Rose leaned up against the cold window of the automobile, watching the English countryside flash by. Her breath came out in small puffs, fogged up a small section and evaporated as quickly as it appeared.

I can't cry. She squeezed her eyes shut against the traitorous moisture. Mum would want me to keep a stiff upper lip, to 'carry on.' Despite her melancholy, Rose's mouth quirked up into a half smile as she remembered.

"Look, Rose!" her mother exclaimed, as they were walking home from the market one evening. She pointed at one of the posters that had recently been posted on the wall. "'Carry On!' Just like I always tell you. Quit filling your head with these dreams, saying that you want so much more than this 'provincial town' has to offer! Powell is a sector of London! I've worked very hard to get you here, and you will carry on! It's the British way!"

Rose laughed mirthlessly. She was getting her just comeuppance, she supposed. She was now going further than she had ever gone before.

It was September of 1940, and German bombs were barraging London. The city was being brought to its knees, and they were sending children out to the country to protect them. Rose was 19, however, and was well past the age of the children being sent out. For goodness' sake, she was older than some of the girls who had run away to become nurses!

Rose had tried to apply to be a nurse, but the board had turned her down. She was the only child of her mother, they said, and her mother was also not there to give her consent. Her mum was trapped in America. She had gone to see ailing Grandma Prentice earlier last year, right before war had been declared. Her mum may as well be in another universe now. Rose had no way to contact her, and her community had deemed it best that she be sent away for protection. She was now being sent to the Scottish countryside.

This is what you get, Rose Tyler, for complaining that Powell was too small for you. She was now being sent into the proper middle-of-nowhere like a child for protection. She could be making a difference, standing up to the Nazis and tending to the wounded soldiers. Instead, she would be trapped in a house with a bunch of strangers, all alone.

Rose woke with a start, having unwittingly dropped off during the ride. She realized the automobile had stopped in front of a large gate. The driver, who had refused to speak with her the entire way, quickly rounded the auto and opened her door. He then unceremoniously dropped her carpetbag at her feet, and drove off without a fare-thee-well. Rose's eyes briefly followed the dust that followed in the auto's wake. Good riddance to bad rubbish, eh? She rolled her eyes and then turned to view the gate.

The sky was dark, as if a storm was about to roll in. A low fog covered the ground, and made it difficult for her to see very far ahead. Rose walked forward and pulled at the gate. After a brief squeal of protest, the gate slowly groaned open. She pulled it behind her and began walking up the path.

As she crested a small hill, Rose gasped at the sight before her. It was a castle. They had dropped her off at a honest-to-goodness castle. She shut her mouth with an audible click, and began to take hesitant steps forward.

The castle was definitely something out of a gothic nightmare. Gargoyles loomed from perches high up on the turrets. Crackling brown branches of ivy tangled around the stone masonry. Rose clutched her bag closer to herself. Why in the world would they have sent her here? It seemed a much more appropriate place for the dead than the living. Maybe, if she legged it, she could get to a nearby bus stop and get away. As she turned back round, she realized that there probably wouldn't be a bus stop for miles. The dreary moor seemed to stretch on forever, and the dirt roads were barely navigable.

A clap of thunder sounded as a deluge of rain started pouring down. She ran up to the ornately carved wooden door. Might as well get shelter for the night. She straightened her wool cap and smoothed down her skirt as she lifted the iron knocker. The subsequent bang made her jump. She heard the scrape of metal, like massive locks were being turned, and the door began to creak open.