Elton is away from the camera on the video, but you can see him on his bed, in the background, head bowed. Elton is a little boy, walking hand in hand with his mother in a park. She bends down and says something to him, and then walks away, leaving him standing alone. She waves goodbye in a fade to white.
Elton's sitting in front of the camera again on the video diary, but not looking at it. He speaks for many daughters at once: "We forget because we must." That's Rose, that's Bad Wolf reaching out through time. That's Rose all at once, fluid; Rose forgetting her moment of divinity in order to go on with the Doctor, if not the real world.
Elton switches the camera on -- it's now pointing at his computer desk -- and settles into his chair: "So, there you go. Turns out I've had the most terrible things happen. And the most brilliant things. And sometimes...I can't tell the difference. They're all the same thing. They're just me." The ramp up, the ramp down. He has the privilege at least of recognizing it when it touched him. "You know, Stephen King said once, he said: 'Salvation and damnation are the same thing.' And I never knew what he meant." That's from The Gunslinger. I wanted to read it, but it's too nerdy. I wouldn't want to be seen carrying it. "But I do now. Because the Doctor might be wonderful, but thinking back...I was having such a special time, just for a bit. I had this nice little gang." That's Sarah Jane talking. Elton remembers "Don't Bring Me Down," which is my favorite ELO song probably, and this time they're playing perfectly, LINDA is. "And they were destroyed. It's not his fault. But maybe that's what happens if you touch the Doctor. Even for a second." Which part? Right answers, wrong questions. I miss Clive. I wish Mark Benton were in everything. Is he in Casanova? I wouldn't be surprised. "I keep thinking of Rose and Jackie. And how much longer before they pay the price." And that's Victoria talking now, who was once a daughter. A voice issues out of the frame: "Oh, now, don't get all miserable. Come on, Elton. You've still got me." It's Ursula's voice.
The Doctor holds his sonic screwdriver to Ursula's paving slab: "If I can key into the absorption matrix and separate the last victim... It's too late for total reconstruction, but..." He stands and calls to Elton, eyes wide. "Fetch a spade!"
"Even then, after all that...the Doctor saved me one last time." Elton stands up and retrieves a paving slab from his desk. He puts it on his lap, and grins. "Here she is." Ursula's face protrudes from the stone, liquid in it. Gone hard. Hearts don't break unless they're hard -- they can rip, but they don't break -- but the point is this: the only place in the world where perfection is possible is the fiction of the TARDIS; the rest of us get by on the broken and approximate. That's not settling, that's life. The natural state of things. Accept or you get hard and start to crack. "Could be worse," she says. "At least I'll never age. And it really is quite peaceful, you'd be surprised..." Elton calls it "a relationship of sorts," and there's a nod to their approximate love life. "Oh, let's not go into that," she says, not peevishly. Elton informs us that he doesn't care what anybody thinks: he loves her. She smiles up at him, beautiful. This isn't cruelty, this is life. We get hard. Those of us left behind: Elton, Jackie, you and me, we get hard. Unless we're willing to be flexible.