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Mickey didn’t regret any of it. Going to what he had somehow never stopped thinking of as the other Earth had been right then, but now it was time to go home. Funny how things turned out – he was saddest about leaving Jackie.
He wondered if Rose thought that he couldn’t stand seeing her with the sort-of-Doctor, and realised he didn’t actually care any more. He hoped things would work out for her, though. But his sort-of-gran was dead. No responsibilities left.
Jake had thought he wanted him to stay, but he didn’t, he’d wanted him to be Ricky. He’d tried it half-heartedly, once, when he was drunk and lonely, but it didn’t convince either of them, and the next day they both pretended they couldn’t remember what had happened. But Jake knew, all right – Mickey could see it. It couldn’t be easy seeing someone who looked and sounded and sometimes even acted like your dead lover, but who wasn’t.
He really did hope things would work out for Rose, and for – him, too. But he couldn’t help them, any more than he could help Jake.
Time to go home. He squared his shoulders, and stepped out.