A/N: I'm sure some of you have seen Waterworld. You know. The1994 Epic Keven Costner flop? Well me, being who I am, decided that I must write a fic about it after I saw the stunt show at Universal Japan. Anyway. Im going to be posting this in chapters over the next few days : ) I imagine this fic will have 6 or seven chapters when fully edited. Here's some warnings you can expect; I'm not going to be putting them at the top of every chapter. (All warnings applicable to Waterworld: Rape, slavery, death, violence, blood, character death, child abuse, abuse, alcoholisim most of these are mention only; but not all ) while the fic is generally pretty tame, it does contain upsetting themes. Anyway. Enjoy, please leave a review if you liked it; or if there's a plot inconsistency or if you just want to say hi. Special thanks and all my love to Crinklybrownleaves and Missouiser for all the encouragement

...

"Matthew?"
"Yes Rose?"
"What's dryland?" Though she was small, Rose was already a determined child with a mind that craved filling. Really, it was shame she'd ended up with him. Someone who knew very little about life outside of drifting. Matthew Lawson had been born somewhere North, on one of the smaller floating cities that littered the world. He'd had a mother. And a father. But neither of them had liked him much. As soon as he was old enough, he'd enlisted a crew, and set off on the oceans. He'd split apart from his crew in months, happier to go it alone.
"Well. You see how everything is covered in water?"
"Yeah."
"Dryland is solid. Like…A city, but covered in dirt." Thankfully, this pleased the child for now, as she went back to amusing herself. She'd been taught by someone, though Matthew doesn't know who, to sew, and that was how she amused herself while he went about maintaining the boat. Though she was small, she could sew anything back into one piece. A skill Matthew himself had never mastered and was glad to hand over to her as the master of it. Maintaining the boat was hard work. Tending to the metal, replacing things and keeping the sails tidy. A drifter's boat was their home, and he was no different. Having a clean and livable place to be was its own reward. Overhead, the sun was beating down, and he was glad Rose at least had the know how to sit in the shade cast by the sail. She burned easily. She was a pretty child, with soft red hair and big eyes. Matthew had been pretty once, or so he'd been told. Pretty enough he could sell himself to make money to fund his leaving, in fact. He wasn't now though. He was old and burned by the sun, both tanned and faded at the same time.

"Matthew look!" He looked up from the sail he was re-hitching. "Another boat!" He looked up in time to see them approach. A large boat with a dozen or more people on board. Not drifters like them; therefore, he didn't owe them nothing. He's glad he moved the lemon tree into the hold for today. As they drew closer he realized they wanted to meet. He also noticed that they were probably slavers. No one had that many people on their boat and were sane.
"Rose go below deck." He said, sharply.
"But I want to meet them!" She said, running over and hooking her arms around his leg. He adored Rose, and her child like innocence. She was sweet and kept him alive sometimes. Kept him willing to keep going, to reach the next city to trade and clean and work.
"Go below." He insisted, "It's not safe." She looked up at him, then nodded and scampered below deck. If they saw her, a child, then he suspected that it could spell disaster. He's glad he was behind the sail, and it was a dark day. He moved to the bow of the deck. A man stepped out. Tall, white hair. He looked at Matthew with contempt, as people on the ocean often did.

"Hello there!"
"What do you want?" Matthew demanded, suddenly well aware of the small gun in the back of his pants. He had never bothered to fit his boat out with a harpoon or anything of that nature. He wishes he had. One gun was not going to be enough to take them out.

"Just to show you our wares." He shouted back, "Ask you if you have any to sell."
"No, I'm not interested."
"Really? You haven't even looked."
"I don't have anything worth trading."
"I'm sure you can find something. Come aboard, have a look." Realizing he had no choice, Matthew took the boat closer, and kept a straight face as they threw a wooden plank onto his hull. He walked over, hoping Rose would keep her head down. "Come, see our wares." The man said, leading Matthew past rows of sunburned men and women all with a brand burned into their left cheek. A circle with a square on the inside. Some were still fresh.

As he walked, his stomach flipped. He didn't agree with slavers, but he knew he would have to pick one of these hollow-eyed men or women to trade for. He couldn't say no now he was here. As he moved through the people, he noticed the sound of scrubbing somewhere on the boat. Perhaps a piece of merchandise they'd kept for themselves? It was impossible to tell. He made his way through the skeletons of people, skin clinging to bone, desperate to keep the misery inside. Eventually, he came to the source of the noise. A tiny boy with thick curls and a black eye scrubbing furiously at what suspiciously like a blood stain. The black eye was a good sign, meant there was still sprit in him.

Briefly, he wondered what happened to him. Himself, that was. After he'd set out from his home to be a drifter, he's set his life to never having to worry about a family or children or the like, he'd been perfectly fine making it on his own. Then of course he found Rose floating among the wreckage of a ship and he couldn't leave a child to die. He'd assumed he'd leave her at the next city he came too, but hadn't been able too. He liked her too much. And he liked to think Rose liked him as well. Now he was thinking about buying this boy, this tiny boy probably only a few years older than Rose, because he seemed like the easiest choice. He turned to look at the man following him.

"I'll take that one."