That was Rose's first thought as she came to. The second was that she was being dragged through a nearly abandoned part of Lawrence, her feet scuffing the ground and her eyes swollen so she couldn't entirely tell where she was. After a year and her natural exploratory nature, Rose knew the city fairly well. That didn't mean she knew every inch of it, and she certainly didn't know the mass of warehouses around her.
Warehouses were easy. People were searching warehouses. They'd find her. And then she'd make sure to find who was behind this. Because she had a very bad feeling on who it was and she so hoped she was wrong. How had they not noticed? Why hadn't they been filtering? Did Romana know? Was it her, even, instead of him? God, she didn't want to go there. But she hadn't felt this betrayed in a very long time.
Her struggles merely got her hit upside the back of the head yet again and she struggled to stay conscious. Her captors didn't even seem to notice whether she was awake or not and simply threw her into the abandoned building, quickly shutting the door behind her.
Rose's legs gave out and she collapsed on the floor, her injuries too sever for her body to give a damn about standing, apparently. Two black eyes, a busted lip, and all she got for all that trouble was a wrist that slipped under her as she tried to break her fall.
But she wouldn't cry. Once, long ago, she would have. She would've tucked herself into a ball and sobbed her heart out. But that Rose Tyler also wouldn't have gone outside during such a crisis. That one wasn't hardened by the loss of her world and nearly everything she loved...twice. Instead this one forced herself to sit up and take note of her injuries and her surroundings and see what could be done.
And that's when she noticed she wasn't alone in the room. Through slowly clearing eyes, she squinted. "Abby?" she asked, working to place the blond girl.