The skies are grey, and a storm looms. A big storm, with thunder and lightning that sends most people running for cover. But not Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler likes storms, the bigger the better. She stands in a deserted car park, save a few cars, hands in her pockets, head tilted backwards, letting the rain run over her, soaking her clothes. She turns slowly, oblivious to the odd looks that the occasional passersby give her. Dancing gives her freedom, dancing in a storm makes her feel brave. Like the Defender of the Earth someone once named her. The title she is having trouble living up to.
Under the rain, Rose Tyler dances.
Under the rain, Rose Tyler forgets.
Under the rain, Rose Tyler breathes.