ARRIVAL - OPEN TO MARK
The squad had made it back to Manhattan in time for the Captain’s interview for Commissioner. Amy had climbed back up on her high strung ladder and managed to work out a plan that — unsurprisingly — came to fruition down to the literal minute. What a nerd.

The first thing Rosa did when she got back to her apartment was peel away the beige-on-beige-on-beige she’d been forced into thanks to the explosion incident with The Creeper that incinerated all goods within, including clothing. She hopped in the shower, set to scalding hot (as per usual), and washed away the events of the last few days: McGinley's funeral, spending a mind-boggling amount of time fulfilling Jake’s Die Hard fantasies in “Nakatomi Plaza” (including the 600+ photos he made Boyle take), Holt’s continued attempts at sabotage to prevent them from getting back to New York in time for his interview, the Creeper, Scully’s bathroom horrors in the Creeper, learning Holt had compromised himself to get she and Jake out of prison, the Texas Boyles’ weird cow sex farm, the weird (and alarmingly loud) cow sex, the beige, and ... maybe most nerve-wracking, finally telling the Boyle the truth.

About her. About who she loved and who she could love. About the mysterious woman’s voice on the phone she had hoped Boyle wouldn’t hear (damn him and his weird rat senses). About the fact that she’d tried so hard to keep it all covert and unearthed since the 7th grade when she first set eyes on Zack Morris and Lisa Turtle and realized ... holy fucking shit, they’re BOTH hot.

There’s a moment, standing in the shower, where she opens her eyes and manages a small smile - one meant only for herself. Of course Boyle supported her. Of course he still behaved as the same weird little rodent man he’d always been and always would be. It’s one of the things Rosa loves most about him, and even in the face of what was, at least to Rosa, earth-shattering news, all he wanted to know was the woman's name.

She gives that mysterious woman a call before she hops into bed that night, promising to see her the following day after work. She falls asleep, exhausted, but weightless and bolstered by how well it had all gone down. She thinks of her girlfriend’s face as she slips into sleep, happy to know she will be seeing her in person the next evening ..

Only ..

Instead of the caresses and kisses and quiet murmurs she's expecting, she’s instead gasping for air, clawing at the nothingness around her — wait, no. It isn’t nothingness. There’s resistance and fluid. Fluid? Water, she realizes. It’s water. Shit, is she having one of those weird “I have to pee” dreams? Is she drowning in some symbol of her full bladder? 'Wake up, wake up, wake up, you asshole! You cannot wet the god damn bed!'

Why do her lungs feel like they’re going to explode out of her chest? Why can she feel the searing blades of cold all over her body? Why can’t she breathe?

She clamors and fights (because fuck if she isn’t a fighter) until she’s finally sucking in a gasp of cold, arctic air that stings all of her insides and makes her feel dizzy.

“FU- MOTH- SH- GO- HE-!” she tries to shout all of her pent up profanities and, finally, a call for help, but she can’t seem to keep her head up above the water long enough to get a word out. She digs at the side of the fountain (?) she seems to be in and manages to grip onto the sides. ‘C’mon, Diaz; what the fuck is wrong with you? You know how to swim. You know how to climb. Don’t be a fucking wimp!’ For all of her .. "encouraging" self-talk, it does little to combat the absolute panicked adrenaline in her body. “MOTHERFUCKING HELP!” she finally shouts, finally stabilizing herself on the fountain wall.

AROUND THE VILLAGE
Needless to say, it takes approximately -0.1 seconds for Rosa’s survival instincts to take over. First thing that she wants to do is scout as much of the village as she can, to get a general layout of the land. It feels a fuck ton like some weird cult commune, those kinds that one reads about that are stumbled upon in the Canadian wilderness, or like there are going to be mutant, eyeless creatures who come out of the woods at night to feast on young children or cats or people or whatever.

Actually, she isn’t entirely convinced that won't happen, so after she spends a few hours scouting and gathering intel, she sets her sights on finding shelter. She enters a few cabins in her haste only to realize they’re already occupied. Whoops! Sorry about the unintentional B&E.

She’s also probably looking a bit like a wild woman, crouching in the brush, attempting to sharpen sticks and rocks with other rocks in an effort to make some kind of weapon, just in case she needs it. Whoever’s brought her here has taken her arsenal of firearms, blades, and torture devices, so she’s got to improvise somehow.

When the sun begins to set (and Rosa fears the mutants might start emerging), she heads to the Inn and sits, glaring into the fire. And make no mistake: it’s a glare. Like, if she could set the fire on fire with her eyes, she’d do it. And she’d burn the whole place to the ground, probably while laughing. If you want to take your chances on offering your help, feel free — but maybe keep your distance. She’s looking a little like a rabid animal.