A/N: I've never written for Rookie Blue before, but it is probably in my top five favourite TV shows and I have seen every single episode multiple times (I am not kidding - I am obsessed). Hopefully this alone will give you faith in my writing. This is a story with Chloe and Dov because I love them, and they don't get enough love on here. Also, this is set months after the season 6 finale (which I am still praying was not the finale).

There will be four parts, three of which are already written including this one. I will update once a week on Fridays probably this early in the morning before I leave for work. I am not a police officer. What I know about police work comes from Rookie Blue and the Internet.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.

I hope you enjoy!

"Tell me where you go,

Tell me where you walk

Without moving at all."

St. Walker | Young The Giant (Young The Giant)

Part One | Instinct

15 Division is quiet tonight. The city is asleep. All of the criminals in Toronto have decided to give the police department a break, and Dov is waiting to do the same, heading out of the men's locker room and into the middle of the station wearing his gym clothes. He holds in his hands his sweat-soaked uniform sealed away in a plastic cleaners bag, ready to be delivered on his way home to the nearest dry cleaners.

The day has been slow—nothing more than one-half of a jewellery robbing team caught within hours of the holdup with a few diamonds on him and a couple of drunks bathing in the humidity. It is rare the streets are so calm, especially when Dov recalls the heat reached a record high during the afternoon, but he can hardly complain. He is a detective, he faces death and destruction almost daily. He needs his time off just like everybody else.

With his gym bag slung over his shoulder and the plastic bag rustling in his arms, Dov walks to where Chris is tapping away at a computer, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. From what he can make out, Dov deduces Chris is talking to Denise about spending some time with Christian over the weekend. By the time he reaches the desks, sparsely occupied by men and women in uniform, Chris is hanging up the phone wearing a smile on his face.

"Hey, man." Chris greets him with the type of chipper warmth Dov is steadily getting used to again. "I'm gonna have to cancel on our plans this weekend. Denise needs me to watch Christian."

Dov jerks his head in approval and moves his mouth into a half-smile. "I understand. Chloe wanted to see a movie on Saturday anyway, so now I can tell her I'm free." Dropping the right side of his face, Dov glances around the station. "Speaking of which, have you seen her?"

"Who, Chloe?"

"Yeah," Dov responds loosely, still focused on the surrounding area. "Isn't she supposed to be filing paperwork?"

Chris begins to look around too, tilting his head up to gain a better view of the main floor. "Yeah, she and Andy are the ones who apprehended the jewellery guy. She should be buried in paperwork at the moment."

He is a good detective, and like a good detective Dov's belly roils when even the most inconsequential thing is not in its right place. His stomach muscles clench automatically and a wave of nausea he has come to associate with the beginnings of an adrenaline spike billows over him. He knows he should not jump to conclusions, but he also knows to doubt everything his eyes see and trust what his gut says.

Dov spots Andy walking slowly through the hallway, hands in her hair as she ties it in a messy style atop her head. She smiles when she reaches him, but he can't find it in himself to smile back.

"Andy, have you seen Chloe?" he asks, hoping he sounds merely curious and not worried.

"Um." Andy squints and looks up at the ceiling, then she looks at him, shrugging. "Not since we booked the shoplifter a couple of hours ago. Isn't she somewhere dealing with the paperwork?"

"I thought maybe she'd be doing that with you," Dov says, crossing his arms. His detective brain is taking over, and maybe Andy can tell because she immediately straightens and loses the last hints of her forgotten smile.

Andy shakes her head. "No," she stresses, frowning. "I—I went with her to get the forms, but she said she needed something from the locker room not too long after we grabbed them." She bites her lip and looks back and forth between Dov's hard eyes. "She didn't come back."

As she says these words, as Dov's world begins spinning and his dinner from just a few moments ago threatens to rise in his throat, Gail, Traci, and Duncan come into the open room, all dressed for home. Desperately, Dov hurries to them, blocking their path.

"Have you any of you seen Chloe since we got back from arresting the perp?"

His eyes must be wide and sweat must be beading on his skin, because Gail scoffs, teeth bright against her deep red lipstick. "She's probably dolling herself for your big date night," she says disinterestedly. "God, she wouldn't shut up about how romantic and wonderful it was going to be. Gag," she finishes, sticking her tongue out and directing her pointer finger toward her mouth.

Traci nudges Gail and looks up at Dov. "Why do you ask, Dov?"

"Be—Because," he stutters, running a sweaty hand through his wet hair, "we, well, we had plans. We were going to go home. Relax, maybe watch a movie or something. But I can't find her." Dov steps back. "I can't find her."

Fear runs through his veins like some kind of drug. They have yet to search the precinct, but something is wrong with the situation. Chloe may be scatterbrained, but she has learned since Dov became detective to always tell him when she goes somewhere. She wouldn't leave the building without informing him.

"Ha," Gail sparks, snapping Dov out of his worry-induced spiral. "That was the special night you guys had planned?" She gives him a look of pity, and not for the first time he wants to yell at Gail to shut up. "You're thirty-one, Dov. I know most people think that's reason enough to start being a boring old grandpa-type, but you've got some good years left in you. Don't waste them on staying in and watching Netflix."

"Peck, be quiet."

Dov blinks. He said nothing. Raising his eyes, Dov watches Oliver striding over to them, white shirt glaring like the sun in the overhead lights. He steps in front of Dov, his signature Oliver smile lifting the corners of his thin mouth.

"Epstein," he says, somehow able to sense the growing unease in the room. Dov notices the people working at the computers have all stopped tapping at the keyboards. Some have stood up. Chris has joined them in the centre of the room—Dov can see his large boots behind him. "Dov," Oliver says, his tone begging for the young detective's attention, "what's going on?"

Dov frantically looks around, hoping to spot Chloe somewhere in the vicinity, but all he sees are concerned faces staring at him. "I can't find Chloe," he rasps. "No one can find her."

"No one can find her?" Oliver looks at the group, eyebrows perked. "Have we searched the station for her? Asked everyone?"

Shaking his head, Dov holds up his hands. "No, but"—

—"Dov," Oliver sighs, rolling his neck, "we can't assume she's missing. She's probably hiding somewhere."

Dov shakes his head again. His hair falls in his face. "No, Oliver, she's gone. I can feel it."

"You can feel it. Wonderful." Shaw exhales and drops his head briefly. Picking himself back up, he grabs ahold of Dov's shoulders and stares him straight in the eyes. "Epstein, I'm gonna need you to retrace your steps, okay?" he says, loud and slow enough that Dov is reminded of how he speaks to witnesses at crime scenes. The ones too scattered and scared to think straight. "Chris," he says, peeking beyond Dov, "go with McNally and search the building. All rooms." He returns his attention to Dov. "Buddy, hey, let's retrace those steps, okay? Where did you last see Chloe?"

"I haven't lost my cell phone, Oliver," Dov chastises, extracting himself from the Staff Sergeant's grip. "I don't think going through every single step I've taken since we returned from the bust will help. I came back to the barn separately. I haven't even seen her since we were at the crime scene."

Scenarios that manage to twist his intestines begin tumbling through his foggy mind. Blindly, Dov reaches into his bag and pulls out his inhaler. He uncaps it, fits it in his mouth, and presses the release.

Through the haze forming in his head and the ringing in his ears, Dov hears footsteps racing, growing louder as they reach where he and Oliver are standing. "Dov," he hears someone say, loudly. Andy. He turns, watching her face crease with worry. He can feel his own heart ricocheting around in his chest. It sounds hollow, empty. "You need to come see this," she says, pulling him by the arm before he gets the opportunity to respond.

Andy drags him into the women's locker room and up to Chris who is crouched on the floor, picking something up with a pen.

"Recognise this?" Chris lifts the pen to show Dov a charm bracelet spattered with blood.

Dov nearly collapses to the ground. The only thing stopping him from falling are Andy's hands.

He does recognise it. Chris does too. It's the bracelet he gave Chloe two weeks ago for their anniversary. Skimming the room, Dov spots a pool of blood by Chloe's locker. It is deep red. It is soaking into the concrete, dribbling across the floor as if pulled by some supernatural force to Dov's feet.

The world has cut off. Dov imagines this is how a television feels during a blackout. He cannot hear anything but buzzing, see anything but shapes and faded colours. He is floating above the world, a spirit condemned to purgatory.

Oliver joins them in the locker room. He shouts orders, he shakes Dov. Swarek comes in too, followed by a few more officers.

"Diaz, get Epstein out of here," Swarek yells, shoving his thumb behind him. Dov watches him turn his attention to his wife. "McNally," he says, more calm now, "go with them. Talk to him, try to get something, anything, out of him that could help us track Price down."

Chris takes him away from the locker room—from the crime scene. From the last place his girlfriend was before somebody decided to attack her and abduct her. His best friend guides him into the lounge, his notebook already out, and tells him to sit down somewhere, anywhere. Andy is with them. Her notebook is out as well. They are talking to him quietly, but he can barely understand the words falling from their lips. All he can focus on are the horrific images of Chloe, scared and alone and bleeding, swimming inside of his head.

A/N: What did everyone think? Feel free to review giving me your predictions for the story.

Until next Friday,

LoveIsATemple