"You cannot hurt me," says God. "I am immortal!" Which I still don't buy. Rose almost smiles: "You are tiny. I can see the whole of time and space. Every single atom of your existence. And I divide them." She raises her hand, and a Dalek goes to golden, beautiful dust. Tears in her throat -- the kind of tears only the Doctor has felt -- as she waves the rest away: "Everything must come to dust...all things. Everything dies" -- including this -- "...The Time War ends." God begins to scream.
The entire mothership goes to dust, and then to nothing. Rose stands, arms raised, staring ahead. The Doctor tells her again to stop: "Rose, you've done it." No answer. Contemplio. "Just let go," he begs, and her voice is full of joy. Ecstasy. "How can I let go of this?" she asks. "I bring life." And then she waves another hand, and Captain Jack draws a breath. The Doctor is now pants-shitting terrified: "But this is wrong! You can't control life and death!" She totally can, and says, "The sun and the moon. The day and night." But she begins to tremble, and the Doctor beings to weep: "But why do they hurt?" Desperately, he indicts himself, that she's going to die, and it'll be his fault. A tear runs down her Goddess's cheek: "I can see everything. All that is, all that was. All that ever could be." The Doctor stands and looks at her with a new kind of appreciation. "That's what I see! All the time. Doesn't it drive you mad?" And she begins to fear: "My head, it's killing me." He takes her hands, and says, "Come here. I think you need a Doctor."
Which I've decided to be fine with. Healing of Albion and all that; it's not just a pun. They turn slowly around, faces meeting in the light. The Doctor looks into her eyes, and leans gently in, and presses his lips to hers. The third kiss. The light pours out of her, and into him, and she falls into his arms. He sets her down quite carefully and faces the doors of the TARDIS, full of light. Retentio. And he sends it back. Restoration of the divine, the release of light from the gross material world. Leaving us back where we were, because if the Earth is Hell, in these Ahriman tales, well, the mere presence of grace means it's Heaven, too. Rose will still be there, still looking like a big blue box. The TARDIS doors close quietly, and the Doctor smiles softly to himself, kneeling to stroke Rose's face with infinite tenderness.
Jack stands. He staggers through the open doorway onto Floor 500, where he investigates a pile of Dalek dust. He hears the "vworp," and runs for the TARDIS as fast as he can, but he's too late, arriving just in time to watch it disappear. And the look on his face, I'm telling you. It's not fear, it's not being stranded, it's not anything but love. And being left behind. If Rose was joy, he is sorrow. It's a powerful moment. Now, you and I know that it's happening because of what is about to happen: Jack would just laugh and try to fuck David Tennant, and so would you, frankly, which is why Rose has to be alone: so it'll hurt more. But this hurts too. He'll be okay. You can be sad, but don't be worried.