-Lacena and the Doctor give one last wave to Cloud and the others, before shutting the TARDIS doors-
Right then... just the three of us.
A-are you going to take me home? The new one?
Sure. But first... I know this great restaurant at the Emerald Spires of Javax. I mean, there's a slight chance of a Sontaran raid, but, well, that's just yet another one of the risks we take in life.
-He takes hold of the lever, punching in coordinates-
Let's take the new Doctor for a spin.
-He pulls the lever, the TARDIS dematerialising once more-
The body is now in unfamiliar territory. It lies naked on a cold metal slab, but this is no morgue. Two figures stand over the restrained corpse. After a long moment of silence, they look to each other.
“Too bad we couldn’t salvage that manipulator,” says the woman. “That kind of technology would have propelled us into twenty-first century. Everything changing. Still... having a time traveller in the building will have its perks.”
“He’s not bad looking, either,” noted the man. She gave him an odd look, but let it slide.
“So,” he added, realising just what he said and hoping to move conversation along, “When’s he coming back? Is there like a set limit?”
“If you’re impatient, maybe you should watch that trigger finger. If you weren’t so bloody jumpy, we’d be talking to him right now.”
His brow falls. “You told me we were extracting a corpse from under UNIT’s nose, not that the corpse would jump up and grab me.”
“Should have expected no less from the zombie flick fan,” she scowled.
“You two calm down. This isn’t the first time two people have argued over my body.”
The two look down at a smiling Jack Harkness.
“I mean, if you wanted me naked and bound, that’s fine by me, but the whole ‘shoot him in the head’ thing is a real turn-off. Where am I?”
The two look at each other again, pausing, then to Harkness. The man speaks first.
“Underground. Just above the Cardiff Rift. The space-time rupture that powered the field around Cufferson Apartments.”
“We represent the interests of the British Crown in regards to the defence of Her Majesty’s Realm against threats that... defy worldly understanding,” said the woman. “We’d like you to join us.”
“’Like’ me to? I get the feeling that refusing won’t be made easy for me. And with a busted manipulator... guess I’m stuck here until a friend can come pick me up. Plus, you’re both pretty easy on the eyes, and a big step up from the last guys who stood over my corpse and made an offer. Captain Jack Harkness, by the way.”
“Glad you see things our way, Mr Harkness,” says the woman. “It will spare a lot of unpleasantness. Welcome to Torchwood.”
The TARDIS is breaking.
Not dying. The death of a TARDIS is a much grander affair. This one is simply dispersing. Scattering like dust. She holds no regrets for herself. The boy is safe. He will be happy. He will live the life he should have. As her thoughts deteriorate into simple forms, much like her body, all she can feel is vindication, and peace. Across the galaxy, uncountable quantities of her particles flow, condensing and forming shapes, echoes of her old form. She lacks the depth of thought, or unity of mind she once had, but she still lives a million lives. Still feeding off time energy to sustain her new existence. Wherever it can be found. Whomever it can be found from. Hiding from persecution within a quantum lock, taking upon the appearance of her old form.
An angel, weeping into her own hands for what has been lost.
Until the end of time.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?-Legion looks at the space where the TARDIS has vanished-
Alpha-Program.
...
... Alpha-Program?
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?-Goes back to waiting like an obedient puppy-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"