The Third Companion

Before the doctor met Rose, he ran into a girl in Shanghai…

Welcome to my doctor who fanfic, it's been ages in the making (I started thinking about it sometime around Aliens of London/World War 3). And boom town aired last night- that was great, but only two more episodes left with the Chris-doctor. Boo. This will be part do my own thing fic, part fix it fic, part exploring who did what and why fic, but for now it's just 'the girl in Shanghai'. You'll see the rest of what I mean when I get up to it.

This fic has done the weirdest things to me. Not only was Zoe not listening to what I wanted her to be (she was originally a very no-nonsense, kinda warriorlike person), the story kept on changing what it wanted to be too. And she changed her name from Zarah- I have this thing for giving characters unusual names. I got away with it when I wrote Orphan's run.

A/N: A Zhongguoren (Jong-gwo-ren) is a Chinese person. And taiji is more commonly known as taichi, if that helps any. And x's are prounounced like sh.

Zoe Part1: Foreigner

Shanghai, 2010

Before the sun rose over the tower that looked like it belonged to the 23rd century, the opposite side of the river to the Bund, a young woman bowed to the horizon, then silently and steadily made the movements of her favourite taiji form. By the time the sky had lightened, the sun glowing invisibly through the perpetual haze of smog that hung over Shanghai, there were maybe twenty people playing taiji on the bank of the river. To the Chinese she would have looked foreign, but to a foreigner she looked completely Chinese: her eyes were a little too green, her long black hair slightly wavy.

Every morning since she had arrived in Shanghai, she had gotten up early to play taiji on the Bund, the concrete and steel shore of the Huangpu river. Every day the rocket like tv tower, with its twin red many faced spheres, reflected the rising sun, every day she felt she didn't belong amongst the true Zhongguoren, the middle aged and elderly playing taiji who could see in the very shape of her face that one of her parents was not Chinese. Every day she stood away from them, sure they would chatter about how some silly foreigner would prattle to her friends back home about how she played taiji with real Chinese people. And every day she determinedly pushed those feelings aside.

While performing 'cloud hands', she had a vague feeling she was being watched. She ignored it, doubting herself, thinking of nothing but the movements and how they felt, how her feet felt gently pressing against the concrete paved path. She turned to do 'snake creeps down' and almost stood on a stranger's foot.

She jumped with fright and backed away apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

What the hell were you doing that close to me!

"No, it was my fault. I was standing too close."

He was a foreigner; English, by his accent. Kinda tall, maybe fortyish, kinda odd-looking. Nice jacket.

"Could you teach me? It looks like fun."

She promptly shook her head and took a step back. "No, I can't. Maybe you should come earlier in the morning and just copy someone," she suggested.

"They won't tell me if I'm doing it wrong, will they? Come on, show me," he coaxed her gently. "What do I do first?"

"No, I can't." She stammered. "I'm not good at telling people what to do-"

"Show me then. Come on, if you can do it, you can show me."

She took a deep breath, and started. The stranger copied as well as he could.

"No, you don't do it like that," she said after having been to shy to correct several horrendous mistakes. She couldn't meet his gaze, instead staring at a nearby lamppost. "You never bend your arm that sharply when you're doing taichi." She looked at his feet. "And you kinda stuffed up a bit before as well."

She started from the start, trying to explain everything as they went but sometimes unable to say exactly what she meant. And he understood, and she did well.

"I never thought I would find an Aussie who could do taichi in Shanghai," he commented, interrupting her.

"Why do you think I'm Australian?"

He grinned.

"Your accent. And I know you're not Chinese because your eyes are a little bit green."

She considered carefully whether how much she should tell him.

"I'm working up here."

"Doing what?" He folded his arms.

"Translating."

"Working holiday?"

"Yes and no."

Although she couldn't see anything obviously wrong, she felt uneasy.

"What about you?" she asked. "What are you doing in Shanghai?"

"I'm on business."

"What sort of business?" she pushed him. He leaned casually against the railing, arms still folded.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

He grinned at her again. "Nope."

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

"I'm interested." He unfolded his arms and moved closer to her. "It's not every day you find a half Chinese girl who has green eyes in the middle of Shanghai."

Her eyes flickered to his feet, then squarely to his eyes.

"Its not every day a foreigner in Shanghai asks you to teach him taichi either."

She leaned back on the railing behind her, having some sort of upper hand.

"Ni hai buzhidao wode mingzi." You don't even know my name.

She was almost certain he didn't speak Mandarin.

"Well, what's your name then?"

"Ni xian gaosu wo a." You tell me first.

He paused.

"Thought so."

The girl turned her back on the stranger, and left him there on the Bund.

Tell me if the Chinese is a pain, I'll tone it down a little.

And please r&r. Was it good? Bad? Horrible? Surprising? Purple with puce polka dots and shaped like a herring?