Colonel Stratton-Villiers hung his bowler hat and heavy black overcoat on the stand beside the door and went over to his desk. He peered at his "In" tray - nothing important in there this morning. With a sigh, he sat down and unfolded the copy of "The Times" sitting folded on his blotter and set to studying the crossword. The intercom on his desk bleeped. He leaned forward and pressed a button before answering in his deep, rich, cultured voice.
"Yes?"
"Colonel, you asked to be told when the Doctor and Miss Smith were in the building. Seems they've just arrived, sir."
The Colonel smiled softly. "Excellent. Have them brought to my office, would you?"
"Yes sir." The intercom clicked off. The Colonel leaned back and unlocked one of his desk drawers, taking out two files, which he placed carefully on his desk. One was a lot larger than the other. He studied the names printed neatly on the brown covers of each. The larger of the two files was labelled "Sarah Jane Smith". A minor investigative journalist of no great consequence beyond her rather dubious present connection to the Colonel's organisation.
The other file was considerably thinner, containing only a couple of sheets of paper and some curious photos. The name on the front read "Doctor John Smith". Neither of the two people in the files were related. The Colonel knew for a fact that "John Smith" wasn't even the man's name. It wasn't in the file. In fact, no one at all in the entire organisation - even the Colonel's predecessor, and he was scrupulous to the point of idiocy about remaining tight-lipped about the identity of his "Scientific Advisor" - knew who the man really was. Some even said he was two or three different people - certainly the photos in the file gave that rumour reality - and that "The Doctor" was merely a code word for a collection of agents.
The Colonel drummed his fingers on the desk. He had no more idea than anyone else who this man was, but one thing he was certain of. If he was an agent, he was definitely not a product of one of Her Majesties services, probably not a product of their American cousins, and possibly not a product of the Iron Curtain. Which left the question - who was he a product of? And why was he working for an organisation like UNIT?
The Colonel pursed his lips. It was an intolerable conundrum, and one that he intended to solve immediately.
There was a minor hubbub outside his office door. Raised voices, one of which he recognised as the Sergeant on reception duty outside his office, and there was a woman's voice, and a deeper, more authoritative voice that must have been heard throughout the building.
" ... Doesn't anyone around here realise I have better things to do than attend meetings? Hmmm? If there's one thing I can't, simply can't, abide, it is being summonsed!"
The door was wrenched open and a tall man in a long grey over coat trailing a huge multi-coloured scarf in his wake strode into the room and plopped himself down in one of the chairs facing the Colonel's desk. He then put his feet up on the table and glowered balefully at the Colonel.
"You're not Alistair. Where is he?" The Doctor dipped his head down and looked under the desk, pretending to look for his absent friend.
The Colonel's mouth twitched into a slightly strained smile and he stood up to welcome his visitors. "Ah, Doctor, so glad you could pay me a visit. Come in and sit down," he remarked frostily, glaring at the Doctor's feet scuffing the shiny mahogany. "Miss Smith," he strode across the office to the slim dark haired girl hovering nervously in the doorway and took her hand. "So nice to meet you at last. Do come in. Would either of you care for some refreshment? Coffee, tea, a sherry?"
The Colonel fiddled with the files on his desk. "Now Doctor, please. The government acknowledges that you have done some very ... extraordinary things ... in the past for us."
"Us?" The Doctor boomed. "Who's Us?"
The Colonel ignored the question. "But your presence in this organisation was sanctioned wholly only by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Now he has more or less gone, we would ask ... certain sureties of you which the Brigadier has avoided asking, it seems, to ensure your continued commitment to this organisation. For instance, in the last six months, you have been seen in this building exactly twice, and you have taken part in less than half a dozen operations involving UNIT."
The Doctor bulged his eyes and dropped his mouth open in mock astonishment. "You want me to sign up!"
"Well, we feel that some kind of contract would be in order ..."
"Contract? Contract! You make me sound like a navvy! Look here, I joined your organisation out of the goodness of my hearts all those years ago purely and simply as an advisor. Unpaid, I might add!"
The Colonel tapped the Doctor's file. "You waived the right to a regular wage, Doctor. But in monetary terms, you have cost this organisation a considerable amount." He held up several sheets of paper. "Electrical equipment, mainly. Not to mention several large bills for damage to property, theft, travel expenses ..."
The Doctor was looking more apoplectic by the second, so Sarah butted in. "What about all the times the Doctor has saved this country? The world, even! Doesn't that make a difference?"
The Colonel shrugged. "Not to our budget committee, Miss Smith. It has to be paid some how. As I said, I'm not saying that the Government doesn't recognise the splendid help the Doctor has given us over the years, but ..."
"But? Of all the narrow minded ... does the Brigadier know what you're doing? I bet he'd have something to say about you dumping us!"
"You're not being dumped, Miss Smith! And the Brigadier has nothing to do with this. Appealing to him would only make things more difficult for yourselves ... and possibly him," he added. The undertone of threat in his voice was unmistakable.
Sarah was about ready to erupt when the Doctor laid a restraining hand on her arm. She turned to look at him and was astonished to see he was smiling, albeit wistfully.
"Sarah ... Colonel, I take it from the tone of this meeting that you are, in effect, giving us our marching orders?"
The Colonel blinked and cleared his throat. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but unless you're prepared to commit yourself to a proper contract ..."
The Doctor shook his head slowly. "What, with a health scheme, and a contributory pension scheme, and two weeks in Bournemouth every July, and a secretary, endless meetings with the budget committee, lunch with the junior under-secretary for doing not-very-much every Friday ..."
The Colonel snorted. "I rather think the job would entail rather more than that, you know!"
"Just like yours, eh?" The Doctor stood up, shaking his head. "I already have a job, Colonel. UNIT is an infinitesimally small part of it." He smiled sadly and said quietly: "I think I can manage without it ... and I think you can manage without me." He pulled a piece of newspaper from his pocket and tossed it onto the Colonel's desk. "Tell Major Whitaker from me she did an excellent job in Iceland without my help. Or have you got rid of her as well?"
The Colonel's face was stony. Slowly, the Doctor extended his hand across his desk. After a hesitation, the Colonel took it, and they shook briefly.
"Goodbye," he said simply, and got up and walked from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Sarah looked at the Colonel. "I suppose you want to fire me as well?"
The Colonel looked from the door to her folder and cleared his throat. "Officially, you're down as the Doctor's assistant. Since the Doctor is ... no longer an employee here, you won't be required either." He leafed through the file. "I'm surprised anyway, given your past, that the Brigadier allowed you to remain. I mean, an investigative journalist with a radical past on the staff?" He clicked his tongue. "Whatever did Mr Heath or Mr Nixon do to deserve having you write such nasty things about them?" He looked up, beaming at her.
Sarah told him what she thought of Mr Heath and Mr Nixon, then she told him what she thought of him.
***
Sarah burst into the Doctor's laboratory, dabbing at her eyes with her hankie.
"Tears, Sarah Jane?"
She looked round to see the Doctor leaning against the TARDIS, practising triple-loops on his yo-yo.
Sarah sniffed and waved the cloth at him. "I'm not upset, I'm just ... angry!" She lashed out her foot at a lab stool, sending it spinning to the floor with a clatter.
The Doctor grinned. "Feel better?"
"Not really. You took that all very well."
"Mmmm. Can't ever recall being fired before. That's a new first for me."
"No, I mean, you're not very ..."
"Upset?" He sighed, and put his yo-yo back in his pocket. "No, not really. All of this," and waved an arm around the lab, "just isn't me, Sarah. It belongs to a different time. A different me. I had different needs, then. I don't really ..." he hesitated. How could he tell Sarah he didn't need UNIT anymore? He was free of his exile, and had been for a long time now. There was no longer any need to stay on Earth all the time. The TARDIS had a habit of bringing him back here anyway, so it wasn't like he was abandoning the planet to its fate. He would miss all his friends here, but his life had to go on ... sooner or later, he would have had to leave anyway. He cleared his throat and continued.
"Can you really see me staying here, full-time, taking orders from the likes of our friend back there? He's the face of the 1980's, Sarah; men like him. Now the Brigadier and I had our little disagreements, but we respected each other." He smiled sadly. "I couldn't respect a man like the Colonel."
"So." Sarah straightened her shoulders with a last determined sniff and held out her hand, which was trembling slightly. "This is goodbye, then."
The Doctor looked at her hand, then up at her face. "Is it? Why?"
"Well, if you're going back to wandering the cosmos, you won't want any common or garden earthling cluttering up your lifestyle ... will you?"
The Doctor rose his arm and seemed for a minute to be reaching to complete the handshake ... then his arm continued up to his head and he fiddled nervously with his curly hair as he turned away to pretend to examine the front of the TARDIS.
"Well, harumph, you know ... I still need someone to make the tea and tell me how brilliant I am. The position is still open. Interested?"
He peeked back over his shoulder, eyes wide and imploring. Sarah broke into a grin. She couldn't help it. He started to grin too.
"Maybe. What are the hours?"
"Oh, excessively long!"
"And the pay?"
"Materially, dreadful. But you'll be richer for the experience!"
Sarah pretended to consider. "Okay, done - but only if you make me a cup of tea and tell me how brilliant I am!"
"Blackmail!" The Doctor cried joyfully, and extended his arm. Sarah took it, and laughing, the two friends entered the TARDIS. As the ship began to dematerialise, Sarah's voice echoed across the lab.
"What do you mean, no teabags? Oh, Doctor!"
The Doctor's booming laugh lingered in the lab long after the TARDIS was gone ...
