Fate-al Attraction

Summary: When Faith attends a seance after being convinced her dead Mom is trying to tell her something, she bumps into the unbelieving Ryan Malloy. Sparks immediately fly but will Faith's fear of going insane keep them apart?

Chapter 1

Faith's Point Of View

I couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I barely acknowledged the warm smile of Sam, the doorman, with an almost imperceptible nod. His grin morphed into a frown, and his eyes were questioning, but I simply hurried on. I caught the elevator, just before it closed after a middle aged, jamaican couple, who'd only moved in to the complex recently.

"What floor?" the woman asked, her voice heavily accented, her face kind.

"Oh. Eleven, thanks," I murmured, my thoughts elsewhere as the woman's husband pressed the '11' before pushing the button for their own floor.

I watched the numbers slowly tick by as we rode up, and the doors slid open as we came upon the fifth level. I muttered a polite 'Have a good evening' as the couple exited hand in hand. I resumed the act of watching the numbers creep by, and although my patience was wearing thin, my hollow heart beat more erratically the closer the '11' became.

6...7...8...

I had the sudden urge to just escape back downstairs, and flee to.... anywhere but here. But I had no choice except to just cruise out of the doors once the elevator stopped two floors short of the top of the building. I had my eyes squeezed shut, and moved extra slowly as to not trip over anything while I had no sight. I'd lived here long enough to know how many steps to take before I got all up close and personal with the front door; which is what I expected to see when I reluctantly peeled my eyes open. Instead, I was faced with an empty doorway; Literally. The dark blue door was lying on the ground, horizontally, the hinges twisted, allowing any unwanted prescence into the apartment. My breath was coming in shallow gasps as I stepped into my home. My eyes widened as I went through to the living room. The few posessions I owned were strewn across the floor, and drawers were hanging open; the place had been completely ransacked. My hands shook as I took out my cell, and dialed 911. 

"911, what's your emergency?"

My voice was shaky as I replied, "My house has been broken into..." I trailed off as I scanned the room to see if anything was missing. 

"What's your address?" the woman asked automatically.

Distantly, I rattled off my address, as my eyes continued their silent search. 

"Someone will be with you as soon as possible. Please stay on the line, Miss, as we do not know whether you're alone...Miss? Miss?"

As she was talking, my eyes landed on my open bedroom door, and the phone crashed to the linoleum flooring, as one thought crossed my mind...Mom's jewellry.

I dashed in the direction of my bedroom. I threw myself at the overturned sofa, knocking it upright again, but my foot snagged on the back, sending me flying into an abandoned drawer. I ignored the blinding pain on my forehead, and the tears streaming down my face as I carried onwards. I gasped as I saw that the room was in the same state as the living room, and I moved with dread towards the place I kept Mom's jewellery; On the bookshelf, hidden behind my favourite paperbacks. 

Except...my 'favourite paperbacks' were scattered haphazardly around the room. And there was no antique white jewellry box scorched black and rusty brown in odd places. A strangled sob escaped me as I got on my hands and knees, refusing to believe it was gone. 

I distinctly heard a male voice call out, "Miss Hanlon? Miss Hanlon!" from what sounded like the deserted hallway outside. I could make out the sound of muffled footsteps enter the living room, and I could hear slight murmurings. Two armed officers burst into the bedroom, shotguns at the ready. They spotted me on the floor by the bed, and their eyes scoured the room once more. I glanced up at them; the first cop, dark haired, huge and muscular (I nicknamed him Hugo) nodded to the second, who was considerably leaner than his partner, and had shoulder-length blonde hair, pulled back into a pony-tail; I mentally called him Blondie. Blondie looked reluctant to take Hugo's signal to leave the room but turned and left after a thirty second stare-down. Hugo knelt next to me, and I looked up to see that his intimidating body was overruled by his kind, friendly face, with piercing blue eyes that held nothing but compassion and concern. 

When I lowered my head again, he gently placed one of his big, meaty hands on my back, and I instinctively recoiled, eyes widening in fear. 

"Hey, are you hurt? Physically, I mean," he added the last part as he could obviously see that I was more than hurt on the inside. But I shook my head softly, and he sighed. 

"Is there anyone I could call for you?"

The name had left my lips before I knew I was even thinking it.

"Garrett."

I suddenly wanted my best friend with me, more than anything.

I barely noticed Hugo leaving the room; allowing me to fall apart on my own. 

My mind focused on something far away. Something that happened six months ago. Something I'd rather not remember. 

I sat there for what seemd like hours. Days even. Until, suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore. 

Garret's arms engulfed me as he pulled me into his embrace, pushing my head into his neck, stroking and occasionally kissing my hair. He rocked us back and forth as my entire body shook with sobs, my anguish and despair of the last six months finally coming to the surface. Every teardrop unshed at Mom's funeral was doubled, cascading down my cheeks; every sob that had been held in racked my body with a vengeance; every unspoken, sorrowful whisper was let out in a wail.

And Garrett was there with me, through it all, holding me close and feeling my pain as if it were his own. 

"Faith..." he whispered, after about an hour of clutching me to his warm body, and keeping me safe. 

"She's gone." My voice was a hoarse croak, as it hit me full on, that she really was gone, and would never come back. He just hugged me tighter, rocking me, and as my tears subsided, I drifted into a restless slumber.

Garrett's Point Of View

I'd already locked up at the store and driven halfway home when Duran Duran's 'Playing with Uranium' blasted out, and my leg started vibrating. Assuming it was my Mom ringing -for the thousandth time- to make sure I'd definitely be home for the weekend, I pulled out my cell and answered it without looking at the caller ID. Which is why I was suprised when I didn't recognise the voice on the other end of the line.

"Is this Garrett? Garrett...?"

"Whittle," I supplied, "And yes, this is he." I pulled over, so I wouldn't cause the next highway turmoil.

"Well, hello, Mr. Whittle, we have a, uh, a problem he-"

"Pardon me, but may I ask who's calling? And how did you get my number?" I asked, way beyond confused. The other guy let out a low chuckle.

"Sorry. I'm Shawn Malloy, Executive Chief of Police. We're at your friend's place. Miss Hanlon." I thanked the skies that I'd pulled over, otherwise my car would have been hugging a tree right at that moment.

Officer Malloy was still talking, but the only words I heard were spoken thirty seconds ago. Police....Miss Hanlon.

Faith!

"Huh? Oh, Miss Hanlon? Yeah, she's not doing so good," I didn't realise I'd spoken aloud. I heard the grimace in his voice and immediately stepped on the accelerator, completing a U-turn and speeding in the opposite direction of my house. 

"I'll be right there," I told him, before flipping my cell shut, and tossing it onto the passenger seat. 

True to my word, I parked outside of Faith's apartment complex less than five minutes later. 

I leapt out of the car and ran to the building entrance, pointing my car keys over my shoulder to lock it; even in times of need, I have to protect my baby. I ran past a surprised Sam, and to the elevator, only to see that it was at floor 7. It would take too long to get down here. I groaned, but dashed to the emergency staircase, climbing up the seven flights of stairs, to catch the elevator and ride up the last few levels. Once inside the metal box, I leant up against the far wall -that happened to be a mirror- to catch my breath. I breathed deeply, until my pulse rate slowed, and my cheeks went back to their normal pale complexion, instead of the cherry red they'd become. 

I was ready to knock, but found Faith's apartment door kicked in. No, kicked down. 

I was hesitant to enter, until I remembered that my best friend was in there, with or without the aid of at least one police officer. I turned to the living room, and was met by a uniformed giant of a man. His figure was intimidating, but as I looked at his face, and he sent me a sad smile, I realised he had the face of a child's teddy bear; kind, caring and huggable; well,as huggable as one could be whilst holding a shotgun

"Officer Malloy? Garrett Whittle," I held my hand out to shake, and he took it, saying, 

"Hi, Garrett. And please, call me Shawn," 

"So, Shawn...What, uh...What happened here?" I asked, itching to get to Faith. 

"Well, we're not really sure, and your friend's been pretty unresponsive, so..." he trailed off, seeing the desperation on my face, "she's in the bedroom," he murmured, looking worried. 

I nodded at him, before dashing in the direction of her room. After a second, I stopped and leaned back through the living room doorway.

"Hey Shawn?" I called. As he turned his head to me, I said, "Thanks man," 

"Anytime," he replied. He was smiling; but somehow I sensed he was serious.

The sight before me, as I reached her bedroom door, broke my heart.

There, on her knees, was my best friend, head hanging in defeat, not uttering a single sound.

I silently walked to her, kneeling and wrapping her in my arms. I stroked her hair, holding her close, and let her rid herself of all the emotion she kept pent up in her fragile body. After what seemed like forever, I broke the silence, whispering the one word that would either make her or break her. 

"Faith..." 

It broke her. 

"She's gone," she rasped, and choked on a sob. 

I pulled her onto my lap, rocking us back and forth, cradling her head, until her cries died down, and she dozed off in my arms. 

After I made sure she was in a deep enough sleep, I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I gently laid her down, before going to hunt for a comfortable change of clothes. I changed her into some fleece pyjama pants, a tank top and her Dad's old oversized Mariners sweatshirt. Pulling the duvet up to her chin, I kissed her hair once, before going to search for some food. 

I was surprised to see Shawn still waiting, settled on the couch, T.V on minimum volume. I went through to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich, and offered the officer anything. 

"Just a coffee please, milk, no sugar," he replied wearily. 

I poured our coffees, made my sandwich and headed through to sit on the armchair opposite him. He took his drink gratefully, and we sat in silence while I chewed and he sipped. I placed my plate on the coffee table and rested my elbows on my knees, head in my hands. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

He assessed me, probably wondering if the information he could get from me was reliable. After a minute, he replied, "Everything. From the beginning." 

I closed my eyes and said, "So it all started with Faith's Mom..." as I launched into one of the most painful stories I've ever had to tell.