Welcome all to CSI: New York. Except it's the cast of Glee in my own little fanfiction. Which remind me, I'm not an expert in forensic science, so don't flame saying things are inaccurate. I'm trying, okay? And I don't own Glee.


Sneerleader, Part 1

The blonde cheerleader jumped up and down bubbly, making sure to plaster a huge smile on her face. In reality, she felt like crap. The football team, the Oxford Lions, battling it out on the feild needed her. She was captain. She felt her stomach clench again and she groaned.

"Amber?" One of her friends asked, looking at the cheerleader clutching her stomach. Amber looked over at her friend shaking her pom poms and shook her head. The other cheerleader handed her a bottle of water. Upon taking one sip, she promptly fell to thr ground.

"Oh my God!" Her friend shouted, brown hair falling from her ponytail. "Coach Newman! Coach Newman!"

The coach ran over, grabbing the girl's wrist. "No pulse," she said with a sigh. The cheerleaders gasped and some began crying dramatically. "I'll call the police and an ambulance."


Kurt Hummel slammed the door of his navigator, pushing his Fossil sunglasses to the tip of his nose to look condescendingly at the high school. It looked like a prep school for kids with lots of money. He sighed and turned around to see one of his top forensic serologists, and one of his best friends, Rachel Berry behind him. He grinned.

"Death of a cheerleader in Oxford High School. Last night, she was feeling bad, and one of her friends gave her some water. She was dead before she hit the ground," Rachel said to him, frowning.

"Did you get the water bottle to send to the lab?" Kurt asked, looking around at the expensive cars in the parking lot. They began walking towards the enterance of the school. Rachel nodded.

"Puck will get the results back ASAP," Rachel said as she opened a heavy door leading to the hallways of the high school. "I hated high school," she muttered, and Kurt snorted, his tight pants appearing to be painted on.

"I hear at this school they teach forensic science," he began, "I'd love to meet the teacher."

The principal approached them and said kindly, "Hello, my name is Quinn Fabray, you can call me Quinn. I'm the principal of this high school," she said softly. She was truly gorgeous. Her blonde hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her make-up was classily and professionally done. And in a black pencil skirt and pink blouse she looked even more beautiful. If Kurt was straight in any sense of the word, he'd be falling over himself.

Rachel stuck out her chest a little (she wasn't jealous at all) and stuck her hand out, "I'm Rachel Berry, forensic scientist. Pleasure. So, what happened excactly?"

Quinn frowned and said softly, leading them down the hallway, where Kurt and Rachel saw groups of students in black place candles and notes at the memorial. To their amazement, not many people looked exceptionally sad. Quinn stopped when reaching another hallway and turned back to face the forensic scientists. "Coming?"

"Can we ask some students some questions?" Kurt asked, peering at the adolescents.

"Sure. But be nice, please, they're going through a rough time," Quinn said, opening up a door. Inside the pair could see a short man with curly hair animatedly teaching some kind of science class. "I'll call out some of her friends." She walked into the small classroom, leaving Rachel and Kurt to hang awkwardly in the hallway, and the teacher turned to Quinn.

"Hello Miss Fabray," he said, and with a jolt Kurt realized he was quite attractive. "What brings you to my humble forensic science abode?" His students laughed.

Quinn smiled thinly, and said, "Could I see Kimberly Amason and Veronica Smythe, Mr. Anderson?"

Mr. Anderson's smile faded and he solemnly said, "Sure. Kimberly, Ronnie, you guys better go with her. I'll transfer the make-up work to my website."

A tiny brunette girl and a tall, slender redhead stood and walked to the door. When they say Kurt and Rachel, they were taken aback.

"Who are you guys?" The redhead said in a lilting voice, looking disdainfully at Rachel, who cleared her throat.

"I'm Rachel Berry and this is Kurt Hummel, and we're part of the NYPD forensic lab," Rachel said, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and tried to look intimidating.

"Oh God, you're here about Amber," the brunette groaned, rolling her eyes. "Everyone blames me because it was my water bottle. I didn't do it, okay? Why would I kill my best friend?" Rachel's eyes widened.

"Kimberly," the other girl sighed. "You talk way too much." Turning to Kurt, she said loudly, "I'm sorry about Kimberly. She's just pissed because after Amber died her boyfriend wouldn't hook up with her."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "This doesn't seem like an accident."

"Murder, anyone?" Rachel smirked.


My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm the head of the NYPD forensic crime lab, aka the CSI- crime scene investigation. My right hand woman is Rachel Berry, the one and only. Then there's our lab rat and major player, Noah Puckerman. He's pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Then there's Santana, our autopsy expert, who is as lethal as cyanide.

My stepbrother Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones are our two other field scientists. I always dreamed of Broadway in high school, which I never thought I'd revisit, by the way. And a murdered head cheerleader? Sounds like normal high school to me. I guess not to Quinn...or the authorities...


"Hey, Puckerman, what's the deal with the water bottle? Anything abnormal in it?" Kurt asked snappily, turning over a few pages containing the biography of Amber Daniel, and info on all of her friends."This Amber girl wasn't well-liked apparently. She and her best friends ruled the school with an iron fist. I see how'd she have a fair share of enemies."

"Well, she shouldn't have died, she was smoking," Puck pointed out helpfully. "Anyway, in the bottle I found traces of silver and postassium cyanide, which is found in kinds of substances used for refinishing furniture. Were any of her friends' parents furniture refinishers?"

"No, Kimberly's mom is a teacher and her dad is lawyer. And Veronica's dad is unemployed, whom she lives with. Mom died last year. Aw, poor girl, no wonder she's so nasty..." Kurt mused. "There's only one furniture refinsher in town, Harrison Gray. He redid my mom's vanity for my apartment. He's good."

Puck grinned. "Well, is he single? Cause you need to get out more..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and said, "He's straight, married, and old. Not interested in being a poolboy."


"So, Mr. Anderson, what can you tell us about Amber? Was she a good student, friendly?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows at the laid-back teacher.

"Call me Blaine," he grinned, "I know people say it all the time but Mr. Anderson is my father. Well, Amber always seemed to pay attention in my class, but other teachers say she would text, talk, and zone out during other classes. And to be honest, she never was nice to anyone but that boyfriend of hers, Zachary Gray. Oh, boy, that kid is a firecracker. They made a pair," Blaine chuckled to himself.

Well, Rachel could certainly see why she paid attention in his class. He was absolutely gorgeous. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and asked, "About Zach. How is he duing school? Any family problems or anything?"

Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair, saying, "Well, he has a sister. Hannah. Amber absolutely torments her. I talked to the other faculty members about it, but no one seemed to really care. They're like, if you're unpopular, your life is going to be miserable. It really pisses me off."

Rachel nods slowly, staring into Blaine's eyes, who notices the familiar look and clears his throat. "Rachel? I am gay, you know."

That only made Rachel smile wider. "Great. That's fabulous, actually. I know I'm here for Amber, but you teach forensic science. Do you like it?"

"Man, I love it. I wish I could be an actual forensic scientist, but you know, hopeless dream and all that..." Blaine trailed off, leaving Rachel's smile as wide as it could ever be.

"Well, keep in touch, Blaine, and thanks for the info about Amber."


Kurt knocked slowly on the door to HARRISON GRAY'S FURNITURE REFINISHING and grinned when the weathered man opened up the door.

"Kurt," he smiled, pulling him into a hug. "How's your father?"

"Being himself," Kurt laughed. "How are you? I know you used to work for him and all."

"I'm trying to support the kids," he smiled sadly. "Ever since Martha walked away they've been different. Hannah's sulking, Zach's rebelling, I don't know what to do." Leading him into the shop, he asked, "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Kurt smiled. "Do you know an Amber Daniel?"

The older man stopped. Kurt narrowed his eyes and asked again. "Do you know Amber?"

The usually twinkly blue eyes were dull. "Yes," he admitted. "Zach's girlfriend and Hannah's worst nightmare. I know her. She's an awful, awful girl."

"She's dead," Kurt said bluntly.

"Oh," the older man said, sounding unusually happy. Kurt was immediately suspicious. "Well, that's...awful..."

"Can I go upstairs to speak to your children?" The fashionable forensic scientist asked catiously. Harrison nodded and pointed to the winding staircase leading up to the Gray's home. Kurt stood and made his way upstairs, and once reaching the living room, he saw Zach sprawled across the couch watching reruns of SNL.

He cleared his throat. "How're you holding up?" Kurt asked.

"I'm fine, the girl was a bitch," Zach said simply. "She was rude, tormented Hannah and the entire student body, and really pissed off her best friend. Who is really hot, but I'm pretty sure there's a rule in the bro code saying you can't hook up with another girl untli two weeks after your girlfriend dies."

Kurt rolled his eyes and snapped, "And in the imaginary bro code I'm pretty sure there's a rule about being sad after you kill your girlfriend."

"Whoa, dude, I didn't kill her," Zach said, brushing brown hair out his face, and batting his baby blues. "I kinda liked her and she was good in bed. Killing her off would be a waste of sex on legs."

"You're such a Puck," Kurt groaned. "Where's you sister?"

"In her room," Zachmumbled. Kurt walked down the narrow hallway to find a short, thin, sullen looking girl with thick glasses sitting on her bed, writing furiously.

"Knock, knock," Kurt smiled, looking at the freshman curiously. "I need to show you some make-up tips, you could be gorgeous."

Hannah looked up, and smiled softly. "I heard about Amber. I suppose I'm being questioned now? I don't have the guts to kill anyone, let alone the resources. I mean, my dad refinishes furniture. It's not like he's a rocket scientist."

Kurt smiled softly. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Hannah?"

"A pharmacist," Hannah said automatically.

"Do you enjoy reading pharmceutical books?" Kurt asked, eying the large stack of them on her writing desk in one of the corners of her room.

"Yes, of course," Hannah said softly, pushing her long, dark brown hair out of her face. "Why?"

"So, you are aware that cyanide, found in substances used to refinish furniture, can kill in milliseconds?" Kurt asked quickly.

Hannah nods. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"Amber was killed using cyanide," Kurt glared.

"I swear to God I didn't kill her."


Blaine stood nervously at the front door of the CSI crime lab, then knocked. Kurt, looking fabulous in leather (and wow, he was as hot as Blaine remembered.) He gaped for a moment before saying, "Hi."

"Hello?" Kurt said, though it sounded more like a question.

"Um, I came here to talk to you and Rachel about something. May I come in?"

To be continued...