chapter being written by my hand. I hope you enjoy this, cause I put a lot of effort into it. Another tie-in with my other story, iBecome a Private Eye. Includes real Sam! And marks the beginning of the investigation.


Chapter 6: iDream of a Puckett

This. Is. Torture.

"SCAR! Do you really have to do that?" I ask as she feels my legs, my torso, whatever, for weapons or anything that seems unusual. Like a police searching you after your arrested. It's not only uncomfortable; it's disturbing.

She takes the time to stare me in the eye, annoyance rather than anger shining in her eyes, "Yeah, I have to. You said yourself; Anyone of us could be the murderer. And I'm not accusing you," She adds after I glare at her, "I just believe in the 'better safe than sorry' saying," Then she resumes searching my leg. Much like the REAL Sam, something tells me Scar is innocent. An instinctual trust I share with her, like I share with Sam. Okay, I'm confusing myself, I'll stop right now.

But, for all intents and purposes, she's right. I'm not anymore above suspicion than anyone else. In a case of life or death, 'Innocent until proven guilty' is the other way around. She can't afford to take any risks. But in that case...

"Why are you letting me help you if any one of us, including myself, could be the murderer?" I ask. Sam/Scar sighs, rubbing her temples like she's got a headache. Actually, that's likely, considering what's going on. In an exasperated tone, she addresses me.

"I don't know, okay? I have to be suspicious of you, but at the same kind... my gut's telling me your not guilty. And I tend to trust my gut," She looks over, giving me a ghost of a smile, "There's something weird, different about you, I know, I can sense it. The others may be stupid enough not to, but I can tell," A sigh escapes her lips, and she stares at me, as if she knows I have a secret, but can't quite figure it out.

I stare at her, trying to decide what to do. Finally...

"You wanna know the truth? It starts with a girl named Sam Puckett..."


"...and that's how I ended up here," I finish my tale. Sam/Scar merely sits there, taking it all in. I think I overloaded her brain. She's completely quiet, which isn't a good sign, considering she's based off Sam in every way possible, from looks to personality.

"So... I'm not real? Just apart of your imagination?" That seems to have hit her hardest. Without thinking twice about it, I pull her into an embrace. Which is kinda stupid, considering she's still Sam, and could pound me into ground beef before I could say 'ouch'. But she accepts the hug, carefully embracing me back in her moment of weakness. After a moment, she pushes me off, growling. Still hates looking weak. Still hates me. Figures.

"Scar, your real... just not right as you are," Okay, that confused even myself, and sure enough, Sam/Scar didn't get it either, "I mean, your Sam, in every aspect. Meaning you are real... just not here," Lessened her puzzlement, but she still looks confused.

"Look," I try to reason with her, "I'm trapped here, and for all intents and purposes, this is reality right now. And we need to find this murderer. So, what have you got in mind?" She bites her lip, looking thoughtful, before telling me what she thinks.

"We gotta find a way to wake you up. We'll solve the mystery, and then we'll work to restore your consciousness. It's the only thing we can do, if you think about it," I nod, and take my strange notes outta my pocket. Sam/Scar calmly inquires what they are.

"I really don't know; they just came to me randomly," Sam/Scar looks them over, trying to determine what they are. I really can't be sure either. Most of it's just notes on the human mind and-

"'Are you stupid?" Well, aren't you nice?

"And this is relevant and not completely random because...?"

"Because your notes are directions!" I look at her, puzzled, before taking a second glance at my notes, and noticing that, indeed, they are directions. A list of things I need to do to do...

"Wait, what're these directions for?"

"I'm... not sure. But we should probably follow them if they came from you,"

"Well, read it to me, Scar,"

"Don't tell me what to do!" She snaps, then reads the list, "Alright... sit on the floor, pretzel style," She really still uses the pretzel style term? Whatever, it's Sam... kinda.

I sit on the floor, crossing my legs 'pretzel style', and send her a glance to prod her to continue.

"Now, get into a meditation stance, and clear your mind... that's all it says," She announces. Though this thing makes no sense what so ever, I obey her command. My eyes shut (More instinctively than anything), and I feel my mind calm. My arms and hands move into a meditation pose, and I let go of every worry, every fear, every doubt. Just as I blank out, a calm, somewhat familiar voice whispers to me.

"Just relax..."


When I open my eyes, it takes a moment for me to recognize where I am. Sam's bedroom. I haven't been in here since we were children. Well, in a way, we still are children. The second thing I notice is Sam, sleeping calmly in her bed. She's not dressed in a red gown... she's wearing her regular 'I don't care what you have to say' clothing. Though this sight amuses me, I remind myself why I'm here and prod her awake.

"Sam..." I call out gently, "Sam..."

"Go away," Is mumbled at me half-heartedly. Sam isn't really awake, she's just stirring. Then, one of her bright blue eyes opens. She obviously didn't expect me, because the moment she catches sight of me, both her eyes widen in shock, "Freddie?"

"Hey, Sam," I force myself to act casual, when in reality, I'm just as excited as she is. I never really thought I'd see her again. I inspect her quickly. No injuries, hair's still blond, clothing the same as the day I fell into a coma. How long have I been out? Instead, I ask, "How's... life?" Real smooth, Fredward.

"Well, not boring..." She starts off, then continues,"But not exactly fun, either. I've picked up where you left off, dork. I'm finding psycho pyro stalker," I didn't think she would do that for me- wait. Psycho Pyro Stalker? Where did that come from? I didn't get a chance to ask as she continues, "When I find him or her, he or she is getting a special beating in your honor," I couldn't help laughing. Same old Sam, I hope she never changes. Well, she could cut down on the insults some more, but still...

Oh, I'm supposed to say something, aren't I?"Well, you wouldn't be Sam otherwise, now would you?" I ask. She smirks in response, this almost feeling like a sweet moment. Then...

The interrogation starts.

"Why are you here? HOW are you here?Why are you wearing that stupid suit? Who tried to kill you? What's the meaning of life?" At first, I have a little trouble keeping up with her wild questions. Then, I decide to put my finger to her lips. This effectively silences her. After they sink into my system, I answer them one by one.

"One question at a time, okay, Puckett? I'll answer them in order, mostly: I'm here to check on you, because I was worried about you," I didn't mean for that one to slip out of my mouth, but now that it has, I realize it's the truth. I AM worried about Sam. Terrifying, isn't it?

"Second, it's been theorized that people in coma's have more power within there own mind. Call this the proof," Well, that one is true. I have heard that somewhere before. Does it matter that I can't remember where? That's what the notes were for: So I could contact Sam. My own mind instructing me how. It's so interesting, how-

"Your such a geek, Fredweird," That knocks me out of my mental rant. Drats, I can't waste time! I don't know how long I'm gonna be here, in what I can only assume is Sam's dreams.

"Whatever, Sam. Third, well, that's a long story. I'll tell you when I wake up. Believe me, I hate this suit too, but I gotta where it," I raise one eyebrow, "As for your final question... 42," She giggles at that last private joke, ans I couldn't help smiling at her. There were times when she was so innocent...

...and times when she was a complete terror. Anyway, I try to tell her what went down at the school, but something in my mind tells me not to; I can't explain it, it's so weird. Like, a safety switch. I force myself to tell Sam, "And last, well... I'm sorry, Sam, I can't tell you that,"

Her glare still has all the fire it had when I was conscious, was the only thought I could focus on as she yells, "Why not?" at me.

I reply, "Because, I can't give you the answer. I don't know why, it's like something is stopping me. I can't explain it. But, I'm sure you're doing great on your own," She looks down at her feet, like there's something interesting there.

"Not really, Freddork. I can't do this on my own, I got me a partner, and sadly it's Nevel," Huh? Why would she partner with Nevel? Moreover, why would Carly LET her partner with Nevel? All this is running through my head, though my only response is a raised eyebrow. Then I say:

"Nevel? Why, why not Carly? Isn't she your best friend?"

"Some friend," Sam snorts,"She let Briggs and Howard corrupt her. They showed her the security tapes; she thinks I did it," I couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes and voice as she said this, and I can't blame her. Carly is supposed to be her best friend... why wouldn't she be on Sam's side?

"Huh, would've thought Carly's more stubborn than that," I state coolly. Sam looks upon me with such sadness, I pull her into a hug. She seems shocked, but holds it. I guess she thinks this is just a dream. All of a sudden, I feel something pulling me, trying to force me back into my own mind, "Sam, I gotta go now,"

Sam looks at me. The look in her eyes make me wanna stay, but I know I have to go. "No!" She shouts out. I can't tell her everything, but I can give her hints, right?

"Sam... it's okay," I inform her, "Don't trust gifts, and keep an eye out for brown-eyed clowns," I have to at least warn her about the assassins hired by the pyro and her accomplice. I can feel myself drift away, "Bye, Sam,"

"NO!"


I awaken once again to find myself lying on the bed of my room in Tudor Manor, with Sam/Scar hovering above me worriedly.

"Are you okay? What happened? What did that do?" She seems curious, doesn't she? I force some air into my lungs, turn to her, and state calmly.

"Nothing to worry about, Scar. Just visiting an old friend,"


Well, that was probably the longest thing I've ever written. EVER! Be proud to have read it! Er- ignore that last statement.

Review, por favor!