Authors Note: This is a cheesy fic I started writing a little while ago after reaching an all time infatuation high. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I don't own anyone except Madison Atwood.

THE ONE

Los Angeles

10:43pm

Joshua Gates walked into his small kitchen toward the cupboard over the granite counter and pulled out his favorite purple coffee mug. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room as he poured the rich, dark beverage into the happily awaiting mug. He smiled diminutively as he plopped in two cubes of sugar and stirred, thinking about the prospect of trekking around the world after cryptids, searching for the truth behind myths and legends. He brought the mug up to his lips and closed his eyes; inhaling the scent before taking a short sip. Of course, his mind was traveling many steps ahead of him. Before he could begin exploring the world with curiosity as his fuel, he needed to assemble a team of professionals to aid in his adventures. He walked back toward the living room where stacks of papers, books, and newspaper clippings occupied the entire coffee table. His laptop hummed quietly amid the heap. Josh took a seat on the couch in front of the table across from the television. He placed the mug on a single unoccupied patch of table and reached for his laptop, placing it on his lap. His blue eyes focused on the screen in front of him and his brows furrowed in concentration.

It feels as though I've read over a thousand profiles in the past 48 hours and I still don't feel like we've found the right person. I've read about established zoologists, successful archeologists and reputable researchers, but alone these qualifications, as respectable as they may be, aren't enough for what we're looking for. Surely my search would soon yield the perfect candidate but until then a cup of coffee is as perfect as I'm going to get.

Just as I'm about to take another sip of perfection a knock on my front door grabs my attention. Slightly thankful for the distraction, I get up to answer it. I check the peephole out of habit and chuckle when I find Bicha standing on the other side, grinning into the peephole with sheets of paper held up next to his face, presumably the reason for his elation. I quickly unlock the door and let him in. He walks past me into my living room and turns back to me.

"I've got it right here."

I walk back to the couch and take a seat, gesturing for him to continue. He's standing in front of me between my TV and a pile of papers resembling a coffee table, beaming excitedly.

"The search is over, my friend. I've found the last piece of our puzzle." He's practically glowing with satisfaction. I'm about to open my mouth to inquire but he cuts me off.

"Listen to this. She is an archeologist with degrees in paleontology, anthropology, sociology, and psychology. She's also done a lot of work as a paranormal investigator and researcher. I mean you name it, she's got it." Bicha is flipping through the sheets of paper as if to emphasize that it is in fact all there. My excitement at this point has far surpassed Bicha's. It's as though this woman has fallen off a cloud of perfection. My eyes are wide. It is almost too good to be true.

"Bicha, that's incredible, I mean that's insane! She's the one. We need her on the team." I say conclusively. Bicha nods enthusiastically in agreement. I stand up.

"Alright well I'll read over her profile tonight and call her tomorrow morning first thing. Man, she's perfect, where did you find her?" We had split the job of reading through profiles between the two of us to cover more ground. He must have had the lucky pile.

"I don't even know, I was just reading through a bunch of profiles and came across hers. Her name is Madison Atwood." Bicha glances at the papers once more to make sure then hands it to me over the coffee table. A sudden surge of recollection rushes through me and I fall back onto the couch immediately, staring at the name on the page. It can't be.

"Josh, you okay?" Bicha is by my side in an instant.

"Madison Atwood?" I pronounce each syllable slowly and deliberately as though unearthing a precious fossil long forgotten. My mind is spinning and I need to hold my head in my hands before it gets a chance to explode with memories.

"You know her?" Bicha has his hand on my shoulder. I lean back against the couch and exhale. My heart rate seems to have tripled in the span of two seconds.

"Yea, uh, we went to University together. We were like best friends." I squint my eyes in an attempt to fight off the impending headache.

"Ah, a blast from the past." Bicha chuckles and sits down beside me. I turn my head solemnly in Bicha's direction.

"This is more like a dropkick from the past, Bicha." I stand up and walk across the room.

"So, what's the story?" Bicha waits patiently for my response as I pace slowly back and forth in front of the TV, brushing the dust and cobwebs off the memories I've tried so hard to lock away. They flood back fiercely, as though seeking vengeance for 7 years of unjust confinement.

We stood together on the sidewalk as the cab driver finished cramming the rest of Madison's luggage into the trunk. There was silence as she looked up at me with her head slightly tilted to the side and her hand on her hip. Her dark hair was up in a high ponytail and it swayed gently in the breeze. A smile slowly made it's way onto her lips and I smiled back as my heart fell to pieces.

I walk to the window to the left of my TV and look out into the darkness as I speak.

"There's not much to say. We met in University, became best friends, completely inseparable. It was the best 4 years of my life," I pause to brace myself, "then she moved to Australia and out of my life." The bitterness in my tone hangs in the air like a thick fog. I turn back to Bicha; he studies me for a moment. I shake my head and shrug.

"It was my fault. I watched her go and didn't say a thing; stood there smiling like an idiot. Four years I'm completely punch-drunk in love with this woman and she has no idea." I run a hand through my short hair.

"So she's the one that got away, huh?"

I chuckle at the tired expression and relax a little, exhaling deeply.

"It was a million years ago. We kept in touch for a few months, but I guess eventually we just drifted too far apart."

"Well that's it then," Bicha says conclusively, leaning back against the couch with a smirk.

"What?"

Bicha leans forward.

"Josh, not only is this woman ridiculously qualified and perfect for the team but she's the one that got away, this is your chance to get her back!"

"Bicha, we haven't spoken in 7 years, she's probably a completely different person; she won't even remember who I am." Every part of me wants to believe the opposite of what I'm saying.

"Well you gotta call her, right?" I look down at the sheets of paper in my hand and my heart starts racing all over again. I do have to call her. Bicha pulls his sleeve back and looks at his watch.

"I better get going, let me know how it goes tomorrow, alright?" He stands up and walks toward the door; I follow slowly, quietly envisioning the many ways in which the phone call will pan out. Bicha turns back to me just as he opens the door.

"Hey Josh, do you believe in fate?"

My thoughts are louder than his words so I only catch the last part.

"What?"

"Maybe it's fate, you and her." His expression is teasingly suggestive.

"Get out of here." I snort and push him out the door jokingly before I turn back to face my empty living room. I look at the sheets of paper in my hand for what feels like the hundredth time. My head throbs dully as I walk back to the couch and sprawl across it, taking in a deep breath. The thought of her seems to have taken the air right out of my lungs and it takes everything I have to get it back. I'd be lying to myself if I said that my thoughts haven't wandered back to her now and again while I sit at home alone. I'd be lying if I said I'd never once contemplated the thought of how different things would have been if I had just made my feelings known. But I've learned to live with the fact that I'd never know. I've accepted reality and hopelessly dismissed the idea of ever seeing her again. I had given up without a fight because I do believe in fate. I believe that everyone is meant for someone, and everything is meant for something. Fate had brought me to that seat in the lecture hall on the first day of school where we met and fate had taken her away from me 4 years later in that taxicab on that mockingly beautiful afternoon. I used to believe that fate worked in black and white; there was no grey area to fight against it or hurry it along. Until now, I've just believed that this is the way it is supposed to be, but lying here with her number in my hand and a head full of bittersweet memories I've come to realize that fate is what you make of it. It will only bring you so far; the rest is up to you. I'm assembling a team to travel around the world in search of monsters and she's the last one we need. I've come face to face with fate's grey area and now I need to take the next step.