After a few uneventful minutes of walking though foggy, empty streets, the Doctor reached the Artaud Theater. As he drew closer, its decrepit marquis faded into view. King Lear, Macbeth, and The Glass Menagerie were advertised on it, a few letters missing from each play's name. He walked up to the ticket booth and peered inside. It was empty, the chair and counter inside covered with dust. Brow furrowed, the Doctor walked back around to the large double-doors in front and went inside.

The theater's lobby was dingy but still retained hints of garish grandeur, with greenish gold moiré wallpaper and a massive gold scarab beetle above the auditorium doors, wings spread wide. The Doctor gazed at it for a moment, then turned quickly as he saw something move in his peripheral vision.

Near the staircase to his left stood a little girl with shoulder-length hair almost as red as her cardigan.

The Doctor stared. "…Amelia Pond?"

"Why are you here?" she asked. Before he could respond she turned and went through the door behind her.

"Wait!" The Doctor chased after her to find himself in a dark, empty hallway. He saw nowhere she could have disappeared to that quickly. Still he continued on, feet moving more slowly but mind running just as fast. Either she was the real Amelia Pond or she was not. If she was, what was she doing out of her time and place? And if she was not the real Amy, then what was she?

He went on down the long hallway until he reached three doors, side by side. When he tried to turn the knob of the first door it only rattled. The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the knob. This revealed nothing, so he tried to open the door with it. He thought it should work since it was a metal door, but the sonic had no effect. Frowning, the Doctor put his sonic away and tried the next door, with no success. Finally the third doorknob turned with a creak, and he pushed the door open.

The Doctor walked inside slowly and let the door shut behind him. It was an office of some sort, with a large wooden desk and chair in one corner and shelves lining the walls. The desk was strewn with books and papers, but one in particular caught his eye. He leaned forward and read it.

Peter,

Could you check the costume store room on the second floor when you get a chance? Katie from the costume dept. thinks there's a mouse or something in the ceiling in there. She's probably nuts but you know she won't stop harassing us until somebody takes a look. You can use the flashlight I keep in here if you like - Bob's always forgetting to put batteries in that other one.

Thanks, Ed

Next to the letter was a dark green swivel flashlight. The Doctor picked it up, tilted it to look at all sides, then flipped it on. Its beam was steady and broad, and he blinked at the sudden brightness. "Cool," he smiled. The light revealed a layer of dust covering everything in the office. He took another look around with his new light source but saw nothing of particular interest, so he went back into the hall. Clearly something odd was going on in this place, and if people had been hearing strange noises in costume storage, then it was worth checking out. Remembering the staircase in the lobby, he retraced his steps and then climbed up to the second floor.

The second floor hallway was narrow with a few wooden crates along its sides. The flashlight's beam caught on a humanoid shape, which startled the Doctor for a moment until he drew closer and realized it was a plastic dress form. He poked it. "Sure you're not an Auton?" Smiling a little, he continued down the hall until he reached a door with a small metal sign that said Costume Storage. The door opened easily when he tried it, and he went inside.

The room was pitch dark, and the Doctor scanned it with his flashlight. Shelves covered with cardboard boxes lined the walls, and several dress forms with clothes on them stood in the middle of the room. His light slid past them, but he flicked it back as something caught his eye.

The clothes.

The dress form in front was clothed in a brown pinstripe suit and blue shirt, with a brown and blue necktie and long tan coat over it.

The Doctor directed his flashlight down so he could see the whole length of it, which revealed a pair of cream-colored trainers at its base.

"Impossible," he breathed. He bent his wrist to illuminate the dress form beside the first, revealing a black leather jacket with a dark blue v-neck shirt beneath it. He swept the flashlight across the room and quickly counted the dress forms.

There were eleven of them.

Ruffled sleeves, sweater vest, multicolored coat, beige jacket and white sweater, long coat and endless woolen scarf, crimson velvet jackets, one dark coat with a bowtie and another with a cravat.

"Impossible," he said again, more insistently, as if that would make what he was seeing disappear.

The very last dress form at the back of the room looked bare, and the Doctor approached it to investigate. It had no clothes on it, but the center of the torso looked as if it had been hacked open, and a bit of red ribbon stuck out from the gaping hole. He craned his neck and angled the flashlight but could not see what the ribbon might be attached to. Carefully he grasped the ribbon between two fingers and drew it out, then held it up so he could see what was attached to the end. It was a slip of paper and a metal key. There was writing on the paper.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

"Macbeth," the Doctor frowned. He stood there, holding the ribbon and gazing at the exact duplicates of the clothing he had worn in his various incarnations.

He stood straighter. "All right," he said loudly. "This is a nice display and all but I think you've had your fun. Why don't you come out and we'll have a little talk?"

Silence.

"Oh come on now, don't be shy! I'm sure you've got a good reason for this and perhaps you mean well. But I should warn you—though you might already know this, I do have a bit of a reputation after all—I should warn you that I am not the type of man one should play games with."

Still no answer.

The Doctor shifted awkwardly and tossed his head. Whatever was behind the strangeness in this place was apparently not going to show its face yet. Still, he knew now that it had some kind of personal interest in him. The thought made him a little nervous. He fiddled with the flashlight for a moment, then bent its head down and slipped it into his jacket pocket so his hands were free. Holding the key up, he saw that it had a strip of tape stuck to it with Men's Dressing Room on it in black marker. He gripped the key tightly and left the costume store room.

The Doctor walked down the hall, checking doors as he went, but he saw no locked doors and none labeled Men's Dressing Room. He reached a staircase at the end of the hall and went down it, finding himself back in the lobby. Realizing he had not checked the other half of the first floor hallway, he went through the door to his right and started checking doors on that side. The very first door he came to was locked, so he decided to try the key. It slid in easily, and he turned the knob and went inside.

The room was fairly empty, with a few clothes racks, and a long wooden counter with mirrors and a row of unlit light bulbs above it. The Doctor noticed nothing of interest except a green bowl in front of the mirrors. He tilted his head to look at it more closely. It was filled with water, and words were painted in black on its inside edge.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand?

"'No,'" the Doctor murmured, "this my hand will rather / The multitudinous seas incarnadine, / Making the green one red.'" He looked up at his reflection, head still bowed. The sideswept brown hair, strong features, full lips, and grey eyes were comfortable now, but his face was never quite familiar to him. He sighed a little. "Good old Will, right as usual. Some things you can never quite be rid of."

Suddenly, his reflection flickered.

It was not his reflection anymore.