Jackie brings some tea into the living room, speaking to Rose, and notices that she's gone. Jackie heads up to her bedroom, where Rose is packing, talking -- this is actually the part that got to me, for some reason -- about how she's got a "bottle of Amaretto from New Years Eve." Something about her wanting to impress the Doctor, or making the best of what she's got, and wanting everything to be perfect, so that she can keep a piece of her daughter there, or annex the Doctor and make him hers too, so that Rose won't really be gone, and a little bit of shame at her circumstances, because she's a widow in the council estates who worries constantly about money, and this is just like Rose leaving Jackie for Hollywood, to make a life for herself, because what Jackie can provide is not enough. And the best she can do is fucking Amaretto. But parenting is first draft, and Jackie has no way of knowing that every single child worth her salt has to make this jump, so to Jackie it's just an indictment, and she wants to dress it up so pretty, like a pretty Sunday dress from the Filene's sale rack, to be at least the equal of this wonderful separate life she'll never get for herself, or really be a part of, and that makes me incredibly sad. And it makes me love her very, very much.
"I was wondering whether he drinks or not," says Jackie, watching Rose pack, already knowing she's lost. "Yeah, he does," says Rose, still packing, upper lip stiff indeed, like she's angry at the clothes. For a scene they've done in like every episode, this is really quite touching. I wish the whole story were one episode, because the interpersonals are really good in this story, and the only reason they're overbalanced is because of the needless complications of the plot arising from making it a two-parter, so it seems like it's coming out of nowhere, when really -- if you're into this kind of thing -- it's the heart of both episodes. Jackie watches Rose, and begs, "Don't go, sweetheart." Rose turns and looks at her. "Please don't go," says Jackie. ...And Rose keeps packing. Just because this is the way the story goes doesn't mean she's not being a dick: it's part of the process. I don't think I've ever been more appalled than by the behavior, for example, of Angela Chase, but that is how this story goes.
Mickey sits on a garbage can near the TARDIS with a newspaper. It's getting late. The little boy who spray-painted the TARDIS is cleaning it off again. Weird. I guess it's just so we'd remember that it was there. The Doctor comes out of the TARDIS and thanks the kid, and says that if he does it again, he'll get it. The Doctor approaches Mickey, who says, "I just went down the shop. And I was thinking, you know, like the whole world's changed. Aliens and spaceships all in public. And here it is." He shows the Doctor the newspaper he's reading: "Alien Hoax?" Both Mickey and Rose have said that: "The whole world's changed." And I guess that's why we came back to the estates for this story -- because it has. Mickey's exasperated that people are calling it all a "hoax" when they saw what happened. "They're just not ready. You're happy to believe in something that's invisible --" Oh, snap! America, you just got served! "--but if it's staring you in the face -- nope! Can't see it! There's a scientific explanation for that: you're thick." I think really a healthy mix of both is called for. Mickey laughs and says, half-questioning: "We're just idiots." Doctor gives him a shock: "Well, not all of you." Mickey's posture improves a bit. The Doctor gives him a "present": a virus Mickey can use online to destroy every mention of the Doctor: "I'll cease to exist." Red flag, but I'm not sure how. The Doctor loves history, knows it's the measure of existence. Remove his impact on this world, and he won't only cease to exist, he'll never have existed, in the record. Seems like that would look even more final to somebody in his circumstance: Earth itself is a largish blip anyway. Sounds, though, like it suits him just fine.