That particular morning in September 2000 was a morning like any other. It was a Saturday and it was sunny out, the air still clinging to the last vestiges of summer. Though it was still early, The City That Never Sleeps was already bustling with life, played to the tune of blaring car horns and feet pounding on sidewalks.

This ordinary day was filled with ordinary people living their ordinary lives. A businessman flagging down a taxi while looking nervously at his watch, praying he'll make it to the airport on time. Old ladies sitting outside their brownstones gossiping with their friends. Tourists asking directions from friendly beat cops. People spilling in and out of subway stations and expertly swiping MetroCards on the first try. Mother's taking their children to the park for some fresh air.

All perfectly average people happily living their lives.

On this particular day there was a woman who would change a family's life forever.

Like everything else that day she was perfectly average.

She was by no means ugly but she wasn't a headturner either. Pretty certainly, but not too pretty. She was neither short nor tall, but average. If you saw her on the street that day you would've said she had dark hair; but whether it was black or brown you couldn't say. It certainly wasn't red though—definitely not anything that'd make her stick out in a crowd.

In a city of thousands, she could've been anybody. Your downstairs neighbor, the lady in line behind you at the grocery store, the girl sandwiched next to you on the F train during rush hour. She's a Stranger. She's anybody—nobody—and so without even realizing it your eyes slip right past her. Nameless, and essentially faceless, you might call her a Jane Doe of sorts.

On this particular Saturday our dear Jane was buzzing, practically vibrating with anticipation. All things considered she hid it remarkably well. If it weren't for the anxious bouncing of her left leg you'd've had no reason to think anything was amiss. For all anyone knew she was just innocently reading this morning's issue of the Times. But in reality she was far from innocent.

She sat with the newspaper in front of her but she didn't take a word of it in. It was merely a prop. The stranger was far too busy keeping her eye on the woman a few feet in front of her to pay the newspaper any real mind. Jane Doe hadn't been watching the woman for very long—not that day anyway. The woman and her children had only arrived some ten minutes prior, but she'd never noticed the Stranger watching them anyway. Whether that was because Jane had gotten particularly good at going unnoticed or not she didn't know.

In the time since she'd first begun watching, she had learned quite a bit about the young mother she so diligently kept her eyes on. Jane knew the woman's name. It was too masculine for her taste. She couldn't see why anyone would choose to name their daughter "Aaron", no matter how it was spelled. Jane Doe didn't refer to her by name. In her mind the brunette was always The Woman or The Mother.

The Woman was young and pretty first of all, and tall too. She would've done well as a model based on her looks alone but she had the walk for it too. It was what drew Jane Doe to The Woman in the first place, the fact that she walked with such confidence, exuding an unmistakable air of authority. Head held high, like she had the whole world at her feet; all while doing something as mundane as walking across the street. It was mesmerizing.

Jane knew The Woman was likely important in some way—a businesswoman of some kind perhaps? The Woman had a personal cell phone that Jane had seen her use on multiple occasions. The only people who owned cell phones were all rich, important types whose lives were so busy they both needed and could afford such a luxury. The Woman was well dressed, adding to Jane's theory of wealth. The ring on her finger also told Jane she was married

Young, beautiful, accomplished, married, The Woman had it all. Jane admired her for it…

This was a lie.

Jane envied The Woman for it. Hated her for it. The Woman had everything Jane wanted in life and here she was just taunting her with it. It made Jane's blood boil.

Jane despised The Woman and her perfect life. It wasn't fair how she had so much while Jane didn't. She had simple wants, why couldn't she have it all the way The Woman did? It wasn't fair.

The Stranger despised things that weren't fair. But the world wasn't fair, it was cruel, filled with selfish people like The Woman who saw nothing wrong with so callously flaunting herself in front of those less fortunate, like Jane, as she was doing now.

The Woman sat on a bench, all but putting herself on display for the whole world to see—for Jane to see. It made her sick. Surely The Woman knew how lucky she was, how perfect she was. The Woman got off on having people admire her, Jane was sure of it! That made her hate The Woman all the more, how dare anyone be so shallow.

As Jane Doe flipped the page of her newspaper and pretended to read the sports section, she watched as The Woman's older daughter seemed to babble something excitedly to her mother before scampering off to continue playing, little feet thundering across the asphalt. This made the stranger smile.

Jane Doe loved cute kids. This was another reason she'd chosen The Woman; her children.

The eldest, a toddler, was a precocious little thing—talkative and delightfully friendly. The child had waved to Jane once and issued her a charming little "Good Morning!" as she'd passed by the pair. The Mother had smiled indulgently down at her daughter then, before the little family had had to hurry along on their way. Jane doubted The Mother even remembered that day, too wrapped up in her perfect life to notice her.

Jane Doe knew the toddler's name too, but again she found she disliked it. The Mother insisted on calling her daughter "Nicky". Jane couldn't fathom why anyone would think this was an acceptable alternative to "Nicole". Little girls deserved proper little girl names, not silly nicknames that made them sound like boys.

If she'd been her daughter, The Stranger certainly would've insisted on calling the girl Nicole…

The Mother had another little girl, a baby, one whose name Jane Doe did like. "Rosemary" painted a picture of elegance in her mind, Jane Doe liked elegant things. She liked beautiful things. Beautiful people, beautiful clothes—the best of everything. She felt she had a right to such nice things.

The stranger wanted baby Rosemary. From the moment she'd laid her eyes on the infant the stranger knew she was the one. Jane Doe didn't subscribe to the idea of God, but she did believe in the power of the universe, in the idea that if something was meant to be it would be. In her heart she knew she was meant to have Rosemary.

There was just no other way to explain it. The stranger needed a baby and the universe had provided one for her, how else could things have worked out so perfectly other than by fate?

Rosemary was perfect. The right age, the right hair and eye color. An angelic, sweet face that was sure to mature into an image of enviable beauty in the years to come. The prettiest rose in the garden.

She was everything Jane needed. She was everything Jane wanted. Rosemary was so perfect Jane Doe needed her now as much as she needed air to breathe. No other baby would do. No other baby could possibly be her baby.

The universe had brought them together, who was the stranger to reject fate, and who was the Mother to stand in fate's way. The brunette had given birth to two children, surely she didn't really need more than one. With a second child there to love and care for surely The Mother would get over it soon enough.

If you really thought about it Jane Doe was being compassionate. She wasn't some monster who'd pick just anyone with zero consideration, she'd thought this through—she was being fair.

Thoroughly convinced she was in the right, she felt no remorse when it came time to act.

—

Like a predator, the Stranger struck while her prey's back was turned. The Mother had shot off to come to her eldest's aid. No one was watching. It was all too easy to snatch the baby out of her stroller blanket and all. One fluid motion, like you did when you lifted a wallet.

The Stranger started walking. The baby fussed but she pressed the child close to her chest so she wouldn't make too much noise. The Stranger walked with purpose towards the park entrance. Taking a baby wasn't the same as stealing a wallet or shoplifting clothes, put the tricks of the trade still applied. Behave like you belong, act natural and people don't suspect a thing.

No one looked twice at the Stranger. She was simply another mother on her way home from a day out.

Thirty seconds. She was at the gate. Unable to resist she stole a glance behind her. The Mother still hadn't noticed anything was amiss. How irresponsible.

The Stranger blended into the throng of people on the street seamlessly. A minute had passed now and she was down the next street. Back at the park the young mother noticed her missing child. There was pleading and frantic screaming but the Stranger was too far away to hear, not that it would've made any difference.

It takes the nearest squad car four minutes to arrive following the 911 call; an eternity for Erin Reagan and enough time for her baby's kidnapper to hop into her car, strap Rosemary into her new car seat and drive away.

It takes three minutes for the police to get a handle on what's going on, one more minute for back up to arrive. They place the park on lockdown. No one goes in or out without being thoroughly searched. They do everything right but they're already late.

At precisely 9:38AM Police Commissioner Henry Reagan gets the news. In the heat of the moment he lets a string of swears escape him before he's all business. He wants to know what's being done to find his Great Granddaughter. Normally he'd have a problem with letting his family receive special treatment for his status as the Commissioner but not today. He pulls out all the stops. In what must've been an instant, there's not a cop out there who doesn't know the Commissioner's granddaughter is missing. Henry Reagan says a quick prayer before promising to wring the neck of who ever dared hurt his family.

By 10AM Frank Reagan is consoling his daughter. "Every cop in the city's got her picture," he says, "we'll find her."

This was true, every uniform in the city was looking for Rosemary. Airports, train, and bus stations had been notified, copies of her photo had also been sent to every tollbooth in case whoever had the baby tried to leave the state. They had all their bases covered, but so did Jane Doe. She'd thought things through, she'd planned for this.

The police would be on the lookout for a baby girl. And how exactly did people tell the difference between a boy or a girl at just months of age? Short of taking a baby's diaper off it's really a guessing game influenced by the length of the hair and the style of their clothing. A simple change into the baseball patterned onesie she'd brought along was all she needed to transform the baby girl in her backseat into a baby boy. No one was looking for a boy. For good measure she dosed the child with cough syrup so she'd sleep through the hours long drive. Comparing the features of a sleeping infant to that of a photograph would be much more difficult than if they were wide-eyed and alert.

She'd even dumped the blanket the baby had originally been wrapped in. She lamented this fact. It was a very pretty blanket but it was too unique. She was certain police would be looking for it as well so she'd dumped it as they were passing through Williamsburg. They drove and drove and no one stopped them, not even the toll booth worker that took their fare as they crossed the stateline out of New York. There was just nothing suspicious about a woman traveling with her sleeping son carefully strapped in the backseat.

The stranger was again assured that what she was doing was right. If it wasn't someone would've stopped them by now.

Smiling, she resolved to get her baby a new blanket, a better one with her new name on it. Like most new parents she agonized over what to name her child. Rosemary was an excellent name—better than 'Aaron' or 'Nicky'—but she couldn't use it anymore. This was unfair because she loved roses. That was what her baby was after all—the prettiest rose in the garden. That was why she'd chosen her. She wanted to keep her perfect Rose but she knew she'd have to think of something else now that Rosemary would be too conspicuous.

Regardless, nothing could dampen the stranger's mood. She couldn't stop smiling from her seat behind the wheel of her car. She debated turning up the radio for a moment before deciding that she could risk it. The amount of cough syrup she'd given the baby earlier was sure to keep her from waking no matter how much noise she made. Jane Doe flipped on the radio and turned the volume up. She sang without a care in the world as she drove along. Never had she felt so happy. Never had she felt such a thrill as she did now.

She got a similar feeling when she shoplifted or lifted the wallets off of tourists. The creeping feeling of fear at being caught, her heart going a mile a minute as she made her move—it was not unlike what most people experienced during the build-up on a rollercoaster. Terrifying, but exhilarating all the same. An addictive high. Her euphoria was such that she couldn't believe that she was actually getting away with it. It was like a dream, a wonderful, beautiful dream!

—

A handful of hours after this had all begun the Stranger carefully carried her baby over the threshold to their new home together.

A/N: I've rewritten this chapter four times and I'm still not satisfied with it. Please let me know your thoughts, especially if your confused