SOY: I just wanted to say that I'm writing on AO3 too under the penname of Lacertae, so I'm not self-stealing fic I already posted there, hehe.

This particular fic was written a while ago, before the tricksters and before the Beforan Trolls appeared, so take it with a grain of salt. :3

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Rating: Teen.

Warnings: none, I guess.

Disclaimer: I don't own HomeStuck.

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Memory Rush

One–shot

There is a weird chest waiting on his planet, and at first Dirk isn't sure what to think of it.

It is just there on his path, with many tablets scattered around it; they explain how it is supposed to be a memento, a prize for the Noble on the day of his arrival, something that the consorts have received and kept safe for him.

He is quite in a hurry, though, he has to complete a quest and there isn't much time, and his friends need him, so he doesn't even open it up, simply captchaloguing the treasure for later.

Time flies by, because it's not like he can control it or shit like that; despite the many ways he's managed to cheat time, contacting people from the past, watching things unfold even when he knows he wasn't supposed to, he still can't take a hold of it and stretch it in his hands.

That would be an interesting, pleasant power, but it is nothing he has.

It takes him some time to actually remember the stupid chest occupying one slot, and that only happens because he finds it flying against the wall when he is trying to captchalogue one of his alchemized new outfits, which apparently tried to take the 'vest' spot in his list.

The chest looks old, but familiar, and there is no logo on it, unlike many other chests he's found before on his planet.

It is oddly simple, and Dirk wonders if whatever is inside it would even help him.

He still has some time, though, before he has to contact Roxy, Jake and Jane, so there is no danger in just indulging in his curiosity.

The lock is easily disposed of, and the chest opens up, only to reveal…

A pair of shades.

It doesn't take much for Dirk to realise these are not simple shades. The shape is more than just familiar to him –the round form, the style, the fact that he's spent a lot of his time (more than he would be comfortable admitting to anyone) peeking at the past, admiring the man who has worn them…

They are Bro's shades.

This is different from all the gifts he's received from his ancestor before. The man has left all of them in his apartment, knowing Dirk would be there at one point. But this…

This is unprecedented.

He will forever deny it but his fingers tremble as he picks the shades up, the weight surprising to him, and then he hesitantly slip his pointy shades off, taking a deep breath before placing the new, weird glasses up his nose.

They don't feel like much, all things considered –just bigger, unfit for his face, a bit weird on his nose.

And they are too heavy to be normal shades.

One finger traces the contours of the rim, and suddenly, there is a soft click.

Images fill his eyes.

"Is this shit even working, fuck," a voice cracks through a small, invisible plug somewhere near his ear, and Dirk almost jumps. His mask cracks, and he sits down.

He recognises the voice.

Shit.

"Ok, who cares if I sound like an idiot here, if it's not working nobody is listening anyway".

All of sudden, there is a figure in front of him. It's young, around his age, probably, maybe a year older, with light blond hair, and he is wearing the same round shades Dirk has on his face. He has a white and red shirt that looks a bit too short on him, with a scratched disk printed on it.

"Well, fuck. Sup, Bro," he states, and he tilts his head to the side, as if pondering what to say next. "Name's Dave. Maybe you are aware of that, who fucking knows what the future's like, maybe it's filled with awesome shit and people rapping, maybe it's apocalypse now redux and insectoids have destroyed all life forms. Shit. Not the point. Fucking Lalonde and her shitty ideas, what am I supposed to say to my bro?"

It's almost amusing how he doesn't break his poker face, not even once, as he speaks.

Dirk doesn't notice much other than the fact that this is his ancestor, and he is speaking. To him.

He doesn't stop to think how impossible it is for his Bro to have managed to send the message over to a planet he shouldn't even know exists.

He doesn't fucking care.

"Thing is, you were supposed to end up here. With me. If life was fair, you would have been brought up like the best fucking hero of the goddamn planet, with the best older brother a kiddo could ever dare to hope for. Which is me, of course. Dave fucking Strider. Fact is, life's not fair. Life is shit. You're stranded somewhere in the future alone, and I'm left here talking to a camera to fill up the holes the fucking Game left behind".

It startles Dirk to hear his brother talk about the Game.

While he is aware that Dave had to have known, if only because he left stuff for him to find right there, in his old apartment, the only thing remaining of the whole Texas now submerged, but knowing it is different than his brother actually talking about it.

It's weird.

"Well, little brother, welcome to the Medium," Dave shrugs, turns a bit, and Dirk almost deludes himself into thinking he can see the eyes behind those shades. "There is not much I can say about it. You just have to get your shit together and act like a Strider. Don't you dare shame Bro's name with a half-assed performance, or I'm going to kick your ass".

Dirk's eyes hurt –he hasn't blinked once since the recording started– but he just can't look away, afraid the image of his ancestor, his brother, will disappear if he stops to blink.

"We played a game, too," Dave continues. His tone is dark. "I think I should explain stuff before moving on, even if I can't say too much. Our game was rigged by those idiot trolls. Not really their fault, it was ours too, but we couldn't win the game. Ended up having to scratch it to reset the chances, and that's how your world was created. We left our shit for you to pick up and win".

Dirk swallows, and finally blinks, trying to make sense of what Dave is saying.

His brother has played the Game, too. He probably had a planet of his own, and maybe even stupid quests.

"Fact is and don't question how I know, you were supposed to fall onto my head on a fucking meteor, but the Game messed up and sent you in the future. I will not have the chance to prepare you, even though I know that if you're half the Bro you were in my universe, you will already know all the shit you need to know".

There is a flicker of something on Dave's face that almost looks like a smile. Dirk forces himself to push down the small trickle of pride he is feeling.

"But I can do ithis/i," he opens his arms, and shrugs. "I can leave you a message. Maybe I'll just bury it and hope you'll stumble over it, I'll fucking find a way. So you just have to waste some time staring at my awesome self as I teach you the Strider swag".

Dirk licks his lips. Dave didn't bury the container. There was no chance. Dirk lives in the middle of the ocean now. The chest was sent to this planet instead.

There has to be an explanation, but Dirk has no intention to push forwards. He simply keeps on watching.

"So little brother, open your fucking ears for all the brotherly shit that is about to fall onto your future ass".

What follows is the most complete collection of shit Dirk has ever seen.

Clips about Dave, his life, a short message almost every day, mashed together with no way to sort them through, from a simple 'good morning bro, got any good sick burns down today?' to entire rants dedicated to how rad apple juice is.

Dirk has never seen anything as shitty as this, and he simply can't look away.

All of this speaks of an ancestor he never got to meet, a brother who thought of him every single day of his life, a person who made it a mission in his life to gather some time for a brother he never met, and would never see in his life.

This has nothing to do with irony, and Dirk is almost ashamed of how honest Dave is.

Only he isn't.

He appreciates every single fucking clip.

He finds out that Dave didn't remember everything since the start –the memories slammed against his brain like a mallet on his thirteen birthday, when a flickering green sun appeared above his house.

He finds out Dave and Rose –Roxy's mom– knew each other, and were friends even before both remembered.

He finds out that Jane's grandpa and Jake's grandma were once their friends, and that their names were John and Jade.

Dave speaks of them with such warmth Dirk has to look away, because it feels so similar to what he feels for Jake and Jane, and the thought that Dave now can't see them ever again hurts.

Dirk doesn't think he could stand not talking with either of the derps ever again.

He finds out how Bro's first comics started getting famous and published; he watches as Dave sketches them while talking to him, he observes all the small things, carving them into his memory.

He is there when Dave celebrates the first money made out of his comics, he looks as Dave toasts to him, ironic without a trace of irony.

He watches Dave grow, slowly, day by day, watches as Dave celebrates his birthday over and over, always holding a private party with Roxy's mom at the computer, and always with a word to Dirk.

He looks on as Dave finds out where Jane's grandpa's memorial tomb is –there is no body inside, of course, Jane has him in her sitting room– and he looks on as Dave cuts that day's message short to visit it.

He finds out that Dave already knew of the Condesce because Roxy's mom still has flashes of powers that belong to the Game, and he finds out that Dave himself, sometimes, can stop time.

Never for long, but after the Batterwitch comes clean about her intentions to the world, and Dave starts some sort of passive-aggressive battle with her, it becomes imperative for him to reach out and try to use what he has left.

Dirk has no idea how Dave and Roxy's mom managed to keep their powers, how they got their memories again, but this sheds light on his ancestor… it makes him the more real. No more a mythical figure, but… a brother.

He finds out that all the messages Dave leaves after a while are a bit more hurried, a bit more hushed, but Dave still brags about whatever little win he managed to score against the Batterwitch.

He watches as Dave's face becomes that of the man he has admired, the man who fought the Condesce with irony and blatant hatred, time trickling by with every clip.

He sees how this battle, almost one-sided, takes its toll on his brother.

It hurts to think he knows how this ends.

"Well, little Bro," Dave's voice is almost weary, but still as strong and warm as always. "This might be the last message I'm going to record for a while. Me n' Rose are going to blast up some shit, and it might take a while".

Dirk's heart lurches in his chest.

He frantically taps the glasses, trying to stop the messages, because he's not ready to see the end of it, he can't see the end of it, he needs more time–

"I'm not going to go down that easily, but you ought to be prepared, you know?" the rough voice of his brother cuts through him like a blade. The man hesitates. "Just in case, there's one more thing for you, little brother".

Dirk shakes his head slowly, trying to dispel the shadows that have been growing into his heart.

This might as well be the last message he's going to get.

This probably is the last he has.

This…

"I will never see you," Dave says. "But you still might see me anyway".

There is a pause, Dave looks right into Dirk's eyes, and then he smiles.

"I know that you're gonna go blow some shit up. And I'm proud of you. Keep that Strider pride up and flapping".

With that, Dave brings one hand close to the camera. It flickers, and then it shuts down.

Dirk blinks, disorientated when the shades suddenly become normal shades again, and he's thrown all of sudden into his own reality.

He scrambles to take the shades away, fingers searching for a rewind button, for a way to see if there's any more, then he panics when he realises he's just spent probably hours watching memories from his dead brother, completely forgetting what he was doing before he started.

He slides his shades on again, checks the time, and is utterly surprised to see barely a minute has passed since he slid Dave's shades on.

He stares at them, holding them up to his face, and then, his lips twitch upwards.

He should have known that the Knight of fucking Time had probably enough time to spare for a small gift.

With reverence, he captchalogues the shades into his modus –'memory rush', to rhyme with his bottle of Crush– and stands up, cracking the muscles of his neck as he does so.

He knew already that getting into the game would give him a chance to get his guardian back to life. Before this point, though, he admits he simply wanted to know more about him, but hadn't felt that attached.

Now, though, it's different. Now he can say he knows his brother. Now there is a proper reason to meet up with him. He has a better idea of what is going on now, and maybe meeting up with his brother is more of a chance that can happen.

Still, if he wants to make this happen, he can't just waste time.

He has a lot of work to do, shit to get done, raps to make, friends to meet, and family to kick back to life.

Dirk Strider is going to wreck some more shit.