Reinette looks around herself, at the spaceship. She is lost and confused, walking through her corridors and hallways. She's terrified. This is loneliness. Rose and Mickey can only watch. "So, this is his world," says Reinette. We are the same. There is screaming and crashing, in the distance. Mickey explains that the Doctor's fixed an audio link to a time window. Reinette's too clever by half: "Those screams...is that my future?" Rose almost weeps for her: "Yeah...I'm sorry." The girl in the fireplace nods: "Then I must take the slower path." This is the opposite of Victoria's not-my-world speech: acceptance of fate instead of rejection of truth. This isn't her world, but instead of turning her paranoid, hollowing her out with fear, it gives her strength and bravery. (And with it, acceptance that she'll never be with the Doctor. Which is the kind of grace -- there's that word again -- that could make you fall in love to begin with.)
"Are you there? Can you hear me? I need you now, you promised. The clock on the mantel is broken. It is time." Reinette is disturbed, hearing herself in the future, with Louis beside her, calling into the flames. Mickey tries to hurry Rose, but she can't leave Reinette: "Are you okay?" Reinette shakes her head. "No. I'm very afraid. But you and I both know, don't we, Rose? The Doctor is worth the monsters." We are the same. The days she never can forget are earnest that he loves her yet, whate'er the faithless people say. Everything Sarah Jane said, everything the Doctor was too afraid to admit, is coming true. In minutes instead of years. In show, instead of tell. Rose nods, wholeheartedly, sisterly -- having learned from Sarah Jane herself -- and Reinette walks back through the tapestry, into her world. In the audio, she screams for him: "Doctor! Doctor!" Rose heads back into the fray.