Note: this is my first strider fic and im really happy with how it turned out :3 i just hope you lot like it. this was based on this pic by Fiuefae art/I-m-not-crazy-I-m-just-a-little-unwell-277233780 i love Fiue's head=canon about the Scratch and it spawned this 3 enjoy

~Kaname

Dave awoke in early hours of the morning as he always did; it was a habit he'd forced himself to get into since the little man started school. Even though that morning was a Saturday it was a hard habit to break once it had caught on.

It had been 6 years since the meteor struck a few blocks away and like in some shitty sci-fi film Dave found the baby in the crater, looking up at him with big round eyes, more adorable then humanly fucking possible. He'd known right away that he had to take the boy, look after him and be the big bro like his was before him. Dirk he'd named the kid, he didn't know why but that name just seemed right for the little guy.

Those early days had been hard, Dave hadn't had the slightest clue about how to look after a baby, he'd spent countless nights awake, trying to calm down the crying boy, let alone the challenge of learning how to feed him and change his diaper. To add to the stress he'd have the occasional floods of memories from before... before what exactly he didn't know, just, before.

Things had gotten better since then, he'd learnt eventually and now Dirk was out of the house most of the time and Dave had more time to think about things, the memories especially. Most of his memories were patchy, being a kid and growing up was clear enough but then they kind of split. In one set of memories he didn't have many friends and went on living a normal life until he was about 14 and found baby Dirk but in the other... in the other set he played some game with friends he could hardly remember. Vague memories of names, faces and chat logs, not to mention the shenanigans, he remembered so many shenanigans, in game and out. He remembered those days being the best of his life but what confused the hell out of him were the memory gaps, not to mention why there were two sets in the first place. He vaguely remembered something about a giant vinyl in a pool or lava or something but nothing after that from the 'game' set of memories. He'd even considered more than once that is was just some screwed up dream he'd had once.

Dave put all those thoughts into the back of his mind once again and got out of bed. He put the kettle on and briefly left the apartment to get the newspaper, humming a tune of his own design. Once he'd made a coffee he sat down at the table and started reading the paper. Nothing interesting as per usual so Dave ended up just reading random articles and personal ads. He turned the page and a small picture caught his attention, it was of a famous comedian, he looked in his late 60s, his hair black with streaks of sliver.

"In memory of John Egbert-" there was a stab of pain in the blonde's chest as he started to read aloud. His voice dropped off and his eyes widened as he recognised the name. So many memories came flooding back at once, he remembered John, Jade and his kind of sister Rose. He remembered the trolls and the game, not to mention the scratch. Dave suddenly felt really ill, he knew this was all real, he knew he'd lived this and he knew the scratch had brought him back here and given him new memories, he felt like such an idiot, why hadn't he realised sooner?

His eyes drifted back to the obituary, reading the words silently but it took them a long while to sink in. He'd forgotten about his best friend for so long and now this? What the hell kind of fucked up world was this? What had they done so wrong for it to all turn out like this? For them to be dropped at different points of time, for John to get himself killed before they'd had a change to meet up. His best friend was gone and there was no bringing him back this time, no god tier, no miracles, nothing. He was dead.

Dave's breath hitched before he bit his lip. No, he would NOT cry over this. He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, he was the cool one, he wasn't meant to cry, he wasn't allowed to. Besides, he had to be the strong one these days, his big Bro was gone, he'd lost him long ago but now, now he had little Dirk to look after.

He got out of his chair a little too quickly and it made a loud scraping noise as he got to his feet but he payed it no mind. He started pacing around the room, so many thoughts buzzing in his head all at once but one more than any other.

'Stupid John, stupid, STUPID John, that idiot could never fucking look after himself.'

He found himself leaning against the window frame staring out into the snow covered streets, everything running through his head all at once. He tried to think of anything but his best friend being dead but it all lead back to John in the end.

Dave's breath hitched and he realised he was crying, tears leaving cold streaks down his cheeks.

"Dammit." He mumbled quietly and lifted his sunnies up to wipe away the tears but they didn't stop like he'd expected. He let out another shaky breath and more tears came, he wiped them away before they even touched his cheeks.

He stood there crying quietly for a long moment before he felt a soft tug on his shirt. Dave quickly wiped away the tears, put his sunnies back on and turned around. His little bro stood looking up at him, the boy's own sunnies doing nothing to hide the worry and sadness in his big eyes.

'No.' Dave thought to himself, 'you have to be the strong one now, he can't see you cry.' He'd decided despite his red eyes and cheeks.

"What's wrong?" The boy asked innocently. Dave placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and closed his eyes, trying to swallow back a sob.

'Damn this kid, just, fucking... Dammit.' He let out a shaky breath as he got to his knees and the flood gates opened up again. The most uncool expression of weakness and sadness swept over his face before the tears came.

"You don't always have to be the strong one." The wise voice from a long dead ghost echoed in his head, Dave could almost see him standing there in the all too familiar lounge room. "Heroes can cry too little man, there's nothing wrong with that. It show's you're strong enough to let others see the real you." His big bro had always known the right things to say but no, he couldn't live like that now, Dirk was the hero now, his little prince. He had to be the strong one for Dirk, he had to.

Dave could feel those tiny shoulders shake in his embrace, he didn't remember hugging the boy but now he gripped him a little tighter and the boy clung back.

"Don't cry little man." Dave spoke quietly. "Your big bro's just not feeling too well right now. Go back to bed." The boy shook his head against Dave's shoulder. Stubborn little bastard.

"Alright. How about we watch a movie then?" Dirk sniffed loudly and nodded his head.

The elder brother picked him up and Dirk automatically wrapped his legs around Dave's hips for stability. He carried the boy into the kitchen, chucked a packet of popcorn in the microwave and sat the boy on the couch. Dave knelt before the TV and looked through the movie collection when he felt that same grip on his shirt again, Dirk had gotten up to cling some more.

"Go sit down again little man, I'll be there in a moment." Dirk shook his head in reply, he'd taken his sunnies off, his bright orange eyes glistening with tears. Dave wrapped an arm around him and picked out a movie with one hand, god he hadn't watched this piece of crap in forever.

"How about this, I'm gonna teach you how a shitty movie can be ironically great." He put the DVD in, picked the boy up and carried him into the kitchen to fetch the popcorn then sat on the couch. Dave pressed play and he opening credits of Con air playing on the overly large TV screen.

They sat for a short while, eating popcorn and watching the incredibly shitty movie before Dirk fell asleep in Dave's lap. Dave put the TV on mute and stared blankly at the screen while he went over the vague memories of the game. The Scratch had taken most of them but the majority of what he could remember were fun times with John, arguing about movies, how cool puppets were, and spending good times chatting and kicking imp ass.

That was fun but it's all over now.

John was dead, he would have to deal with that and put it behind him, he had responsibilities now. Dave looked down at the sleeping boy and ran a hand over his hair. Dirk was the hero now, not him, Dave knew this. He would have to raise him to be that hero, make him strong enough to fight, to save the others and sweep the princess off her feet just like in all those cheesy movies. That wouldn't be too hard right?

Dave ate another handful of popcorn and actually smiled.

At least he still had his memories.