Hey Guys!

So, this is an idea that was stuck in my mind for a while.

Ever noticed there are no Dov stories out here? This story started with that question echoing in my head, and then there were the snow storms in North America, and… I let you decide if my version of Dov justifies a story or not…

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this, Please let me know what you think by PM or review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

Dov was sitting on a plastic chair. Though the seat was padded, he was sitting there for so long he was sure if he gets up his butt and thighs would keep the flattened shape. Right now it wasn't a WHEN he gets up, it was an IF. He really wasn't sure about that. About getting up. About walking around. About breathing, eating, talking - these were terrestrial habits not related to him. These were beyond him at this point.

His head was resting on his palms and his elbows leaned on his knees. His fingers were against his forehead thus hiding his eyes. To passers-by he looked asleep, but every now and then a sob escaped his lips, a shiver shook his shoulders, and another drop of warm salty water escaped the confinements of his eyes and fell on the corridor floor. He was crushed. Physically, emotionally, and generally speaking. There was no way he could get up from this chair. Ever.

Life was too messy right now to live them.

The sound of footsteps down the hall made him lift his eyes in hope for some news about the woman lying in the ICU room two doors down. The woman he loved and hoped she loved him back. Afraid of what he might hear, it took him a second to convince his muscles to actually move. He heard the footsteps stall next to him, before moving on down the hall. He lifted his eyes in time to notice a figure in scrubs disappearing around the corner.

There was something about grieving people sitting at a hospital corridor that changed people's usual walking rhythm. He noticed this in the past day. They would walk their way towards you, and once they notice your lump of body on the chair, they slow down for a moment as if they want to say something. Then they speed up and disappear, not saying a single word to you, as if they're afraid to catch whatever it was that brought you here.

He wasn't sure why he was still here. Wes made it clear he didn't want him around. By all hospital formalities and regulations, the word of a husband was more bounding than that of a boyfriend or a godfather, even if the aforementioned husband was not around for a while, and didn't even know how to fill the hospital forms. So there was no chance anyone will even look at him. Even Frank couldn't get in to talk with Wes.

It was self-torture, he knew, to be here so close to her and yet so far. He had to do something about it. His eyes traveled from the linoleum floor to his hands, realizing for the first time he was still in his uniforms. He wasn't sure how long it has been since he wore these back in the barn. It started Wednesday morning, and he had a feeling it was Thursday night or maybe even Friday morning by now. He didn't know and he didn't care. All he cared about was the seriously wounded woman on that bed, the one whose husband is refusing to approve the surgery she so desperately needs right now.

Dov sighed heavily.

He couldn't understand how the past four years were such a chain of romantic disasters for him. Every time he put himself out there, something happened and it slapped him back in the face. They were four, when he made a list, or maybe even five, if you count Gail. Edie was so much like him and yet so different that it made him jealous whenever she was doing whatever she wanted. The excitement of being near her still gave him an adrenaline rush when he thought about it, but she was right – it wasn't meant to be between them, they were too different. Crystal and Sue were both very strong women. A string of life and death attracted him to both – Sue saving his, him taking Crystal's brother's. Looking back, he knew both relationships were doomed from the first moment, he just didn't see it back then, just like with Edie.

And then there was Chloe.

He really thought they had something good going on, even if Wes was trying his best to make him doubt it. He cannot believe there was nothing there from her side. She could not fake it for so long. She was always an open book, and was very proud of it, too. She was different.

Now he knows she really was different. She lied to him. One of the biggest lies possible. Maybe she WAS an open book, but it wasn't written in English. Maybe Portuguese, or Swahili, or whatever other language she spoke. She lied to him from day one. Kept him in the dark on something so important in her life. She was married. She said "I do" and meant it forever, and it wasn't to him. She ripped those pages from her open book and moved on, leaving 27 division behind, and started anew with 15 and with him.

A brick was on his chest, and he couldn't breathe. He tried shifting in his seat, but the feeling on his chest just got worse. He got up, and felt a knot in his stomach. He didn't eat much in the past 48 hours, but whatever it was, it was standing still in his esophagus, and didn't travel down the path. It was all just stuck – the air, the food, the drinks. All stuck but the storming thoughts in his head.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He started walking.

He took the turn the figure in scrubs just took, and walked down the hall, hoping the movement of his limbs would make the suffocation and the irritation in his body move, as well. He turned left, then right. Walked into an elevator, and got out of it with the flood of people that were in. he was immersed in his own thoughts and not knowing how, he found himself facing the sliding glass doors to the outside. The doors opened in front of him, the freezing wind gushing in his face and screaming in his ears.

He zipped his police-issued jacket close, and raised the fur collar to cover the back of his head. He fisted his fingers and started walking, again – not knowing where, just placing one leg in front of the other, shifting the weight of his body to the newly placed leg, and repeating with the other side. Step by step. Moving away from what held him back upstairs in that ICU room.

His mind was oblivious to his whereabouts. He only noticed the screaming wind in his ears, and the sensation of the snowflakes hitting his eyes and cheeks with much velocity and strength. He wandered the streets of Toronto for a while, noticing the streets becoming naked from human occupants as he rammed the snow accumulating on the pavements and asphalt. His boots kicked the snow, and soon he found himself creating a new path, as the snow covered all remnants of the one left by the people who were once there.

He couldn't tell what it was that made him stop, but he stood still for a moment, taking his surroundings in, figuring where he was. It was a neighborhood he once knew as a kid, before his parents bought a bigger house in a northern neighborhood and they moved. He wasn't there since he was younger.

He started turning around on the spot, absorbing his whereabouts in. A memory pinched his frozen eyelids, pictures and scents coming to life in his head. The memory of his grandmother who lived nearby, the warmth she always had in her house. The food. The comfort. The love and security he felt there. His saliva glands started excreting liquids to the memory of his grandma's cooking. No matter how much his mother tried, she always lacked something in her cooking. He missed his grandma. His Bubbie.

He shook his head and the scents disappeared from his nostrils, pictures fading to the back of his mind.

Dov looked around at the empty street. For the first time since he crossed the doors of fifteen division, he felt alone. At a time like this, he thought, having a brother at my side could have been helpful. His parents were too far away from his world to understand. Chris and Gail and everybody else too close. He knew the way he feels is something to vent out to your girlfriend. But where to you vent ABOUT your girlfriend?

He was alone. Alone in this street. Alone in this dilemma. There was nowhere to turn to, and the pain in his chest grew bigger again. He felt the world closing in on him, the sky getting darker by the second with a thud. And then a larger thud was heard, followed by a hiss, and the world became dark. The buzzing sound passed through the wires connecting the street lamps, and suddenly they all turned off. The lights in the surrounding houses soon followed, and the street drowned in thick blackness.

Dov was sure he fainted. The wetness of his clothes started to sink in. he realized he was far from home, with no means of transport. He folded on himself, leaning forward towards the snow under his legs.

Looking up and searching his way, Dov noticed the dancing light of candles glowing from a window of a near-by house. The light was reflecting from the snow, and it gave brightness much stronger than the number of flames that issued it. Dov started walking towards that house like a fly attracted to the flame. Walking cautiously to not fall on his face, he heard footsteps behind him. The footsteps got closer to him, and he heard no other sound.

In reflex he reached for his holster, remembering too late he was in uniform but unarmed. He only had his vest for protection. He paced faster to the lit house, realizing these were several people behind him, and they all started moving faster too. He could now hear them talking, though he couldn't distinguish the words they were saying.

Dov stumbled on the first front step when a hand touched his back and held him tight.

A/N: So… I really hope you liked this. It's not going to be a suspense story, only this chapter ended itself like this :)

Let me know what you think, and if there's a crowd here for Dov. This is not a McSwarek. Nor a PeckHolly or a McCollins. Maybe some other characters will make an appearance later on, but this story is Dov's. Will you be fine with that?