In fact, Horace Dewhurst's secretary found herself looking at the clock, eagerly anticipating the moment he'd burst out of the lifts as though he owned the place, which of course, he had for so long.

So when the lift door opened and he stepped out, fire in his eyes, she tried very hard not to smile.

"I've had enough of my day wasted and I want no further nonsense. Screen everything carefully and if something gets by you, I'll have your head," he shouted as he walked into his office, not bothering to wait for an answer.

"Yes, sir," she said, then sat and began to count the seconds.

Horace walked in to see a blonde woman in a black suit standing behind his desk, grinning smugly at him.

"How the devil did you get in here," he asked as he pushed a button on his desk. "Get security in here at once, there's an intruder in my office and when they arrive, start packing, you're fired," he bellowed. "I want you gone in fifteen minutes or security will be escorting both of you blasted women out the door."

The woman sat in his chair and steepled her fingers together, smiling slightly. "Sit down, Horace, security isn't coming."

"No one tells me to sit down," he said, still furious. "While we're waiting for security, I suggest you tell me who you are and make it brief. I'm going to enjoy seeing you pulled out of my chair and carried out of here. I hope you'll still be smiling in prison."

Her smile broadened. "I'll tell you exactly who I am, Horace. My name is Yvonne Hartmann, and I'm your replacement."

Horace glared at her as if he were contemplating strangling her. "By whose authority? I demand to see something in writing. If you can't produce anything this instant, I'll kick you out myself."

"I'm surprised you're even entertaining the possibility that I'm telling the truth. But then, you have been a naughty, naughty boy, haven't you," she said, sliding a file across the desk towards him. "Toying with UNIT after you've been expressly forbidden to do so. Tsk, tsk. Now it seems that the Crown and the UN have become very clear as to Torchwood's limitations. And as I'm sure they informed you at Downing Street, it's all. Your. Fault," she said, punctuating each word with a finger on the file detailing Torchwood's transgressions under his leadership.

Horace pulled the file towards him with one finger as if it was contaminated. He glanced at it, then picked it up and read it. When he was finished, he slammed the document on his desk. "You still haven't shown me anything that proves that you've been sent here to replace me. This could be a forgery for all I know. I still have a lot of friends in very high places, and they would never allow anything like this to happen." He was unaware that he sounded a bit more than rattled.

"Oh, Horace," she said, almost, but not quite, sympathetic. "I know this is difficult for you. But don't worry, your years of service to the Empire haven't been forgotten. We'll make this as easy as possible for you."

"We'll just see about that," he said, picking up a phone and dialing his most influential contact on his private line. He waited a moment, and finally there was an answer on the other end. "Hello Cecil, it's Horace. I need you to take care of an annoyance for me."

Horace was quiet for a minute and then began sputtering. "How dare you tell me that. You know of course that I could destroy you... What?" he asked, and grew quiet and very pale. "You'll pay for your treachery if it's the last thing I do," he said as he uttered a very rude oath and hung up.

"What's wrong, Horace," she asked, feigning innocence. "It doesn't sound like your call went very well. You really should just relax. It's not as though we're going to do you in. I believe in being very strict when it comes to following Standard Operating Procedure."

Horace knew what she was saying. "You can't just …" He trailed off, uncharacteristically quiet. "I've been here for 32 years. I can't lose all that. What am I supposed to do now?"

"I believe," she said, "it's traditional to go out and get drunk."

He stood for a moment, then decided not to hang about waiting. He had no intention of letting himself be retconned and losing everything he had worked so hard, for so long, to achieve.

He said nothing more. Instead, he walked over to his desk to retrieve his things, but before he could even open the drawer, security finally showed up. He faced them and sighed. He walked out of the room with his hands at his sides, the guards walking next to him.

As he headed for the lift, his now former secretary was standing there holding a box out to him. He could see at once that it contained the contents of his desk - minus his "special" files.

His secretary said nothing, but she smiled at him with a look of satisfaction that spoke volumes as he took the box and walked to the lift.

The Doctor felt like a kid waiting for the candy store to open while he tidied up the workshop and waited for the TARDIS to arrive. Once Harry had given him the go-ahead and signed off on his discharge, he'd gone home and moved the beacon into the house, adjusting its settings so that the temporal bubble it generated covered not just the house, but also the garden (and the workshop) so he could move about freely, but he was still itching to see the TARDIS again.

He could hear the workshop door opening behind him. "Bet you're excited, Dad," said Luke quietly. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking down at the floor.

"Very," he said, then turned to look at his son. "How about you, what's going on in that head of yours? I know we haven't had much of a chance to talk."

Luke snorted. "What's on my mind? How about the future? Or maybe the fact that I have a new dad, so to speak. Then again there's lots of questions about all the changes your being the Doctor is going to cause for our family. I think most of all, though, I'm worried about Mum."

He listened quietly, then nodded. "Alright, I'm willing to field all that, but let's start at the end. Why are you worried about mum?"

"You and I have been around her long enough to know how she deals with things when she's been hurt. She doesn't say much, but I've watched her when she thinks she's alone. This is really hard on her. What are you planning to do to fix it?" He ran his hands along the workbench, remembering how he was always so proud when he was young to watch his dad fix things while he taught him all about electronics.

The Doctor considered for a moment. "I understand that it's hard on her, and I understand why. She's asked me for time to let things work themselves out, and I think that's really all that I can do. Believe me, all I want to do right now is march back into that house as though nothing had changed. I know that it has though, so I can't do that. But your mum has to be the one to set the pace here, and we just have to be patient."

Luke thought for a moment and then nodded. "So now that you're the Doctor and Dad, what's going to happen when you get your TARDIS back? Are you planning on flying about the universe and coming back for the odd visit?" He tried to look as if the answer didn't matter, but anyone who knew him knew that he adored his father. He would never admit it, but he was hurting as much as his mother was.

For a moment Luke's father was hurt by the accusation, but the pain was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with anger at himself because he knew he deserved that kind of reputation, given everything that had happened. He took Luke by the shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere without you, and your mum, and your brother and sister, and even Aunt Lavinia. Never, ever, never. Do you hear me?"