She sees it all now that he's gone. She sees the longing and the sadness and the love. She sees that he'll forget about her. She sees that he'll replace her. She sees that he'll change again, into someone that won't love her or miss her as much as this one did. He was able to control how she felt. If he was happy, then so was she. If he was in one of his moody, brooding silences, then so was she. He could paint her a blue sky, but he could and would go back and change it to rain. She had been so young. She could still clearly remember when they went to the end of the world. When she had almost died. She had been able to smell her mother's perfume, and hear Mickey's voice. But he had rescued her. He would always rescue her, or at least she had thought he would. Only nineteen. She had been in love for the first time, had friends, was planning on buying a flat, and marrying Mickey. He tore her away from it, from her normal life, and though she wouldn't change it for the world, she now wishes she hadn't, because now all these memories are like knives, cutting into her. This had all been leading to this moment, this moment when everything that happened was a regret. She would have never had thought that she would feel this way, but she does. The nights when he wouldn't talk to were so long, when she would roll over and wonder if it was something she did or if it was her fault. She tried to play the way he did, tried to keep up, but he would change his rules and the way he acted. When she awoke she would wonder what version of him she would get today. Happy or sad? Angry or glad? Each day was a gamble, each day she lost a little bit more. Maybe it was her fault, her own naivety. It probably is, she thinks. She remembers Sarah Jane warning her, but she didn't listen. She thought she was different. She was wrong. She had only been nine teen. Only nineteen. Wasn't that a little bit young? He kept the lines blurry, unreadable, so she was never sure if they were friends or lovers or enemies. He had never been impressed by what she did, or at least not very much. She was too late. She couldn't run anymore, because he had gotten to her before she could get away, so it was really her fault that she's stranded here. She has Mickey, she reminds herself. Mickey would never abandon her or leave her or paint her moods. Mickey would always be there for her. She looks up as he stumbles into her. He's come back, but it's too late. It's too late to fix her. He tells her he invited that woman, and she knows it's over. It's over before it even began. Rose starts to cry as he turns around to go get Reinette.