Hello dear readers and welcome to a familiar yet entirely new story of Rose Tyler and the Doctor. I came up with the idea for this story while reading a delightful story written by TheWheelWeaves. If you haven't read any of her stories then you are sorely missing out, imoa. You should definitely read all of them!

I haven't written any stories with the ninth Doctor and I decided to rectify that. So this, dear readers, is a Nine/Rose AU. It is, so far, a rewrite of Season 1 with the Ninth Doctor starting with Rose, which will cover the first four chapters. In this story the Doctor is human and a Pirate because who doesn't want to see the Ninth Doctor in tight leather pants?

So, without further adu, for your entertainment, is A Pirate's Tale:

"Rose!"

Rose sat up, her dream shattered by her mum's shrill voice. Was it day already? She sighed, flopping back down on the bed, which no one above her station would've found comfortable, stuffed by straw as it was, but it was the only bed she'd ever known.

All she wanted was to close her eyes and fall back asleep. Get back to that dream with the rich bloke who'd been about to take her away from her dreary London life.

The door opened and she sighed. So much for dreaming. Her mum bustled into the dark room.

"Rose Marion Tyler," Jackie chastised. "You should've been up and dressed by now."

"Then maybe you should've woke me earlier," Rose mumbled into the blankets.

Jackie parted the curtains and then eyed her daughter.

"What was that?" she snapped.

"Nothing," Rose replied.

"Better 've been." Jackie opened the windows. "Now, get up and dressed. You've got work."

Rose sighed again, but didn't reply as she sat up and threw the bedding back. Was it too much to ask to have one day where she could just lay in bed? After all the posh did it all the time. Or, at least, that's what she heard.

It wasn't as if she were the only bar maid at Henrick's. There was Daisy and Shireen. Drinks would still be served and dishes would be washed, with or without her. She glanced at her mum knowing the only way Jackie would let her get away with staying in bed all day was if she were sick and she'd probably have to be on her deathbed at that.

She finished dressing and kissed her mum on the cheek.

"Hurry on now and stay away from that delivery boy," Jackie said as she shooed Rose out the door.

"What? Mickey?" she asked.

"Yes, if that's 'es name," Jackie replied.

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"It isn't right for you to hang around 'es sort."

"What do you mean his sort?" Rose asked, but the door was closed on her without a reply. Though, she didn't really need a reply. She knew what her mum meant. Society didn't like people to intermingle. Society can sod off! Besides, she already had a reputation thanks to Jimmy Stone, who started courting her two years ago. He was handsome enough to turn most heads, not just the ladies mind, with long gold hair, the kind a girl could get lost in. He talked her up most days and into the nights. Told her he would take care of her and neither she nor her mum would want for anything and, fool that she'd been, she fell for him.

Mickey was there for her after Jimmy swanned off leaving her damaged in society's eyes. They grew up together, her and Mickey, used to play together, and to say he was fit to be tied was an understatement. If Jimmy hadn't left town with a VERY mature, well to do widow she was sure Mickey would've knocked him into next week.

Rose hurried around a corner and nearly collided with the bloke she was thinking about. He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.

"Daydreaming again?" Mickey teased.

"More thinking than dreaming," she replied as she found her feet.

"Uh, oh, there's trouble," he laughed.

"Don't make me give you a slap, Mickey Smith," she warned, but her warning was lost in her laugh.

"Ms. Tyler!" a woman snapped.

Rose spun around. She took in the blue dress, matching scarf, long, neatly styled hair held up with expensive combs and had to stop her eyes rolling.

"Dame Foster," Rose greeted in her best mock-posh accent.

In the eyes of the townspeople Dame Foster was a saint who made it her life's mission to save the souls of the less fortunate, but Rose knew the only reason the woman did anything was for attention. She never got her hands dirty, never treated the sick, all she did was walk around and spout about the evils of alcohol and the dangers of promiscuity. The woman constantly ridiculed Rose over her choice of work, as if she had another choice, and her friendship with Mickey.

"You're making a public spectacle of yourself," Dame Foster chided.

"Really?" Rose asked, glancing around at the handful of people who were involved in their own work and paying no attention to her or anyone else for that matter. "And where exactly is this public I'm making a spectacle in front of?"

"There is no reason for public outbursts."

"Actually it's called laughing. You might try it sometime. Might help the stick come out," Rose retorted.

"I never!" Dame Foster harrumphed before pulling her shawl tighter and bustling down the street.

"Really and you with a husband and all?" Rose called after.

Mickey burst into laughter and a moment later Rose joined him. She knew she would hear about it later from her mum, but she couldn't help herself.

The rest of her day went on the same as any other. She poured drinks, served food, and cleaned up alongside Shireen while Daisy did the cooking because no one in their right mind would let Rose near a kitchen, mainly because she would start chatting with someone and forget to stir the stew or pull the bread out until she saw smoke. She cleared the tavern at least twice a day in the first week she worked there before Wilson decided it would be best if she stuck to waiting tables and pouring drinks. He probably would've fired her if her looks and full bodice didn't bring the men back and keep them in their seats, although she would rather do without the occasional pinch or good natured fanny slaps from the customers, she had to admit that the money was good, not great, but good. It kept her and her mum fed, paid the rent on their flat and left a bit extra to pay for her mum's shopping habit.

After cleaning up Rose locked the door and was halfway home before she remembered the money on the counter that Wilson gave her earlier to pay Mickey for the delivery. She knew he needed the money what with taking care of his gran so, although her bed was calling her after a long day's work, she turned around and headed back to the tavern.

The sun descended hours ago. The streets were desolate save for the few night time workers and prostitutes. She ignored them as she hurried back to Henrick's.

She left the money sitting on the front counter, but she decided to go in through the front so as not to wake Wilson who likely retired to his rooms above the pub.

Rose unlocked the door, opened it and walked through the room toward the counter. The money was still sitting where she left it. As she reached for it the sound of footsteps stopped her.

"Wilson?" she asked, thinking the owner must have woke. "It's just me, ya?"

No one answered.

"Wilson?"

Again no answer so she shook it off. Must've been my imagination. Her fingers closed on the money. Another footstep and she froze.

"Wilson, this isn't funny."

Goosebumps erupted up her arms. Something moved to her left. Her eyes snapped in that direction and she thought she saw someone standing near the window. A shadowy figure too far from the lamp outside to be illuminated. She stepped back into the bar, nearly knocking over one of the stools.

"Is-is there someone mucking about?" she stammered as her stomach knotted in fear. "Who is it?"

A deep voice chuckled from the kitchen. She jumped and a moment later one of the stools crashed off the bar. She could see light dancing just beyond the entryway. Had Wilson relit the lamps?

"Right, you've got me. Very funny," Rose called, not convinced herself that it was a joke, but hoping it was Wilson or Shireen or even Mickey.

"All alone there girly?" a rough voice called as the light grew closer.

She didn't recognize the voice and realization set in that she was in trouble. Serious trouble. At that moment the person and the light reached the entryway. A man stood there. The torchlight danced off his unwashed black hair. His eyes were hard and as merciless as the jagged scar that ran from this left brow, down his cheek and disappeared below his matted beard. He held a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. The blade was thin with an intricate handle, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was a sword and thin or not it could definitely kill her.

"Stay away! I'm warning you!" she reached around and pulled one of the stools from the countertop, brandishing it like a lion tamer.

The man chuckled, drawing closer. There were more footsteps behind him. She was trapped! She stumbled back, dropping the stool as she fell on her bum. There was a whimper in her throat, but she wouldn't let it lose. What did they want? What were they going to do to her?

"You're a pretty thing, you are," he said.

Someone took her hand. She glanced at this new intruder thinking she was done for, but instead he caught her eye and said one word, "Run!"

She didn't have to be told twice. He pulled her to her feet and they raced through the tavern and into Wilson's office. The others gave chase, but he slammed the door before they reached it and set the lock. He hurried behind the desk and began pushing it toward the door. Rose ran over and helped him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Ya, all things considered," she replied, which made him grin. She wasn't sure who he was or why he was there. While the other man was wearing linen breeches this one wore leather with a white tunic and a leather jacket. His dark hair was cropped short, making his ears stick out and his regal nose seem larger. He didn't appear to be carrying a weapon, which wasn't exactly good what with the swords on the other side of the door and all. "Who are they then? Pirates?"

"Pirates? Why would they be pirates?" he asked.

The men began banging on the door, making Rose jump.

"I don't know," she replied, glancing at the door as her stomach began to knot again.

"Well, you said it," he pointed out as he began examining the closed window. "So, why would they be pirates?"

"Because, well," she glanced between him and the door. That door was solid, but it wouldn't keep them safe forever. "Because that bloke had a sword that was different than the ones the men around here carry and I've heard stories about pirates in the area."

He stopped fiddling with the window and looked at her, grinning. "That makes sense, well done."

"Thanks," she said, offhandedly, more worried about the group of men on the other side of the door than getting who they were right.

"They're not pirates."

He opened the window, leaned his head out and glanced around.

"Well, whoever they are when Wilson hears the commotion he'll run them out of here."

"Who's Wilson?" he asked, popping his head back in.

"The owner. He lives upstairs," she explained, gesturing above them.

"Wilson's dead," he replied, taking her hand and pulling her over to the window. "Out you go."

"That's not funny!" she snapped as she scooted out the window, which was just large enough for her to fit. She nearly fell on her head getting out. He followed suit more gracefully, landing on his feet like a cat. "I've had enough of this!" He took her hand, ignoring her outburst and raced down the alley, pulling her behind. "Who's that lot inside?"

"They're renegade soldiers dressed up as pirates to frighten the townspeople into giving them money for protection," he explained rounding a corner and nearly dragging her down another street. "They sneak into a town dressed as pirates, pillage and plunder, then sneak out, board their ship that's usually docked in some hidden shore, put their uniforms on, arrive in town, offer their protection for a price, which the town heartily agrees to, pretend to find the pirates, which are generally wayward travelers they've taken beforehand, hang the "pirates" and are off to another town. Don't worry your head about it though," he continued as he pulled her into an alley and stopped. "You see, I've got this." He pulled a package out of his jacket pocket. The package appeared to have a fuse in it. "I'm going to follow them back to their ship and take care of it and I might well die in the process, but don't worry about me. You go home. Have your lovely beans on toast. Don't tell anyone about this because if you do you'll get them killed."

Rose was so stunned she just stood there as he turned around and ran out of the alley. After a moment she started down the alley to make her way home, but his voice stopped her and she turned back.

"I'm the Doctor by the way. What's your name?" he asked.

"Rose," she replied automatically because she couldn't yet think. There was too much and her brain still hadn't caught up.

"Nice to meet you, Rose," he replied, then brandished the package. "Now, run for your life!"

Then he was gone. She turned and ran down the alley in the opposite direction. She raced down the streets ignoring everything and everyone. When she reached her doorstep she was out of breath. Her mind reeled from the events, but every thought came to an abrupt halt as a violent explosion rocked the Thames.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)