I do not own any parts of Rookie Blue, though I do have a slight obsession with the show since season two ended a few months ago. Also, I am Canadian, born in Toronto, but not raised there (lived in Mississauga all my life). I know my way around Toronto well enough, but I must thank Google Maps for its help with my directions :)
They are actually filming in a warehouse a block down the street from my work, so I pass there everyday, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ben or Missy! But, alas, no such luck...maybe some day? A girl can dream, right?
I hope you enjoy this story. This idea has been trapped in my head for a while now, and seeing the hundreds of fantastically written stories devoted to RB has increased my desire to write for RB.
Rated M for a very good reason.
[PROLOGUE]
It was a clear, bright autumn afternoon in downtown Toronto. The once new leaves were falling from the trees, slipping beneath his feet as he walked toward his destination. They crunched quietly, pleasantly as he walked in the vast green field across from Convocation Hall on the University of Toronto campus. The brown leather jacket that hung off his lean shoulders provided him with almost too much shelter from the early fall breeze that he loved this time of year, but he could not remove it; it would leave him too exposed, vulnerable. Besides, it helped him to blend in with the rest of the students that were congregating across the field, heading to their various classes and seminars scattered across the campus. Those young members of academia had no idea that he did not belong there, that he had no good reason for going where he was going. And why would they? After all, the young adults were too preoccupied with their own completely inconsequential lives to pay any attention to the stocky, 30-something man stalking inconspicuously across the field where countless U of T students took their final walk as undergraduate students before they graduated. He noted with mild interest the way that some students appeared to be flustered as they hurried on their way, their book bags far too heavy for the health of their spine. No doubt those students were late for their next class or concerned with their latest test score. He laughed briefly to himself as he thought, it's times like these I'm glad I dropped out.
School had never been for him. Besides the heavy texts and countless hours of pointless reading in his opinion, he had always been a loner, wanting to keep to himself, so a place where hundreds of people gathered every other day and shared a seemingly common interest with him certainly wasn't his type of place. He was never one to make friends at all. There were those who had tried in the past to befriend him, but he simply shrugged them off, telling himself that they were only approaching him out of some misplaced sense of pity. There was nothing to be pitiful of, since he was exactly who he wanted to be, and that included who he associated with. More to the point, if he had let someone into his dark, twisted world, they were libel to leave him, just like she had.
He walked for a few minutes, passing Convocation Hall and turned south onto Kings College Road. After a few more minutes, he had arrived at his destination. He shifted the black messenger bag over his shoulder, yet another successful attempt at camouflage, and took a seat on a bench that faced Galbraith Road, towards the Sandford Fleming Building. There, he would wait. He would look studious as he pretended to dive into some required reading for a class he pretended he had. He would cross his leg and rest his right ankle on his left knee, and appear deeply intrigued by the book in his hands. Every so often, he would glance up, waiting for his target to leave the building, as she did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 4:15. He'd been adhering to this routine for three weeks now, since he saw her working as a barista at the Starbucks on College Street. She hadn't even noticed him as he sat there, sipping his non-obnoxious regular coffee, staring at her, admiring the way her hair pulled up into a pony tail to expose her neck to everyone, just like hers had. This girl obviously wasn't very aware of her surroundings, despite being in the heart of such a metropolis where crimes were a common occurrence. She definitely hadn't been born and raised in Toronto, that was for sure. Before he had left the coffee shop to begin researching his new kill, he had glanced at her again and chuckled to himself ever so quietly, thinking, this is going to be the easiest one yet.
His efforts were rewarded exactly seventeen minutes after he had taken his usual seat when the brown haired beauty he had been waiting for pushed through the entrance doors and slung her laptop bag over her shoulder. He made it his mission to look disinterested in her while still watching her every move. She pulled her jean jacket closed, hiding her crisp white dress shirt from the world, and stepped to her right—towards her tiny apartment off of Spadina. He was slow to react and follow her, knowing full well where she was headed. There was no need to rush since he had been to her building twice before, had watched as she stepped through the front door through her window, had even ventured inside the 500 square foot abode once the week before when he knew she was at work. There were no security measures in place there. Once at her front door, the lock had been easy enough to pick, and he had been careful enough not to leave anything behind or disturb anything that could be traced back to him. It had helped him avoid capture and detection thus far, and he wasn't about to deviate from that plan now.
He began carefully putting his book back into his bag and rose from his seat slowly, stretching briefly before setting off behind her.
From the five hundred metres behind her that he allowed himself, he could see her adjusting her hair and retying the high pony tail, making her straight brown hair look that much more appealing to him. He couldn't help the visions he was getting of pulling on that pony tail while he took pleasure in her body moments before he snuffed out her life, of his blade slicing across her throat like it was butter, of that same blade cutting through that pony tail to take with him as a souvenir after he cleaned up and left her body in the same position as the others.
Hours later, after the sun had set, Christianne sat on her little sofa, hunched over her laptop as she wrote an essay for her humanities class that was due the next day. Always leaving these things to the last minute, what a dumbass I am, she thought as her fingers struck the keys expertly. After finishing her thought and realizing her bladder was commanding her to take a trip to the bathroom, she placed the laptop on the coffee table before her and went to relieve herself, shutting the door out of habit. The light switch brought the bathroom fan to life as well, rattling it noisily at first.
She didn't hear the rustling at the window as it slid open and let him in.
She certainly didn't hear the footsteps that followed.
She didn't see him standing behind the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.
Didn't see him, that is, until it was too late.
A/N: more to come soon! Please review? It's the only way I'll know if I should continue...
