Author's Note: This chapter is the work of Fenton Hardy Fan and is dedicated to Kenobi-Wan, who helped us realize what the Eleventh Doctor really needed was a Companion with similar fashion sense.
Clara stood in the doorway of a room not so different from her own in structure. Reaching out, she felt along the wall for a light switch. Although she never found one, the lights lit of their own accord. "I think the TARDIS definitely wants me to look around."
"Clara," from behind her The Doctor tried to call her away from the room.
Ignoring him, she stepped inside. A shoe rack filled to capacity sat in one corner. Beside it, a closet door stood slightly ajar. On one of the walls, a pair of Star Wars posters nestled up against a trio of yellow circles not unlike those found in the console room. Quickly observing what appeared to be a knocked over picture frame on the bedside table, Clara walked over and picked it up. Although feelings of reverence continued to well up inside her at the thought of standing in another of The Doctor's traveling companions' rooms, she hid them with an overly confident demeanor. When she flipped the frame over to see the picture, Clara began to laugh. In center frame stood a pair of figures on what appeared to be a hiking trail. One Clara recognized as Amy Pond, who stood with an unknown young man in his teenaged years. Both of them were grinning at the camera and holding onto what appeared to be large fuzzy rabbits wearing little top hats. At the right hand side of the photograph, Clara recognized the profile of Rory Williams. He appeared to be confused and talking during the instant caught by the camera and was only in half in the picture due to him leaning into it over a large boulder. And best of all, on the left side of the picture and off in the background, The Doctor appeared to be losing his balance and falling off of a large rock at the side of the path.
"I know about most of the people in this picture, Doctor, but not him." She pointed to the tall, gangly young man in center frame. Was this his room?"
"It most certainly is Jay's room," the Doctor replied, startling Clara, who missed the sounds of his entrance.
"Jay?"
"Jay Jones, Fashion Extraordinaire."
"Now I know your pulling my leg," grinned back Clara, "no one has a name like that."
"There are far more uncommon names than Jay Jones," began The Doctor, but Clara interrupted him.
"No one describes themselves as a 'Fashion Extraordinaire.'"
"Neither did he, although it did say that on his business cards."
"How on Earth did you pick up a card carrying Fashion Extraordinaire?"
"You're not going to shut up until I tell you?" asked The Doctor, already knowing the answer.
"The sooner you start talking, the sooner we can move on to the next room." She grinned at him, watching The Doctor's slightly panicked expression with eager eyes until he finally began.
With a final, echoing, thud, the TARDIS landed. Eagerly, The Doctor called out, "And here we are!"
"And, where is 'here' exactly?" asked Rory as he tried to make sense of the information displayed on the screen mounted over the console.
"Earth, United States, North Carolina, a few years into your future," replied The Doctor, flipping a final toggle switch.
Amy opened the TARDIS doors, "It's a Goodwill Store," she read the sign on the building in front of her. After closely looking the storefront over she continued, "You brought us to a charity shop?" Amy planted a hand on her hip.
"Don't be ridiculous, Amy," The Doctor disagreed, walking over with Rory at his heels.
"Good, I need to keep you away from outdated accessories," she smiled pointedly at The Doctor's bow tie.
"This is a thrift store," the Time Lord finished his sentence as soon as Amy stopped talking, almost as if pretending she never opened her mouth in the first place.
"Aren't they basically the same, charity shops and thrift stores?" pointed out Rory.
"Well come on then, Ponds" declared The Doctor, ignoring his Companions' dubious expressions as he strode out the TARDIS doors.
Upon entering the Goodwill, The Doctor glanced around. A dark skinned woman in a blue, employee's vest stood at the register. Across the store, a Hispanic man restocked the bookshelves from a cart while older pop music quietly played overhead. Tiredly, a mother watched as her two young children dug through a large bin of stuffed animal toys. In another aisle, a tall, skinny, young man looked through the coats. While an elderly woman perused the purses hanging on pegs near the front checkout counter, a teenaged girl glanced through the CDs displayed on wire racks. All seemed to be as it should.
"Why are we here exactly?" Rory asked quietly.
"Oh, no reason in particular, just popping in for a friendly visit."
Rory and Amy shared a look, "You don't know how to make a friendly visit," Amy pointed out, "so, why are we here—and don't claim you're looking to expand your wardrobe."
Confidently striding past the register, reaching into his breast pocket, and whipping out his sonic screwdriver, The Doctor decided he may as well explain, "The TARDIS has been picking up some very peculiar energy readings from this store. So we're here to investigate." He extended the four prongs of his sonic screwdriver to accentuate his last point.
Amy sighed. "What do you want Rory and I to do while you prance around waving your sonic screwdriver at everything?"
The Doctor, who was already busy prancing and sonic-ing, (not that he worded it that way to himself,) paused mid-motion, "Go," he paused for a second, thinking, "look around for anything alien."
Rory shrugged before turning and walking over to a rack of trousers. He checked the hangers for any hidden technology, attempting to look as if he was shopping for clothes. Simply deciding to start with what interested her, Amy chose a rack of skirts. When she had checked over about half of them, she heard the young man in the next aisle give an exclamation of quiet surprise. Amy looked up from the skirts, their hangers, and the metal pole they hung from to see why the kid reacted to a jacket. Running his hands over it carefully, the young man seems fascinated. "It's mine," he muttered, "it can't be, but it's mine."
"Maybe your Mum gave it away without you noticing," offered up Amy as way of explanation, "or it only looks like yours."
Looking up from the jacket and into Amy's eyes, the tall young man's expression could roughly be translated to mean, "Do I know you?" However, his actual spoken response contained rebuttals to her theories, "My Mom didn't give it away; I just saw it in my room two days ago. And maybe it could only be a copy of my jacket, but look at this little tear," he pointed to something near the hem, "I just made that exact same rip in mine last week."
"That's a, little, weird…" Amy's voice trailed off as she noticed the next skirt on the rack she had continued to rifle through even as she tried to gauge whether this jacket incident should be reported to The Doctor. Before her hung a perfect replica of one of her favorite skirts, one she knew must be hanging in her closet back in Leadworth. Across the aisle, the young man pulled the jacket off of its hanger and tried it on. Amy lovingly took up the skirt, turning it over in her hands. A single thought wormed its way to the forefront of her mind, this was her skirt. And since she currently stood in America, there was no conceivable way such a thing could be possible. "Listen," she ordered, "stay right there, I'll be back with someone who might be able to explain what's going on here."
The Doctor stood by a hat display. To his disappointment, not a fez was to be seen anywhere, although a large and tempting straw specimen was calling for his attention. Here at the back of the store, the energy readings were just the slightest bit stronger than near the front. When he paused to consider the implications for a moment, Amy walked up and broke his train of thought almost immediately. "What is it, Pond?" he asked with a hint of irritation coming through in his delivery.
Amy held up a skirt for him to see. "This is mine."
"If you want to shop instead of—"
"You don't understand. Doctor, this is exactly like mine, down to the smallest detail. And there was this kid, he found a jacket exactly like one he has at home. It was ripped in the same place as his. It can't be a coincidence."
The Doctor took the skirt from Amy, scanning it with his sonic screwdriver. "Oh ho, aren't you a clever little beauty."
"What is it?" asked Amy impatiently.
"Shape shifting material paired with a low level telepathic field on the surface, and some very subtle mind control technology hidden underneath."
"The skirt," Amy crossed her arms, "is a mind control device."
"It's rather brilliant. The telepathic field reads the mind of a nearby human and works in conjunction with the shape shifting capabilities of the material to take the form of a favorite item of clothing. If the person then tries on the clothing the close contact enables the device to implant its own thoughts into the wearer's head. The longer the exposure, the stronger the effect. And the best bit is," he tossed the skirt to his Companion, "no one ever thinks to remove their jacket, or hat, or trousers once they've put them on. It actively uses the positive associations in your mind against you to prevent you from even thinking of such a thing."
"Soooo," Amy stretched out the word, "this skirt and that kid's jacket, they're what caused your weird energy readings, yeah?
"Oh, Pond, I couldn't pick up on these readings from the TARDIS. This is designed to slip under the radar so to speak. But I would wager the person responsible for placing these items in this Goodwill is also involved with the origins of the peculiar energy readings. Now, where did you say this kid was standing?"
"Over there," Amy pointed with her left hand as she held the skirt away from herself with her right as if it were contaminated, "by the jackets."
"Right-O," answered The Doctor as he set off in the direction she pointed. Amy fell into step beside him. Unfortunately, when they arrived where the young man stood, they discovered he no longer stood there.
"I told him to stay put," complained Amy.
"Usually I'm the one saying that," commented The Doctor.
Rolling her eyes, Amy refused to respond to the statement. However, after a moment spent looking about, she reached out and violently slid aside one of the hangers. After repeating the action several times with other nearby jackets hanging neatly from the metal rod, she announced, "The jacket he claimed to be the same as his own is missing. Doctor, I remember him trying on the jacket as I was going to get you. What has happened to him?"
"That would depend on what the clothing is programed to plant into his mind."
As her hand fell from its resting place on top of the rack and fell to her side, Amy ordered, "Right, so let's just tell Rory what the trouble is and find this kid."
"Rory!" shouted The Doctor loudly enough to be heard from anywhere in the store.
When no reply was shouted back at them, Amy at once jumped to the conclusion she dreaded most, "Rory tried on one of the mind control fashion accessories." For a second, she and The Doctor stood in silence thinking over the possible outcomes of this event. "Find him. Use your sonic screwdriver and find him now." Her voice almost sounded threatening in its intensity.