"How old were you five years ago?" The Doctor asks Nancy. "Fifteen? Sixteen? Old enough to give birth, anyway." Nancy glances up and away, ashamed, still sobbing. The Doctor prods: "He's not your brother, is he?" She shakes her head. The Doctor: "A teenaged single mother in 1941. So you hid. You lied. You even lied to him." He doesn't judge this -- just notes it down and begs you to be stronger than your circumstance. The gates swing open, with Jamie at the front of the masks' army: "Are you my mummy?" As they walk forward, the Doctor urges Nancy: "He's gonna keep asking, Nancy. He's never gonna stop. Tell him. Nancy, the future of the human race is in your hands. Trust me...and tell him." The child approaches. "Are you my mummy?" The Doctor turns Nancy around, toward her son.
Jamie asks, "Are you my mummy? Are you my mummy?" And Nancy brings it out, given to her by the Doctor, the simple need for this no-fault horror story to have a hero. Given by the spirit of the Blitz: "Yes. Yes, I am your mummy." Jamie continues to ask, and walks toward Nancy, and she kneels down before him. "I'm here." He keeps asking, and she keeps responding, and behind her, the Doctor worries that there's not enough Jamie left -- that it's just desire, now, inside the child's body. "I am your mummy," says Nancy. "I will always be your mummy. I'm so sorry." And she takes the child into her arms. "I am so, so sorry."
A golden light appears around them -- a halo -- as Nancy strokes her son's hair, and weeps. The Doctor restrains Rose. Nothing so beautiful could be going wrong. The Doctor urges them to figure it out, to recognize Nancy as Jamie's mother, the way she finally recognized herself. The nanogenes glow brighter, and then Nancy falls back as they disappear. The Doctor nears Jamie, whispering to himself: "Give me a day like this. Give me this one." God's grace is the reminder that you always have been free -- it's just the default setting to be too afraid to reach for it -- and the gentle push that turns you around to face it. God's grace is a day like this, a genocide redeemed in a single day where no one dies. When the Doctor gets objective evidence that what he's chosen to be is informed by his actions, a well-formed equation, and he's reminded that he can dance again. That he never forgot how. This show is not fucking around.