SOY: the first chapter!*–*–* means flashback.

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Rating: Mature for themes and later content.

Warnings: none?

Disclaimer: I don't own HomeStuck.

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Higher than Hope

Chapter 01

*–*–*

The respiteblock was empty when Karkat entered.

He had expected Dave to be already there, so to find nobody around made him slightly upset, but he tried to hide his disappointment by clutching the book tighter against his chest.

He should have known it –the fucking human would never keep his side of the unspoken promise. Strider didn't care shit about Karkat's books, nor about spending some time (with him) being acculturated on a higher society and its romance.

Karkat shouldn't have felt so cheated, and yet a part of him was sour.

His nails dug into the cover of his book and he turned around; there was no reason to stay in this empty fucking block if there was nobody else around. There was no reason to look even more like an embarrassingly pitiful wreck by hanging around to wait for someone who wouldn't come.

There was–

"Oh, for the love of God, Vantas, get your ass in here and start your useless yapping or I swear I'll leave".

Startled out of his anger, Karkat spun around; there was a messy pile of shitty blankets in the corner, and one side was prodded open, revealing a small, constricting passage from which Dave's head was poking out.

Karkat blinked.

"What the fuck is that supposed to be," he grunted out. His bloodpusher twisted weirdly in his chest, his disappointment bleeding away into a different sort of feeling.

"What does this look like? It's a blanket fort, duh".

"It looks like shit to me," he growled out, refusing to move any closer.

"Oh, come on, Karkat, don't bitch at my fort. I spent the last hour on this beautiful concept of ironic hideout. Come on, I'll even put out a note for you if you do. 'No trespassers allowed, except Vantas' ass', is that ok?" Karkat couldn't see Dave's eyes behind his shades, but he saw his eyebrows peeking from above them, sign that the human was wiggling them.

Abhorrent sad excuse for a pitiful life form.

"I refuse to get into that contraption until I know what's inside," he resisted.

"Oh, for the love of–" Dave shifted out, pulling the top blanket to the side to reveal a small compartment inside, with pillows and even more blankets. "Here, look, there's nothing that is going to come and bite your ass in there, unless you want it," Dave smirked, pointing at the fort. "This way even if somebody comes around they won't see us. That means I'm willingly selling my soul to your storytelling abilities for the next couple of hours, no catch. That is one serious fucking sacrifice here, man. You not going to bail out on me when you were the one so bent on teaching me troll romance, right?"

"Fuck you Strider, I'm only doing that because I want you to treat Terezi like she deserves to be treated, not to do you a favour," he grunted out.

Still, he stomped towards the blanket pile and wriggled his way inside.

It was almost a tight fit, but there was enough space to be comfortable without squeezing together with the asshole, and there was even a good illumination inside, because Dave had been useful and fetched a lamp. Not to mention a bottle of water. Huh. Ok, he'd thought about everything.

"I told you that it's not like this between me n' Rezi, but it's like you never fucking listen," Dave complained, following him inside.

Dave hesitated for a moment, eyeing Karkat like he was debating something, then he moved to sit on the opposite side of the troll, keeping his distance.

Karkat grumbled something about hoping Dave wouldn't fall asleep, but didn't comment on the placement, and instead opened the book. The cover creaked as he did, sign that the copy was mint fresh, and he flipped through the first few empty pages until he found the prologue.

"Now shut the fuck up and let me educate you," he stated, clearing his throat. "If you have any questions, keep those until I finish a chapter, at the very least".

Dave nodded and wriggled a bit, obviously trying to get comfortable. "Shoot, oh great romance master," he invited with a smile.

Karkat hid a pout and started reading.

"The hidden meowbeast was gutting its prey in the luminescent glow of the pale twin moons…"

*–*–*

He dreamed.

The dreams had no consistence, and Dave moved from one to the other too swiftly to make sense of them all.

There was a dark shadow looming over him –Lord English, back to life to hurt, but no, he was dead, gone, removed from every reality, locked away– and Dave wanted to run, but his body felt sluggish, poisoned and drowning in goo.

He forced himself to run faster, away from the danger, he had no sword, why couldn't he open his eyes, he had to–

Karkat

Green and light burned his sight as he peered from behind closed eyelids, tears running down his cheeks, cold against his burning skin.

He lashed out, fear clawing at his insides, and there was darkness again.

He was tired. His body was heavy. Shadows everywhere, reaching towards him. Touching him.

Cold.

He winced, trying to curl more upon himself, but he was

unable

to

move.

Panic filled him, but with that came another wave of fatigue, and he crumbled, floating into the invisible goo, pain everywhere.

There were voices around him, voices that spoke no language he could understand, and he tried to answer, only to find his lips glued together, swollen and dry.

He screamed into his head, nails digging into the skin of his face, but that feeling was dulled over, and Dave had a second to puzzle over it in his panic before the world spun wildly around him, bleeding between darkness and bright colours.

Everything hurt –his body was burning, and again he was drowning into a sea of lava, hot and searing on his skin, tearing and melting it–

He screamed again, again and again, flailing limbs against the pain…

Then darkness again.

He resurfaced from the nothingness of his mind once more, startled away from a hazy memory of ticking clocks and turning gears and the silence surrounding him was more jarring than the noise from before.

The silence was thick, and Dave at first could hear nothing except the dull thump of his own heart. His brain felt slow and drowsy, but his attention was attracted instantly by the sound of water hitting some hard surface.

The noise wasn't coming from the inside of his head.

His throat was parched, and he couldn't open his eyes. Something soft was underneath him, but he had no strength and no will to move.

The same pain that had accompanied him in his feverish nightmares was still present, and the thread connecting reality to dream had him confused, the confines blurred. Was he dreaming? Was he awake?

Where was–

There were voices again, and he still couldn't understand them. He wanted to speak up, but as he thought that, he fell unconscious once more.

The pain was washed away, diluted in nightmares and darkness.

…–…–…

The next time Dave woke up, he was actually aware of the change, his brain clear enough to notice the shift.

He licked his lips, feeling them parched and swollen under his lips, but that didn't do much good, as his mouth was just as dry.

He swallowed, but his throat hurt at the movement.

Fuck. He felt like a wreck.

There was something covering his face –something soft pressing down over his eyes, so that Dave couldn't open them.

He was thirsty –his whole body felt heavy and dry, but the strong thirst was what had woken him up, snatching his mind from shapeless dreams.

The room around him was still silent, but he was now awake and confused questions filled his brain, wanting answers. Where was he? What had happened? He could remember pain, and blood and a green flash…

Still, the emptiness of his stomach and the thirst clutching at his insides were overriding all the questions.

Dave breathed slowly, trying to calm himself, but to no avail; the need to drink was more than just a simple desire –it was a deeply rooted, searing call, and the more he thought about water the more his body worked itself up with want.

With a soft sigh, he tried moving his body, and much to his surprise, it complied to his will. He felt heavy, and lethargic, but he could move, and that filled him with relief. He wriggled the fingers of his hands, then his toes, a surge of reassurance when he felt all of them respond, and slowly, one inch at a time, he forced his body up until he shifted to a sitting position.

The strain caused a sudden pain to flare up from his side, momentarily taking his breath away as a strangled moan was ripped out from his lips. "Hnnng–"

Time ticked on in the back of his mind, signing every second passing by as he shook, mouth open wide and lungs constricting, until the pain receded enough for him to breathe again.

He gasped and air filled his lungs again, and that hurt, too, and his side pulsated with pain, but Dave refused to give in to it, keeping himself up; if he let his body slide back down, he was afraid he wouldn't have the energy to get up again.

To try and keep his attention away from the pain, he slid his right hand over the surface he had been resting on. It was smooth but coarse, a bit like the inside of a coat, and under that he could feel something bumpy and hard, like wood.

It was a bed, then. Dave swallowed again, and tried to calm down. A part of him knew that if he'd been placed on a bed to rest, that meant he was in no immediate danger, but…

As his muscles relaxed, pain assaulted him again, forcing its way through him. Instead of fighting it, Dave let it wash over him, gritting his teeth. Bro had taught him to accept the pain without wasting energy, and slowly he reigned control of himself, fighting his instinct to tense up again.

Slowly, one-two-three seconds ticking away, the pain receded.

Ok. He could work with this.

As soon as the ache dulled into a soft throbbing the thirst resurfaced, twice as strong, and Dave instinctively reached to the side with his arm, tentatively searching the empty space around him for a bedside table.

His fingers hit something, and he recoiled back in surprise, then moved forth, feeling sweat roll down his back. He was cold, and confused, but he still continued exploring the world at his reach.

The surface next to the bed was empty.

Disappointment hit him in the chest, and he gasped, tilting his head down. His senses were consumed with thirst, and he debated with himself whether to try standing or not, despite the pain, when a sudden noise coming from somewhere startled him out of his thoughts.

"Holy sh–" a sudden intake of breath. "You're awake!"

Dave tensed up again, his head snapping to the source of the voice, twisting in bed to present his front to the enemy.

Doing that sent another flare of pain through his body, this time stronger, and Dave gasped out, choking and slumping forwards, body arching back up in a vain attempt to stop the burning pain.

"Oh, fu… uh, calm down kid, no need to get all fired up," footsteps coming close, then a hand was pressed against his back, and another holding his shoulder, and Dave felt them slowly push him down.

He tried to twist away from the hold, but the hands were steady and didn't allow him to move. With his back again on the thin mattress, Dave felt the last of his energy drain away and slumped down, and the movement chased the pain away, clearing his mind.

"There, keep calm, ok? You ought to stay still, with that wound it's a miracle you're already awake, let alone move, ok?" there was a humming undertone to the words, a soft sound that wormed its way through Dave's mind, soothing him slightly.

All the while, he felt one hand press on his forehead, and another rub at the skin of his arm in what might have been a calming way.

Slowly, more due to his fatigue than his willingness to comply, Dave gave up and went boneless.

"There," seemingly satisfied with his compliance, the hands retreated. "Better stay down, not sure if the stitches hold yet, ya get me? We don't want you to rip your side open after all the work we've been doing to close you up. Shi– that was one whole crazy blood loss, I tell you. Don't even know how you got it, but you're lucky we were around–"

Dave, unable to concentrate enough on the person speaking to catch what they were saying, swallowed and tried to talk, his imperative still focused on getting something to drink.

"W…" his voice was barely a whisper, and he inwardly cursed at himself. "Water…?"

For a moment he thought he hadn't managed to be loud enough for the other to hear, but then he felt a hand hold his head up gently, and something was pressed against his lips.

"Drink up, here, don't bother talking for now. You're safe".

The voice continued talking, but Dave had stopped trying to listen as water –cool, delicious water– poured out of the cup and into his mouth.

As he swallowed the first sip, he could feel the liquid trickle inside his throat then down, sending a pleasant chill through his body.

Fuck, yes.

He tried to get a deeper mouthful, making a pathetic sound in his throat that would have embarrassed him if he'd given a fuck about it, but the hand holding the cup refused to give him more than a trickle at time, no matter how he stretched his neck forwards.

"Easy there I said, you don't want to be coughing up," the voice stated.

Dave sighed, part of him uncaring, but the reminder of the pain from his side calmed him down. It wasn't as satisfying as drinking the full cup in one go, but he didn't care as long as the water continued coming.

After a long silence, broken solely by Dave's gulping sounds and heavy breathing, the cup was removed from his lips, and the person –a troll, this was surely a troll, because no human could produce that kind of sounds with a larynx– gently lowered his head back down.

He muttered a soft thank you, his throat hurting less now, but he didn't even hear a reply, because he fell asleep the moment his head touched the mattress.

…–…–…

Voices speaking were what woke Dave up again, rousing him from dreamless sleep.

The ticking noise at the back of his brain, that had restlessly counted seconds even while he had been unconscious breathed a number through Dave's brain, but he was still too tired to make any sense of it.

He parted his lips, slowly extending his conscience to his body. Again, he wriggled all his fingers and again he felt a wash of relief when he found them all responding to him.

He was thirsty again, but less than before, and he controlled the impulse this time, focusing his mind to his surroundings and his own body.

With tentative prodding, he tested the confines of his mattress, mind a bit clearer than before, fingers meeting the wooden edges of the bed and the rough seams of the 'mattress'. Slowly, he lifted his arm to his face.

There was a soft cloth covering his eyes, which he somehow recalled being there before, but his memories of waking up earlier were too fuzzy. He remembered a voice, and water, but that was it.

He moved his hand down to his neck, then to his chest. He was uncovered, but there was soft cloth tied around his waist and even lower, disappearing at the hem of his boxers. Carefully avoiding where he knew was a wound, he inspected the skin around it with feathery touches.

He couldn't move lower to check on his legs, and he didn't want to risk pulling the muscles of his hip, so he simply wriggled his toes again, trying to take comfort in the fact that he could at least feel them.

Abandoning his arm back on the mattress, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him, Dave pondered over his situation idly.

Belatedly, he realised he couldn't hear the voices speak anymore, and froze.

"Wh–" his voice failed him and he swallowed thickly, trying to clear his throat. "Where are… you?"

There was some shuffling, then footsteps. They were loud enough for him to hear even in his weakened state, and he wondered if the person was being loud on purpose or not.

"You're awake again, kid," the same person as before, and Dave relaxed a bit at the familiar undertone, the soft humming making him take a deep breath, despite the tightness of his chest. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah," he muttered, hoarse, and welcomed with gratitude as he was offered some more water to drink. "Thank you," he breathed after a couple mouthfuls.

He felt weak and exposed, but he was glad to be still alive.

"Where… where am I?"

There was a short pause, then the other person made a soft whistling noise. "The new universe," was the tentative answer. "You were lucky you fell close to my hive, sh… it's crazy, if he hadn't found you I am sure… uh, well, never mind that now. More water?"

Although he was still thirsty, Dave shook his head. He needed to know more. "Where… where are… Jade? John? … Karkat?"

Some more shifting, and a soft, buzzing sound that Dave vaguely recognised, though he didn't know what it meant.

Still, the use of alien terms (he did say hive, did he) and the sounds that no human throat could produce were proof enough that his interlocutor was actually a troll.

"Uh, see, they are not here. Fu… it's just us, ok? But it will be fine. Uuuh… You focus on resting, and telling me what happened, ok? We've been dying to know, ever since we found ourselves thrown down there! Can you believe it? One moment dead and celebrating his death, and then woo, just like that the bubbles burst open and we're engulfed with light! I haven't been in such a hype since my days with the Lost Weeaboos, sh… those were the days, I miss that sometimes…"

Dave swallowed again, lips set in a thin line. Most of what the unknown troll was saying just went flying over his head, but one thing stuck to his mind anyway.

His friends were not there.

What did that mean? Were they gone somewhere? When would they come back? Weren't they supposed to land all in the same place once through the portal? How long had he been asleep?

Time ticking in the back of his mind resurfaced again, and whispered a six-digit number to him. He didn't need to do the math, because his brain registered it and turned it into a smaller date.

Three days.

Three days, eight hours and forty-seven seconds.

Fuck.

His mind a bit more focused, he tilted his head towards his interlocutor, though he couldn't see him, and that reminded him… "My eyes…?"

"Ah, sh… yes, you're right. Wait, they're fine, calm down ok?" he heard the troll stand up and move through the room, and he heard a rustling sound.

Then he moved back to Dave's side, and hands gently pressed against his forehead as the bandages covering his eyes were slowly taken away.

"Had to cover them, we found your cool shades all broken, and you reacted badly to the light… don't think you were really conscious, but your eyes opened and you… dam… uh, you sounded like you were in pain. Here, try peeking, the window is closed so it shouldn't hurt".

The pressure against his eyes was removed, but Dave remained frozen with his eyes close, taking in what the nameless, faceless troll had just said.

His shades… broken?

"Hey, you fine over there? You look sick," a finger prodded his forehead, and Dave's eyes fluttered open in response. He had to wince, because even in the darkened room, his eyes were still a bit sensitive after sleeping so long.

His sight adjusted slowly, and he blinked a few stray tears away, searching in the room the troll he'd been speaking with until then.

The first thing he saw were his horns.

They were long and curved upwards at the sids of his head, much like a bull's, and different from all the horns belonging to the trolls he'd known so far. He had unruly hair both red and black, and white sticks covered up the top half of his shirt.

There was something familiar in him, something that ticked the back of Dave's brain, but he didn't know what.

"Hey, see? No need to worry, uh, your eyes are perfectly ok!" the troll's mouth tightened in a strained smile, and Dave sighed, looking away.

"Dave," he muttered after a moment to collect his thoughts. "You said you found me. Thanks".

"Ah, dude, it's nothing!" a short, clipped laugh that didn't last long, and Dave dared another glance at the troll. "Anyone would have done it, really! No big deal, nothing heroic or sh… like that!" the smile turned a bit less strained. "Ah, I'm Rufioh," he added, pointing to himself.

Dave frowned a bit. The only troll with similar horns he'd seen in the dreambubbles was Tavros, so that meant…

"You're the Beforus troll," he croaked out.

The troll –Rufioh… the name also tickled Dave's mind, but in a different way– nodded, his horns swaying in the air.

"Beforan, uh, if you don't mind," he replied. "You're one of the humans who defeated the enemy. Holy da… that fight was spectacular, makes me kind of feel sad for missing out, you dig? But I never did get to go God Tier, so I would have been pretty useless, haha, ha…" again, he cleared his throat. "Was that how you got hurt?"

Dave licked his lips and shook his head slowly. "No. After the battle," he muttered. "Unexpected dog coming back to bite my leg".

He was growing drowsy again, and he cursed silently at his lack of energy. He had barely moved, and his body was already tired as fuck.

"Hey, you need rest, don't let me keep you up dude, that's not fine, not with that kind of wound. Just sleep it off, it will take a while before you can get up so…" Rufioh shrugged, his horns bobbing slightly. "There isn't much to do around here, so leave it to me, ok?"

With a last blink, Dave's eyes refused to open again, though he didn't fall asleep instantly, merely resting and breathing, languidly thinking about the situation he was in.

Things didn't quite feel right –why was this troll sitting around to help him? Where was… everybody? John, Rose, Jade… even Dirk…

Karkat…

Dave's heart constricted as Karkat's face, filled with shock, flickered through his mind. He'd looked pained, reaching out towards him, but Dave…

He exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the knot in his chest.

"You could have entered the room, you know, he doesn't bite," Rufioh's voice, a bit muffled, reached Dave's brain, and he focused on the words.

Who was he talking to…?

His mysterious interlocutor didn't reply, and Rufioh emitted a low, clicking sound.

"Well, he got hurt before passing over, and he couldn't have been in the woods for longer than a couple hours," Rufioh continued talking, as if the silence didn't bother him. his voice was rumbling and pleasing, and Dave sighed softly, relaxing some more. "Man, we should go out and get some food, he might be up to eat something next time he wakes! What do you say, you with me?"

Dave wasn't expecting a reply, so when a curt, hissy voice replied, he was almost startled back into complete awareness.

"Showws wwhat you knoww of wwounds," the other person replied with a sniff. Dave's mind, already losing his fight with sleep, vaguely wondered about that weird accent. "You can't leavve 'im alone Ruf, so Imma goin' to stay here wwhile you go a hunt".

This time it was Rufioh's turn to be silent, and Dave felt a small seed of annoyance hum through him. He could take care of himself, he didn't need to be babied… but it was hard to find something to say when his wounded side was keeping him bedridden.

"If you're sure, I mean, you were the one who did all that dam… amazing job, there, pal, wouldn't have been able to do it in your place, blood is sort of…" he made a short, clipped noise that sounded a bit like a shudder. "Well, what'd ya say, I'll be off! Always feels nice to get your wings open for a flight, reminds me of home!"

The other voice muttered something too low for Dave to hear, and then they both walked away, leaving Dave alone in the room.

Still teetering on the brink of sleep, Dave tried to focus on something, to understand what felt so wrong in the situation, but there was no fighting it anymore; without him noticing, his thoughts turned jumbled, less coherent, and seconds later he was once again deeply asleep.