Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the darkest corners of Noah’s mind, where memories converged with fear, something whispered in his sleep; fragments of a past that he had always desperately wished to forget. His nightmares always came in the form of a battlefield, screams pierced the air and mingled with the metallic cacophony of gunfire. Amid the madness, a lone young soldier struggled to fix a circuit breaker, his eyes wild with terror. With every breath, he inhaled the acrid scent and exhaled a piece of his humanity, forever lost to the unforgiving abyss of war. 

Noah flinched, and he put a hand to his chest to steady his breathing as loud popping went off in the kitchen, a familiar scent of butter and salt wafted through to his room. 

‘Popcorn... ’ he reassured himself. ‘It’s just mom making popcorn...get a goddamn grip, man...’  

As if sensing something was wrong, Noah’s mother appeared by the door frame, hugging a bowl to her chest with one arm and a duvet draped around the other. 

“Noah, please tell me you ain’t still working on that thing?” she said, nodding to his work desk.  

Taking a moment to flex his trembling hand, he dismissively waved her off. “C’mon, I’ve only been at it for an hour or two.” 

“Honey, it’s three in the afternoon. You been hunched over that desk since two in the morning.” 

Her expression softened when Noah didn’t reply. “Have you been taking those sleeping pills?” 

“Yeah, I just...got the work bug, that’s all,” he muttered. “You know me, once I start, can’t stop.” 

“You gotta stop sometime, sweetheart. Otherwise, your body will.” 

Noah flinched slightly. “...Right. Don’t you have a movie to watch?” 

His mom frowned but said nothing. “Because I know you haven’t eaten anything, there’s leftovers in the fridge, okay? Just...don’t cook, I’m too tired to deal with that right now. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” 

Once again, he waved her off, and when she finally got the hint, he returned to his work project. 

“C’mon...just work, damn it...!” Noah sighed, his nostrils flaring as he tried to splice a couple of wires together. This was the last step to complete the repair for Kris’s gameboy, which had suffered a beating against the wall after several failed attempts at the final boss of whatever latest game he had received for his birthday.  

The walls in the apartment were thin so Noah and his mother had immediately scrambled out of their beds when they heard a loud banging coming from Kris’s room, with Noah kicking down the door and raising a baseball bat to beat the shit out of whoever had been stupid enough to break into their home and target his little brother, only to be met with the snivelling boy sitting on the bed hugging his knees and pointing at the broken console on the floor. 

Kris had suffered his first bout of gamer rage.  

Noah had tried to be sympathetic; their mother much less so. 

He couldn’t blame her for being angry. She worked long hours and had spent a lot of hard-earned cash to buy that gameboy for Kris in the hopes that it would cheer him up—or at least provide a distraction—from his illness. They couldn’t afford another one. 

Which was why Noah needed to fix it. 

It had been weeks since his last interview, and the small pot of money he had slowly built up from doing various repair jobs for folks around the neighbourhood was beginning to dry up. He had spent most of it on various parts to fix up Mirage. 

And it had been worth every damn dime. 

“C’mon...There we go!” He punched a victorious fist in the air as the screen lit up along with the familiar 8-bit jingle. “Oh, thank God. Or Primus. Whatever.” Noah sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, sighing in relief and smiling at the thought of Kris’s face lighting up when he got his one true love back. 

Noah snorted. That kid needed to get out more. 

His expression dropped a little. He knew at one point, when the illness was at its earliest stages, that Kris had tried to hang out with his friends, go to school, play at sports, just all the normal stuff that a kid should be doing. But he started tiring more and more easily and grew so frustrated that he ended up locking himself in his room, isolating himself from the world and everybody that loved him 

That was when he got the call from his mom, her voice had a nasal tone to it, as if she’d just been crying, and Noah knew he needed to come home. Fortunately, his superiors granted him general discharge after a hell of a lot of arm twisting. However, they made sure to get back at him in the form of a bad reference that crapped all over his chances of getting a decent job. 

Or any job, really. Even the damn janitors wouldn’t take him on. 

Giving himself a mental kick, Noah forced himself out of the chair before he could start feeling sorry for himself and grabbed the newly fixed console before heading to the door. 

“Hey, ma,” he softly called out, softly knocking on the living room door and entering when he heard a muffled “ Come in ..”. He smiled a little at the shifting lump on the couch, a hand lifting from under the covers to reveal his mom’s face, illuminated by the soft glow of the television screen. He couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes; those night shifts were really starting to take their toll on her. 

“¿Qué es eso?” she asked. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’ve finally fixed Kris’s console, just headin’ out to give it to him now.” 

“Oh gracias a Dios,” she muttered in relief. “You’re a little miracle worker, you know?” 

“Sí, mama,” Noah gloated, holding up his hands. “I know I’m the best.” 

She smirked under the covers. “If only your cooking skills were that good.” 

“Hey, c’mon now, it’s just an acquired taste, that’s all.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said with a yawn, prompting Noah to take the handle and close the door part-way. 

“You work yourself too hard,” he said softly. “I’ll let you get some shut-eye.” 

“And you worry too much,” she weakly argued back. “Tell Kris to be home by six,” his mom paused a moment before adding. “He’s been spending almost as much time at that dingy old garage as you have recently.” 

Noah swallowed down a dry lump. “Yeah, he’s uh...been helping me out with this... project.” 

He inwardly cringed. He had always been a bad liar, especially when it came to his family. 

“Right,” she drawled out, obviously not convinced. “Just make sure he doesn’t inhale too much of those car fumes. It’s not good for his condition.” 

“Don’t worry, I will,” Noah said, inching his way out the door before making a beeline for it, shouting out a quick “love you!” before slamming the door shut on his way out. 

Beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face as he jogged down the stairs of the apartment building and into the bustling and vibrant streets of Brooklyn, shoving the gameboy into his pocket as he walked down the street.  

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to keep this secret from his mother. Kris had found out within five minutes of him being home, but luckily had taken the whole thing in his stride, seemingly not phased by the idea of giant alien robots and the world nearly ending. 

Kris was just built different, he supposed. 

Their mother on the other hand... 

He wasn’t sure what would have freaked her out more; the fact that he was friends with talking vehicles or that he had travelled outside of New York without leaving so much as a note. 

He may be have been in his late twenties but there was no doubt in his mind that she would have grounded his ass for a month if she found out. 

Noah shook his head, he was going to keep this secret for as long as he had breath in his body. She had enough to worry about: with her job, classes, bills, the medication for Kris. 

Except they didn’t have to worry about that anymore. 

Absent-mindedly pulling the business card he had received at his ‘security job’ interview, he twirled it in his fingers, brushing a thumb over the symbol of the eagle. The whole situation was still so bizarre to him; this super-secret government organization wanted him as an agent because...what, he just happened to choose the right car to break into? Because he was associated—by accident—with giant machines that could help them with whatever war they were in the middle of? 

Noah couldn’t think of any other reason on why they would want to hire him. 

It was Elena who had led the Autobots and Maximals to the transwarp key, it was Optimus Prime and Primal that charged into battle against Scourge and Unicron, and it was Mirage who had sacrificed himself and transformed his body into a suit to protect Noah. He...he hadn’t really done much of anything. Just happened to tag along for the ride. 

That Agent Burke guy was wrong. He didn’t deserve this. 

And he couldn’t throw himself into the middle of another war. Not after his harrowing time with the army and certainly not after that whole world-ending ordeal he’d just been through. Besides, he had other responsibilities. He couldn’t leave Kris again. Or his mother. They needed him. He was the man of the house. They needed him. He was more useful to them here than playing pretend at some secret agent shit. 

...Right? 

He shoved the card back into his jacket pocket, planning on throwing it away later. From his other pocket, he pulled out a walkie talkie. 

“Yo, Kris,” he greeted. “Got a little something for ya, you still at the garage where I told you to stay?” 

There was a pause. 

“What did I say about using our real names?”  

Noah rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Tails. I repeat: you at the garage?” 

“Uh. Yep. Still here.”  

“Then why don’t I see you, huh?” Noah asked dryly as he edged past the heavy wooden doors and into the dimly lit space. A nostalgic scent of motor oil and sawdust tinged the air, a reminder that this was Noah’s safe-space. The small workshop was a treasure trove of relics; shelves lined the walls, each filled with an array of tools and rusted projects that had been laid to rest. 

The only thing the garage was missing was his little brother and newly repaired Porsche. 

“Kzzzzt, this is Knuckles here,” a new voice chimed in. “You’re uh, kzzzzt, breaking up there, Sonic.”  

Noah grimaced and clutched onto the radio device a little harder. “You get him back here now or I swear I’ll put my knuckles through your damn windshield...!” 

“Geez! What’s with the threats, huh? Calm down or you’ll end up as much of a killjoy as Optimus-”  

“No names!”   

“Oh! Sorry.”  

Rubbing his temples in frustration, Noah tried again. “Can you guys please just come back? Like I said, I got something for you, Tails. It’s real important.” 

As if on cue, a mis-matched Porsche came skidding along the road and sped right towards Noah, who didn’t even flinch when it screeched to a halt within inches of him and went through the all-too familiar process of transforming. 

“Mirage is in the garage!” The robot cheerfully announced, catching Kris mid-transformation and gently lowering him to the ground in front of Noah before stretching out his limbs. “Oh, man does it feel good to get out again. And! I gotta say Kris, you’re even more fun to joyride with than your brother.” 

Noah rubbed his face, feeling like a vein was about to pop. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Hey, come on now, Noah,” Mirage waved a dismissive hand. “Jealousy ain’t a good look on you.” 

“You took Kris out joyriding?!” 

“Guys...” 

“I took him out for some fresh air! What, you’d rather the kid was cooped up in this dusty old workshop all day?” Mirage snapped back, dramatically gesturing around the small, cramped room. 

“Guys!” Kris shouted out before Noah could argue back. “I can talk for myself, y’know?” 

“Yeah, I know Kris, but-” Noah tried to argue as the robot looked down sheepishly, only to be instantly hushed by his little brother’s stone-cold glare. He’d definitely learned that from their mother. Or Optimus. 

“He only took me ‘round the block a few times, Noah. I wanted to go with him.” 

“But-” 

“No buts,” Kris held up a finger. “Besides, we didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“Well, except for that cop tryna’ stop us for speeding-” 

“I said we didn’t get into any trouble,” Kris reiterated, aiming his glare up at Mirage now, who instantly stiffened and looked away. 

“Nope. No trouble here.” 

Noah sighed and knelt to Kris’s level. “Look, I get you want to have your own adventures and yeah, even I got into a little trouble when I was your age.” 

“A little?” 

“Okay, a lot,” he corrected himself. “Look, my point is... you gotta be careful. I...,” Noah paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to word this. 

“I don’t want you to end up being like me.” 

A silence fell upon the room then as Kris narrowed his eyes, and he didn’t even have to look up to know that Mirage was boring down on him too.  

“Bro, you ain’t being serious, right?” 

“I am being serious, Kris. You...you’re...I mean I...” Noah stuttered. God, why was talking so hard ? “You’re a real bright kid and-” 

“Lemme guess, I got a ‘bright future ahead of me’?” Kris drawled out sarcastically. 

“Yeah! You do! But you gotta drop that attitude, keep your head down and keep up with your schoolwork. You can’t be like me and fu-” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Muck it up like I did.” 

“You can say fuck, Noah. I’m not five.” 

Mirage, who had taken to hovering in the background so as to not get in the middle of the brother’s argument, sputtered and tried to poorly disguise his laugh with a hacking cough, blaming it on the dust. 

Noah groaned and rose, deciding it was now time to harness the kind of power stance that would usually win his mother an argument “My point is that you’ve got a chance to make something of yourself, get outta Brooklyn, get yourself a decent job with good money-” 

“Okay, I may be old enough to swear but I ain’t old enough to be thinking about all that,” Kris said defiantly, crossing his arms to mirror Noah. “You can’t just dump all that on me.” 

“I’m not dumping anything on you, I’m just saying you gotta-” 

“Well, I think you gotta go see a therapist.” 

Noah blinked as a smug grin formed on Kris’s face. “W-what?” 

“Don’t you even notice that you’re always putting yourself down?” The teen grasped at his hair dramatically and pitched his voice down an octave. “Oh no...! I’m not good enough to get a job...! I don’t deserve to get credit for saving the freakin’ world...! I can’t cook for shit...!” 

Noah wasn’t sure what to get more offended by—the fact that his own brother was insulting him or that he had the balls to pull him up about his own insecurities. 

“You little-! I don’t sound like that! And my cooking is just...an acquired taste...!” 

“Stop avoiding the subject.” 

“I don’t need a therapist; we can’t even afford one! And last I checked, we were talking about your future, not mine. So, let’s leave it, yeah?” 

Kris didn’t take the hint.  

“Bro, you are part of my future. And you always tell me that it ain’t good to bottle up our emotions and to always talk. Like when Tails helps Sonic, or Luigi helps Mario, or-” 

“But we ain’t Sonic and Tails! Or...or Mario and Luigi or whatever, and this ain’t a videogame, Kris! You can’t just point and click your way through life and expect to get a happy ending. You got your head in the clouds way too much, and it’s about time you got back down to reality like the rest of us!” 

“Noah...” Mirage finally chimed in, but was interrupted by Kris. 

“No, I get it,” the boy said, somberly nodding. “You got all these hopes and dreams that you couldn’t achieve by yourself and so now you’re pinning ‘em all on me, right? ‘Cuz you think you ain’t got a chance at living the life that you wanted. ‘Cuz you’re worthless, right?” 

“Worthless... worthless ... you’re worthless...!” His commander had shouted at him. His father had shouted at him. He had shouted at himself. 

Noah’s head was pounding . His thoughts clashed like opposing tides in a wild storm; a battle between fear and reason, threatening to tear him apart. All he wanted was for his little brother to have a good life and not to be trapped within the four walls of a rotting apartment in the middle of gang and police territory, fearing for his life every time he opened the door, that he would get shot for being in the wrong place at the right time. To try and escape, only to end up in a different kind of war that valued him only as cannon fodder, to be sent home in a box with a medal slapped on his cold, lifeless body for his ‘service’. To be remembered by only a few and missed by no-one. 

And to be regarded as a low-life coward for running away. 

“Noah...? Noah...! Noah ...”  

He didn’t even realise that Kris had a grip on his arms and was shaking him, or that Mirage was kneeling with his hands hovering over him. Their mouths were moving but what they were saying was all muffled and distorted, like he was underwater. 

His lungs hitched, and he started gasping for air. 

Noah hated that he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, that something so trivial triggered such a raw, primal fear within him, and that he showed such a vulnerability to his little brother and best friend. The two people who were supposed to rely on him for support and strength. 

With some semblance of control, he managed to wave them both off with an air of nonchalance and coolness that he had learned to adopt from Mirage's personality.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he just about choked out. “I think I just gotta...go for a walk or somethin’.”  

His legs found the strength to stumble forward of their own accord, stopping only briefly to lean by the doors so he could glance back. “Mirage, could you uh...could you take Kris home? Mom wants him home by...by six, aight? And make sure he does his homework because...yeah.” 

“But Noah... yew don luk so gud...”  

“Just do it, okay?!” He snapped. “Please...” 

Within Noah’s weary soul, a fervent desire to escape surged through his body, and without a second thought, he slipped out into the embrace of the early night. Each step propelled him into the unknown, his heart beating wildly as his legs pounded against the pavement, fueling his need to leave everyone else behind. 

The wind whistled through his ears, and the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlights overcame every ounce of his senses, drowning out the chorus of desperation that echoed from all around him. 

Chapter Text

As the sun dipped below New York’s skyline, night draped over the city like a heavy cloak. The streets were still bustling with people moving to and from the subway as they either finished a day shift or were just starting their night shift. Noah watched them all, with their blank expressions and dark circles under their eyes; brief cases and suits; high heels and badges. They all lived such mundane lives, forever trapped in the cycle of the rat race. 

And he was monumentally jealous of them. 

Through the haze of his panic attack, Noah sought solace in a dimly lit bar tucked away in a forgotten corner, the scent of aged whisky and the murmurs of distant conversation hung heavy in the air. He wasn’t much of a drinker; only gave in to Reek’s encouragement if they were hanging out with his boys and they brought beer that tasted like dirty dishwater. 

But right now, he needed something strong to calm his trembling nerves. 

He was sat alone at a worn-out counter, his fingers tracing along the rim of a half empty glass as the world moved around him, oblivious to the emotional turmoil brewing within. 

Noah grimaced as he re-collected his thoughts: Mirage had taken Kris out joyriding; he had tried disciplining Kris like a responsible big brother was supposed to do, then he just... panicked and ran, like a fucking coward. 

Through bleary eyes, his gaze lingered up to his reflection in the cracked mirror behind the bar.  

Kris had called him worthless. 

Noah groaned and took another swig. The liquor was smooth against his throat and coursed through his veins; burning and bittersweet that dulled the sharp edges of his messed-up reality. Thoughts and worries blurred and the world, with its demands and expectations, faded into insignificance. 

Eventually, the whiskey bottle had emptied, and along with it, his pockets.  

Kicked back out onto the streets, Noah decided to turn his depressive escape into a little adventure. Because there was no way in hell he was going back home in this state; his mom would whoop his ass if she came back from work only to find him passed out drunk on the couch and Kris... he couldn’t let his little brother see him like this. 

Crashing with the Autobots came to mind but he could only imagine the disappointment on Optimus Prime’s face and... well, the robot had barely begun to tolerate him. Noah may have been intoxicated, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try the old guy’s patience any more than he already had. 

Plus... he was still kinda angry at Mirage. 

Noah hadn’t slept for weeks while repairing the Porsche, an overwhelming feeling of guilt overtaking every fiber of his being and fueling every waking moment he had to fix up the only friend that had ever looked out for him, cared for him, sacrificed his damn life for him. It had taken a lot of parts from Reek and specialist advice from the other Autobots, but eventually he’d managed to get Mirage back up and in some form of running order.  

So, for him to recklessly put his little brother’s life in danger like that without a care in the world? Noah couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. 

To Reeks’ place it was, then. 

He would crash there for the night (because Reek still owed him) and... figure out the rest in the morning with a killer hangover. For now, he would just enjoy the buzz. 

The neon signs above Noah seemed to dance, each letter swaying to the melody of a jazzy tune that echoed from a nearby nightclub. Noah’s footsteps echoed loudly through the empty alleyway that he decided to cut through as a shortcut, his breath heavy and thoughts floating aimlessly like paper bags in the wind. 

He found himself drawn to the graffiti that adorned the brick-and-mortar walls, the vibrant colours and chaotic patterns spoke to him, telling stories of a rebellion; of some violent battle. As he touched the wall lightly with the tips of his fingers, the images seemed to come alive, like some living, breathing canvas. 

Noah blinked as the painting took the form of a cobra, and bared its fangs at him in a silent hiss. 

“Hey!” A voice called out from deeper within the alley, forcing Noah to stumble back a little and squint his eyes into the darkness, barely managing to make out three figures slinking out towards him. 

“You lost, friend?” One of them asked, his kind smile betrayed by the shiv in his hand. It hung loose in his fingers as he wiped the flat of the blade against the material of his jeans. The other two flanked him, their faces obscured by hoods and scarves. 

‘Fuck...’ Noah thought as they surrounded him quicker than his drunk brain could think of an escape route. 

“Hey now, brother, no need to panic,” the leader said gently, holding up his hands in a placating manner, the knife between his fingers gleaming under the streetlight. “I asked you a question.” 

“I’m not... I’m not lost,” Noah mumbled, his words slurred. “Just tryna’ get home, is all.” 

“Seems like you’ve had one too many, friend,” he smiled. “Maybe we can give you a helping hand, eh?” 

A slight nod to his companions was all it took for them to grab Noah by the shoulders, easily overpowering him when he made a small attempt to struggle out of their grip. 

“Let...let go...!” 

“Come on now, brother...” 

“I’m not your fucking brother!” Noah spat.  

The leader smiled and waved a nonchalant hand. “We’re just trying to help you out, huh? No need to be so nasty. Better that we found you instead of the pigs, am I right? They would have dragged you into a cell to rot without so much as a how do you do. We,” he gestured to himself and his companions. “Are trying to help you out.” 

Noah’s shoulders sagged as their grips loosened up a little. 

“So just let me go, and I’ll get outta your hair,” Noah offered. 

“Nah, nah, nah,” the leader shook his head. “Didn’t you just hear me? The cops will find ya in this sorry state you’re in. So, how’s about you tell us where you live and we’ll get you there in one piece.” 

Noah, even in his drunken haze, knew exactly where this was going. 

“No...” 

The leader tilted his head. “No?” 

“Please...just let me- argh!” Noah cried out as he was punched in the gut, the force of the attack forcing him onto his knees as his stomach lurched. 

“And just as we was bein’ so nice to you,” the other man tutted, hooking his arm under Noah’s armpit to haul him back up. 

“I will ask you one more time,” the leader said, all warmness and friendliness of his tone completely dissipating. “Where do you live?” 

“Like I’m gonna tell some low-life escoria como tu where I-” 

This time he was silenced by the prick of a blade going up against his throat. He could feel a warm trickle as it effortlessly pierced his skin.  

“Now you’re just tryna’ hurt my feelings,” the leader said, his other hand going to grasp the back of Noah’s head. “Now you tell me where you live or I’ll stick this knife right into your jugular.” 

His nostrils flared slightly when Noah didn’t react. 

“And then I’ll go after your family.” 

He smiled when Noah’s eyes widened. 

“Ah, so that’s your Achilles heel, huh? You scared we’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em, string ‘em up?” 

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll-” 

“You’ll what? Fuck us up?” The leader laughed in Noah’s face, sending flecks of spit over his cheeks. “Boy, you can’t even stand straight.” 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

“Oh-ho!” He clapped. “What, you got a secret set of skills or somethin’? Come on then, let’s see it.” 

He waved his hand, and Noah was suddenly let go, his knees buckled from underneath him, forcing him to taste the cold, cobbled pavement. 

“Aw man, this is priceless!” One of the goons joked as he kicked Noah before he could even begin the struggle of getting up. “Let’s see them skills of yours, boy!” 

“This is fucking pathetic,” the other sneered, crossing her arms as she rolled Noah over onto his back with her foot. “I bet he doesn’t even have anythin’ worth stealing.” 

“Maybe not,” the leader said, smirking as he squatted next to Noah’s still form. “But it’ll be fun to see this punk choke on his own blood.” 

They were right. Kris was right. He was pathetic. He was worthless. But that didn’t stop him from holding out his hands in a desperate attempt to appeal to their better nature. Because they had to have one, right? Nobody could be this fucking cruel, right? Nobody could be like Scourge and the Terracons, snuffing out a life just for the fun of it? 

God, he really was a coward. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, brother,” the leader said as he raised the knife above Noah’s quivering form, his eyes cold and uncaring. Noah closed his own, his last thoughts were of his mom, of Kris, of Elena and the Autobots. He thought about if they would care about his death, if they saw it coming, if they would be disappointed but not surprised. He thought about his funeral. If anyone would show up. 

Would Mirage care? 

He hoped he would. That Porsche was the closest thing he ever had to a best friend. If nothing else, he knew Mirage would take care of his younger brother, just as he had protected him during their adventures. 

He hoped Kris would have many adventures, he deserved that much. 

Noah scrunched his face slightly when the inevitable pain didn’t come; he wasn’t sure if this guy was just taking his sweet time to torture him as much as possible before dealing the killing blow but this was ridiculous. 

“What the fu... ahh! Let me go!!” 

At the shrill scream, Noah’s eyes shot wide open to see the leader getting lifted into the air and thrown out of the alley and into the street like a ragdoll. The other two tried to run but didn’t get very far as they too went flying into traffic, forcing cars and trucks to screech to a halt while blaring their horns. 

“Yeah, you little bitches better run! Else I’ll turn y’all into roadkill!” 

That voice, it was the only thing that spurred Noah on enough to try and get to his feet. 

“Mirage...” 

“Noah,” the Autobot’s voice immediately softened, and a large shadow cast over him. “Hey, it’s alright, your boy’s here.” 

He could feel a large hand hovering just above him as he struggled to his feet, as if Mirage wanted to help but didn’t want to injure him any further, so Noah grabbed the edge of his fingers, deciding to use the hand as a support as he straightened himself out. 

“Thanks,” Noah mumbled, and he let it go after a few minutes when he felt able to stand unaided, though Mirage still kept his hand close, just in case. 

“You don’t look so good, pal,” Mirage said, his metal brow creasing in worry. 

“Yeah, I’ve definitely felt better,” Noah replied, hissing through his teeth as he laid a hand on his abdomen. He imagined a nasty bruise would be forming there soon. 

His glanced towards the edge of the alley, where those goons had been thrown, and noticed a small crowd starting to form, a few even looking curiously in their direction. Though thankfully the darkness of the alley shrouded them from sight, it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed the giant robot. 

“We gotta get the hell outta here,” Noah said, prompting Mirage to transform and open the door for the human to climb in. 

“Good idea, let’s roll out and get you to a hospi-” 

“No,” Noah interrupted as he slowly and painfully lowered himself into the driver’s seat. “No hospitals.” 

“But you’re-” 

“Fine,” Noah spat. “I’m... I’m fine.” 

“You’re a goddamn idiot, is what you are,” Mirage bit back as he revved up the engine and skidded away from the crime scene and into the roads, seamlessly blending in with traffic. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to get jumped!” 

“Did you mean to run away? Huh?” Mirage asked. “Did you mean to worry me and your brother and get drunk off your ass? Huh?!” 

Noah leaned his head against the backrest and closed his eyes to try and ease the incoming wave of nausea. “Oh, please Mirage, don’t-” 

“Don’t what? Lecture you? You could’ve been killed!” 

“Look man, you gotta pull over, let me out.” 

“C’mon Noah, you were acting real weird in that garage today, and then you just ran off and nearly wound-up dead in some alleyway.” 

“Yeah, I know, and you saved my ass but I really have to-” 

“No, no, let me finish,” the Porsche said as he pulled into an abandoned car park. “Now, you know me, I’m not gonna go off into one of those heroic speeches that Optimus Prime loves so much and teach you about responsibility or whatever. I ain’t that kind of bot, however...” 

“Mirage-” 

“Your boy cares about you, Noah. So, I think we gotta, y’know, have a little chat, a little one-on-one, you know what I'm sayin’?” 

“Mirage, I am literally about to throw up, you gotta let me out now.” 

“Oh, shit! Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Mirage said as he finally unlocked the door, letting Noah out to run to the nearest trash can. 

He didn’t make it, and instead emptied his stomach contents on some poor soul’s Lamborghini. 

“Oh shit...” Noah and Mirage said in unison, the latter transforming and holding up a hand to poorly disguise the grimace on his face while Noah dry-heaved. 

“Oh, you organics are just nasty .” 

“Thanks,” Noah replied dryly as he wiped his mouth.  

“No, seriously, why even drink that stuff if it makes you do that ?” 

“Because,” Noah breathed. “It makes us feel better for a little while, makes us...forget.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Bad stuff.” 

“Like what? The Decepticons?” 

Noah had to double-take at that. “Decipti-what?” 

Mirage clamped a hand over his mouth. “Oh. Right. You don’t know about those guys yet.” 

“With a name like that, I’m guessing they ain’t good.” 

“You would guess right.” 

Noah shook his head and sighed as he lowered himself to a seating position on the ground, landing on his ass in an ungraceful heap. Mirage mirrored him, albeit a lot more smoothly, crossing his legs and resting his hands upon them.  

Noah swayed slightly, the alcohol still not quite out of his system, and rubbed his temples. He just needed somewhere to rest his pounding head... 

“Ahem,” Mirage cleared his throat, prompting Noah to look over. The robot gestured to his shin, as if it was an open invitation. Noah silently took it and shuffled over until he was leaning against Mirage’s lower leg, the cool metal somewhat easing the pressure building up in his skull. 

“Better?” Mirage asked. 

“Much better. Thanks.” 

The two sat quietly for a moment. The night air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of petrol and smoke from the city, and the sky draped itself in an endless tapestry of twinkling stars. Kris had once told him about how the Big Bend National Park in Texas was the best place in the world for stargazing. Noah had pledged to take his little brother there one day. 

“So, why’d you run?” Mirage asked softly. 

Noah tore his eyes away from the sky to look down at his feet, unsure of how to answer when he didn’t really know himself. Instead, he asked his own question. 

“You’re from Cybertron, right?” Noah deflected, pointing up towards the sky. “All the way up there?” 

Mirage followed the human’s gaze before looking back down at him with a frown. “Well, yeah, but stop avoiding my-” 

“And you were at war there, right? With these Decepti-whatever dudes?” 

“Noah-” 

“Just humour me.” 

Mirage sighed. “Fine. Yeah. We were. Are ,” he corrected himself. “With the Decepticons and their warlord, Megatron. They’ve pretty much ravaged the whole planet now, there’s probably not much to even go back to.” 

“And do you want to go back?” 

Mirage’s optic twitched. “I mean, we have to, Noah. We don’t have much of a choice.” 

“Don’t you?” 

The robot looked down at him, and Noah couldn’t help but squirm a little under the intensity of those shining blue optics. 

“I mean, Arcee was right when she scanned me all the way back when we first met. I was a soldier. A long time ago.” 

“Yeah, and you had to leave because you had to help your mom take care of Kris.” 

“How do you...?” 

Mirage answered by holding up his arm with the walkie talkie still attached. Even when he’d blown to smithereens that damned thing had somehow survived. 

“Of course Kris told you,” Noah said, rolling his eyes as he hugged his knees. “Some good it did though, I left the army years ago and still don’t got a job. No wonder he thinks I’m worthless.” 

Mirage nudged his back. “Come on, you’re still hung up on that? You know your little bro didn’t actually mean it, right?” 

“Pretty sure he did,” Noah weakly argued. “My commanding officer did. My... father did.” 

Mirage paused for a moment before crossing his arms defiantly. “Yeah, well they’re jackasses, no offence, and Kris ain’t like that. You shoulda’ seen the way he was after you left.” 

This caught Noah’s attention as he angled his head up slightly. 

“Oh yeah, kid nearly punched my lights out when I dragged him back home. He threatened to call every police station in Brooklyn and nearly had Optimus Prime on the line.” 

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re shitting me.” 

“I’m not! Could you imagine if the big boss had found those thugs? He woulda’ thrown ‘em from here to Timbuctoo!” The Autobot exclaimed, raising his arms. “Or, y’know, squished ‘em.” 

“Ha! I would’ve paid to see that,” the human held a hand to his neck, wincing slightly as the tips of his fingers came away with droplets of fresh blood. “Ha... they really nearly got me, huh?” 

The sheer weight of what could have happened suddenly came crashing down on him like a ton of bricks, and tears prickled the corners of his eyes as he held up a trembling hand to his mouth. “Shit, man...what if they...? What if Kris...my mom...?” 

A metal hand gently wrapped around Noah’s side in an attempted side-hug. “Don’t think like that, Noah. It’s like you said, your boy here was around to save your ass, huh?” Mirage smiled when Noah laughed a little through his tears. “And I always will be." 

“What about Cybertron, huh?” Noah asked, furiously wiping at his eyes. 

“Cybertron can wait,” Mirage said, waving his other hand nonchalantly. “Besides, to answer your question, I don’t think I wanna go back. Not for a long time yet.” 

“How... how come?” 

“Like I said, Cybertron’s destroyed. Won’t feel much like home anymore. Besides, I still got my promise to keep,” Mirage grinned, jostling Noah lightly. “And boy are you making me work for it.” 

“Oh, real smooth,” Noah joked back, his smile fading a little as he glanced away. “Suppose I should answer your question too, huh?” 

There was a hushed anticipation in the air as his was mind racing to come up with an answer. The weight of expectation was heavy upon his shoulders, and it made him feel...vulnerable. How could he explain that these panic attacks came and went whenever they pleased? That he had no control over them? That he couldn’t stand people (especially his family) seeing him that way? That he had built up this wall over himself to protect the ones he loved, and that running away was the only way to do that? 

“I panicked,” was all Noah managed to say, his voice trembling. “Fuck, I don’t know how else to say it without sounding... crazy.” 

Mirage said nothing, merely opting to nod, and suddenly Noah wanted to run away again.  

“I think I get it.” 

“You do?” 

The robot nodded again. “Yeah, but next time you want to run away, just... talk to us, okay? If not Kris, or your mom, then... me. The Autobots. Hell, even Prime. We understand more than most, trust me.” 

Noah nodded. “I can’t make any promises but... I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I can ask,” Mirage said with a smile. “And no more of this ‘worthless’ crap, alright? You're friends with Mirage, and anybody who calls my friends worthless are in for an ass whoopin’.” 

“Noted,” Noah replied with a small grin of his own, moving Mirage’s hand aside so he could stand and stretch his aching limbs. “Guess I better try and talk to Kris, huh? I didn’t mean to make him worry.” 

The bot’s smile slowly morphed into a smirk as he held up his other arm. “Pretty sure he’s been listening in this whole time.” 

“Sonic, when you get back here, I’m gonna kick your ass so hard that whoever pulls my shoe out of it will be crowned King goddamn Arthur.”  

Noah rubbed his temples, feeling another throbbing headache coming on. “Oh, por el amor de Dios...”