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nyrandrea · 11 months

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The Essence Of Our Spark

Summary: Hiding in plain sight.

Noah Diaz had learned how to do that all too well, but when an argument with his little brother cracks open the flood gates of suppressed memories of wars long past, his mask slips, and along with it, his sanity.

(Takes place after the events of ROTB so there will be spoilers!)

TW: Mentions of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Also a few swears

Also available to read on AO3 here!

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, fuelling 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.

XXX

I am hungry for the hurt/comfort Noah and Mirage fics so I decided to write one myself. Let me know what y'all think!

Part 2: Coming Soon!

#transformers #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #transformers mirage #transformers noah #mirage and noah #miroah #can be read as platonic or romantic #transformers fanfiction #my writing

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