who. Gar and Rose what. Freaking out when. Late-late tonight where. Gar's pad. NYC
A fifteen year old girl walked down the streets of Manhattan alone in the middle of the night. Her hair was slicked back, dripping wet. She didn't have a proper coat on. The clothes she wore were a few sizes too big.
When Rose had transformed back into her normal self, she'd been in the streets of London. There'd been dried blood on her. And in her mind were blurry images of the sort of violence she'd never dreamed of. She'd hurt strangers and friends. She'd brutalized Rachel, her almost-sister. And the worst part of it was that she'd enjoyed it. Working mostly on automatic, the first thing Rose had done after snapping back to reality had been to break into the nearest empty apartment to shower and change into clean clothes.
Before she'd even realized where she was going, she took the portkey to New York and walked down the streets. She'd never been to Gar's apartment, but she knew the way there. By the time she got to his door, she was shivering and her cheeks were puffy. She was in a bit of a panic, realizing what she'd done. What she'd become.
She knocked on the door, fearing that Gar would open it, take a look at her, and shut it in her face. But she didn't know where else to go. Home wasn't any option. She couldn't go back there. She didn't deserve to go back there and she couldn't face her family. So she knocked again and waited.