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Chapter Text

It was a gray, overcast kind of day on the island of Sodor, There was a chill in the air that week. It had been even more chilly up at Ulfstead castle. The castle was closed for the day as the Earl had been away in France doing something, all anyone knew was that it involved Sir Robert’s new and expensive toy, a ground penetrating radar device of some sort.

It was a funny machine, as soon as sir Robert got the device, he spent no time setting it up, and playing with it in the gardens, all while happily talking about finding roman villages. He also was playing around with his metal detector. The engines thought it was pretty funny seeing him running around the property with it, even though all he ever found were nails and bottle caps.

Glynn and Stephen were parked out in a siding by the garden, with the low flow of tourists and no tours of the property, the two seized the opportunity to kick back, put on some old music cylinders on the phonograph, and take a nap. It was the perfect nap for the two old engines, except…

“STEPHEN!”

Millie’s shrill whistle rang out as she rushed down the tracks.

“Do I even want to know?” Stephen muttered to himself. He cracked an eye open to see Millie staring at him intensely.

“When did you last have the tarpaulin?” Millie asked sternly.

“What?”

”The tarpaulin for the gardens! The earl is coming home tonight and this place is an absolute nightmare! There’s dead branches on the ground, mulch that needs to be spread, leaves to be raked, the dinosaur park is a mess with gravel needing to be raked and waterways needing to be skimmed. Did I make sure to tell the grounds keeper to check the fountain in the pond? Oh! Where’s that groundskeeper!? I better not catch him lazing around!” Millie shot back down the line without a single peep from her whistle, “and tell the maid staff to make sure they empty all of the garbage out into the trucks before noon! And get someone to contact the fat controller and ask if we could get some more ballast up here! That reminds me, I need to go around and kill the weeds-”

Stephen clicked his tongue, “poor Millie, she’s been running around all day like she has a bee in her smoke box.”

“More like an entire hornet’s nest,” Glynn added. Both of them laughed.

“What do you think Sir Robert is doing in France?” Stephen asked.

Glynn chewed his lip, “I don’t know, probably something for the museum, I overheard him talking about some new project for the museum with the duke and Sir Topham hatt.”

“a new project, eh? What do you think it is?”

“No idea, probably something to do with those fancy new gadgets he bought.”

“Are you referring to the ground perpendicular radio device thingy?” Stephen asked, “or that fancy new fangled flying machine?”

Millie rushed by with trucks filled with gardening supplies, “You mean the drone?”

“Yes! That’s what it’s called! Thanks Millie!” Stephen replied, “sure is a cute little thing, humans nowadays have some of the most interesting toys. Why, I remember back in the day if we wanted to take pictures, we would have to sit still for hours on end in the daylight or else they wouldn’t come out, let alone one up in the air on some flying device. Of course photographs were only a few years old when I was built.”

“Oh I remember those days!” Glynn reminisced, “the big cameras, the smoke and the bright flash. Brilliant works of engineering. Then to have one little camera mounted under a flying little robot,”

“Brilliant I tell you, absolutely marvelous!” Stephen remarked, “no film either! How do you suppose they get the pictures inside the camera?”

Glynn thought for a moment, “I don’t know, must be some kind of trade secret I suppose. We should ask Sir Robert when he comes home tonight.”

“We should, we definitely should.”

———————————————————————————————————-

The arrival of Sir Robert that evening was a rather exciting one, and yet brief. The Estate engines were shocked to see Sir Robert almost jump out of Connor’s moving train with his shirt crinkled and a pat of butter stuck to his face, while holding an English muffin in his mouth.

“Good evening sir,” Millie politely whistled, “how was your trip?”

Sir Robert took the English muffin out of his mouth, “It was wonderful, I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. I need to make an important phone call and a visit down to Brendam, I have a few souvenirs that I need to pick up.” He paused briefly to speak to Connor, “oh, and Marvelous run Connor. Please ask your drivers if I could ride in your cab some time, I would love to see how your booster engine works, if you have one, that is. I keep forgetting that not all Hudsons have one, especially the later ones, those booster engines did cause a lot of problems. But still, I would love to ride in your cab, perhaps we’ll find a nice straight track and do a drone shot of you running at peak performance.”

“Thank you sir, yes, I will definitely talk to my drivers about that. It would be nice to have a good fast run. I don’t think I had a proper run since my time on the New York Central.” Connor’s Brooklyn accent fluxed a bit.

Sir Robert hurried off without another word, he left most of his baggage on the platform. He’ll deal with them later, right now he wanted to get down to the docks and make sure his “souvenirs” were able to get through customs. He popped into the caretaker’s house, and grabbed the keys to his car, and sped down to the docks.

“I hope it’s still okay,” Sir Robert tapped his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel, “oh! I forgot to call Sir Topham! I’ll have to do that when I get to the docks.”

The docks were lit up brightly when Sir Robert pulled up. It wasn’t unusual for the docks to be so busy at night. Sir Robert quickly found the dock manager and inquired about his shipment.

“What do you mean held up in customs!?”

The Dock Manager shrugged, “apparently some of the paperwork wasn’t filled out correctly.”

“But I thought I signed everything, see?” Sir Robert showed the manager a copy of all the paperwork, “Everything is right here, I signed my name on all of the documents, filled out all the information. I don’t see what else I’m missing.”

The Dock manager took a long sip of his coffee, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to contact the head of the customs offices in Southampton. Their offices are closed right now but I can get you the number.”

“Southampton!?” Sir Robert exclaimed in disbelief, “by the time it gets here, it will be far gone! You know what? I think it’ll be much easier if I just go down there myself with a flatbed, and bring it back here myself. I am not going to wait for that ship any longer.”

And with that said, a weary Sir Robert climbed back into his car, and set off on yet another trip with a flat bed lorry in tow, to the mainland.

******************************************************************************************

It was noon the next day when Sir Robert returned to the island. The last few hours had been heck for him, at this point he was just running on coffee, but he had his “souvenirs” with him, and that’s all that mattered.

A flat bed Lorry followed behind him with a large wooden crate strapped securely to the bed. Sir Robert made it extremely clear to everyone to make sure that his shipment was packed securely with extra foam blocks and suspension. The last thing he wanted was for his souvenir to shift while in transit, it almost fell apart while they were moving it in France. He didn’t have a chance to get a good look at it yet, so he didn’t know what the condition was.
He had a few extra smaller crates packed in his car, he hummed to himself nervously, his mind was on one thing, and that was getting his souvenir straight to the Steamworks. He didn’t even stop to take pictures of passing trains, he kept on driving until he reached the steam works.

Chapter Text

To say that Victor was an early bird was a huge understatement, Victor’s day started at a certain time the workers had dubbed, “Victor o’clock”. The sun hadn’t even crested over the horizon when Victor was already up and building steam. Kevin was still sleeping at this time and none of the other workers had shown up yet. This time of day was unusually quiet besides the small television tucked away in the back of the berth, that was on 24/7.

Victor enjoyed this time of peace, it gave him the opportunity to go over everything that needed to be done that day. He quietly muttered off a list to himself.

“Let’s see… there’s a pile of broken parts that could go to the smelters, we could always have someone sorting nuts and bolts if we have the downtime… Do we have anyone due for a boiler inspection?” He studied the whiteboard calendar on the wall, there were a few coaches that needed to be serviced that day, and a few trucks that needed their couplings replaced (again), those are usually a quick fix, he could place the coaches before the trucks on their priority list.

Just then, the Manager of the works came in, “good morning Victor.”

“Good morning sir, did you have a good evening?” Victor asked without taking his eyes off the whiteboard.

The manager yawned, “it was decent, no drama, just how I like it.”

“That’s good,” Victor hummed.

The Manager set his mug down on a workbench and read over his notes, “I got a call from Sir Robert last night, he wanted to know if we could do a project for him.”

Victor perked up with interest, “what type of project does he need us to do?”

The Manager squinted at his notes, “another restoration project for his museum, he liked how we were able to restore Glynn and Stephen and has commissioned us to restore a new item for his museum.”

“Did he say what type of item it’s going to be?” Victor wiggled his nose, readjusting his bifocals.

“I didn’t really catch it, he was too exhausted to go into detail. All he said was that it was from France and it’s going to be a big restoration project.” The Manager took a long sip of his coffee, “he was in Southampton when I last talked to him.”

“Southampton? What was he doing there?”

“Something to do with customs, but he’ll be bringing it here so make sure you reserve a spot for it. He said it was in really bad condition so we might have to make our own parts. See if the milling machines are available for when we do, and get all of the basic stuff together and ready, oh! And tell Johnson to please take pictures of the disassembly, we have a camera here for a reason.”

“Got it sir.” Victor tooted his whistle and got straight to work.

Kevin woke up some time later, like always, he was very eager to help Victor. While Victor was busy making a mental list of all of the tools and parts they had, Kevin rushed around trying to move as much stuff out of the way as possible.

“What do you think the Earl would want us doing?” Kevin darted past with a pallet haphazardly loaded with old parts, the pallet tipped over to one side causing everything to slide off and onto the workshop floor with a harsh crash, “Sorry boss.”

Victor winced, “try setting the parts on the pallet so their weight is evenly distributed.”

Kevin flung the parts back onto the pallet “Good idea boss.”

“I’m really not sure what the Earl is bringing us, definitely something for his railway museum. Probably an old coach that needs a bit of restoration.”

“It’s always exciting when we get stuff like that, Stephenson’s rocket, a calliope, that open top coach, Glynn.” Kevin mused to himself and more stuff slid off of his pallet.

Victor winced, “I would like to know what we’re getting ahead of time. Now, where did we place that truck…”

Around noontime, the manager pulled everyone in for a quick meeting.

“Alright, I just received confirmation that the Earl is delivering an engine, according to him, it’s in extremely poor condition,” the Manager flipped through his notes, “he said that it is a 1916 Kerr Stuart Joffre class tank engine, they dug it up in Somme France and want to have it ready for the museum. He had to take it apart in order to ship it, but he estimates that they have at least 75% of the engine.”

“Is the engine still alive?” Victor asked,

The manager chewed his lip, “That’s what we’re the most concerned about, Sir Robert has its smoke box door, but it was separated from the rest of the body. As of right now, the engine is unresponsive.”

Kevin gulped, “What are they going to do if we can’t wake it back up?”

The Manager shrugged, “probably just use it as a static display, the engine might be too far gone. It had been buried under several feet of mud for decades. I would like to try and see if we can revive it.”

Victor closed his eyes in pain while Kevin looked on in sorrow and shock. They both had to mentally prepare themselves for this task. Even if they could revive the engine by some stroke of a miracle, the engine will surely be in great pain from the ordeal. Victor prepared himself for the worst case scenario, that the engine would be in too great of pain to be restored and would have to be scrapped.

The Manager cleared his throat and continued, “I need all hands on deck and ready, we need to move the engine off of the lorry, and onto the inspection pit, it’s packed inside a crate, Kevin, your job is to keep the crate steady, the less the engine moves, the better. The break-down train will be doing the initial lifting, you just need to keep the crate from swinging too much, got that?”

Kevin gulped nervously, “y-Yes sir.”

“Alright, Everyone get ready, the Earl will be here any moment.”

The best word to describe the feeling there was nerve wracking. The place was almost like an ER during a major accident. Everyone was on standby, Victor waited anxiously on the track closest to the parking lot, every second that passed meant a slimmer chance for saving the engine.

Finally, the Lorry pulled alongside the tracks with the Earl in tow. Immediately, all of the workers jumped straight into securing the crate to the cranes. Kevin carefully thought out every move he made while they lifted the crate off the lorry and into the workshop, the last thing he wanted was a slip of the hook.

The workers carefully guided the cranes over to a flatbed Victor had ready. He watched carefully for any sudden shift in the crate. As soon as the crate was placed onto the flatbed, and all the hooks were removed, Victor shunted the flatbed into the reserved inspection pit without hesitation.

Victor whistled, “alright! It’s all ready to go! Get that engine out of there.”

The manager and a few workers pried open the crate, Kevin came back in with a few smaller crates. Both of them stepped back and braced themselves for what they were about to see. Throughout his years, Victor has seen his fair share of engines in rough condition, everything from huge gashes across the boiler, boiler explosions, whole bogies separated from the engine’s chassis, even engines with their front completely smashed inwards from head-on collisions. However, his boiler still ran cold as soon as the sides of the crate fell.

“Oh my goodness…”

Though not the worst thing Victor has seen, the state of the engine still made him feel faint. The engine had been completely rusted out with multiple holes along its right tank, (Bullet holes) the boiler was completely exposed, the wheels were rotted out with the couplings rusted together, and its funnel had been removed and was equally in a bad condition. The entire engine was caked in a thick layer of dark mud, Victor couldn’t tell whether he was looking at rivets or hardened mud.

The worst of the damage had to be the front, the smoke box door was missing with the remains of the smokebox being nothing but jagged metal, the buffer beam was also missing, and what remained was twisted, rusted, jagged metal.

“¿Qué pasó…? Victor muttered in disbelief, Kevin had turned away, trying not to look at the body horror in front of him. His driver gave Kevin a gentle, reassuring pat.

The manager turned to the rest of the crates, with the utmost care, he pried them each open, they contained what remained of the funnel, and pieces of valve gear and safety valve. The last crate to be open was a large, flat one with “Fragile! Keep facing up!” Written in big block letters. That one contained the smokebox door.

Victor’s driver removed his hat while the manager carefully lifted the lid off, Kevin had the misfortune of peeking inside, his face twisted into a state of horror.

The Smokebox door had been packaged tightly in a custom made foam packaging, and wrapped with several layers of packing tape and bubble wrap. The manager and several workers carefully lifted the smokebox door out and onto the white tablecloth spread across the workbench. Victor held his breath as they strategically cut the layers of bubble wrap and tape away. Finally, Victor had his first look at the engine’s face.

The face was cracked and dirty like an old rubber ball, it was discolored with bits of the cheeks crumbling away, parts of the lips had already broken off with the jagged bits of the teeth exposed. The engine’s expression was frozen in time, its eyes were squeezed tightly shut in pain and fear, its jaw clenched so hard that its teeth might just crack. The lines on its face were all jutting out from the center, it looked broken and sad.

However, Victor couldn’t help but notice that under the cracks and grime, the engine looked to have the youthful face of a young child. Victor couldn’t put his buffers exactly why though, maybe the shape of the nose and the fullness of the cheeks perhaps? The more Victor studied the engine, the more it looked like a child who aged faster than its body could grow

“Poor thing…”

The Manager gently pried the eyelids open, Victor watched him carefully.

“How are the eyes?” Victor asked.

The manager shined a pen light into them, “well, it’s hard to tell, the sockets are filled with sludge.” He gently poured water into them, “here they are. Oh my goodness.”

Victor looked at the eyes, they were a sight to behold, they looked like someone had replaced them with two brown, rotten grapes. They sagged inside the sockets and smelled horrible. the manager gently touched them. Kevin kept his head turned away.

“Is there any way of saving them?” Victor asked.

“It’s hard to tell.” The manager examined the eyes, “I can’t really see a pupil anywhere.” He carefully lifted up the smokebox door for Victor to see.

“Kevin come over and have a look,” Victor called back, “I see, they look like they're ready to fall out, look at the amount of water that’s coming out from them.”

Kevin had a quick peek, as soon as he saw the eyes, his face flushed green, he almost screamed. He swallowed his scream but felt his engine seize up.

“If we can revive the engine, it definitely wouldn’t be able to see from those eyes anyways, it would be too painful to keep them in like that. They're way too far gone, I think it would be best to remove them.” Victor noted, he gulped thickly, “ugh, I can smell the rot from here. What do you think Kevin?”

Even though Kevin couldn’t throw up, he was on the cusp of, he strained, “I… I think… maybe…” he gulped weakly, “yeah, yeah definitely.”

“Hm, you’re right… I do want to get these sockets cleaned. I can see the base of the eyes, I think I can just cut them out and flush the sockets out.” The Manager wiped his hands off, “I’ll get started on the face, you work on the body.”

“Got it,” Victor tooted his whistle and puffed away to collect the flatbed of parts.

Kevin was on the verge of fainting, “I- I’m going to go t-take a break…” he dashed out of the works for fresh air.”

Victor passed the lift with the engine on it. Though just a cold, dead, dark husk of an engine. Victor could see a little speck of gold flickering deep inside it. He smiled, there was still a tiny bit of life left in the engine.

“Don’t worry my friend, I promise you will live again, you just need to stay strong.”

Chapter Text

The manager did not hesitate to get started on the engine’s face. Victor went back to work carefully shunting trucks of parts, Kevin was visibly pale and shaking. He could barely keep his hook steady.

“Are you okay my friend?” Victor asked Kevin.

Kevin gulped, “it’s those eyes…” he gazed mournfully down at the floor, “I’ve never seen anything like them…”

Victor let his flatbed roll forward before puffing back to Kevin, “do you feel like telling me what you’re feeling right now?”

Kevin shuddered, “I don’t know…” he scrunched his forehead, “It kind of feels like… remember that movie that was playing on the TV on Halloween?”

“Yes, I do,” Victor recalled.

“There was a part where the girl found out that someone had been murdered, she stumbled across the body, she didn’t know the person, but she was scared, well, not really scared, but grossed out at the same time.” Kevin described, “I kind of feel that way after seeing those eyes.”

“Disturbed, you’re just feeling Disturbed.” Victor looked at Kevin in a comforting manner.

“Y-Yeah… disturbed…” Kevin kept his eyes glued to the floor, “That’s what it was…” he looked up to victor, “how do you do it boss?” Kevin’s voice cracked, he was on the verge of crying, “How do you handle seeing so many engines in terrible shape and pain? You have seen so much… gore… train gore, that’s what it is. You had engines literally die right in front of you, but yet you carry on.”

Victor chewed his lip thoughtfully, he never really thought about it much, it was true, he did see a lot of things. It was just part of his job, he knew when going in he was going to see a lot of messed up engines.

“I learned something from an engine at Crewe.” Victor closed his eyes.

Kevin’s eyes widened, “You were at Crewe!?”

“Yes, It was a long time ago, I heard about Henry’s rebuild there and I wanted to go there and learn.” Victor smiled, “the manager and sir topham arranged it for me and I stayed there for a good few weeks, and was taught on how to work in a workshop environment and the process that goes into mending and building an engine. It was very fascinating to see how they built entire engines from the ground up.”

“You’re making me jealous.”

Victor chuckled lightly, “but I did learn how to handle stress,”

“How did you do it?”

Victor blew his whistle and puffed back out of the works to fetch more cars. Kevin followed after. He stopped just outside of the works.

“Your thought pattern is like a railroad, like a train, it runs from one station to another while stopping at stations along the way to pick up more ideas.” Victor watched as Henry puffed by, with a long goods train, “but oftentimes that train will get stopped, lost, detoured, or delayed.” Victor grabbed a flatbed wagon and brought it inside, he stopped in front of the pile of empty crates.

“Instead of thinking in one single track, I learned to think more like those boxes.”

“What do you mean by that boss?” Kevin raised an eyebrow.

Victor continued, “well my friend, I learned to compartmentalize my thinking. I put one thing in each box, it’s easier to think that way, I can focus on what needs to be done at that moment rather than everything else. Once I focus on that one thing in that one box, I try to focus on only that. It took me years of experience to be able to do that.”

Kevin scrunched his forehead a bit. Victor noticed, “a good way to start would be making a list of stuff you need to do, focus one thing at a time, got that?”

“Yes boss. One thing at a time,” Kevin buzzed off to help some of the workers. While he did so, he muttered off everything he was doing. Victor couldn’t help but chuckle.

Meanwhile at the other end of the works, the manager had already started on the face, the Earl stood nearby holding a camcorder.

“Mind if I film the repair process?” The Earl asked eagerly.

The manager glanced back at sir Robert, “mm… I guess so… There's a spare hard hat and safety glasses in the break room. Keep those on the whole time and stay back away from the machinery, and don’t look at the welding arc.”

“Got it.” The Earl dipped out of the workshop and came back wearing a hardhat and safety goggles. He had a huge smile on his face.

“Oh ho ho ho! This is going to be great for our website! Live updates on the restoration of a Kerr Stuart “Joffre” class tank engine from 1916!” He popped the memory card in and got to filming.

The manager had finished cleaning up the face, he went through scrubbing the engine’s face with warm, soapy water and a soft sponge. The bucket of water quickly turned brown with mud with a thick layer of sticks and leaves floating on top. The manager tenderly went back through cleaning out the cracks with a soft toothbrush and toothpick. The work was very tedious, but necessary.

Sir Robert pointed his camera at the face, “how are the cracks going to affect the engine’s face over all?”

The manager took a squirt bottle and washed the grime off, and then went back to digging out more gunk, “the face is the trickiest part of any engine. Unlike humans, they can’t regenerate their face. The best we can do is fill in the gaps with caulk and then airbrush it over with gray paint. There will be a noticeable discoloration and scarring, and the engine’s face will be stiffer than before, but honestly, it’s the best anyone can do for a facial reconstruction. The engine will have to be more careful and we might need to patch it up occasionally as the caulk degrades over time.”

“But it can live a normal life, right?” Sir Robert asked lowering the camera, “it wouldn’t affect how well it can pull passengers or do work around the estate, right?”

“Well I meant to talk to you about that.” The Manager let out a heavy sigh,

Sir Robert clutched the camera, ‘What is it? Is something wrong?”

The Manager took off his gloves and pulled up a swivel chair, “Sit down sir,”

Sir Robert shut off his camera, “oh, it’s that serious.”

The manager nodded, Sir Robert looked back at the chair, “well, okay then,” he sat down, “what’s wrong with the engine? Is it not going to wake up?”

“It has to do with the condition of its eyes, when I opened them, they were in a horrendous state.”

“But you can save them, right?” Sir Robert asked hopefully, “this is the steamworks after all, one of the few remaining workshops that still works on steam engines in the UK, right? Surely it’s just an easy fix!”

The Manager sighed, “Unfortunately, no. There’s no saving them, they’re rotten out and filled with muddy fluid.”

Sir Robert covered his mouth, “oh my… can I see them?”

“Are you squeamish?”

“Probably not.”

The manager gave a serious nod, “alright,” he and Sir Robert turned back to the engine’s face. The manager put his work gloves back on and picked up a pair of long tweezers, “Ready?”

Sir Robert braced himself, “I’m ready.”

The manager carefully peeled the eyelids open. Sir Robert gasped and covered his mouth, goosebumps ran up his arm, “Oh my Goodness Gracious!”

“We came to a decision that it would be in the best interest for the engine if we removed its eyes entirely.” The manager closed the engine’s eyes, “it's a simple procedure, all we have to do is cut the base off the eye and sodder the rest off. We could fill in the sockets with putty and close up the eyes or keep the sockets open if you wanted to get a pair of glass eyes custom made for it.”

He looked down at the engine’s face, “But I don’t know anyone who can do that, you would need to find someone who makes prosthetic eyes for humans, and then get the measurements for a pair. It would be costly, and the engine won’t be able to see with them but it would at least make it look more normal. The first option will only make the engine look like its eyes are just closed.”

Sir Robert leaned against the bench, scratching his chin, “I don’t think we have the funds right now to cover a pair of glass eyes… this restoration project is already pretty costly as it is… maybe if we have money left over…”

”I just need your consent on the eye removal, that’s all.”

Sir Robert crossed his arms and gazed down at the floor, “If… you think that’s the best option… then you have my consent to do the procedure.”

And with that, the manager gave a quiet nod. Sir Robert’s upper body dropped, he quietly thanked the manager, picked up his camera, took off his hard hat and goggles, set them neatly back where he found them, left the steamworks out through the side door, slowly walked across the parking lot, got into his car, and cried.

Chapter Text

Back on the estate railway, there was quite a lot of buzz about the new engine. Duke had come up from the Skarloey railway with a private train. Recently, Ulfstead castle started hosting private events such as weddings and birthday parties. They’ve become pretty popular and right now they have several parties booked back to back.

Duke’s private train was one of those. A wedding was taking place and the couple booked the full package, which included a rail tour. For the most part, Duke didn’t mind doing these rail tours, it gave him the opportunity to stretch his wheels and visit his friends.

Duke pulled into the station to find Glynn and Stephen talking to each other in low voices.

“….Like I said before, I personally think that it would be in the best interest if we just don’t bring it up.”

Duke tooted his whistle, “Excuse me for my interruption.”

“Hello Duke!” Stephen whistled back, “how did the wedding go?”

Duke watched as his guard helped the wedding party off the train, “it went very well. Though I still don’t quite understand what they meant by a “wet wedding”. We were down by the lake but no one went swimming, there was a lot of water being served though,” Duke turned back to the platform, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be so happy to get water, they must’ve been parched.”

The passengers staggered across the platform laughing, one person was drinking “water” straight from the bottle. One woman who was carrying her heels, stumbled and fell onto the ground and laughed like a little school girl.

The trio watched the passengers leave the station judgmentally.

“I kind of want to try some of that water.” Glynn remarked to his driver, “Do you think I could have some?”

“Uh… I don’t think so.” His driver answered.

“Why not?”

“It’s… special water. It’s just for humans on special occasions. engines can’t have it.” Glynn’s driver replied.

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.”

Just then, Millie puffed up looking distraught, she skidded to a stop and blew her whistle, “Has anyone seen Sir Robert anywhere?”

Glynn scrunched his face up with concern, “Not since this morning, why?”

“I’m just worried for him. He just got back from France and then drove to the mainland and back in one night.” Millie explained, her boiler pressure rose.

“He could be sleeping.” Stephen suggested.

“I already asked the staff! They said that he came back from the works for a brief moment, grabbed a few things, and went back. He’s been there all day!” Millie growled, “The nerve of some humans, they think they are so invincible. He’s almost 70 and yet he’s still running around like he’s 20 or something! He should really start considering his health more. He’s not going to live forever! He’s not a machine that can just have his parts replaced.”

Duke wheeshed steam, “Millie, it’s alright. I’ll check in at the Steamworks when I make my return journey, alright?”

“But he-…” Millie sank, “alright, but make sure to tell him that he really should get some rest, I don’t want him keeling over.” She let off steam and puffed away. Once she was out of earshot, Stephen spoke up.

“What was that about?”

Glynn raised his eyebrow in a shrug, “I don’t know! She’s been very uptight lately. More than usual. Do you suppose there’s something going on that she’s not telling us?”

Stephen gazed down the tracks, “Perhaps, let’s not bother her for a while, maybe she’ll calm down.”

“But she does have a fair point,” Duke spoke up, “His Grace should really slow down and take his health into consideration.”

“Hm,” Stephen hummed, “She is right about that, Humans are very fragile creatures after all. I’d hate to imagine the day when…” Stephen dropped his sentence and gazed down at his buffers.”

“I’ll make sure to bring it up to him when I see him.” Duke said. His passengers finished unloading all the wedding supplies off of his train. The guard blew his whistle, and Duke shunted his coaches away.

Duke usually looked forward to the return trip, once he’s on the straight track to Croven’s Gate, he can doze off and let his driver and fireman take over control. Of course this is against railway regulations and would normally be seen as an unthinkable thing for such a stickler to the rules such as Duke. But Duke was an old man, and like old men, he tired easily, any ounce of sleep he could get was valued.

However, Duke didn’t feel like napping, he only had one thing on his mind and that was getting to Croven’s Gate.

The Steamworks was bursting with activity when Duke pulled up. To Duke, it seemed like there had been a major accident by the number of men running in and out. Duke puffed in slowly into the doorway, there was something in the back of the Workshop, he squinted hard to try and make it out, but he just couldn’t seem to make anything out.

Victor puffed quickly past Duke murmuring to himself, “…¿Dónde puse esa cosa…?” He stopped and backed up to Duke, “oh, Hola- Perdón…um *ahem* Hello Duke, what seems to be the trouble?”

“Oh, I was just looking for his Grace. None of us at the estate had heard from him.” Duke explained, “Have you seen him?”

Victor thought for a moment, “I did see him head to the car lot… oh… how long has it been? Kevin?”

Kevin skidded over with a pile of junk dangling precariously from his hook, “yes boss?” The junk metal slid off his hook and onto the ground.

Victor winced, “I need you to go out to the parking lot and see if you could find sir Robert, if you do, tell him that Duke is looking for him.”

“On it boss!” Kevin shot in reverse towards the exit. A loud, harsh Crash rang out, a few boiler pipes rolled by Victor and Duke. Kevin slowly drove back out, “That was the supply closet. The exit is this way.” He buzzed eagerly out of the works without any further hesitation.

Duke looked back at the destroyed supply closet with much disapproval, “Tsk tsk, that would never suit his grace.”

“Victor!” The Manager stepped out from behind his workbench, “Come over here, take a look at this!”

“Coming!” Victor tooted his whistle, “I’m sorry Duke, I’ll be right back.”

Victor Pulled up next to the Manager’s workstation, the engine’s face was looking better than it initially did, though only by a margin.

“What is it my friend?” Victor asked.

”Look at what I found while cleaning the face,” The Manager showed Victor a plastic cup that was filled with shards of metal, they varied in size from small splinters, to huge chunks of metal.”

“Shrapnel,” The Manager said gravely.

Victor was shocked, “That was in its face!?”

“Yes! It’s face is littered with shrapnel! Just look at the piece I pulled out from the eye sockets!” The manager held up a twisted, jagged piece of metal on a napkin. It had to be at least seven and a half centimeters long at least. Victor cringed at the thought of it penetrating anyone’s eyes.

“Did that take out both of its eyes?” Victor asked.

“No, just the left one, the right one had more smaller ones.” He showed Victor the napkin with several smaller bits of shrapnel.

“What do you think happened to the engine?”

The Manager scratched his chin, “well… something definitely exploded in front of it. Judging by the broken smoke box door hinges and the shrapnel on the inside of the door, perhaps it opened its smoke box door to avoid getting hit directly by the explosion, perhaps to shield itself? Unfortunately, the shrapnel still was able to blind it.

“That does sound likely…”

Kevin sped back in, panting, “I… I just missed him!” He caught his breath, “I saw his car turn out from the parking lot as soon as I got out there!”

Duke puffed up, “Any luck?”

“No, I just missed him.” Kevin frowned.

Duke looked down at his buffers. He slowly wheeshed out steam. He blinked a few times before slowly gazing back up at the steamworks, his frown fell away when he saw the Kerr Stuart on the lift, “Who’s that?”

“That,” Victor turned his attention back to the engine, “is a Kerr Stuart “Joffre” class trench loco. Sir Robert dug it up while he was in France, he wants us to restore it to working order for his rail museum.”

“Kerr Stuart…” Duke stopped mid sentence, “that makes it Stuart’s cousin! I need to tell this to Stuart right away! He would love to hear this!”

“Who’s Stuart?”

“Oh, I mean, Peter Sam.” Duke corrected himself. He tooted his whistle and hurried out of the steamworks, “Thank you Victor and Kevin! Good luck on your restoration project!”

“Goodbye Duke!” Victor whistled back.

”Say hi to the narrow gauge engines for us!” Kevin called back.

——————————————————————————————

The manager worked way into the night trying to get the engine’s face fixed. It was grueling and tedious. Normally, this type of job would only take a few hours, but with the amount of damage and shrapnel, it took him much longer.

Finally, after everyone had gone to bed, he finished on the face, tomorrow he’ll start on the rest of the door and hopefully if everything goes smoothly, they’ll be able to attach the door back on.

The Manager stretched his neck and cleaned up his messy work bench. As he turned to put his tools back, he thought he heard a soft noise.

“Must just be coming from Victor’s television.” He muttered. He tucked his tools back where they belonged and went to clean up the rest of his station. When he came back, he heard the noise again. A tiny short and soft moan coming from the workbench. The Manager’s ears perked up. Could it be?

He rushed back over to where the face laid, he didn’t want to touch it since the caulk hasn’t completely dried in some areas yet, but he could swear he saw a slight twitch in the lips.

The manager held his breath and fumbled for a nearby brush, while also tipping the entire jar holding said brushes over in the process sending them scattering. With shaky hands, he gently brushed over the lips.

The engine’s mouth responded to the sensation. It was a small, barely noticeable twitch, but it was enough.

The Manager laughed and cried with relief, he held the engine’s smokebox door as he let all of his emotions out. That engine was put in the trenches of the western front, get blown up in the face, buried for decades completely forgotten, lose both eyes, and then got dug back up and shipped to the island of Sodor in tatters,

And somehow survive.

Chapter Text

That evening, Duke parked himself in a berth with the rest of the narrow gauge engines that evening. Skarloey and Duncan were already in a deep conversation when Duke arrived.

“For the last time Duncan, Engines can’t get facial piercings! It’s trashy, immature, improper, a potential hazard, and you’ll look ridiculous with one!”

“!!%$#!! You and your stupid opinions!” Duncan wheeshed crossly.

Rheneas perked up when he saw Duke, “Thank goodness you’re here! Can you please knock some sense into Duncan so we can go to bed?”

Duke groaned, “What is it this time?”

“He saw a passenger with a nose and lip piercing and now he wants one.” Peter Sam filled Duke in.

“Personally, I think they looked rather cool.” Duncan remarked.

“That’s enough Duncan!” Duke scolded, “I agree with Rheneas with this one, piercings are just for humans and are trashy on engines. You are not getting one, end of conversation!”

“!!&^%%$!! You too!”

“Duncan!” Sir Handel shouted in exasperation, “the only piercing you’re getting is one through your lips if you don’t shut up!”

“Fine!”

Duke’s driver removed his monocle for the night. Duke let out all of his remaining steam and settled in, he noticed that one spot in the shed was missing, “where’s Rusty?”

“He said that he had to make a run tonight.” Rheneas replied.

Skarloey looked down at his buffers, “strange… I don’t remember Mr. Percival saying anything about a night run…”

“Now that you mention it, it is pretty odd.” Rheneas pondered, “he never mentions where his night trains are going to.”

“Luke was telling me how he saw Rusty one night,” Peter Sam mentioned, “he was up at the lake when Luke spotted him, he blinked and then Rusty was gone! No sign of him! All of the signals were green.”

“He must’ve just lost track of Rusty.” Skarloey figured.

“What about that night when he passed Mighty but not Mac?” Peter Sam recounted, “they told me they were out one night and Rusty passed them in the opposite direction of them but only Mighty saw him. Wouldn’t it make more sense for both of them to see him?”

“He does have a point…” Sir Handel agreed, “anyways! Grandpuff, what are you doing here?”

Duke cleared his throat, “Well, I was up at the works today, and I saw the new engine his Grace had bought for his railway museum.”

Skarloey perked up, “a new engine you say?”

“Yes! He found it while he was in France and is currently working on restoring it. I saw it in the works.”

“What’s its name?” Rheneas asked.

Duke rolled his eyes upwards, “I don’t know… all I was told was that it was a Kerr Stuart “Joffre” class Trench engine.”

Peter Sam Gasped, “I have a cousin on Sodor!?”

“Yes! You’re both made by the same maker!”

Peter Sam puffed back, “I…. I have a cousin….”

“Is something the matter?” Skarloey asked.

“I just…. Oh my goodness! I didn’t think I had any living family outside of Edward Thomas…” he chuckled, “I don’t know what to say! I didn’t know I had cousins! I-...” tears streamed down his face.

“Are you okay?” Sir Handel asked.

Peter Sam squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m just so happy!” he sobbed, “I have a cousin on Sodor! And-... they’re alive!”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up Stu- Peter Sam, I got a look at that engine, it doesn’t look very good.” Duke lowered his eyes.

“What? What’s wrong with it!?” Peter Sam exclaimed.

“I overheard Victor talking to the manager, he said that they found a lot of shrapnel in the engine’s face. I think I heard them saying that its eyes got damaged by the shrapnel and left it blind.”

A collective gasp rippled throughout the shed.

“Blind!?” Rheneas exclaimed.

Duke nodded gravely. The entire shed was shocked.

“How is it going to function if it can’t see?” Sir Handel asked, “if it can’t see where it’s going or the signals, how will it know where it’s going?”

“There’s always the points,” Rheneas reasoned, “the points are already set for it, and maybe the crew could help guide it? The estate loop line isn’t that big, maybe it could still work like a normal engine?”

“But what if there’s something on the line?” Peter Sam asked, “it can’t see it, and our crew has restricted vision from the cab, they can’t see everything that’s going on around them.”

“I guess they’ll have to be extra careful then.” Skarloey figured, he looked down at his buffers, “oh I hope they come up with a solution. I really want the best for this engine…”

“They won’t be given normal work like you lot,” Duke pointed out, “the only job they’ll be doing at the estate is guided passenger tours and maintenance, that should loosen things up a little bit for them.”

The engines nodded in agreement.

Peter Sam was still concerned, “I wish I could help them… I could do double headers with them, show them where they needed to go, be their eyes, you know!”

“I know, but you have your duty here,” Skarloey reminded him, “I’m sure someone will figure something out. They always do in the end.”

Peter Sam lowered his eyes and nodded, “I guess so…”

“I’m more worried about the fact that they are a Trench engine.” Duke commented, “remember the last one we had? Back on the mid-sodor?”

“I remember you telling us about him,” Sir Handel recounted, “you said that he used to derail a lot because of his build.”

“Hm, Trench engines are more prone to derailing than other engines.” Duke added, “I’m concerned that they’ll pull a Smudger and keep derailing with passengers. Where our job is primarily passengers, they might pose too much of a liability to have.”

Peter Sam gazed down at his buffers with worry, “What would happen then? If they can’t stay on the track and are too much of a liability, what would the earl do with them?”

“Probably just have them as a static display.” Duke suggested grimly.

“Well…” Sir handel gazed down at his buffers, “definitely a better option than being converted into a generator…”

“Hm, at least they’ll be in an air conditioned building, and will have other engines to talk to,” Rheneas figured with a sad tone.

“And children who would visit them.” Skarloey added.

“And children,”

Skarloey continued in a low and somewhat optimistic tone, “and they could rest whenever they want, and not have to worry about time tables, or their disability affecting them, and the building will be heated in the winter, and they would have curators…” he sighed and looked down at his buffers.

“Yeah… not exactly any better than being turned into a generator.” Peter Sam grimaced.

“Hm.”

“What do you think their name is?” Peter Sam asked.

Duke gazed up at the sky, “I don’t know. Once they wake up, they’ll tell us. I can’t imagine them going without one.”

Peter Sam gazed back up at the night sky, “hm, let’s pray to Lady that they will wake up.”

“Good idea,” Skarloey agreed, “let’s do that.”

With that, the engines closed their eyes and Peter Sam said a little prayer.

“Our Dear Lady in the sky, please may our prayers be received. There’s an engine being restored in our works that is asleep, please help them wake up again and that they will be able to be very useful again. Amen.”

And with that, the engines fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Weeks went by as the workmen continued to work on the engine. By now the Smokebox door was ready to be reattached.The face was looking much better than before, the eye sockets were lined with putty to allow a pair of glass eyes to be fitted later on. The cracks were all filled in, and the face was cleaned and airbrushed with a layer of gray paint.

The Manager held up the face, “well Victor, what do you think?”

The engine’s face looked less scrunched up and in pain, and more peaceful, almost like it was asleep. One could tell where the caulking was if they squinted hard enough, but other than a slight discoloration in the face, it was barely noticeable unless one knew to look for it. Overall the entire face looked very young, a bit too young.

“It looks great!” Victor smiled.

“I did have to manipulate the face a lot.” the Manager crossed his arms, “it was so scrunched up and tight that I was worried about it looking like a basset hound when I got done.”

Victor chuckled, “You did a great job my friend. When do you think we can put the face back on?”

The manager looked back at the engine, “Probably today, I’ll get the crew together, and we’ll do a briefing. The sooner we can revive the engine, the better.”

“Good idea, I’ll go tell Kevin.” Victor puffed off to find Kevin.

It didn’t take long to find Kevin, he was helping some of the workers lift a freshly milled part up into the engine.

“Oh! Hi boss!” Kevin greeted happily, “we got good news! Remember when we sent that letter out looking if someone had any original blueprints for a “Joffre”? Well a transportation museum reached out and said that they might have some photographs and blueprints of one! She’s going to ship them to us as soon as she finds them. She knows she has them, but she has like, five storage units and an entire warehouse to look through. It might take a while.”

“That’s great news! We’re also all ready to place the face back on.” Victor said with excitement.

Kevin gasped, “already? Wow, they certainly got that done fast.”

“Indeed they did, when you get done, I’m going to brief you on what your role is. Alright?”

“Got it boss!”

Kevin and the workers finished their task up and quickly joined the manager and Victor, the smokebox door laid on a pallet with some straps nearby.

“Alright Kevin,” Victor explained, “we’re going to put some straps on the smokebox door, and your job is to hoist it into place, you’ll need to make sure it’s lined up right, and be careful, the manager worked hard to fix up the face.”

“Hoist the smokebox door up, get it lined up, don’t drop it. Understood boss!” Kevin grinned eagerly.

“Okay!” the manager clapped his hands together, “lower the engine back onto the tracks!”

For the first time since 1916, the little trench engine was placed onto the tracks. The workmen set up a scaffold around the front of the engine, because of how small the engine was, they didn’t really need to build that big of a scaffold, just something they could set their tools on and give them the extra height.
The workers hooked the straps up to the smokebox door, and to Kevin’s hook. On command, Kevin lifted the smokebox door up, Victor and the manager guided him.

“Keep coming this way!” The Manager walked back to the engine, gesturing for Kevin in the right direction.

Kevin clenched his jaw and focused, “okay, think like boxes, follow the manager, and keep the hook steady.”

“You’re doing great my friend!” Victor encouraged.

Kevin kept his focus on his task, he followed the manager until they were in front of the engine.

“Okay annnd…. stop! Perfect! Don’t move!” The Manager held out his hands.

Kevin gulped and stayed as still as possible, he watched the smokebox door dangle from his hook, one slip of the hook and they’ll have to scrape the face off of the workshop floor.

“Deep breath Kevin, you’re doing great!” Victor encouraged, “Just remember, focus on the now and what needs to be done.”

“Oh yeah! Right! Um… I need to stay put, and hold this door, while the workmen attach it onto the smokebox.” Kevin listed off.

“Excellent my friend.” Victor smiled, “try your best to not overthink it.”

Kevin grinned, the manager called out to him, “alright Kevin, we’re ready. Lift the face up slowly, and stop when I tell you to. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Okay! Start lifting slowly.”

Kevin concentrated hard on his movements, slowly but surely, he lifted the smokebox door up as directed by the manager.

“Keep coming, keep going, stop! Move back down a tiny bit, okay, that’s good, now see if you can move it slightly towards me. Whoa! Stop! Back up! Perfect!”

Kevin sighed in relief, he held it there while the Workers attached it back on. Once all the bolts and hinges were tightened. The manager latched the door back into place with a satisfying Klunk! The moment finally had come, the engine can now finally wake up from its slumber.

“Everyone, please step back and give plenty of space for the engine.” Victor called out, he wiggled his glasses back into place, “if we could shut off a few machines and the blower and try and make the place as quiet as possible, that would be great. We want to make this as stress free as possible, I want to make sure that the engine does not panic when it wakes it. They will be disoriented, so let me take care of them. From this point until I say so, no one talks to the engine. Understood?”

“Understood!”

A worker hit the kill switch, shutting all machinery down, the blowers were turned off too. The workers and Kevin decided to use the opportunity to take a break, Victor had made it clear that from that point onwards, it was just going to be him, and the engine.

Now, most workshops don’t do this when an engine comes to life, usually, they get shunted to a different spot until they wake up on their own. What made this instance differ from the workshops was that for one, Croven’s Gate steamworks is much smaller than an industrial scale workshop, and two, the circumstances to which the engine is waking up to. They had been buried for decades in a cow pasture in France, and are now going to be waking up in a different era, a strange, unfamiliar place, and blind.

Victor waited patiently in front of the engine, his driver dampened his fire and went on a lunch break. He watched the clock carefully, taking note of the time. He wanted the engine to wake up so badly, to show some sort of sign of life. With each second that passed, the chances of the engine waking up seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

The engine in front of Victor looked defeated. Like an ancient warrior who went through a century of turmoil and strife that over time, slowly whittled their spirit down to nothing. They say that the human spirit is unbreakable, but Victor knew that over time, things developed fatigue cracks that will only grow overtime. He could see the fatigue cracks on this engine’s soul already. He knew that with cracks like that, no amount of welding and caulk could seal them. Victor had the feeling that this engine was going to need more than a few parts fixed and a paint job.

Victor almost missed the slight twitch in the engine’s face. Victor rushed to clock the time and count the seconds in between each movement. 120 seconds, another slight twitch, 134 seconds in between the second and third twitch, then another 116 seconds.

Victor held his breath and watched without blinking as eventually more movement in between shorter intervals came. First it was the cheeks, then the lips, then the mouth, the forehead, and the eyelids, until finally, after 3 hours, 17 minutes, and 44 seconds. The engine finally cracked its eyes open.

The eyes closed back for a brief second, Victor couldn’t help but cry with happiness at this! He felt like his pressure valve was fully open, the engine was alive! They are going to be okay! Finally, the engine inhaled deeply and blinked open its eyes, or more correctly, its eye sockets.

Just like Victor predicted, its face turned into a blind panic as it opened its mouth, and tried to scream, but only a raspy gurgling sound came out.

Chapter Text

The Engine kept on trying to scream, but no real sound came out other than throaty, choking noises, almost like something was caught in its throat. The poor engine was scared out of their wits, their frame shook, their face turned bleach white, and they tried to move but with no steam or the coupling rods to do so, they remained stuck in place. The best way to describe it was if Victor was watching someone’s nightmare unfold, where the person needs to run and scream, but their leg or mouth won’t cooperate.

“It’s okay my friend, you’re safe now, you are on the island of Sodor in the UK, you are in their workshop getting fixed up, no one is going to hurt you.” Victor soothed, “I promise, we are just here to help you.”

The Engine recoiled back away from Victor, they squeezed their eyes shut, their mouth moved like a goldfish, they clenched their jaw and shook.

“Driver?” Victor called over, “could you back me up a bit so the engine could have some space?”

Victor’s driver did what he was asked, now that the engine had some more breathing space, hopefully, they will be able to relax a bit.

“Can you hear me?” Victor asked in a quiet tone, “you don’t have to talk, just blink twice so I know you can hear me.”

“...gkkrh….” the engine choked, still in a panic.

“Okay, I need you to take a big deep breath for me, alright? In through your mouth, and hold it.” Victor instructed.

The engine hyperventilated, they croaked and sputtered as they tried to form the words. Their mouth twisting, trying to get it to cooperate. Finally, they got it to form some resemblance of work.

“Grhk!... Ghhk!.. Ghokk!.. Grhhhgrgr… phrr.. Thhff.. Thff.. thf…ah, ah, thfah… th-th-…”

“That’s it, you’re almost there.” Victor encouraged, “take another big deep breath.”

The Engine swallowed a mouthful of air, they licked their lips and opened their mouth.

“M… mmh… mhp.. MY EYES!!” They screamed, “I CAN’T SEE!! I CAN’T SEE!! MY EYES ARE GONE!! SOMEONE HELP ME!! THEY TOOK MY EYES!! THEY TOOK MY EYE!! ANYONE PLEASE!! HELP!”

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Just calm down,” Victor instructed.

“ANYBODY!! PLEASE!! HELP US!! WE’RE UNDER FIRE!! PLEASE!! GET US OUT OF HERE!! SERGEANT PLEASE! WHERE ARE YOU?! ” The engine grunted as they tried to move, “!!&%$#!! !!%$#!! AAAAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Relax, you’re alright, you were just injured and we’re here to fix you up. You’re safe, listen,” Victor soothed, “no gunfire, no fighting, it’s nice and quiet.”

The engine snapped towards Victor, “W-WHO ARE YOU!? WH-WHERE ARE YOU-WHAT- ARE YOU HERE TO INTERROGATE ME?! ARE YOU ONE OF THE GERMANS!? YOU’RE ACCENT DOESN’T SOUND GERMAN, A-ARE YOU FRENCH? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME!? I’M HIDING NOTHING! I JUST HAVE WOUNDED SOLDIERS ON ME! I SWEAR I KNOW NOTHING!! DON’T TAKE ME APART!! PLEASE!!”

“It’s okay! I’m not here to hurt you!” Victor replied.

The engine snapped back angrily, “LIAR! LIAR, LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!! ALL OF YOU!! LIARS!”

Victor stepped back to think for a moment, hearing this broke his heart, he wanted to cry for the engine, but he knew he had to stay calm and level headed.

“Alright,” Victor said, “what can I do to prove to you that I am not lying?”

The engine stopped and thought frantically, “I- I don’t know! Anything! Just let me go!” their voice cracked, “I just want to go home!!” tears ran down from their eye sockets, they squeezed their eye sockets shut tight, “Just get on with the interrogation…”

Victor raised an eyebrow, “alright then… Let’s start from the beginning. Hello, my name is Victor, I am the engine directly in front of you, I work here at the steamworks here on the Island of Sodor in the UK with my crane assistant, Kevin. What is your name?”

“I am No. 2456. I am a Kerr Stuart Joffre class 0-6-0t trench engine.” no. 2456’s voice wavered.

Victor smiled, “okay, good, so, 2456, what was the last thing you remember?”

“I am No. 2456. I am a Kerr Stuart Joffre Class 0-6-0t trench engine.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, “Okay… um, do you remember what happened to you before you woke up?”

No. 2456 gulped, “I am no. 2456. I am a Kerr Stuart Joffre class 0-6-0t trench engine.”

They ready did think that they were being interrogated. Victor thought for a moment, “You don’t need to say that, I just want to know what you remember before you woke up.”

“I am No. 2456. I am a Kerr Stuart joffre class 0-6-0t trench engine. And if you think I am going to tell you anything other than that, then you are wrong!”

Victor pursed his lips together unsure of what else he was supposed to say. He could only feel sorry for the poor engine, they thought they were still in World War One. Victor really didn’t know what else he was supposed to say other than explain the situation to no. 2456.

“Alright, we won’t press you with any more questions, I’ll just explain the situation to you.” Victor took a deep breath, “I’m sorry to inform you this, but you were in a coma.”

“A Coma?”

“Yes,” Victor sighed, closing his eyes. He hesitated for a moment as he put his thoughts together, “But, you are at a safe place, you are on the island of Sodor in the UK. you were purchased by a wonderful man who has a lot of new and exciting jobs lined up for you to do. You are just here at the steam works to be fixed back up to working order, okay?”

No. 2456 snapped back angrily, “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”

“What? What’s wrong? We’re just going to mend you back up to working order-”

“DON’T COME NEAR ME!!”

Victor stayed in his spot, “I’m not moving.”

“I SAID DON’T COME NEAR ME!! I’LL !!%$#!! KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU ALL IF YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON ME!! ALL OF YOU!” No. 2456 snarled.

No. 2456 screamed and snarled. Victor looked back at the men, they all stood in the corner looking confused and afraid. Victor called over to them.

“Everyone, briefing, now. Outside of the building.”

Everyone obeyed and followed Victor out of the building, they convened at the side of the building.

“How is it Victor?” the Manager asked.

Victor sighed, “Not good sir. I tried talking to them, but they don’t trust me at all. I was able to get a number, no. 2456.”

“No. 2456.” the manager repeated back, “any name?”

“Not that I can gather so far.” Victor replied.

The manager scratched his chin, “I hope they have a name.”

“Unfortunately, they freaked out and are threatening to hurt me, and others.” Victor listened, he could still hear No. 2456’s pained cries from inside, “they can’t move but I am worried that in the mental state they are in, they might hurt someone or themselves. They’re probably in shock right now.”

“So what are you saying?” the manager asked.

“I’m thinking we should back off for the day and give them some time to process everything, explain to them what happened, catch them up on the last century, and go from there with the restoration. ” Victor suggested.

“How long would that take?” the manager asked.

Victor chewed his lip and gazed up at the sky, “It really depends, mentally, they aren’t doing well and have clearly just gone through a traumatic experience, it might take a day, week, month. It really depends on them and how well they heal.”

The manager sighed and shook his head, “Victor, I know you want the best for this engine, but we can’t keep No. 2456 in the works for that long. They’ll take up space for other engines that need the space, and our time and resources that could be used elsewhere. I think we should continue the restoration project as planned.”

“With that mental state? I think not!” Victor argued back, “as they stand, I think further work on restoring No. 2456 should cease until they are ready, or else it might cause them more distress making the healing process even harder.”

“Victor, we’ve been commissioned to restore No. 2456! The longer we hold them, the more our client will have to pay! We have to continue the work! It’ll cost us even more!”

“Which will only result in them fighting back when we try to work on them, resulting in them hurting themselves and causing more damage to themselves, and more money having to go into repairs!”

“Victor! No! We don’t have the space to keep an engine here for that long! Delays cost us money! If we don’t keep to the schedule, we’ll lose money that would go to the restoration project resulting in more delay and less work done on them! We have to keep going!”

“At least give them a day to recover!” Victor argued, “they just woke up blind and disoriented, they’ve threatened us, they distrust us. Give them the rest of the day to rest, and I’ll see if I could build some sort of trust with them.”

The manager opened his mouth, Victor cut him off, “How do you expect any work to get done on them if they don’t trust us?”

The manager closed his mouth, he turned around and thought about this for a moment, and then turned back to Victor.

“You’re right.” He said in defeat, “You win this time. We’ll cease work on restoring No. 2456 for today and come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds about right to me.” Victor agreed.

“Everybody, let’s pack it up and move on to another project for the day.” the manager commanded, “Let’s give No. 2456 some rest.”

Victor smiled to himself. Kevin buzzed over, “you did a great job there boss.”

“Thank you Kevin.”

Kevin listened to the pained sobbing coming from No. 2456, they were filled with unspeakable amounts of sorrow and grief.

“How do you plan on gaining trust with them?” Kevin asked quietly.

Victor sighed, “I don’t know Kevin, I really don’t know.”

Chapter Text

[Chapter Seven]

The darkness was never peaceful for No. 2456. Night time was both the business and dangerous for the soldiers. It was the only time the men could come out of their trenches and venture into no-man’s land, and the only time trench engines like No. 2456 could run without being spotted by enemy soldiers.

Though they were only a few months old, No. 2456 understood the routine: stay in the makeshift sheds during the day and stay quiet, and then come out either at night, or when it’s foggy and pray that the smoke doesn’t catch the eye of enemy aircraft, collect the wagons of supplies, go into the trenches and deliver the supplies and move the troops around. And whatever you do, don’t get attached to any of the soldiers, or so that’s what Péchot-Bourdon taught them.

No. 2456 respected the Fairlie twins, they were the first loco they’ve met and have been around for two years now. Péchot was level headed, collected, and was up to date on everything happening during the war, he was the strategist between the two and knew how to get out of just about any situation. Bourdon was brave, calm, and cool. He was more than willing to take No. 2456 under their wing and show them the rules of the trench, never whistle for more than three seconds, keep your lips tight and never talk about military stuff as there could be spies, obey your superior, watch out for unexploded munitions, be mindful of how many sparks you are producing when handling munitions, and most importantly, when taking on bad water and bad coal, close your eyes and hold your breath and pretend that you are dining with King George V.

No. 2456 wasn’t exactly feeling that well that evening. For the last few days, their driver had to siphon water from flooded shell holes to refill their tanks. It was filled with mud, blood, and who knows what else. No. 2456 didn’t mention it to anyone, they knew that if they were to flush out their system, it would take too much time, besides, they knew they weren’t going to last that long anyways, so why bother?

They felt a tiny bit better when their fire was lit. They left their shed and found Péchot-Bourdon taking on coal and talking amongst each other.

“Haven’t you heard what happened in Mecca recently?” Péchot said, “there’s been talks about an Arab independence if the revolt against the Ottoman empire goes well.”

“Really?” Bourdon remarked.

“Yes! I’ve heard that the Arab Rebels are looking to establish independence and unify the Arab states. And listen to this, the British government even wrote a letter back to them saying that they will recognize it too!”

“Do you think the rebels will stand a chance?” Bourdon asked, “you know what happened at Gallipoli last year when our Troops landed on those shores, that whole front has been nothing but a mess.”

“Yes, but I’m sure that once the British get involved and back the rebels, the Ottomans will not stand a chance. The rebels already have taken four cities from the Ottomans back in May, so they should be fairly successful, afterall, they’re being backed by British Money.”

No. 2456 slipped quietly on the track next to them, “good morning you two.”

“Ah! Good morning No. 2456! You are not going to believe what happened last night!” Péchot smiled, “I heard that some of the boys in the trench snuck out last night, and stole four whole chickens from a nearby farm. Marvelous, I say. I’ve never seen a whole cooked chicken get picked apart so quickly. They ate every last bit of them, bones, giblets, and everything. Left nothing but the feathers.

“I’ll say,” Bourdon remarked, “the poor lads must’ve thought it was manna from heaven, the only real meat they’ve been able to get is from rats. I don’t know why those creatures were made, they serve no real purpose other than to wreak havoc. I woke up to one of those filthy creatures licking the moisture from my eye, the critter didn't leave no matter how much I yelled at it.

“Are they that bad?” No. 2456 asked, shuddering.

“Absolutely! They’re everywhere! The only thing you can do is have your driver kill them with the shovel. If you see one on the tracks, by all means run over it!” Bourdon instructed.

“I heard that one of the officers brought a pair of terriers with him, he hoped that the dogs would kill the rats. The dogs went missing for a week straight and their skeletons were found under the officer’s bed, picked clean by the rats.” Péchot described.

“But you should be fine.” Bourdon said to No. 2456, “the rats won’t eat us alive. They also make for good fuel. Especially the fat ones.”

“Why would you say that to them?” Péchot scolded.

“I was thinking if they got tired of the bad coal we’ve been given, we might as well start looking for alternate fuel sources.”

“I don’t think I’m that desperate.” Péchot chuckled lightly.

Péchot-Bourdon blew their whistles and went off to fetch their wagons leaving No. 2456 by themselves. They wanted to go with Péchot-Bourdon so badly, being around them made them feel safe.

No. 2456 went ahead and fetched their wagons, they were to go and pick up a supply train and any wounded soldier they came across. No. 2456 used to hate doing that job, they hated seeing the dying men with their limbs blasted off and guts pouring from their stomachs. By the time they get to the field hospital, most of them have died.

Now they don’t care whatsoever. It was weird, they couldn’t describe it. They often find themselves just going through the motions of picking up dead or injured soldiers not even thinking about it. Orders are orders, Who is No. 2456 to question them? They were built for this work, and they were going to do it just like any other engine. Express engines pull express trains, heavy goods engines pull heavy goods trains, trams run on tram lines, shunters shunt, and trench engines work in trenches.

No. 2456 trundled down the rough line, they could hear the cracks and pops from guns in the distance, and the occasional flash from artillery shells exploding. If they listened closely, they might hear the odd soldier singing from somewhere.

“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go, it’s a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know!”

No. 2456 reached the transfer yard where a Standard Gauge engine was waiting for them, they gave a polite whistle. No. 2456 whistled back. They wondered about the standard gauge engines, what kind of work did they do when they’re not delivering supplies to the front? No. 2456 liked to imagine themselves as a standard gauge engine, they dreamed that the standard gauge they saw were in their place, No. 2456 imagined having a bunker full of good coal, shiny paint, and a new brass whistle. Though admittedly, No. 2456 struggled to imagine such a life, up to this point, all they knew of was war and death.

The soldiers finished loading up No. 2456’s wagons with burlap bags, barbed wire, and other supplies. Before they left,they were coupled up to a crane and were sent along their way.

As soon as they went back into the trenches, No. 2456 could help but feel a strong hatred towards humans. They were responsible for No. 2456’s existence, if it weren’t for humans, No. 2456 wouldn’t even be here. Whenever they looked at a human all they could feel was hatred, hate, hate, hate, no number of words could express No. 2456’s sheer hatred for them. They wanted them all dead, if they all died, then No. 2456 would be free at last. However, No. 2456 knew that was impossible, as soon as one human died, another human replaced them. They were indispensable, just like No. 2456. They knew if they died they would be replaced, no funeral, no memorial, they would be left there to rot.

They stopped to drop off their supplies. The soldiers were immediately ordered to get to work digging a new trench. They graded their shovels and climbed over the walls and into no-man’s land. No. 2456 had to wait until they got done before moving on.

A French officer walked by them carefully lighting his cigarette. He noticed no. 2456 staring at their cigarette curiously.

“Would you like one?” the officer offered.

No. 2456 never had a cigarette before, they nodded with their eyes. The officer placed one in their mouth and lit it.

“You have to suck in the smoke like this.” The officer showed them, he took a long breath through his cigarette, then took it out of his mouth and exhaled a long puff of smoke.

No. 2456 did the same to the best of their ability, they felt their anger and frustrations slip away. The taste of the tobacco smoke was delicious, probably the best thing they’ve ever had. the tobacco juice dribbled down their throat and coated their teeth, they nibbled at the end of their cigarette getting a good taste of the tobacco. They never felt so at peace in a long time, they watched the tobacco smoke dissipate into the night, they watched each curl and fold. They should do this more often.

Their peace was shattered when gunfire rang out, men screamed as bullets hit them, No. 2456 felt a warm, sticky liquid splatter onto their funnel.

“We’re under fire! Everyone! Get back!” the officer shouted.

Soldiers scrambled back into the trench like stampeding pigs. German soldiers charged towards the trench. Men shouted, guns fired, No. 2456 squeezed their eyes shut as the raid began. It sounded like someone covered their head with a huge metal pot, and pounded on it. A few bullets hit No. 2456 in the side. They winced.

“Move down the line! Let the others know that we are under attack!” the officer shouted.

“Yes sir!” No. 2456 started puffing away. As they did so, they heard a gunshot, and the officer gasp before falling to the ground. No. 2456 didn’t look back.

Bodies quickly piled up around the tracks in front of No. 2456. It was too dark for them to see them, but they could feel them getting crushed under their wheels while they hurried down the line. Some were still moaning and begging to be put out of their misery.

More bullets rained down onto No. 2456, dirt and blood sprayed in their faces. But yet they felt strangely calm, numb mostly. The first time they saw an attack like this, they froze up, they wanted to run, they screamed and cried for someone to help them, but their cries were lost over the deafening sound of dying men and gunshots. Even afterwards, all they could do was scream and cry. They didn’t sleep for weeks afterwards. Péchot-Bourdon told them afterwards that would happen.

Now they barely showed any emotion to it, they just kept their head down and tried to stay alive. They hurried down the tracks trying to avoid gunfire. They felt the weight of the attack mounting and mounting, slowly crushing them. Months of this came back to pig pile on top of them, they felt like they were being crushed, day after day after day of mud, blood, death, bullets, artillery, darkness, guts, bad water and coal. Every day, every single friggin’ day of their life.

Just then, a loud explosion from an artillery shell brought No. 2456 back to reality. They hurried to find where it landed. After a while of navigating the maze of trenches and tight curves, they found it.

Where was once a trench was now a giant smoldering crater of death. Inside of it was Péchot-Bourdon. To No. 2456’s horror, the shell had knocked them off the rails and severed them apart. What remained of their cab was a burning wreck. Péchot’s boiler was split right open, tubes poured out from his side, he looked like an imploded tin can, he lay on his side with his face buried in mud with brown water trickling out from his mouth and his eyes fixed up at the sky. Bourdon laid not too far away on his side engulfed with fire.

“Péchot!! Brother!! Where are you!?” Bourdon screamed, “Please!! Where are you!? It’s hot! It’s hot!! Brother Help me!!”

The fire quickly engulfed Bourdon’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut and screeched louder.

“Péchot!! Péchot!! Don’t leave me, I need you!! Brother I can’t breathe! C’EST CHAUD! C’EST CHAUD! C’EST CHAUD!!”

Bourdon let out an unholy screech, No. 2456 listened to it fade into the loud roars of the fire. Péchot-Bourdon were gone.

No. 2456 watched the flames, they were little demons who came to take away Péchot-Bourdon. Silly little demons, that’s all they were, just monsters, monsters who love to torment others. Pain, that was all that No. 2456 felt. They were no longer numb, the pain from their bullet holes broke through the wall of numbness. Finally! No. 2456 could finally feel something! Pain. and it was beautiful, the sharp stabbing of bullets penetrating into their tanks, their heart smashing into pieces, it all felt so good! They wanted it to last!

Their shell shocked expression curled into a smile. Something they haven’t done in ages. Then the sound of laughter erupted from them. They couldn’t help it, the months of misery finally made them snap. They continued to laugh through the pain. Their life was nothing but a huge sick and twisted joke. Life was nothing but a joke, a cruel joke. They hurt so much, the pains, the trauma, the stress, the lack of sleep, all of it accumulated into unspeakable pain and torture.

And yet, they finally somehow felt alive.

Chapter Text

Victor couldn’t sleep that night. No. 2456 had cried and screamed all day until eventually, they fell silent. It was haunting to see them. They were so still, their face looked like a skull with how sunken in their face is coupled with their empty eye sockets. The only way to describe them was detached from this plane of existence. They were breathing, Victor could hear their shuddering breath once in a while.

A while ago, one of the workers made a little mouth held device for Victor. It was just a long wooden towel with a plastic fork taped at the end, Victor used it to turn the pages in his books. It was really simple, before the workmen left, his driver would place a music stand with a book on it in front of Victor, and he would read it. Most of his books were second hand textbooks on psychology and engineering.

Tonight, Victor had chosen a book on clinical Psychology, he hoped he could find something that would help in his case, if No. 2456 is going to have a fair chance at the museum, then they need to work through their issues, but in order for them to do that, Victor needs to understand what’s going on in their head first, and that requires some form of trust.

But how? They wanted nothing to do with Victor, as far as they are concerned, Victor is the enemy.

Victor sighed and took a break from his reading. He gazed up at the small TV, it was playing some old black and white romance film at a volume that was just low enough to provide white noise and not disturb anyone’s sleep.

Victor watched the movie for a while, he didn’t understand what was going on fully, just that a woman was in love with a man but they couldn’t be together. It was cheesy, but Victor didn’t care, it was just background noise. There was something about human romance that fascinated him, sure he read the textbooks that described the technicalities behind romantic and sexual feelings, but still, he didn’t understand it. There was just something he felt was different between Human romance and Engine romance, just a little observation, he didn’t know what that was though.

Has Victor been in love before? He thought back to his days in Cuba, they were hazy, he couldn’t remember, if he did it was probably just a passing feeling. Strange, he could remember the face of an engine he worked with on the plantation, but not their name or number. Had it really been that long ago?

“Victor?” Kevin mumbled groggily, “Are you awake?”

Victor sighed, “Yes my friend.”

Kevin gazed at his friend worriedly, “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh just thinking.” He replied simply.

“It’s about No. 2456, isn’t it…” Kevin gazed down at the shop floor.

Victor nodded, “I guess so.” he gazed solemnly out in the dimmed workshop, “I’m wondering if I’m taking on too much when I said I’ll help them.”

“Biting off more than you can chew?”

“That’s the expression, yes.”

Kevin smiled reassuringly, “You know you don’t always have to take on these big jobs. If you can’t help No. 2456 then that’s ok, the Earl might be able to hire a professional therapist. They have way more years than you do, they went to school and got a degree, they might be more qualified than you. Not to say that you’re a bad therapist, you’re a great therapist in fact! Remember when Oliver started having nightmares and stopped sleeping for a whole month? Or when James had an anxiety attack after getting a scratch on his paintwork? Or what about when you helped Duncan control his anger better? I don’t know how you did it, but you pretty much cured them!”

“It’s not that I feel like I need to do this extra work, I do it because I want to.” Victor said.

“You want to do these huge tasks?” Kevin raised an eyebrow, “No offense boss, but why?”

Victor closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, “It started a few months ago, I was doing my usual work around the steamworks and I just felt bored. I love my work, I love working here with you, the workmen, the manager, I really don’t see myself working anywhere else really!” he laughed, “in fact, I had so much to do that day, so it wasn’t like I had nothing to do.”

“Then, why were you bored?” Kevin asked.

“I just simply didn’t feel challenged.” Victor responded, “We’re a small steamworks, we do small repairs and inspections, and the occasional overhaul and restoration, but it doesn’t feel satisfying anymore. Everything we do here is just routine for me. I feel like I’ve just learned just about everything there is to running a workshop and repairing engines. I just feel like I crave more.”

“So that’s why you’ve started reading those Calculus textbooks.” Kevin muttered.

Victor closed his eyes, “it is, I was hoping it would at least give me a bit of a challenge, doing the math problems in my head.”

“Did it work?”

Victor sighed, “For a while, yes. After a while though, I would do an entire page of problems under twenty minutes and get them all right, the challenge of it wore off and I was back to being bored again. It just seems like every time I find something challenging it becomes boring very quickly.”

Kevin frowned, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I felt the same for a while too.”

Victor perked up, “Really? Tell me?”

Kevin sighed, “well, it’s just like you described, I was feeling bored of my job too. I also may or may not have borrowed your Algebra textbook to read.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Is that so?” Victor asked, “In that case, what is 56% of 45 over 67?”

“0.376096, round it up to the nearest hundredth is 0.38.”

“Wow. you’re amazing.” Victor uttered in astonishment.

Kevin smiled smugly, “I can also recite 47 digits of Pi.”

“That,” Victor remarked, “now that is better than me. I only remember the first three numbers.” he turned back to the subject, “How did you get over your feelings of boredom?”

Kevin gazed up at the ceiling, “well, I was asked to go down to the docks and help out there. It was different! It was the same thing as I always do, but it was still different. I sorted out boxes, organized shipments, fell off the dock and into the water and needed Cranky to rescue me from almost drowning. I had a great time. Maybe what you need is just a little change of job and scenery, maybe ask if you could work on the Skarloey railway for a day.”

“I don’t think I should though…” Victor mumbled.

“Just take it in consideration maybe, they’re always looking for help there.” Kevin suggested.

Victor chewed on his lip, “I’ll think about it. I don’t know how well I can do with passengers.” his attention turned back to No. 2456, “Right now I just want to focus on the job at hand. We need to build some sort of trust with No.2456 before we can help them.”

“We could try and befriend them,” Kevin suggested.

Victor agreed, “that might be the best way. But how?”

“Well, we usually just introduce ourselves and ask the engine what their problem is and they explain it.” Kevin thought out loud.

“Hm, I’m afraid that’s not going to work.” Victor replied thinking hard, “they made it very clear that they don’t want us touching them. We need a new approach.”

“We need someone who’s really good at making friends.”
“Good idea, we need an engine who’s kind and friendly who knows more about making friends than we do. Someone with more experience and gets along with everyone.”

Victor and Kevin thought hard about this, then it dawned on them simultaneously.

“Edward!”

Chapter Text

Edward liked waking up before his shed mates. Seeing them all sleeping peacefully with a layer of dew on their faces, and their breath steaming in the air with their noses tinted pink. Boco was nestled on one side of the Wellsworth shed in a dead sleep while Phillip was on the other contorting his face in his sleep.

Edward was relieved to see Phillip asleep. Last night, Phillip suddenly got a burst of energy and was doing laps around the shunting yard for hours, with his driver looking like an exhausted parent of a hyperactive toddler on caffeine the whole time. Edward and Boco were thankfully able to get the boxcab to settle down for the night. If it weren’t for Edward and Boco, Phillip would be up all night.

Edward’s crew came in to start the day. Edward smiled at them and they quietly started his fire, while they waited for his steam to build, they talked quietly.

“How did you sleep, old boy?” His fireman asked quietly.

“I slept okay, I wish I could say the same for Phillip.” Edward replied, “the poor engine is going to be exhausted today.”

“Did you stick to the night time routine?” his driver asked.

“We did, but I think that sleepover with Toby last week messed up his routine.” Edward said, “I’m going to have to talk to Toby about his way of getting hyperactive engines to sleep.”

“And tell me, how does ol’ Toby get hyperactive engines to sleep?” his fireman asked.

“Let them run up and down the line until they eventually wear themselves out while he sleeps.” Edward answered dryly.

His driver patted Edward on the buffers, “Just keep at it old boy. You’re doing great.”

Edward smiled wearily at his driver while he slipped on Edward’s bifocals. just then, his driver’s cell phone rang. He stepped outside to answer it, he talked for a bit before stepping back in with his hand over the phone.

“It’s for you Edward.” His driver said.

“Me?”

“It’s Victor from the works, he wants to talk to you.” his driver held up the cell phone for Edward. Edward squinted hard at it.

“How do I…?

“Just talk right into it.”

Edward shouted into the phone, “Hello!? Vic- Victor?! Hello?”

On the other end of the call, the manager had to hold the phone a considerable distance away from everyone’s ears.

“Edward? Are you there?” Victor replied.

“He- Hello?” Edward shouted into the phone, he tooted his whistle, “Can you hear me? Hello?”

“Edward? Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Hello? Hello?”

“No need to shout Eddie!” the Driver said, “He can hear you just fine.”

“Oh,” Edward lowered his voice, “I apologize Victor, I’m not quite used to these modern newfangled…. Telephones. They’re quite nonsensical in a way. I don’t think I’ll ever understand them!” he chuckled heartily.

“I for one think they’re cool!” Kevin chimed in, “Being able to talk to anyone at any time anywhere.”

Edward smiled, “I know! They’re pretty clever little devices if I say so myself! Now, please tell me, what did you want to talk about with me? It must be serious if you need to call my driver.”

Victor sighed heavily into the phone, “well… it is, we really need your advice-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, can you hold that thought for a moment?” Edward quickly turned his attention away from the phone, “WILLIAM AND BENJAMIN THE CHINA CLAY PIT’S BAGNALL 0-4-0 SADDLE TANKS! PUT THAT BREAKVAN RIGHT BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM! NOW!”

Bill and Ben, who were sneaking through the yards with a sleeping Breakvan, huffed and reluctantly shunted it right back in its siding.

“Of course dad was going to catch us…” Bill grumbled.

“I told you we should’ve used that ballast wagon instead....” Ben growled.

Edward watched the twins like a hawk as they shunted the break van right back where they found it, and scuttled right back to the clay pits.

Edward turned back to Victor, “I’m sorry, the twins were about to pull a prank. Please, what were you saying?”

Victor continued, “The Earl just excavated a new engine for his museum. It came from France, we need your help on this.”

“Really?”

“Yes my friend, it’s a Kerr Stuart Joffre class trench loco. The Earl wants us to restore them back to working order. They’re in really bad shape, we had to remove their eyes and they just woke up yesterday.”

Edward scrunched up his forehead, “ “They”?, do you mean both the Earl and the engine are in bad shape? Who’s they?”

“The Engine.” Victor explained, “We don’t know exactly what their gender is, and calling them an “it” didn’t really feel right. Their names as far as we know is No. 2456.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Edward replied, “so what do you need me to do to help it-uh.. Him-... them, yes. What do you want me to do to help them?”

“They’re terrified out of their mind.” Victor said in a sad voice, “they’re stuck in the past. World War One to be exact. They don’t know that they are in the present day yet, and they made it clear that they want nothing to do with us, they even threatened to kill us if we even touched them. They’re blind, scared, and we need your advice: do you have any ideas on how to get them to trust us?”

“Hm…” Edward closed his eyes and thought hard, he really wasn’t sure what to say to be honest. He never came across an engine like this in his entire life, he was more used to guiding younger engines and helping engines with their everyday problems and growing pains. Edward just felt bad for No. 2456 more than anything. He wanted to couple up with them and tell them that everything is going to be alright and take their pain away for them.

“Maybe try and give them some resemblance of familiarity?” Edward suggested a little unsure, “Like maybe play some music from that era? See if they like that, it might at least make them feel more at home.”

Victor thought for a moment, “That might work… I’ll see if we can even find that type of music. It might be hard to find, but it’s worth the shot. I know we could get some classical music, that might help calm them down.”

Edward chewed the inside of his cheek, “You also mentioned that he- Them, they were a Kerr Stuart Joffre class?”

“Yes, built by the Kerr, Stuart and Company based on my research.”

“That’s the same builders that built Peter Sam.”

The Manager snapped his fingers, “That’s right! I heard Duke mentioning something about them being cousins!”

“What if you have Peter Sam introduce himself to them?” Edward suggested, “since they’re both cousins, they might feel like they can trust Peter Sam and open up more.”

“That’s a good idea Edward!” Victor replied, “It might work. We’ll give it a try. Thank you so much.”

Edward smiled, “You’re welcome Victor, and please let No. 2456 know that everyone is on their side and the Wellsworth branchline crew wishes them the best.”

“I will Edward. I promise.”

_______________________________________________________________________

It was very rare for Victor to leave the Steamworks, so it was a surprise for the Skarloey railway to see Victor approaching their shed.

“Finally! Someone to talk some sense into Duncan!” Sir Handel exclaimed in relief, “please explain to Duncan that he is not getting a nose piercing!”

“For the last time sir Handel! I don’t care about your opinion! I am my own engine, and I don’t listen to old grumpy men like you!” Duncan snapped back.

Victor raised an eyebrow and stared at the two, “...okaaay…”

“How’s No. 2456 doing?” Rusty asked in an effort to shift the subject away from Duncan.

Victor sighed and gazed down at the tracks, “that’s what I want to talk about.”

Concern crossed Skarloey’s face, “how bad is it?”

“They are awake, just,” Victor sighed, “scared out of their mind, they woke up screaming and crying, they don’t want anything to do with us at all.”

Rusty scrunched up his forehead, “they must be traumatized from the war…”

“That’s what we were thinking.” Victor agreed, “they’re stuck in the past, it seems like they are reliving their trauma.”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Duncan spoke up.

The entire shed turned to Duncan.

“What?” Peter Sam asked.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Duncan repeated, he narrowed his eyes and gazed at the RAF roundel painted on his cab, “me and Douglas heard some of the military men talking about it in the factory we worked at.”

Victor’s interest piqued, “what do you know about Post traumatic Stress disorder?”

“I remember some people talking about their buddy coming back from a mission and going into a panic when they hear an airplane fly overhead.” Duncan recalled.

“I think I remember something similar happening to Duncan many decades ago.” Rusty recalled. The air in the shed seemed to shift as soon as Rusty mentioned it.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Victor inquired, interested.

Rheneas and Skarloey looked at each other, back at Duncan, then back at Victor, “we… don’t talk about it.”

“Why not?” Victor asked curiously.

“It’s… just embarrassing and a huge stain on our reputation as a railway.” Skarloey replied, “it’s too personal for us to openly discuss.”

The shed hummed with agreement.

Victor turned back to Duncan, “Duncan, how do you feel about this sentiment?”

“For once I agree with them.” Duncan replied bluntly, “you don’t need to know about the details, what happened was !!%$#!! Stupid and embarrassing for everyone involved. You don’t need to know about our personal lives one single bit.”

Victor reluctantly agreed, “Alright, if you say so, nobody has to say anything they don’t feel comfortable with.” Victor cleared his throat, “now for the reason why I came here.”

“No. 2456,” Peter Sam said sadly.

“Unfortunately so my friend,” Victor sighed, “I was trying to think of ways to allow us to work on them, they really need a lot of work done, not just physical repairs, but I’m afraid there’s a lot going on mentally and emotionally too. Me and Edward were talking and we were wondering if Peter Sam and a few of you would want to introduce yourself to them.”

The entire shed fell silent. The engines looked away uncomfortably.

“None of you have to come if you don’t feel comfortable.” Victor added, “I’m just putting that suggestion out there.”

“I’ll go.” Rusty puffed forward, “I really want to see them. I might not be much help, but visiting is the least I can do.”

“I really want to go see them too, but I have passengers to take care of.” Skarloey replied, “I promise if I have time tonight, I’ll try and visit them briefly.”

“What about you, Peter Sam?” Rheneas asked, “would you like to meet your cousin?”

Peter Sam looked down at his buffers, “How bad is it?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, the state they’re in, what condition are they in?”

“They are blind,” Victor explained, “we couldn’t save their eyes and had to remove them, they’ve been cleaned up but a lot of their boiler is exposed and their side tanks have been removed. We had to disassemble a lot in order to work on them. They don’t know what year it is, we haven’t broken that news to them yet. We’re not going to tell them that yet as they’re still very mentally fragile. When you visit them, just prepare yourself for what you are going to see as they are in the not the best of conditions, there’s scaffolding around them and tarpaulin wrapped in a lot of places. We haven’t had the chance to cover their eye sockets yet so be wary you will be exposed to that. It’s not bloody or gory, they’re just two empty eye sockets if you are uncomfortable with seeing that.”

Peter Sam recoiled, “I think I might pass. I’m so sorry Victor! I think I’ll see them when they are a bit better.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable with seeing them in their current condition?” Victor asked.

“Absolutely! I don’t know why, just the thought of seeing an engine covered in tarpaulin and scaffolding.” he squirmed a bit and gazed at the corner of the shed.

“And you don’t have to,” Victor reassured him.

“But also, she’s-”

“They.” Rusty corrected.

“They. Sorry Rusty.”

“It’s okay, it’ll take a while to get used to it. As long as you’re not doing it on purpose, you’re okay.” Rusty gave Peter Sam a reassuring smile.

“But also they- they, yes, they are my cousin, shouldn’t I be obligated to see them?” Peter Sam asked.

Victor puffed forward, “How about this: your driver has a phone, right?”

“I think so, yes, yes he does.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable meeting No. 2456 face to face, but still feel obligated to talk to them, why not have your driver call the manager on his cell phone, and talk to No. 2456 over the phone?” Victor suggested, “you won’t see them but they can still hear you.”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea.” Peter Sam agreed, “I could do that.”

Victor eyed the brass plate on the side of Peter Sam’s cab, “Could I ask a quick favor?”

“What is it?”

“Do you think I could borrow your builder’s plate for a while?”

Peter Sam looked confused, “My builder’s plate? Why?”

“I just need something to prove to No. 2456 that there is another Kerr Stuart on this island.” Victor explained, “Your builder’s plate should work.”

Peter Sam looked back at his plate, and back at Skarloey, he gave him a reassuring look, Peter Sam cleared his throat, “Go right ahead. Make sure you bring it back in one piece.”

With that arranged, Peter Sam’s driver removed Peter Sam’s builder’s plate, and gave it to Victor. Rusty waited patiently for Victor. The other narrow gauge engines had gone off to work. Duncan was in the yard fetching some slate trucks when Tiger Moth flew overhead. Victor noticed Duncan flinch and cuss under his breath, the trucks rolled forward, Duncan slammed into them and shoved them right up against the buffers when Tiger Moth did another quick pass overhead.

“!!!&^%$!!!” Duncan cursed loudly up at the biplane.

“Duncan!” Peter Sam Scolded, “Language!”

“I’m sorry Victor, he always does that whenever Tiger Moth passes over us.” Rusty apologized.

By then, Victor and Rusty were ready to go. They each gave a polite toot, and they headed down the track to the Steamworks.

Victor took the time to admire his settings. The Skarloey railway was scenic, there were rolling hills, stone walls lining sheep pastures, and light mist from the lake. Victor noted that during his last visit he didn’t notice the scenery, maybe he should ask if he could help out here, it was quieter than the Steam works, maybe he could benefit from going out and spending some time here.

When they arrived at the Steamworks, a worker had already set up a record player with music from the 1920’s playing in the background. No. 2456 had their eyes squeezed shut, frozen in place, with huge bags under their eyes. They seemed to be inert.

“Kevin?” Victor called out.

Kevin buzzed over to Victor, “oh! Hi boss! We couldn’t find any music from that exact era, the closest we could find were from the 20’s. I think it’s close enough. We had to go on a bit of a wild goose chase to get it, Jim said he had a record collection at home but couldn’t find anything, so he called the library to see if they had any CDs but they didn’t, but then Jim remembered that Gerald’s grandmother still has a few records, so he had to call her.”

“How’s No. 2456 doing?” Victor looked back at the trench loco.

Kevin sighed, “Not good… after you left, the manager tried to work on them a bit, but they screamed and got extremely angry.” he shuddered.

“We better do something quick then.” Victor whistled and showed Rusty over to No. 2456, both were crossing their couplings that their plan would work.

Victor and Rusty parked in front of them. Rusty’s face dropped to astonishment at the sight of them. Victor was the first to speak.

“No.2456?” he said in a quiet voice, “this is Victor, remember me from yesterday?”

No. 2456 didn’t respond, they squeezed their face tightly.

Victor smiled, “there’s someone who wants to meet you. Their name is Rusty, he’s a little Diesel engine for the Narrow Gauge railway here. He’s really nice. Do you want to meet them?”

No. 2456 thought for a moment. Another narrow gauge engine, interesting. But what exactly is a Diesel? No. 2456 didn’t know, but they were curious. Maybe this Rusty could explain everything to them? They relaxed their face, as soon as they unclenched their jaw, a sharp, stiffening, spasm shot across their face. They winced and clenched their jaw tight. They wanted to speak, but the amount of pain in their face was unbearable, their face was so stiff, why? They didn’t know. Maybe because it’s covered in dried mud? That must be it. They were simply taken to a nearby shelter away from the front, and are just receiving repairs.

Rusty took notice of No. 2456’s facial expressions, “Hello, I’m Rusty. Are you alright?”

No. 2456 grimaced in pain, alright!? What does this stupid… whatever this thing is, even think?! Alright!? They just had their eyes taken! Of course they are not alright, why would anyone be so stupid to ask that question, anyone could just look at them and know that they are not alright! If No. 2456 could, they would slam straight into Rusty and pin him against a pair of buffers, and just crush him to death like a tin can, and then turn around and smash their human under their wheels into a bright red mush-

“No. 2456?”

Rusty’s voice cut through No. 2456’s thoughts, their anger raged and pounded inside of them. All they could think of is the many ways they could kill Rusty, Victor, and everyone involved. Maybe they will, but they will have to wait for that opportunity to come.

“Y-Yes.” No. 2456 said stiffly, anything to get this Rusty character away from them.

Rusty didn’t believe No. 2456 one bit, “you don’t sound alright. Do you want to tell me where the pain is coming from?”

No. 2456 shot an angry look at Rusty, “Leave. Me. alone!” they rasped.

“We’re just trying to help you.” Rusty said, trying to sound friendly, “if you’re in pain, we can fix that.”

“No.”

Rusty backed up a bit, “Why not?”

“Because I said so! That’s why! Now Get out of my face or I will smash yours inside your smokebox!” No. 2456 snapped.

Smoke box? Rusty wondered, “I’m a Diesel. I don’t have a smokebox.”

No. 2456 laughed, “no you have one! All engines do! If you do not shut up, and leave me alone, I will rip your face straight off of your smokebox door, and shove it in your firebox! And you will scream, and scream, and scream.”

That’s when Rusty understood, No. 2456 probably never had seen a diesel engine. Yes, the first diesel powered locomotive operated during the summer of 1912, but they were just prototypes and the trials were put on hold during the outbreak of World War One. It wasn't until the mid-20s when a small number of prototype diesels were produced in a lot of countries. Or maybe they at least knew about internal combustion engines since the first tanks used this type of engine in 1916.

“Well, not exactly, see, I am an engine just like you, but I run on a different type of fuel. Unlike coal, and water, I run on Diesel fuel, I don’t have a firebox or smokebox or even a fire.” Rusty explained, “do you remember seeing armored vehicles on the battlefield? They’re powered almost the same way as I am, with Gasoline.

No. 2456 froze, they did in fact remember those. They were huge, smelly, and loud machines. They remembered how they drove right over No.2456’s funnel. They blocked out the sun and blew obnoxious fumes onto them, the entire ground would shake, the walls of the trench felt like they were on the verge of collapsing in on them, No. 2456 was left deaf for several days afterwards. Was Rusty one of those Armored vehicles too!?

A lump of panic rose in No. 2456’s mouth, they trembled in their place.

“No, nonononoNONONO!! NO!! GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! NO!”

Rusty immediately regretted his decision, “No, it’s alright! Don’t be scared! Please, tell me, what’s wrong?”

No. 2456 was too overwhelmed with fear, why would they even have an armored vehicle here!? Those things are nothing but monsters! The only thing they do is kill and crush everything under their giant crawler belt things! No. 2456’s fear turned to a primal murderous rage.

“DIE! DIE! DIE! JUST DIE!” they snarled. They wanted nothing more than to kill Rusty right there before he goes back to killing more people like the big ugly monstrous machine he is.

“Whoa, okay.” Rusty backed up in fear, “I’ll leave you be.”

“NO!! DON’T!!”

Rusty stopped, “what? I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”

“YES!”

“Okay, I can leave.” Rusty started backing up.

“NO DON’T LEAVE!!” No. 2456 pleaded.

Rusty stopped, “so… you want me to leave, but also to stay?”

“I want you to die!” No. 2456 snapped.

Rusty glanced over at Victor confused. Victor gave Rusty a very confused look in return.

“Um, No. 2456?” Victor cleared his throat, “when you say that you want Rusty to die, do you mean you want him to leave?”

“I WANT HIM DEAD!” No. 2456 snarled.

“But I am a friend.” Rusty replied.

“NO YOU ARE NOT!! YOU ARE A MONSTER!!” No. 2456 shrieked.

“Let me take care of this.”

Everyone jumped when Duncan puffed into the steam work.

“Duncan?” Rusty exclaimed, “what are you doing here?”

Duncan didn’t answer, he puffed up to No. 2456 sternly. Rusty and Victor quickly became nervous of what Duncan was about to do. Duncan stood at attention in front of No. 2456.

“My name is Duncan, I am a narrow gauge well tank engine and honorary member of the Royal Air Force. I worked at the RAF’s railway in Calshot spit in Southampton for a short time with my brother, Douglas, until 1945.” Duncan said bluntly, “me and my brother were both gifted these wings for our service and were both adopted by the Royal Air Force foundation, and we both wear the RAF roundel on our side with pride.

Duncan’s driver stepped out of the cab with Duncan’s badge in hand. He gently pressed it against No. 2456’s face. They recoiled when the cold metal touched their face, they could feel the wings though. It felt familiar.

Yes, No. 2456 could remember now. They remember seeing some of the planes flying overhead sporting the roundel. They also remembered seeing some of the pilots, they were young, clean, and were seen as the knights of the sky. Every Tommy wanted to become an Ace. If Duncan is affiliated with the RAF, then surely they carried the same code of honor and chivalry.

No. 2456 stood at attention to Duncan, “Sir!”

Duncan jumped back startled at the motion, no one had ever shown this much respect towards him. Rusty tried to hold back his giggling.

“At ease, Sergeant, you don’t need to call me “sir”, or stand at attention.” Duncan said.

No. 2456 relaxed, “yes sir, sorry sir.”

Duncan cleared his throat, “now that I have your attention, I came here to inform you that you have a cousin on this Island.”

“He’s right, his name is Peter Sam!” Rusty added, his driver went over to No. 2456 and pressed Peter Sam’s builder’s plate against No. 2456’s face. They felt it over carefully making out each engraved letter.

“He’s a really nice engine,” Rusty said, “he’s a Kerr Stuart Tattoo, the same builders that built you. He can’t wait to meet you, he can’t visit you quite yet, he’ll visit you when you’re feeling better, maybe once you’re running again, we’ll take you out on the Skarloey railway.”

Rusty looked over at No. 2456, they were staring at the shop floor, but they were listening to Rusty, he continued, “It’s a nice railway, the tracks are smooth and not rough at all. There’s a big beautiful lake with a castle.”

Duncan parked himself next to No. 2456, “I personally like Croven’s Gate, that’s where you can see the standard Gauge engines from the NWR.” He chuckled to himself, “I recommend wheeshing steam at them when they pass, they get all huffy whenever I do that. Well I say they need a reminder once in a while that the world doesn’t !!^%$!! revolve around them!”

“Please don’t do that! We respect the big engines!” Rusty added sheepishly.

Duncan parked himself next to No. 2456. His driver lit himself a cigarette and offered Duncan one, “Cigarette?”

“Ah! Yes please thank you!” Duncan’s driver placed one in Duncan’s mouth and lit it. Duncan took a very long puff and exhaled the smoke through his nostrils. He noticed No. 2456 noticed the smell from it.

“Want one?”

“I’ll take a fag.” They replied.

“A WHAT!?” Rusty exclaimed in horror.

“A cigarette! They meant cigarette! Fag is slang for cigarette! Not- well, you know.” Duncan said quickly, “you can have one, they’re cherry flavored.”

His driver lit a cigarette for No. 2456. They closed their eyes and sucked on it. The cherry flavoring was nice. They felt strangely more relaxed than before. The trio sat in silence as Duncan and No. 2456 smoked. After half an hour, Duncan’s cigarette was finished. He spat it out and his driver stepped on the butt before picking it up, and tossing it in Duncan’s firebox.

“We have to go now.” Rusty tooted, “our friend, Skarloey, is going to come by later to visit you. I hope you feel better. We all are waiting for you!” he rolled out of the shed. No. 2456 didn’t say anything.

Duncan let out a puff of steam, “well, it was nice to finally see you! I have to get back to work now.”

With that, Duncan gave a toot of his whistle, and puffed off. No. 2456 kept their gaze at the workshop floor. They blinked and looked up.

“Wait!” they called out.

Duncan stopped and looked back at No. 2456. They looked back at the workshop floor, then back up before speaking.

“Thank you.”

Duncan smiled, they gave an acknowledging nod even though No. 2456 couldn’t see him.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

No. 2456 really didn’t know what to think about the visit from Duncan, they contemplated it while puffing on their cigarette. They seemed okay, they did work for the RAF after all, though they didn’t know what to think of Rusty. An engine that doesn’t run on coal and water? How is that even possible? They have to be some kind of enemy weapon, that’s what it is, it must be. Internal combustion engines are used in military vehicles therefore, Rusty is a military vehicle, it’s the only explanation.

No. 2456 jumped when Victor came over.

“Hello my friend,” Victor tooted, “How are you feeling?”

No. 2456 didn’t respond, they chewed on their cigarette, they did feel a bit better admittedly. Their face was still tender and sore.

“The manager wants to put a bandage over your eye sockets, just to keep them clean while we’re working on you, we don’t want any metal shards getting into them.” Victor explained wiggling his glasses back in place.

No. 2456 glared.

“It’s just a soft bandage and cotton.” Kevin explained, “The manager is just going to take a soft gauze and clean your eye sockets.”

The manager approached No. 2456 with a bucket of warm water and a soft gauze pad, “It’s not going to hurt, I’m going to stand directly in front of you now, and just gently wipe them.” he stood on top of a step stool, “it’s very soft, it might feel ticklish.”

As soon as the bandage touched No. 2456’s face, they spat their cigarette butt at the manager’s face.

“Whoa! Okay!” the Manager instantly backed off. No. 2456 then spat out all of the cigarette juice they had accumulated in their mouth. The Manager luckily only got the juices on his overalls.

Victor jumped in, “No. 2456, we do not spit at people.”

No. 2456 growled and spat on the floor.

“Right, that was uncalled for.” the manager crossed his arms, “Victor.”

“I know.” Victor puffed right up to No. 2456, “look, I don’t know how they do it in the trenches, but we do not spit at people, we do not spit on the floor, and we most certainly do not spit at people who are trying to help us. We do not tolerate such behavior in this workshop. Now, Skarloey will be visiting you this afternoon, if you behave, you will get to meet them. Deal?”

No. 2456 jumped, were they really going to get into that much trouble? They were not expecting this kind of talk from an orderly, let alone a low ranking officer, how much authority did Victor really have? Was he really going to tell their Captain that they were misbehaving, what would their captain do to them as soon as they were sent back to the front? Probably give them a crappy job such as moving the bodies out of the trenches.

“Y-Yes sir, sorry sir.” No. 2456 answered.

Both Victor and Kevin were startled by this sudden compliance, but didn’t question it. The manager took the opportunity to clean No. 2456’s eye sockets and bandage them up. When Victor and Kevin left the shed to collect the scaffolding, they whispered to each other.

“What was that?” Kevin asked while he lifted the scaffolding pieces onto Victor’s flatbed.

“I don’t know, this has to be the first time they complied.” Victor answered.

“Do you think you were too harsh on them?” Kevin asked.

“If they are to be repaired in our workshop, they need to understand our boundaries and respect the workers there. I don’t care how mentally distressed they are, but they cannot be treating the employees like that.” Victor huffed.

“I guess that makes sense, boss.” Kevin remarked, lowering the scaffolding onto the flatbed, “I just think it’s weird that they flip flopped so quickly.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“Well, this morning they were completely detached, then they were fine when Duncan visited, next they were spitting and acting up, and they’re respecting you?” Kevin explained, “they’re all over the place, boss.”

Victor paused, “hm, you’re right, they’re emotions are all over the place. We’ll have to monitor them, see if we can pick up any patterns in their emotion. See what triggers them.”

Kevin thought back, “Well, they were obviously upset when they woke up, then they got mad when we tried to touch them, then they got mad at Rusty, then at the manager. I think they just don’t like being touched.”

Victor nodded, “that is pretty obvious, but not why they lashed out at Rusty.”

“Maybe they just don’t like strangers.” Kevin mused.

“Perhaps,” Victor thought, “though they did latch onto Duncan.”

“Maybe it had to do with the whole RAF thing.” Kevin beeped his horn and hurried back inside.

“Perhaps,” Victor coupled up to his flatbed of scaffolding and puffed back inside, “Either way, we are not going to be giving them anymore cigarettes.”

No. 2456’s face was bandaged up, they seemed to be very zombie-like. The workers set the scaffolding up around them.

Victor decided to take the opportunity to talk to No. 2456, or at least try to. Victor adjusted his glasses and hummed a little tune to himself while he worked. He watched No. 2456’s demeanor closely, hopefully he could take note of everything No. 2456 did in hopes it would provide some sort of insight into their mind.

Along with the sounds of men pounding and drilling, No. 2456 could hear Victor humming somewhere. Victor had a distinct voice, it was low, calm, and warm? Perhaps? No. 2456 listened to Victor more closely, they could hear the distinct chuffing, the steam rushing out, No. 2456 felt, Calm? Maybe it was just knowing that someone was there that felt so reassuring? Like just knowing that there’s someone living out there in the vast void of darkness?

On the nights No. 2456 was running, they knew that in the shroud of darkness, just across the field from them was an entire ecosystem of living beings ready to kill at a moment’s notice. Ants, that’s what they were really, nothing but a hive mind of bugs digging in the dirt for their queen ant who was ready to replace them with a new brood as soon as they got squashed.

Victor cleared his throat and spoke directly to No. 2456, “That was really nice of Rusty and Duncan to come over, wasn’t it?”

No. 2456 replied in a methodical and flat tone, “yes sir.”

Victor parked a few flatbeds next to No. 2456, “Rusty is a very nice diesel engine, he does all of the maintenance on the Skarloey Railway.”

No. 2456 was even more confused, so if Rusty isn’t a tank, tanks don’t do line maintenance, and they run on rails, but also are not propelled by coal and water, then what even are they? Maybe Rusty is some top secret vehicle that the Tommies are developing. an engine that can run on rails without the standard coal and water would be very useful, with the amount of fuel shortages, it only made sense to look for alternate fuel sources. In that case, No. 2456 didn’t want to ask. They knew better than to speak about military projects, loose lips sink ships.

Victor continued his work, “you know, the Skarloey railway engines have siblings on a heritage railway, they often like to visit during Extravaganza day. It’s a really fun day, fans and enthusiasts come to their railway, and drive them, with supervision of course. It’s like one big family reunion. Maybe if you really want to, we could see if you could join them. How does that sound?”

“I’ll ask the Captain, I might need to ask the Major, or General Joffre for leave.”

Victor slowed to a crawl, “what?”

“I can’t leave my station, I need to ask permission if I want to attend the festival. I don’t know who to ask exactly, maybe one of the other soldiers could tell me. As soon as I return to my post, I’ll ask sir.”

“Um…” Victor glanced over at Kevin uncomfortably. They obviously knew that No. 2456 didn’t know that the war had ended, but not to this extent. Did they not know that they will not be sent back to the front? Or fully understand what is going on.

Victor looked at Kevin uncomfortably, and Kevin nodded. Victor took a deep breath and began.

“No. 2456” he said, “you are not going to be sent back to the Western front.” he stopped to collect his thoughts before delivering the bombshell of a revelation.

“The Great War to end all wars is over.”

Chapter Text

No. 2456 didn’t know what to think of such a statement, they were immediately flooded with a whole range of emotions, relief, anger, sadness, apathy, disappointment, confusion, disbelief, rage, terror, and anxiety.

Maybe it’s not that bad? They rationalized, perhaps they were just asleep for a couple of months? They couldn’t have been asleep for too long, right? Everyone they knew was still alive, the world hasn’t drastically changed, they were just going to be fixed back up, and sent to a nice factory to work at, it’s fine, it’s no big deal, a few months or weeks isn’t too bad, they didn’t miss too much, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.

“Wh-Who won?” they stammered in a panicked voice.

“We did, Britain, France, Russia, America, they won. The central powers lost, their empires are gone.” Victor said calmly.

No. 2456’s anxiety lessened a bit, but it still had them in a tight choke hold. Okay, that’s good, that’s very good, there’s that, their death wasn’t all for nothing at least, it’s fine, this is fine, it’s all fine. They were frozen at the thought of their next question, they swallowed thickly, they really did not want to ask it, but they had too.

Their boiler cramped up, “how-” they stopped to catch their breath, their face felt hot, “How many months have I been asleep?”

Victor thought hard on how he was going to say this, if he could, he wouldn’t tell them, “not months, years,” he said, “You have been asleep for over a century.”

No. 2456’s entire world shattered, did he just say a century? As in a hundred years?! They have been dead for a hundred years!? The flood gates opened, a million thoughts, questions, and emotions flooded them. They couldn’t breathe, they were drowning, their boiler ache worsened, they thought it was going to implode. They felt like a tin can being slowly crushed under a boot.

“No,” they trembled, “no, no, no! No! NO! NO! NO!!” they screamed, it all came flooding out, “NO!!! NO!!! THIS-... THIS ISN’T REAL!!! NO!!”

No. 2456’s face flushed red, they clenched their jaw tight, a wave of vertigo hit them. The entire room spun. Everything seemed to be yanked out from under them.

“Oh no, They’re going to faint.” The Manager dunked a rag in cold water. He climbed up onto No. 2456 and pressed it against their forehead.

“No. 2456?” Victor said, “I need you to take a deep breath, okay?”

No. 2456 couldn’t hear Victor through the disorientation, “...Beaufoy… but Beaufoy…”

That caught everyone off guard.

“What did you just say?” Kevin asked, concerned.

No. 2456 blinked heavily under their now tear soaked bandages, they muttered a string of garbled words before slipping unconscious.

“No. 2456?” Victor rushed up to them, “Can you hear me?”

No. 2456 regained consciousness, they moaned softly when they were hit with a wave hotness. They lurched at the wave of sickness in their boiler, followed by a crippling boiler ache. They groaned and winced at the pain. Victor and the manager looked at each other with concern.

“I think we better cancel that visit with Skarloey.” Victor remarked.

The Manager had the rag pressed against No. 2456’s face, he could feel the hotness of No. 2456’s face through his rag, “Yeah, that’s probably a smart idea, Kevin, could you let someone in the office phone Mr. Percival, and tell him that we have to reschedule Skarloey’s visit?”

“Right boss! On it boss!” Kevin skittered away.

“No! Don’t cancel it!” No. 2456 panicked.

Victor spoke to No. 2456, “I’m sorry, but we have to, you are too emotionally distressed right now. We’re going to continue working on you for the rest of the day, and Skarloey will visit you another time, alright?”

“But you said that if I behave, then you will let Skarloey visit me, and I did and now you’re saying that he can’t!” No. 2456 snapped.

Victor spoke back in a firm voice, “and you still can see Skarloey, on a different day, that is, if you behave. Right now you are too emotional to be seeing anyone, those are orders, understood?”

No. 2456 immediately straightened out, “Yes Sir, sorry sir, I will behave sir.”

Did they do something wrong? Was it something they said? They squeezed their lips tightly together and put on a stoic face.

Victor quickly made a mental note that No. 2456 will obey orders and to be firm on them, he cleared his throat, “alright, now do you have any questions regarding this news?”

Of course, No. 2456 had a million questions, what year is it? What happened after the war? Who died? What do engines look like now? Who’s on the throne? Is there even still a throne? Who’s the new Kaiser? What radio shows are playing? Does everyone have their own airplane? How did they win? Was it from a super weapon? Was the world plunged into a post apocalyptic world of the ruins of civilization? What does humanity look like now?

“I have two questions.” No. 2456 said in a stoic voice.

“And what are they?” Victor asked.

No. 2456 paused before asking, “number one: when did the great war end? Two: did the Great war end all wars?”

Victor thought for a moment how he was going to phrase the last question, the first one easy, “It ended way back in 1918. More specifically, November 11th.” he shunted a flatbed of parts away, “in fact, it’s now a holiday here in Britain, and in France, America, Canada, and Australia. It’s called Veteran’s day, and it’s to remember those who fought and died during the wars.”

No. 2456 smiled, at least those soldiers they were with were not forgotten. No. 2456 thought back to those evenings when some of the soldiers would list off the names of everyone they left behind to them.

“Promise you will never forget those names,” they would say, and No. 2456 never did, Louis, Aubin, Hugo, Jules, Phillipe, Antoine, Marie, Camille, everyday they would list off those names. Their list grew from civilians to soldiers. They memorized the names of every man who lived or died. Emile, Burke, Gaston, Ambroise, how many of those people are still alive? Would the soldiers even recognize No. 2456 if they all saw them now? Or are they just another sentient vehicle to them, destined to break and be replaced by an identical one?

Victor came back with another flatbed and more tools, “For your second question, unfortunately, the Great War to end all Wars did not end all wars. In fact, it indirectly caused another far more devastating one in the 1940’s.”

No. 2456 couldn’t believe what they were hearing, “what?”

“World War Two, that’s what it’s called. The one you were in is now called World War One, luckily, there’s never been another World War since, though there have been a number of smaller wars that sprang up around the world, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War.” Victor explained. He let his flatbed roll forward.

No. 2456 felt a wave of devastation, “so… all those men, they died, for nothing!?”

“Well, not exactly nothing, but in the context of ending all future wars, yes.” Victor said sadly.

The Manager twisted a bolt off of No. 2456, “don’t worry! We’ll make sure that you get all caught up on the last century! There is so much to cover, and I think you will like some of the inventions from the last century.”

No. 2456 remained quiet during the rest of the day. They felt somewhat relieved, they didn’t have to fear going back to the trenches right after they were repaired. But also what is going to happen to them? They were a machine built specifically to serve one purpose, and the only reason why they are even alive in the first place is because someone needed a machine to serve that one purpose. Their life revolved around working in the trenches, they had mustard gas blown in their exposed face, they were shot at, covered in blood and grime, and had the misfortune of a dying horse entangled in its intestines fall on top of them. That who they were, a nameless piece of machinery meant to be just another pawn among the other nameless soldiers. No identity, and no one to mourn them when they died, and to rot away in an unmarked grave and be forgotten, while the world moves on like they never existed.

So who is No. 2456 now?

Chapter Text

Sir Robert didn’t rest at all since coming back from France, he was always on the phone with contractors, investors, and construction companies trying to get his Railway museum put together, along with running the current estate.

Today, Sir Robert found himself in the castle courtyard on his laptop, while Millie and the castle staff cleaned up after a wedding. Glynn and Stephen were out on the castle grounds giving tours, while Duke took care of the wedding party.

Sir Robert sat down on a nearby bench and rubbed his eyes heavily, he coughed a bit. he never felt more tired than ever! He took a long sip of his coffee and turned back to his laptop, let’s see, next week there’s a wedding that’s 10 to 2, the Sodor construction company coming over on Tuesday to install the pipework and the electrical company coming over to do all of the electrical work, and on top of it all, he hadn’t checked in on the restoration of No. 2456.

“Is everything alright Sir?” Millie puffed over with a wagon full of garbage from the wedding, “you haven’t been around that often.”

“Oh I’ve just been busy lately Miss Millie.” Sir Robert yawned and stretched, “Between running the Estate and getting the museum up and running, I really haven’t had much time off. I would like to see No. 2456.”

Millie Hummed, “me and the rest of the estate have been worried for you, you just been going nonstop! That can’t be good for your health!”

Sir Robert laughed, “Oh, I appreciate your concern Millie, rest assure that I have been given a clean bill of health by my doctor, I eat healthy, I stay fit, and I only drink one glass of red wine for dinner once in a great while.”

Millie narrowed her eyes, “Yes, but by the way you have been going at it, one would think that you are a machine.”

Sir Robert hummed a response, he turned his head away briefly to cough into his elbow, “would you like to hear my ideas for No. 2456? I was thinking perhaps we paint them in their original livery, try and make them as historically accurate as possible, with matching wagons of course! I found a nice picture in a book of a “Joffre” trench loco. Maybe I could reach out to a world war one society and get their input on how we should go around presenting them? The last thing I want is for No. 2456 to look like a GWR Firefly pulling AMTRAK coaches. Hm, I wonder if we should get some for our museum… speaking of GWR, I should take a trip to Paddington and take some pictures of the station for our model.”

“Sir! May I please interrupt you and say that you are currently trying to change the subject.” Millie interrupted, “the fact still stands that you are going to run yourself right into the ground. You are getting old, and you need to start considering your health more! You are not young!”

Sir Robert looked at Millie, “Are you all really that concerned for my well being?”

“Yes! You have been going nonstop ever since you came home from France with No.2456!” Millie exclaimed, “You don’t have to be running the entire estate by yourself, I’m sure that the staff would like to help you out more, maybe file paperwork, organize the weddings, or, or maybe get a secretary.”

“Millie! Millie, it’s alright.” Sir Robert patted Millie on the boiler, “spring is just a busy time of year for us, I’ve always been extremely busy during this time of year.” he chuckled, “I appreciate the concern though.”

Millie felt a bit more at ease, though she didn’t fully agree with Sir Robert’s assertion that he was perfectly healthy, “Can I ask a favor?”

“What is it Millie?” Sir Robert leaned forward.

“Do you think we could send No. 2456 some flowers and a card?”

______________________________________________________________________

Back at the works, No. 2456 was out of it, they were deep in thought at the revelation of having been dead for over a century. Probably the only thing on their mind was why them? Why were they, out of the millions who died, given a second chance at life? Only vehicles and war heroes are given that honor. As far as they can remember, they did nothing worthy of such a title.

“Where did those boiler parts go?” Kevin rushed by. He came back over with a pallet loaded with new, freshly made tubes. He parked next to No. 2456.

“Cheer up,” He said, “You are going to be going to a great place! The Earl of Sodor has a lovely railway up at his estate! He is working on building a railway museum, he’s hoping that you will be able to do tours of the estate with the other engines he has. They are all really nice! There’s Millie, she’s a little blue narrow gauge engine from France, then there’s Glynn, the Coffee pot engine, oh! And Stephen, as in Stephenson’s rocket. There’s also Neil, the little box tank, unfortunately, from what I’ve heard, he’s too old to run on the rails, so he’s going to be on static display inside. He’s at a storage facility right now.”

Kevin hoisted the tubes up for the workmen, “When you get there, you need to talk to Duke, the Lost Engine, or Bulldog, or grandpuff, or sleeping beauty depending on who you ask. The estate is really lovely, it has a big old medieval castle, gardens, and lovely azaleas.”

“No.”

Kevin stopped, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said no. I am not working for some aristocrat.” No. 2456 spat out Aristocrat like it was a wad of arsenic.

Kevin held up the boiler tubes while the workers installed them, “Sir Robert is a very nice man, he’s traveled the world, even to Antarctica! He’s a bit eccentric, but he’s very interesting.”

“I said I am not working for an aristocrat.” No. 2456 replied back stubbornly.

“Victor?” Kevin called over.

“I’m sorry my friend.” Victor puffed over, “Sir Robert excavated and brought you to our workshop with the purpose of having you on his estate.”

No. 2456 scoffed loudly.

“No. 2456.” Victor warned.

“There’s got to be another option.” No. 2456 protested, “maybe a factory, or a mine, somewhere that isn’t with an Aristocratic Twit.”

“Not with your disability.” Victor reasoned looking at No. 2456’s bandages, “with your blindness, I wouldn’t dare have you out on a regular railway, no offense but it’s too risky, you’re at a higher risk of missing a signal or derailing. Trench locos are more prone to derail after all.” Victor tooted his whistle, and went to fetch more tools and parts.

Of course, No. 2456 detested this response, “What about the railroad where Duncan and Rusty work? maybe I could ask and see if they need another engine. I can run on rough tracks and tight bends, I’m not claustrophobic.”

“Again, I don’t think Mr. Percival would want to risk having you out on the Skarloey railway. You will need a lot of help navigating the rails, something that I don’t think a regular railway could provide. If you miss a signal, you could cause an accident, thus costing the railway money, and potentially injure passengers. I would strongly advise against pulling passengers for everyone’s safety.” Victor moved around to the otherside of No. 2456, “where you haven’t had much experience in working on a regular railway, and your mental state, I think the smaller Ulfstead estate railway would be more suited for your needs.”

No. 2456 gave a frustrated grunt in response, they despised the idea of working for an Aristocrat. They died because Eurpope’s Aristocracy wanted to play toy soldiers after a stupid emperor and his wife just so happened to die. All of the aristocracy were the same, they didn’t think twice when they declared war on each other, all they saw was their best ally getting attacked, and they had to back them up just because they were friends. Spineless, pompous, men who were only in power because they just so happened to be born into it, not that they were fit to rule.

No. 2456 didn’t say anymore, they stewed angrily as the workman continued to work on them. They wouldn’t dare stoop so low to be a mere servant to the elite. They were not their puppet. Though, on the other hand, they were built to serve in a war created by aristocrats, in a way, it was kind of their purpose. Maybe they are just fated to always serve the elite.

It was late in the day while the workers packed up, when the manager came over to see No. 2456.

“You had quite the interesting day.” he said, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible, sir.” No. 2456 replied back, they could really use a cigarette or two.

The manager gently patted them on the running board, “I could imagine. But good news is that repairs are coming along great, we should get you up and in steam by summer. Are you excited to be back on the rails?”

To be truthful, No. 2456 didn’t feel very excited, they felt more sad at the thought of being back on the rails, the concept of running again was just so alien to them, they could see no future where they were running like new again. Let alone working for an earl, the thought made them sick.

But, they didn’t say this.

“I guess so.” they replied back simply.

The manager smiled, “That’s good to hear.”

No. 2456 heard something rustle, something cool and soft was laid on their front.

“The Estate railway wanted to give you these flowers.” the manager said, “it’s a beautiful bouquet. There’s pink lilies mixed with white peonies wrapped in shiny cellophane with a ribbon around it.”

“What are Lilies?” No. 2456 asked.

The manager’s heart broke when he spoke, “you… don’t know what lilies are?”

“I…. never really saw flowers before….” they said sheepishly, “sorry sir.”

“Oh no, it’s okay.” the manager said, he cleared his throat, “Lilies are a type of flower, they’re really beautiful. Here, give them a smell.”

The Manager held the bouquet up to No. 2456’s face. The petals brushed against their cheek, it tickled, No. 2456 could feel each petal, they felt soft and cool, and alive! No. 2456 inhaled the scent, it smelled fresh and a bit overpowering, as they kept on smelling the flowers, they found to enjoy the overpowering scent. It rested on the back of their throat, they could taste it. For the first time, a huge grin crossed their face as they buried their nose into the mass of soft, thick, sweet smelling flowers. They wanted nothing more than to be buried in a mass of flowers.

“I’ll go put these in a vase of water, and leave them on your running board so you can enjoy them.” The Manager walked out back to find a suitable vase, leaving No. 2456 in a state of happiness for the first time in a century.

The stench of rot and death finally disappeared from No. 2456’s nose.

Chapter Text

Secrets don’t stay secret for very long on the island, it didn’t take very long for the other engines to learn about No. 2456’s arrival.

“Is Duck sleeping here tonight?” Thomas asked one night a few days later at the sheds, he was shunting Annie and Clarabel.

Percy looked over at the empty berth between him and Edward, “I think so? Yeah, I invited him over. Kind of like a little sleep over, he got into a bit of a spat and had been kicked out of the sheds on his branchline.”

“Oh Good!” Thomas shunted Annie and Clarabel into the empty berth, and then puffed into the last remaining berth.

“Thomas!” Annie and Clarabel scolded Thomas.

“What? The berths are first come, first serve!”

“Thomas, can you please move your coaches back to the carriage shed?” Edward tried to reason.

“Edward,” Toby interjected, “Let him keep Annie and Clarabel in the sheds.”

“But Duck is going to sleep here tonight!” Edward protested, “where is he supposed to sleep if both Annie and Clarabel are taking up his spot? Besides! This is the engine shed, coaches aren’t supposed to be in here, no offense ladies, the fat controller is going to get cross if he finds out.”

“Exactly!” Toby smiled.

Edward opened his mouth to protest, but then he realized what Toby was getting at so he stayed quiet. Edward was still thinking about No. 2456. Was the situation really as bad as Victor made it out to be? Of course Edward knew very well about wars, he remembered during the second world war how packed the station was with refugees. His heart broke when he saw Gordon pull into the station one night loaded with children from London. They were all carrying suitcases of what they could carry. It was a chilly night, their faces were pink from the cold and they were shivering under coats. Edward wanted to load them all up in his cab and warm them up.

“Look,” Thomas argued with Annie and Clarabel, “Do we really want Duck here in our sheds tonight? We all know he’s going to keep us up all night long talking about Great Western this, Great western that, ugh! You know, sometimes by the way he talks, you’d think he’d rather be on that stupid line!”

“Thomas! Stop being so rude!” Annie scolded Thomas, “Duck was invited as a guest by Percy to spend the night here, you have no authority over who gets to stay here or not!”

“Ha! Clearly you haven’t been around Duck for that long!” Thomas huffed angrily, “seriously, you never hear me talk about the LB&SC the way Duck talks about the GWR! Have you ever heard of the LB&SC way™? No? Well that’s because there isn’t one, and I know not to talk about my old railway.”

Percy scowled, “and what does that have to do with Duck?”

“Everything!”

“I for once agree with Thomas.” James chimed in, “I don’t want Duck here if he’s going to talk about the Great Western like some religion or whatever. Let’s keep Annie and Clarabel here.”

“I thought you guys are over that!” Percy snapped.

“We are, I just think that if Duck loves his precious little great western sooo much, he should just waddle right back to it, and get instantly scrapped because the entire mainland has been modernized.” James rolled his eyes, “what’s that saying again? Oh, I know! You can’t go home again!”

“But we want to gossip with Henrietta!” Annie and Clarabel argued.

“Thomas, just go put your coaches in the shed with Henrietta, and let me get some sleep.” Gordon groaned.

“How about I don’t Gordon! How about I leave them right here, just to tick you all off!”

“Oh for the love of- Thomas! Put your coaches in the shed where they belong, right now, or I will get out of this berth, go over there, and take them out of this shed myself!” Gordon roared, “and you know what? I won’t put them in the carriage shed, because they have caused so much contention in this shed, I am going to take them straight down to the docks and load them on the next ship out! How would you like that little Thomas?”

“DON’T YOU !!&^%$!! DARE LAY YOUR GRIMY BUFFERS ON MY COACHES!!”

“ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!!”

The entire shed went instantly quiet as soon as Edward shouted. Everyone eyed him uneasily, silence gripped the shed.

“Thomas the tank engine,” Edward said in a firm voice, “if you can, will you move Annie and Clarabel out of the shed so Duck can have a spot available. There’s no need to turn the entire shed into a warzone over this matter.”

Thomas did not protest, he hung his head and puffed out onto the turntable, “Yes dad, I’m sorry.”

While Thomas moved his coaches out of the berth, Percy spoke up in a timid voice, “Are you alright Edward?” he asked, “you rarely raise your voice like that, is something bothering you?”

Edward’s stern face softened, “I’m alright, I just had a rough day. I was just thinking about the new engine.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, “New engine? What new engine?”

“And what color is he?” James interjected bluntly.

Edward closed his eyes, “well, perhaps more like, “what color are they”, from what I heard, no one really knows what gender they are.” Edward couldn’t explain any more as a pair of familiar whistles sounded in the yard. Duck puffed up to the shed with Oliver and Toad in tow.

“Good evening everyone,” Duck greeted, “my apologies for the sudden change of plans, turns out Oliver is going to be spending the night here as well, along with Toad.”

“If you don’t mind, of course,” Toad said politely, “Poor mister Oliver gets so anxious without me.”

Percy’s face lit right up, “Oh my gosh! Of course! Definitely! Except, well uh….” he paused and looked over at the two empty berths, “I don’t know if we have enough room-”

“Of course we do!” Toby grinned, “we have two berths that are right available for all of you!”

“Toby!” Percy whispered in alarm, “one of those berths is for Thomas!”

Toby rolled his eyes and chuckled, “eh, Thomas was going to prevent Duck from joining us anyways.”

Duck perked up, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Never mind,” Toby said to Duck, “come in! Come in! Make yourselves at home! Quickly now before Thomas comes back!”

Duck and Oliver didn’t really question it, nor did they have the time and energy. Both of them plus Toad back into their respective berths, with Toad and Oliver sharing one. The two whooshed out steam and settled in for the night.

Gordon spoke first, “So, what brings you both out here?”

“It kind of started when we were shunting trucks,” Oliver recalled miserably, “I learned this new tune on my whistle, none of you probably have this, but a lot of GWR engines have two whistles, one for regular use, and the other to signal to the guard. Well, there were these boys watching us, and they asked me if it was alright for them to film me, they said they wanted to film it for some kind of new website for videos on their telephones. I of course said yes, and while doing so, I whistled a little ditty with both of my whistles and now Duck is all….” He glanced over at Duck, “He’ll explain it.”

“Playing silly tunes with a whistle that is only meant to be used in emergencies, is not proper!” Duck explained, “a brake whistle is only meant to be used in an emergency, imagine if Oliver was in an emergency and he tries to whistle to the guard, it’s a boy who cried wolf situation right there.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, “It was just a simple parlor trick, I was stationary when I did it. It made for a cool video, those boys probably never even heard my second whistle before.”

Duck looked at Oliver straight in the eye, “Oliver,” he said sternly, “there are two ways-”

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT SAYING IT!!” James hollered from across the shed, “IF YOU EVEN DARE SAY WHAT WE ARE ALL THINKING, DON’T!! OR ELSE I WILL GREAT WESTERN MY WAY ONTO THAT TURNTABLE, AND SHUNT YOU BACK TO SWINDON ON A FLATBED! YOU HEAR!?”

“Hmph,” Oliver rolled his eyes, muttering, “Great Western my coal bunker.”

“Erm,” Toad squeaked, “Do you want to tell them about Percy…?”

“Oh yes! Well, we’ve been trying to figure out what exactly Percy is.” Oliver explained, “he wants to know what his basis is.”

“See, I tried to ask the fat controller if he could look up in the records what type of engine I am,” Percy explained, “I know that I am a saddle tank, of course, but what kind? Who are my builders? All we know is that I might be an Avonside 0-4-0st, and that means…” he grinned and looked at Duck, “tell them!”

“He might have some GWR parts in him,” Duck smiled, “though he may not be 100% GWR, the closest engine that resembles Percy would be Avonside SS class “Trojan”. He definitely has a similar silhouette, except it’s not a perfect match, but as far as we know, he was built by Avonside so he must have some GWR in him.”

Percy was shaking with glee, “oh I can’t wait for my init- ing- indignant- indig- Bleh! Can’t speak!”

“Initiation.” Duck corrected.

“Yeah, that word! Sorry, I’m just so excited. I’m going to be a honorary GWR engine since I’m not 100% a trojan, but still, it’s going to be awesome!” Percy gazed up at the sky, “Oh it’s going to be great! Duck is going to teach me everything Great Western and its values, their drivers are going to look for another whistle so I’m going to have two whistles, and, if I am lucky, Duck might let me pull one of the slip coaches. Oliver said that I can’t pull his autocoaches since I don’t have the right parts, but that doesn’t matter because I’m going to have two whistles!” Percy’s entire chassis was shaking with excitement.

“And that is my queue to retire, and become a static display for the National Railway Museum.” Henry muttered with dread at the idea of Percy now having two whistles to abuse.

“It was nice knowing you, Henry.” Gordon saluted.

James leaned in, “Say Henry, if you’re going to become a static display, can I have your whistle then?”

“But I already promised Gordon that he can have my whistle.” Henry said, “it’s right in my will and testament. “I, Henry the Black five Stannier, will graciously bestow my tender and my whistle to Gordon”.”

“Oh?” James perked up, “What will I get?”

“The Flying Kipper.”

James’s face flushed a sickly green at the mere thought of pulling heavy filthy vans packed with dead, slimy, stinky fish, “please tell me that your will isn’t final….”

Duck changed the subject, “so, it’s been a while since we’ve come around these parts, what’s been happening?”

Toby closed his eyes, “oh nothing much, the Stationmaster at Ffarquhar is divorcing his wife after 23 years of marriage, porter John is considering going from using iron drivers to wood, Mrs. Kindly’s refreshment stand was broken into and had the tip jar stolen, the trucks up at the stone quarry are working on their first rap album, after their christmas album flopped, some enthusiasts got their steam car stuck on the grading and needed to be towed, a bunch of teens broke into the vicar’s orchard, dug up an apple tree, and replanted it in the middle of the branchline. And according to Edward, we have a new engine.”

Oliver turned to Edward, “a new engine?”

“Is he Great Western?” Duck asked.

“Oh, they’re not a boy,” Edward corrected.

“Oh, my apologies, is she Great Western?” Duck corrected.

“They.” James interjected quickly.

Duck looked puzzled, “They? You mean there’s more than one of them?”

Gordon rolled his eyes, “no, there’s only one of them.”

“They just don’t have a gender, and no one knows if they are a boy or girl, so we’re using they.” Edward explained.

Duck scrunched up his forehead, “huh, never really heard about a They engine before…”

“Tell us about the new engine!” Percy peeped, he leaned in closely, eager to hear what Edward had to say.

“Do tell!” Henry smiled.

“Alright then,” Edward settled back down in the shed, he straightened his bifocals out with a little nose wiggle, “I don’t know much about this engine really, but here is what I know: Victor called me one morning, about… I believe a couple of weeks ago maybe? I don't know exactly when. In that phone call, Victor explained to me that sir Robert had just excavated an engine from France, he wants them to be restored to working order for his museum, I believe they’re a Kerr Stuart Joffre trench locomotive.”

“Peter Sam’s builder,” Emily whispered looking down at her buffers sadly.

“They’re in extremely rough shape.” Edward continued, his voice now with a tinge of sadness, “when they woke up, they still thought they were in World War One, they’re blind and suffering terribly.”

“Blind!?” Percy exclaimed.

“How are they going to run if they can’t see?” Duck asked worriedly.

Toad, who was quiet the whole time, spoke up, “excuse my interruption mister Edward, I actually remember something similar happening on mister Oliver’s old line.

The shed quieted down for Toad, he went on and recalled his story.

“It happened years ago, I don’t remember the poor engine’s name exactly. But what I do remember was that there was this express engine. They would always stop at the station at Gloucester where the passengers would board onto Oliver’s train for the Golden valley line.”

“Golden valley line?” Percy asked with interest.

“It’s a line that runs between Swindon and Goucester,” Oliver explained, “I mostly ran in between Chalford and Gloucester. It was a nice line too, there were so many green hills and canals.” he gave a small chuckle, “I wonder whatever happened to that little old line.” he gazed down at his buffers, his face fell into a longing and sad frown. Duck gave Oliver a reassuring smile.

“Whatever happens to your old line, just remember you still have friends and family here, and the Little western Branchline.” Duck reassured Oliver.

Oliver gave a faint smile. Toad continued his story.

“The express engine was rude to us, they would whoosh us with steam every time they came into the station. They held a firm belief that little branchline tank engines were on the bottom of the pecking order, they were most certainly horrid to any rolling stock that wasn’t the express coaches.” Toad shuddered at the memory.

“They even called Toad a !!^%$#!!! !!!@##!!! !!!@#!!! !!!&*&^%%$!!! !!!&^%$#!!! Dweller.” Oliver raged.

All of the engines in that shed’s eyes bursted from their smokeboxes at Oliver’s language. Nobody ever heard Oliver curse, let alone repeat a torrid of foul language.

“Oliver?” Duck said stiffly, “pardon me but um… that language wasn’t very Great Western…”

“But it was said by a Great Western engine.”

“Enough!” Gordon grouched, “let Toad finish his story.”

Toad was surprised to hear Gordon speaking out for him, “Oh, thank you mister Gordon. Right, um… so the express engine was snooty, a bit of a narcissist. One day they were tasked to pull a goods train of petrol. They complained so much that they bumped me and the trucks so hard that I nearly got crushed between the buffers.”

“As we were heading down the line, the engine’s funnel began blowing sparks and black smoke out. The cloud of ash was so dark that it almost blocked out the sun. Then it happened.” Toad shook and glanced over at Oliver.

“You don’t need to continue it.” said Oliver.

“Do you think perhaps you could finish it?” Toad asked, “this part gives me chills.”

“Of course.” Oliver continued the story, “the sparks caught one of the fuel trucks on fire, before anyone could think, the first six tankers exploded. Toad was in the back when it happened so luckily he didn’t get destroyed, but he was rocked off the rails by the shockwave. The poor engine caught fire too, they laid on their side burning until the fire was put out.”

Oliver let out a shaky sigh, “it was a horrible sight, half of the engine’s face burnt off, they couldn’t see or hear at all. The loud explosion destroyed their hearing. In the end, the manager had them cut up and their parts used for spares. Though, some engines who received those parts report having this sort of weird feeling.”

“What kind of feeling was it?” Edward asked, deeply engrossed in the story.

Oliver looked up at the sky, “I don’t know, kind of like a sort of darkness?”

James snorted, “so you’re implying the parts are haunted.”

“I never said that they were haunted, I’m just saying that the engines who got the spare parts from that specific engine claimed to feel a sort of darkness attached to them.”

“Dark feelings don’t mean haunted James.” Henry injected, “I get the same feeling whenever I’m around you.”

The entire shed erupted with laughter, James’s face turned redder than his paint work, if he wasn’t clenching his jaw so hard, he would’ve woken up the entire island and the isle of man with his tirade of angry words.

“But, that engine, and the engine at the works.” Percy studied the ground, “the engine in the story was scrapped because they couldn’t see or hear. But the engine in the steamworks, they still have their hearing, maybe there’s a chance?”

Edward gave Percy a reassuring look, “Don’t worry about them too much, Victor has a lot of experience in dealing with these kinds of problems.”

“Yeah, he not only helped me when I got into that accident with Trevor’s prize pumpkin, but he helped me with dealing with being teased. He taught me to ignore the teasing and make myself as uninteresting as possible, and to let it all roll off my back.” Percy smiled.

“Yes, if Victor could help you, then surely he could help the engine.” Edward reassured him.

Percy sighed, “I just wish we could do more…”

“I know, but unfortunately, we can’t, sometimes the only thing one can do is to pray and hope.”

Percy looked down at the ground, “I guess so….”

After that, the engines drifted off to sleep one by one. For the rest of the night and during his mail run, Percy couldn’t stop thinking about the engine in the works. Surely there had to be something he could do, he can’t just sit back and watch them suffer, why couldn’t he at least do something?

Chapter Text

Percy couldn’t stop thinking about No. 2456 during his mail run the next morning. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it all.

When he pulled into the station, he was grateful to see Thomas there with his train. Thomas was smiling and humming his theme song to himself, a happy sight to Percy’s somber mood.

“Hello Thomas!” Percy peeped, “did you have a good night’s rest?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “well, I ended up sleeping in the carriage shed with Annie and Clarabel. Not the best place to be given how chilly it got. Fall seems to be coming early this year. Sir Topham hatt should do something about insulating the shed.” he checked back at his passengers boarding on his train, “how was your night? Did you and Duck have a lot to talk about?”

Percy glanced quickly away from Thomas, “well, actually, we were all talking about something else…”

Thomas listened closely, “really? What was it?”

Percy looked at Thomas’s buffers, “well, the earl just bought a trench loco from France, I believe they’re from the same company that built Peter Sam. they’re called No. 2456. They’re being restored at the steam works right now.” Percy paused, his top lip quivered, “they’re so traumatized Thomas! They lost their eyes and everything! They’re so scared!”

“Cinders and Ashes!” Thomas uttered out.

Percy stayed quiet for a bit, trying not to cry, he inhaled and spoke, “Thomas? You were around during World War one, right? Do you remember anything from then? What was it like?”

“Um….” To be honest, Thomas didn’t really remember much from that time, he was a fresh-faced engine that rolled off the factory floors of the Brighton Works. The world back then was rather small. It was just him and the shunting yards at the Brighton harbors, and his twin brother, Timothy. Of course there were the ships that came into the harbor from foreign lands, but the idea of anything happening outside that tiny sphere never really occurred to him, let alone a whole war going down just a channel away from him.

“I’m sorry, I just really don’t know Percy,” Thomas replied, his guard signal for him to depart. He peeped his whistle, still puzzled by the question, “I really don’t know.”

Percy frowned and watched Thomas puff away. He scrunched up his face trying to think of something, just anything really. Obviously he understood the concept of world war one, but that was just about it.

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Percy looked up to see a very elderly man and a very short woman in her twenties standing on the platform. Percy took a double take of the woman, she had a patch of white hair in her bangs.

“Do you know when the next train to F-Facker is?” the old man asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“He means F-Fra- Ghuap.” the short lady said, she pointed to the map in her hands.

“Oh you mean Ffarquhar.” Percy said, “the train for it just left.”

The two let out a collective groan.

“But the time schedule said that it’s not going to be here in an hour!” the old man held up the schedule, “see? Says right here, nine o’ clock!”

“Oh that’s last year's summer time table.” Percy explained, “you can find an updated version inside the station.”

“Here, Opa, let me see.” The woman took the schedule and read it over, the pair walked back to the station, “where did you get this one?”

“Off of the internet.” the old man said, “I looked up “Sodor time schedule”, and clicked on the first image I saw.”

The woman gripped the ribbon around her neck, “oh no no no no no! This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all!” she scuttered back and forth on the platform, “okaywemissedourtrainthisisn’tgoodwegotthewrongscheduleandnowourtrainisgone.”

“It's okay Mouse.” the old man hugged her, “deep breaths, alright? We’ll just go get a new schedule. No one died, okay?”

The lady had her face buried into her Opa, “mmkay…”

Percy watched the two go back into the station. The porters finished unloading the mail. He peeped his whistle and headed down the line. He was lost in his thoughts. Maybe he should go see No. 2456? He shuddered at the thought. What would he even say? The poor engine has lost their eyes. They don’t even have a name. He should at least bring a little gift for them. What would they even like?

Mr. Kindly had his film camera up in his yard. Percy grinned and whistled to him.

“Good morning Mr. Kindly! Good morning mrs. Kindly!”

Mrs. Kindly draped a big afghan over the clothes line, “hello Percy!”

The afghan gave Percy an idea.

Last winter a fan mailed him a giant scarf. It was more of an Alaskan king sized afghan than a scarf. Because Percy gets so many scarves in the mail by fans, his driver ends up donating the majority of them for the needy, but they keep a few of the nicer ones. The afghan was one of them, it was white and lacy with crocheted red roses around the edges. It was made by an elderly woman in South africa. They couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Maybe it’s time to give it to someone who could use it.

“Driver?” Percy asked, “remember that afghan someone made us? The one with the red roses on the edges?”

His driver nodded, “the one with the lacy flowers? I do, it’s still in the bunkhouse, why?”

“I think I know someone who could use it.”

______________________________________________________________

It wasn’t until the end of the day when Percy got permission to go meet No. 2456. His driver folded the giant afghan up, and wrapped it in newspaper. Percy smiled as he puffed up the line. He hoped No. 2456 would like his gift.

When he pulled into Croven’s gate, he saw Skarloey in a siding talking to Duncan and Peter Sam. Percy could only catch pieces of Skarloey’s conversation. They were talking in Welsh with each other.

“...Gweler, os ydym yn torri ein trenau wladwriaeth yn hanner- oh! Good afternoon Percy! Lovely day.” Skarloey gave a polite whistle.

“Good afternoon Skarloey!” Percy greeted back, “what were you guys talking about?”

“Oh just some quarry stuff, nothing interesting,” Skarloey explained, “what brings you to our side of the island?”

“Did you hear about the new engine at the works?” Percy asked.

“The little trench engine? Oh yes we most certainly have.” Peter Sam replied, “Duncan got to visit with them.”

“Aye, the poor laddie is scared to death.” Duncan explained in a low tone, “I was thinking of going over there again and having a smoke. They seem to enjoy cigarettes.”

“I was actually going to go over there myself.” Percy said glancing back at his cab, “I brought them a present.”

“Oh how thoughtful.” Skarloey smiled, “I was going to see them myself, but I haven’t been able to. Mind if I come along?”

Percy chuckled, “of course! I’m actually kind of nervous about meeting them.”

Skarloey looked back at Peter Sam, “are you going to come with us? You still haven’t met your cousin yet.”

Peter Sam’s steam dropped, he glanced around him nervously, “well, actually,” he looked away from the group, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“Are you still afraid to see them?” Skarloey asked sympathetically.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you are not comfortable with.” Skarloey reassured Peter Sam, “I’ll tell them that you said hello and you can’t wait to meet them. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter Sam agreed quietly, still avoiding eye contact.

With everything said, the group left the yard for the Steam works. Percy looked back at Peter Sam, “is he okay?”

Skarloey sighed, “yes, he’s just… Well, he doesn’t want to see his cousin in the state that they’re in right now.”

“Oh…” Percy whispered, “Poor Peter Sam… he must really want to see his cousin…”

“Aye, I saw him crying in his sleep when we learned about No. 2456.” Duncan remarked, Percy could see the concern on Duncan’s face. He was quite shocked to see Duncan be so… caring? He half expected to hear Duncan say that Peter Sam should just suck it up, and see his cousin regardless of how he feels.

Other than Duncan flinching slightly when Harold flew overhead, nothing of note happened on their journey. They stopped out front of the steam works, Duncan made them wait outside.

“Here, let me go in first and introduce you all to them.” he said, “they trust me the most out of everyone.”

Duncan slowly crawled into the steamworks, No. 2456 was parked in the back as usual surrounded by scaffolding and tarpaulin. They were visibly struggling to stay away while the men worked.

“Hello No. 2456.” Duncan tooted his whistle.

No. 2456 blinked awake, “Duncan? Is that you?”

“Aye, it is.”

No. 2456 let out a huge sigh of relief, “I was worried you weren’t going to come back!”

“And leave a wounded blisterfoot by themself? Pah!” Duncan scoffed, he puffed next to No. 2456, “Driver bought a pack of cigarettes with us, I was wondering if you would like a Butt.”

No. 2456 glowed when cigarettes were mentioned, “yes! Let’s take a fair whack at them!”

“Before we do that, I’ve brought some friends along with me.” Duncan looked back out to where Percy and Skarloey were parked. Skarloey gave Duncan a nod, “They want to meet you. Is that okay with you?”

No. 2456 hesitated, new people? Wanting to see them?

“Who are they?” No. 2456 asked quietly.

“Skarloey and Percy.” Duncan stated, “Skarloey was going to visit you but !!&^%!! Happened.”

“Duncan!” Victor scolded from across the works. No. 2456 jumped at the sound of Victor’s voice.

Victor rolled up next to them, “I’m sorry for startling you.” he turned back to Duncan, “who did you say came to see them?”

“Percy and Skarloey.” Duncan said bluntly, “are they allowed to come in or not?”

Victor glanced outside at the two, he turned back to No. 2456, “No. 2456,” he explained in a soft voice, “there’s two friends of Duncan waiting outside. They really want to meet you. Their names are Skarloey, and Percy. They’re very nice and wonderful engines. Is it okay if they come to visit for a bit?”

No. 2456 hesitated.

“They don’t have to stay for very long, if at any point you get tired of them, you can politely ask them to leave.” Victor added on.

No. 2456 chewed their lip, “o-okay then. They can come in.”

Victor gave them a proud and comforting smile, his smile fell when he remembered that they couldn’t see it. Victor left Duncan with No. 2456, and went outside.

“Percy, Skarloey.” he said in a serious tone, “you may go visit them but I need to set some rules with you.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, “what are the rules?”

Victor cleared his throat, “please do not mention the war at all to them, they’re still in a fragile state of mind and please respect that. Try not to ask questions about their previous life or bring up their disability. You can tell them about the North Western Railway, but don’t push them. Alright?”

“Understood Victor.” Skarloey replied.

“Good, come this way my friends.” Victor led them into the works.

Percy let out an audible gasp when he laid eyes on No. 2456. He knew it was going to be bad, but it didn’t occur to him of just how bad it was. To Percy, No. 2456 looked like a corpse. It broke Percy’s heart. No. 2456 and Duncan were already smoking away on their cigarettes. No. 2456 had a look of tiredness mixed with bliss.

“Hello No. 2456, my name is Percy.” he gave a peep of his whistle. No. 2456 didn’t respond immediately. They slowly blinked before letting their eyelids drop.

Skarloey puffed forward, “and I am Skarloey, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” he gave a toot of his whistle, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Duncan.”

No. 2456 blinked rapidly, “hello.” They turned back to their cigarette.

An awkward silence fell among the group, No. 2456 dozed off with their cigarette in their mouth, Percy glanced awkwardly over at Victor and Kevin.

Victor spoke up in a whisper, “they haven’t been sleeping that well.”

“Oh no….”

Victor gently blew a bit of steam onto No. 2456, “No. 2456?” he whispered, “if you’re too tired, they can come back another time.”

No. 2456’s eyelids fluttered open, “um…. I… I think I’m fine.”

Victor nodded, “alright, but don’t push yourself.”

More awkward silence ensued right afterwards. Percy kept his eyes averted away from No. 2456, what should he even say to them? He looked over quickly at Skarloey who still hadn’t said anything up until then.

Skarloey cleared his throat, “Percy brought you a gift.”

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Driver? Do you think maybe…”

“I got you.” Percy’s driver climbed out of the cab with the package. He unwrapped the brown paper and presented the afghan to No. 2456.

“It’s an afghan,” Victor explained to them, “it’s a big heavy blanket that someone made. It’s very beautiful, it’s white with little lace flowers. The edges have these dark red roses with green leaves all around them. It’s made of yarn and it looks so warm.”

No. 2456 perked up, Flowers? Someone made an entire blanket out of yarn with flowers?

Percy’s driver struggled to hold up the giant blanket, “how do I…?”

“Here, put it up to their face.” the manager helped him.

No. 2456 flinched slightly when they felt the blanket brush against their cheek, it felt soft. They could feel out the holes in the afghan, each hole and cluster formed into the shape of a flower, they felt out each space and petal, the yarn was thick and soft. They reached the first of the roses. The rose seemed to be sewed on, they felt over each yarn petal making out the shape. It felt…. safe? Was that the word?

Percy grinned happily at No. 2456’s smile, they looked like they haven’t smiled in such a long time, “a fan in south africa made it.” He said, “we get so much fan mail thanks to the books.”

Skarloey chuckled. “I’m guessing they’ve read about your scarf incident.”

Percy scowled, “oh don’t remind me… it took me forever to clean that jam off…”

Duncan bursted out laughing, “what was it that Percy said? “Only engines with proper funnels can wear a scarf”?”

Both Skarloey and Duncan burst out laughing much to Percy’s annoyment. No. 2456 ignored them all, they were more focused on their blanket. It really threw them into a loop, somebody took the time to make a blanket and send it to Percy, Someone they’ve never met. And now Percy is giving it to them even though they’ve never met before? Why? Surely the blanket could’ve gone to someone else.

Percy’s driver and the manager wrapped the blanket the best they could around No. 2456. The blanket was heavy, but it felt safe. A corner of it was positioned against No. 2456’s face. They nuzzled it. A human made it with their own hands. How is it that humans can make something so warm and beautiful like an afghan, and also things like guns, bombs, and mustard gas? Humans are creatures of destruction, they are more than willing to ravage each other in a senseless blood war without a single afterthought. They see the otherside as wild barbaric beasts lined up to be slaughtered. There’s no ounce of humanity in them.

But also they can create beautiful things too? Things like flowers and afghans? What are humans then? Are they evil or not? Which is it?

Percy, Skarloey, and Duncan continued to chatter with each other. No. 2456 tried to listen but lost interest. Eventually, the conversation turned back to No. 2456.

“How come you don’t have a name?” Percy asked.

“Hm?”

Percy explained, “I mean, we’ve been calling you No. 2456 ever since you’ve got here, and everyone on the island has a name. Why don’t you?”

No. 2456 knew the answer, it’s because they were meant to be canon fodder. The workers at the factory saw no use in naming something that was just going to die within a few months of living. Besides, they had plenty of replacement engines just like them.

“I just… was never named…” they replied simply.

“Hm…” Skarloey hummed, “would you like a name?”

That thought never really occurred to them at all. It took them back for a moment, “I-”

“I think a name would be great for you.” Victor replied, “do you have any ideas of what you want to be called?”

A name? No. 2456 struggled to think of anything. It never really occurred to them that they might one day have a name, “no… I don’t… really have one…”

“What about Joffre?” Percy suggested, “like your class?”

No. 2456 got nervous, “Joffre?”

“Hm… maybe best not.” Victor pointed out, “it might confuse people.”

“Yeah… Peter Sam had the same treatment.” Skarloey pointed out, “let’s maybe avoid class names…”

“There’s always Kerr Stuart.” Duncan remarked.

“Absolutely not in a million years.” Victor quickly shot down.

Skarloey thought for a minute before a name finally came to him, “you know,” he said, “my first fireman’s name was Morgan.”

“Morgan?” No. 2456 said a bit unsure.

Skarloey continued, “it’s a welsh name that means “circling sea”, or “white sea dweller”. It’s also connected to the celtic goddess of war, fate, and death. I think it might suit you. The Welsh origin ties with your relationship with Peter Sam and the Skarloey railroad, the sea meaning goes with the island of Sodor, your new home. The sea also is symbolic of change and freedom. While the Celtic goddess connection refers to your past life. It’s also a name that can be given to both boys and girls.”

“That’s a very good name! I like it!” Victor remarked.

“Yeah, I think it’s perfect!” Percy agreed.

“Much better than No. 2456.” Duncan added.

“So, what do you think?” Victor asked No. 2456, “would you like to be named Morgan?”

They thought about it, they honestly liked the name Morgan, it felt very fitting given what Skarloey said. They wouldn’t mind being named that.

“Oh yes! Absolutely!”

The engines whistled happily for them, but none of them couldn’t match the happiness that Morgan felt.

Chapter Text

[Chapter 15]

Several days had passed without anything of note happening, aside from a slight mishap involving a cow, and a coach full of school children. With the Harvest season, most of the engines found work in taking crops and passengers to local markets. On the coast, it was a different story.

Fall meant a huge decrease in passengers, and more people bringing their boats in from the harbor. It was a bittersweet close to summer for the engines on the little western. Oliver and Duck were at the harbor watching as Captain Joe and Skiff packing up the railboat tours.

“That’s the last of them,” Captain Joe wiped his forehead as he and Skiff watched the last group of Tourists leave.

“I think we had a good season,” Skiff sighed, “Nothing but clear skies and calm oceans.”

Captain Joe patted Skiff, “It was! I guess you can say everything was… what is it that you guys say?”

“Ship shape, and Swindon Fashion.” Duck finished off with a smile.

“Yes! Ship shape and Swindon fashion!” Captain Joe gave a hearty laugh.

Duck couldn’t help but chuckle too, “Oh we taught them well, didn’t we Oliver?”

“I say so.” Oliver added, he turned back to Skiff, “we’re going to miss you Skiff,”

Skiff looked down at the pavement, “I know, I’ll miss you all too, but I’ll be seeing you next summer. It does get kind of lonely in the shed, I guess some of the yachts do make for good company, they’re not much of a talker, and they could care less about Sudrian history. But at least they are something.”

“At least you won’t be alone during your hibernation,” Oliver looked down at his buffers, “I wish you could spend the winter with us. Toad would love to hear your stories, he recently got into marine life you know. Driver bought some records and CDs for him, he loves Jules Verne 2,000 leagues under the sea.”

“Captain Joe sells that book in his shop, I haven’t listened to it yet.” Skiff remarked.

“Oh it’s pretty good! Toad loves those kinds of stories, they always put him to sleep. I’m still trying to arrange a date with him and Salty. Toad would love listening to Salty’s stories.”

“Who’s Salty?” Skiff asked.

“He’s a dockside diesel that works over at Brendam.” Oliver explained, “he’s always telling these tall tales about pirates and sea monsters. He’s such a good story teller.”

“I think you would enjoy him.” Duck commented, “I bet you two would get along great, and you might have some new stories for your tourists.”

Skiff’s eyes glowed in awe, “he sounds wonderful! I’ll have to meet him next year.”

Captain Joe leaned against a wall and took a long sip of coffee, he stopped suddenly, “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you!” Captain Joe set his coffee down excitedly, “Skiff, you don’t need to spend the entire winter in the boat shed afterall.”

Everyone perked up excitedly at the news.

“Really?” Skiff’s eyes sparkled, “what is it?”

Captain Joe pulled out a pamphlet with sunny volcanic beaches with sea turtles, palm trees, crystal clear waters, and smiling hula dancers with bright colored dresses and sunny flowers in their hair. On the pamphlet read it big bold letters “Hawaii welcomes you!”

“We had enough money left over from our tours, so I used it to rent us a little winter Beach house in Hawaii!” Captain Joe announced.

Duck and Oliver whistled with excitement, Skiff could only screech with excitement.

“SOMEBODY FILL MY HAUL WITH CEMENT AND SINK ME, BECAUSE I MUST BE DREAMING!!”

Captain Joe laughed, “nope! I got in touch with my friends in the states and they helped me get this house. You’re gonna love it Skiff, it’s right next to a beach just down the street from me friends, they have children that love the ocean. You’re gonna love it!”

Skiff was lost for words, he was already dreaming about his adventures in hawaii, sailing over crystal clear waters followed by porpoises and sea turtles, seeing real active volcanoes billowing smoke like giant steam engines, mourning on a sandy beach and watching the sky turn into shades of pink and red that he never knew existed. It was paradise.

Duck’s guard whistled and waved his flag. Duck checked back at the platform.

“You are so lucky Skiff! A holiday in Hawaii! You are going to have such a grand time, pardon me, I’m just starting to feel a bit jealous just talking about it!” Duck smiled happily.

“Then I’ll have to make room in my suitcase for you!” Captain Joe laughed, he gave his cap a little tip.

Duck blew his whistle and puffed happily out of the station, “Goodbye skiff! Have a great Holiday!”

“Bye Duck! I’ll make sure to send you a postcard as soon as I get there!”

Captain Joe climbed back into Skiff and hoisted the anchor, “Come on Skiff! We got a lot of things to do before we set off! I think a special paint job is in order. What do you say about blue waves and sea turtles?”

“Ooh!”

Oliver watched the two roll down the hill for the water, he let out a sigh and blew his whistle before taking off on another routine passenger run back down the line.

However, as he was reversing back up the line, a peculiar car came chuffing into the parking lot. It had steam puffing out of it, and sounded just like a steam engine, it was blue and shiny with a Scotland number plate. One of the occupants, a very short woman with a distinctive white tuft of hair, sprung out of the car with a camcorder before the car came to a full stop. She bolted after Oliver, eyes bugging, and hands shaking.

Oliver’s driver looked out from the cab, “looks like we have an enthusiast.”

“An enthusiast indeed.” Oliver watched as the lady then jumped onto the tracks, much to everyone’s horror. The lady was completely oblivious to her surroundings. She hopped down from the tracks and ran along the adjacent tracks, buzzing with excitement.

The one that Douglas was coming down.

“WATCH OUT!!” Oliver shouted, Blasting both his brake whistle and signaling whistle.

The lady tripped and fell onto the tracks, Douglas blasted his whistle and threw on his brakes. Both engines squeezed their eyes shut as the lady scrambled to get back on her feet. A workman thinking fast, raced onto the tracks, grabbed her by the ear, and yanked her hard off of the track mere inches from a bloody tragedy.

“Bloody Hell!” Douglas exclaimed, clearly very shaken, he tried to look back at the lady, but Douglas’s eyes were shaking too much to see them clearly, “What the !!%$#!! Was that!?”

“Enthusiast.” Oliver choked out, he could feel his steam pressure rising, “they were trying to get a video of me.”

Douglas sucked air through his grimmaced teeth, “ooh… the fat controller isn’t going to be happy at all by this…” with that, he sped off with his goods train to the next station still shaking and muttering things in Gaelic.

Douglas couldn’t have underestimated the Fat Controller’s anger anymore. By the time he pulled into the next station, the fat controller and the stationmaster were already there with the lady and her grandfather. Douglas was parked in a siding giving his retelling of events.

“You have caused confusion and Delay!” the fat controller said sternly, “do you know how bad things would’ve gotten for both you and the railway if you weren’t saved at the last minute.”

The lady had her hand over her left ear in discomfort, she looked pale and shaken, “I’m so so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to trip! Honestly, it was just an accident! I’ve never saw an autotank before and I was so excited to get good footage- I didn’t mean any harm sir! Please don’t send me to jail!”

“I have received so many complaints from workers about you two trespassing on railway property.” the fat controller put his hands on his hips, “there is a good reason why we don’t allow random people on railway property, someone could’ve gotten very hurt or killed. What you were doing is a huge liability to the railway!”

A mustached man with a tape recorder, and a similar patch of white hair to the lady, climbed out of the coach and ran over to the lady.

“Oh my- Mouse! Are you alright? What happened?”

“She was trying to videotape me, but she jumped onto the tracks and fell, Douglas almost hit her.” Oliver recalled.

“Thank you Oliver.” the fat controller said.

“What?” the lady uncovered her ear, confused.

The fat controller turned back to Mouse, “what is your name?”

“I- I’m sorry, what?”

The fat controller spoke louder, “what is your name?”

“Mouse, Mouse Meriwether sir. I’m so sorry!”

“Her real name is Eva, but we all call her Mouse because of how small and timid she is. I’m her father by the way.” The man with the tape recorder replied, “and this is my father.” he gestured to the old man.

“I’m giving you all a warning.” the fat controller crossed his arms, “next time you want to film the engines, do it from a safe distance and do not trespass on railway property, there are plenty of places where you can get good video footage of my engines.”

Mouse rubbed her ear, “I’m sorry sir.”

“Don’t apologize to me, say it to them.” the fat controller pointed at Oliver and Douglas.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble!” Mouse blurted out.

“Apology accepted.” Oliver said.

“Aye. same here.” Douglas replied.

The Fat controller gave a satisfied nod, “good, now let’s try and go back to work, we’re running behind on schedule.”

The Meriwethers headed back to the parking lot, Oliver could see Mouse’s dad checking her injured left ear.

“Serves them right.” he muttered. He tooted his whistle and went back to his passengers.

After his passenger run, OIiver parked his coaches and grabbed his line of ballast trucks. Toad was already in a siding, sleeping. Oliver gently shunted him to the back of his train.

“Oh, morning mister Oliver.” Toad blinked awake, “anything new and exciting during your passenger run?”

Oliver coupled up to his train, “Just a suicidal enthusiast, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Oh…” Toad rolled his eyes at the statement.

Oliver pulled out of the yard, “anyways, did you know that Skiff is going to spend the winter in Hawaii?”

“Really?” Toad perked up.

“Yep! Captain Joe rented a beach house for the winter, and they’re going to spend the winter there.” Oliver recalled.

“How exciting! I do wish we could have a nice holiday too, mister Oliver.” Toad smiled dreamily, “don’t you have a living sibling?”

“You mean Bulliver? Yeah! It would be very nice to see them, though I don’t know If I would want to go to the mainland…” Oliver let his voice trail off.

Ever since his escape, just the mere idea of him stepping back onto the mainland was like diving to the bottom of the ocean, he considered himself lucky to not have the branchline facing the mainland. He didn’t know how he would function with having to see the outline of what was essentially a blackhole looming just in eyeshot of him, it’s presence being a constant torture all being barely out of arm’s reach of him, constantly.

A silent killer breathing down his neck, wanting to grab him by the smokebox with its icy cold hands and strangle the life out of him. He could scream all he wanted, but no sound will ever come out of his mouth, this time, no one will hear him scream. The cold icy hands tightening around him, harder and harder, his smokebox crumpling like a soda can, the sound of his boiler tubes cracking like chicken bones. As the hands strangled him, all of his tears would be squeezed out from his face until finally, his smoke box door bursting open with his face in a mess of gray fleshy shreds splattering into a void.

“Mister Oliver? Are you alright? Can you hear me?” Toad waited for Oliver to respond, he heard nothing.

Toad began to worry, he tried to listen for any hissing of steam, nothing. The whole train was frozen in place, overshooting the ballast hopper at Arlesdale.

Toad could see the miniature engines parked nearby with looks of concern plastered on their faces. Bert’s passengers pointed at Oliver and whispered to each other.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Oh… he’s shaking!”

“Is that the engine that was saved from scrap years ago?”

“Poor thing, can barely do his own work.”

“Oliver? Is everything alright?”

Toad can feel the stares burning onto them, he could sense in the air the mounting stress from Oliver, the fight or flight kicking in, but being unable to move.

Toad spoke up, “Please, everyone, sorry to sound rude, Mister Oliver is not feeling too well right now, please move along!”

The passengers ignored Toad. they were still pointing and whispering at Oliver. Oliver’s crew stepped out to talk to him. Oliver’s face was pale, his eyes were jittering so hard that they ached.

“Oliver?” his fireman asked, “what’s going on? You’ve been having steaming problems ever since we left the yard.”

Oliver didn’t respond, he had a glassy look on his face, he wasn’t blinking, he couldn’t breathe, his tubes felt like they were stuffed up, his boiler ached, it felt like it was going to implode.

“Come on Ollie,” his driver said, “we need to go back to work.”

“I think he might have shut down again, mister.” Toad called up to the driver.

“Why? What triggered him this time?” The driver ran back to Toad.

“Maybe the incident with the enthusiasts?” Toad suggested.

As if adding acid to an already gaping wound, the trucks began to snicker at the situation.

“Ooh! Is little Ollie scared of his own passengers now?” one of the trucks teased.

“That’s not what happened!” Toad said firmly, “the enthusiast could’ve been killed!”

The trucks continued, “Ollie almost killed a person?”

“First Scruffy, now a person! No wonder the mainland didn’t want him!”

“You should’ve run them over! Right in front of your passengers! Let the blood and guts splatter all over your buffers!”

“Whoa whoa whoa! We’re promoting manslaughter now!”

“We always have!”

“That is enough! Mister oliver? Let’s uncouple you from this train right now, and get you away from these trucks!” Toad called up.

The trucks burst out laughing.

“The fat controller doesn’t want a murderer!”

“Murderer! Murderer! Ollie is a murderer!”

Oliver’s safety valve began to shriek. The miniature engines had it with the trucks.

“That’s enough!” Mike shouted blowing his whistle, “you’re all sick freaks for triggering him! Sick freaks! You hear me!? Don’t any of you remember Scruffy!?”

“Stop it! You’re all hurting Oliver!” Rex blew his whistle.

“Please ignore them Oliver! They’re just trying to make you mad!” Bert called over.

The trucks kept at it, ignoring the other engines while escalating the situation.

“I hope you kill a person Oliver!” a truck shouted, “that way the fat controller can finally get rid of you for good!”

“Yeah! Did you hear? The fat controller wants you for scrap!”

“Scrap! Scrap! Scrap!”

“Hey oliver!” a truck called up, “I heard that the diesels are coming!”

“Oh no! Not the Diesels!” the trucks shouted.

“THE DIESELS ARE COMING!! YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!! THEY’RE COMING TO TAKE YOU BACK TO YOUR OLD LINE SO YOU CAN BE CUT UP!! THEY FOUND YOU OLIVER! THEY FINALLY FOUND YOU! THE DIESELS KNOW WHERE YOU ARE HIDING!! RUN OLIVER RUN! YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE DIESELS!”

“RUN RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN! THEY’LL CATCH YOU! THEY’RE THE DIESELS!!”

Oliver broke.

Oliver blasted a huge cloud of soot and sparks, he shot forward and slammed straight into the buffers in a blind rage and panic.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, everything had melted together in one big puddle. He repeatedly slammed himself as hard as he could into the buffers. Sparks, steam, and smoke blinded him, it plugged up his nose. He continued to scream and bash his trucks. The world had completely disappeared from him, all he could see were diesels slowly encroaching in on him on every side ready to strangle him.

Chapter Text

Victor dropped everything when Oliver came in. He was a mess to say the least, he was spitting out dark black ash and embers, his buffers were scrapped up, and he was crying and screaming.

“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!”

Toad was coupled to the front of Oliver, he was crying and pleading with Oliver desperately, “Mister Oliver, it’s okay! Please, listen to my voice! It’s me, Toad!”

Douglas, who had shunted the pair in, was horrified, he looked ill.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What happened? What’s going on?” Victor puffed over.

“I don’t know! He overshot the ballast hopper at Arlesdale, and froze!” Toad explained tearfully, “then the trucks started harassing him, and he broke down!”

Douglas’s face flushed green, “I think I’m going to be…” before he could finish his sentence, he blew out a huge cloud of black ash from his funnel. The ash cloud settled all over the area around him. He coughed and hacked.

Victor spat out some of the ash, “thank you for bringing Oliver here, you can go now.”

Douglas quickly uncoupled himself, and rushed out of the works. Victor turned back to Oliver who started to thrash.

“Release all of his steam and put out his fire,” Victor instructed, “make sure he doesn’t hurt himself even more!”

A huge cloud of steam whooshed out from Oliver, the manager rushed over to the group, “what’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Panic attack maybe?” Victor turned his attention to Toad, “what were the trucks saying to him?”

Toad pressed his buffers up tight against Oliver, “They were telling him that diesels were going to come and scrap him.”

“Post traumatic stress disorder attack maybe.” Victor assumed, “Kevin? Can you come over and help me? We need to move Oliver to an area where he can’t hurt himself.”

“Right away boss!” Kevin rushed over.

The manager pressed a cool cloth against Oliver’s face, “what usually calms him down?”

“I-... I think… I usually sing to him? That worked in the past?” Toad stuttered, he broke down in tears, “He’s never been like this! Please! Help him!”

“Oliver, this is Victor here, if you can hear me, blink twice.” Victor moved Oliver to a more secluded and quieter spot in the works. The workman covered the buffers up in an old gray blanket, hopefully, if Oliver freaks out, he wouldn’t cause too much damage to himself.

Morgan sat in their spot listening to it all go down. Something about the ordeal going on next to them seemed to have stirred something within them. Whether it was Oliver’s distress, or the noise from the workers, no one was sure. All Morgan knew was that they were right back in the trenches.

Bombs poured down from an unseen German bomber above them, the earth heaved and vomited up forgotten corpses, Morgan raced down the rough line with a line of wagons filled with wounded men.

More like pieces of men.

The pile of injured men in the wagons screamed in agony, there was one that was just a torso with a head, Morgan could hear them screaming in French. Another soldier was holding his intestines in his helmet, both would die before they reached a hospital. Why were they even loaded onto Morgan’s train to begin with? They didn’t know.

Through the dense smoke, Morgan could barely make out Péchot-Bourdon’s outline just ahead of them with another row of wagons overflowing with carnage.

“Come on! Keep up! There’s still more on the other side of the mound!”

Morgan struggled to keep up with them, bullets ricocheted off of their boiler, part of the track sank into the mud. Morgan’s wheels slipped as they struggled down the sinking tracks. The mud grabbed ahold of their wheels and held them down, Morgan tried to move but the mud had them sucked in. The mud was up to their buffers.They were slowly sinking inch by inch to a grave.

“Péchot-Bourdon!” they blew their whistle, “I’m sinking!”

“No. 2456!” Bourdon shouted, “Back up! See if we can pull them out!”

Péchot blew his whistle, “don’t move! We’re coming!”

Their drivers jumped out of the cab with a chain. Morgan felt the chains attached firmly to them. Péchot-Bourdon pulled with all their might, their wheels slipped, their pistons pumping, until the suction of the mud finally released Morgan.

“You alright there No. 2456?” Bourdon asked, panting.

Before Morgan could answer, a loud rattling sound sounded. Morgan’s boiler ran cold.

“Gas! Gas attack! Get your masks on!” a soldier shouted.

The engines looked over to see a billowing yellow cloud slowly rolling over to them, men ran from the killing cloud as fast as they could, some scrambled to get their masks on. Horses screamed and blew blood out from their nostrils when the cloud consumed them. Morgan watched helplessly as the cloud drifted closer, like the biblical angel of death seeking out the first born sons. Whoever was wearing a gas mask was spared as if marked by the blood of a lamb.

“Couple up with us!” Péchot-Bourdon shouted. Their drivers scrambled to get their gas masks on. But before Morgan could reach Péchot-Bourdon, the cloud of gas consumed them.

Morgan’s eyes stung, they coughed and hacked. The strong sweet smell burned Morgan’s face. If they were not an engine, they would’ve died.

“I CAN’T SEE!!” Morgan screamed, squeezing their eyes shut. Their entire body felt like it was on fire, Morgan can only describe the feeling as being cut apart by a torch, or smelted alive.

“We’re right here.” Péchot-Bourdon coupled up to Morgan, their faces were scrunched up in pain.

Péchot gasped and tried to open his watering eyes, “I think the field hospital is just down the line, come on, we’re almost there!”

Morgan’s memory muddied after that, they could remember vaguely traveling down the line blind in the thick, dense yellow cloud of burning gas. They could hear the sound of exploding artillery somewhere in the cloud, where it was coming from, they had no idea. They do remember at some point they saw a horse entangled in its own intestines come screaming from the cloud with its dead rider, flopping on its back like a sack of feathers, before crashing into them. Did that happen on that specific day? When did Morgan see that horse? Was it after Péchot-Bourdon’s death, or after? Did that really happen? Or maybe it happened to Péchot-Bourdon and they told Morgan the story about the horse?

All Morgan can remember was by the time the gas settled, and they reached the field hospital, every single one of those men in the wagons were dead.

Victor jumped when a loud, primal scream ripped through the works. Oliver seized up and froze completely.

“Morgan?” Victor looked over at Morgan, they were bright red in the face and shaking with terror, fury, and grief.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Toad asked in a panic, “Mister Oliver, please, calm down.”

Oliver had shut down completely, his eyes were jittering so hard that they hurt. Meanwhile, Morgan was hyperventilating and screeching gibberish that only made Oliver’s situation worse. Victor tried to focus on what he was doing, but could feel the stress mounting onto him the more he heard Morgan’s cries.

“Morgan, it’s okay, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.” Kevin tried to calm Morgan down, stress reading in bright neon across Kevin’s face as his words fell on deaf ears, “Boss what do I do?!”

Victor could feel his steam pressure soaring, “Um… try- try the grounding techniques. Um…” he turned back to Oliver, “Oliver, this is Victor, Can you hear my voice?”

Kevin rolled back and forth, “grounding techniques, grounding techniques, Morgan?”

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!!” Morgan snarled.

“Okay Oliver, I want you to take a deep breath,” Victor instructed, “I need you to inhale…. And exhale…” Victor blew out a long cloud of steam. Oliver’s hyperventilating steadied, his breathing slowed down.

“There we go… keep breathing,” Victor instructed. Another screech ripped through the works. Victor winced, Oliver tensed back up and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Boss?”

“I’ll be right over to help you, I just need to move Oliver to a quieter place.” Victor began slowly shunting Oliver and Toad out of the works, where can he move them? There should be another shed outside, but it’s a storage shed, he would have to move some of the equipment out, what about behind the works, there should be a siding maybe. Victor’s face flushed red as he tried to focus on helping Oliver, and deal with Morgan at the same time.

The manager hurried over to Morgan, “Morgan,” he stood in front of them, “Morgan?”

“GET AWAY FROM ME AND LET ME GO!” Morgan snarled.

“Morgan, I just need you to calm down, please.” The manager reached out for Morgan’s face, with the intent of calming them down.

That was when Morgan bit down on the Manager’s arm.

“Morgan!” the manager shouted.

“Boss! Help!” Kevin rushed over to Victor.

“Oh my-” Victor was about to uncouple himself from Oliver, but stopped, he looked at Oliver, and then back over at Morgan and the manager. Workman had rushed over to help the manager. Morgan was seething with anger.

“Morgan! Let go of the Manager! You’re hurting him! Please!” Victor shouted over.

“Mister Victor?” Toad whimpered.

“Don’t worry my friend.” Victor said tensely.

The manager and several workmen pried Morgan’s jaws off of the Manager’s arm. The manager jumped down off of them, gripping his bleeding arm.

“WHY CAN’T YOU ALL JUST DIE ALREADY!! YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!! ALL OF YOU!! DIE DIE DIE DIE! I HOPE YOU DIE!! I HOPE YOU ALL DIE LIKE YOU DESERVE!! KILL HIM! LET ME RIP OUT HIS ARM AND LEAVE HIM BLEEDING OUT!!” Morgan shrieked.

“Morgan! We’re just trying to help you!” The manager scolded.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME FOR DEAD!?” tears streamed down Morgan’s face, “I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN LET YOU HELP ME!! DON’T YOU HUMANS KNOW ANYTHING!? DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING!? WHY DON’T YOU EVER LEARN!? WHY ARE YOU ALL SO AWFUL!? YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT LIFE! YOU HATE LIFE! YOU ALL NEED TO DIE!!”

“Are you alright?” Kevin asked the manager.

The manager held his bleeding arm above his head, “yeah, no, I definitely will be needing stitches.”

“What do you want us to do?” a workman asked over Morgan’s threats and beratings.

“Cover them up with a tarp and get Sir robert and the fat controller on the phone, asap. Tell them that we had an engine attack us.” the manager squeezed his arm tight.

Victor felt the entire world collapse in on himself. He still had to deal with Oliver. He moved him and Toad to a siding behind the works, by the time Victor had moved them, Oliver had tired himself out and was fast asleep. Toad was trembling and crying.

“I’m so sorry Mister Victor, I really tried, I really did try, oh… mister Oliver… he’s been through so much, I usually can calm him down, I don’t know if I said anything wrong, I should’ve done more to keep those trucks in line, maybe we could’ve uncoupled him from the trucks maybe? If I just had-”

“Toad, it’s okay, you did everything you could do.” Victor reassured him, “Oliver is in a safe spot now, he’ll rest here, and we’ll patch him up when he wakes up. Okay?”

Toad sniffed, “I know, I know, I just, I just want him to be happy, and I thought we were past the breakdowns, and the panic attacks, and the self harm-”

“Toad, please, don’t kick yourself, it’s all over, no one could have predicted Oliver was going to have a panic attack, or the trucks being mean to him. You did nothing wrong.” Victor smiled reassuringly, “we’ll let Oliver sleep, and deal with the aftermath when he wakes up, do you think you can stay with him?”

“Of course mister Victor. I will.”

“Good,” Victor puffed away, “now let’s let Oliver sleep, let me know when he wakes up.”

“Thank you Mister Victor.”

Victor puffed to the old storage shed, he could barely keep his steam up, he felt so drained from the ordeal. He found a spot in the shed next to some old workman’s coaches, and track maintenance stuff and broke down in tears.

It was becoming even more clearer than ever that Victor had no idea what he got himself into.

Chapter Text

Sir Robert leaned against Stephen, sipping his coffee, and flipping through his newspaper. Stephen read over Sir Robert’s shoulder at the headlines, it wasn’t much, mostly politics and gossip columns. Being one of the few fully literate engines, Stephen enjoyed keeping up with the current events and seeing what other humans were doing. Stephen always had an interest in humans, even when he was a static display in the science museum.

“Huh, petrol prices have gone up again.” Sir Robert commented to himself.

“It’s a good thing that we’re all steam powered, eh?” Stephen teased.

Sir Robert chuckled and gave Stephen a pat on the boiler, “if the prices get any higher, we might have to go back to steam, eh?”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

The two laughed at their jokes and turned back to the newspaper. They were halfway through reading an article about the trucks going on strike unless their demands had been met (getting someone to record and release an album they have been wanting to do.), when a steam car pulled into the parking lot.

Sir Robert folded his newspaper up, and set it under his cup of coffee on Stephen’s footplate, “Ah! Looks like they’ve arrived!”

Sir Robert headed into the parking lot where the Meriwethers were unloading. Sir Robert greeted the grandfather.

“Richard, how are you?”

Richard Meriwether shook Sir Robert’s hand, “great! Thank you so much for having us here!”

Sir Robert grinned, “I’m just glad you were able to come all the way from Scotland safely.”

“Oh we ran into some trouble on our way down.” Richard remarked.

Sir Robert led them over to the engines, “Richard, do you remember the engines?”

Richard laughed, “oh how can I forget them? Stephen is basically a celebrity!”

Sir Robert turned back to the engines, “Stephen, Glynn, Duke, this is Richard Meriwether and his son, Joseph.”

“Hello Stephen, hello Glynn, I don’t know if you remember us, but we were here during the Renaissance days last year, we were doing the falconry demonstrations.” Joseph explained.

“Oh I think I remember it.” Glynn recalled, “that was the year one of the hawks mistook a person’s feather hat as another bird? Right?”

“Hm… I think that was the year someone threw a javelin at Harold.” Stephen recalled.

Glynn raised an eyebrow, “really? That happened the same year? I thought the Harold incident happened after the year that a group of people rented out the castle specifically so they could recreate that scene in Monty Python’s holy grail?”

Duke chimed in, “No, that happened before the wedding where they ran out of food, so they ordered pizza, but the bridesmaid turned out to be allergic to dairy so the only thing she could eat were the mints in the lobby.”

“Ohh… I remember that now.” Said Stephen, “anyways!”

“Anyways! I think I remember you now,” Glynn recounted, “you had that tiny little bird, right?”

Richard smiled, “the merlin, yes, Odin was there.”

Glynn chuckled, “oh, Odin was so cute! I remember you now, you came around and let Odin perch on my buffers. My apologies if I didn’t recognize you right away, you look so different without your costume.”

“No offense taken!” Richard gave a hearty laugh, “Believe us, we get that a lot!”

“And who’s that over there?” Stephen looked back at where Mouse was standing, holding a camera in one hand, and a sketchbook in the other, shaking with excitement.

“That’s my granddaughter, Eva “Mouse”. She wasn’t there at the festival that day, she came down with a nasty case of strep.” Richard explained.

Stephen lowered his eyes, “I’m sorry to hear that, I hope she’ll come next year.”

Joseph turned back to Mouse, “You can come introduce yourself to him.”

“I promise I won’t bite.” Stephen added.

Mouse made her way up to the engines, eyes bugging with excitement. She went up to Stephen holding her sketchbook up in front of her, “Hello sir, um… are you a replica?”

The three engines bursted out laughing until their safety valves popped.

Duke gasped for air, “Well-... well… Stephen here- AHAHAHA!!- he’s- he’s a very good replica! AHAHA!!”

“OHOHOHO!! Oh yes! Oh-... ouch! My boiler! HOHOHO! Oh my boiler hurts! Ahh!” Glynn caught his breath, “no, no, Stephen isn’t a replica! Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“Oh! That was funny!” Stephen sniffed back tears of laughter, “ho! Ho! Oh, no, no I am unfortunately not a replica.” he regained his composure, “But I understand why you might think that!”

Millie steamed into the yard with a line of old passenger coaches, and a flatbed stacked with wood from a dead tree, “hello sir, I got your call on the radio, I was just getting ready to put these open carriages into storage, I came here as soon as I could.”

“Ah! Millie! These are the Meriwethers! They are going to be our new volunteers!” Sir Robert introduced Millie to the family.

“Hello everyone, I am Millie, I help out with the groundskeeping and tours.” she gave a little peep of her whistle.

“Engines, Joseph is going to be a volunteer driver for our new engine, No. 2456.” Sir Robert explained, “he and his family drove all the way from Scotland to come visit No. 2456.”

“Aye, It’s a huge privilege to finally see my father’s engine.” Richard said, closing his eyes.

“YOURFATHER’S ENGINE!?” the engines exclaimed in surprise.

“Aye, my father fought during the war. He was studying in France at the time when the war broke out.” Richard chuckled, “he was so afraid that by the time he got back to the UK, and signed up, the war would be over, so he signed up for the French army despite not knowing a single lick of french.”

“That must’ve been rough.” Millie replied sympathetically, her french accent fluxing a bit.

Richard nodded, “aye, he was very young at the time, he was assigned to operate one of the trench locos, No. 2456 was its number. My father only operated it for a few months before he lost his legs.”

“Oh my goodness gracious.” Stephen whispered in shock.

Richard nodded, “it was horrible for him, he was only 17 at the time, he lied about his age of course, he wanted to earn a metal and a cute french girl so badly that he was willing to die for one.”

He sat up on Duke’s front, “I remember when I was little, I would push him out onto the big front porch of his house in his wheelchair, and sit in his lap, he taught me all kinds of things, how to tie knots, how to use a pocket knife, and how to carve wood. He was always carving something when I visited him. He loved making little animals out of wood.” Richard pulled out a tiny hand carved horse. The engines admired the details in the horse’s mane and face, the tiny horse looked as though it was charging fiercely through the wind, its unpainted eyes burned with determination, and the carefully carved out muscles seemed to ripple with strength.

“Did he ever tell you about the war?” Glynn asked curiously.

Richard shook his head, “no, he never liked talking about it, he always got this look in his eyes when I asked him about how he lost his legs. He always seemed offended to be asked that. So me and my siblings never asked. He never wrote about it in his diaries either, I think he wanted to forget about it completely.”

“Tell them about the photograph,” Sir Robert offered.

All four engines perked up, “what photograph?”

“We were going through some of my grandmother’s stuff when we found a picture of him.” Joseph recounted.

Sir Robert pulled out a framed photograph from Stephen’s footplate, “I brought it out to show you all.” he held up the picture, “I scanned a copy of it, and had it colorized.” he winked.

The photograph showed a gray colored engine covered in scratches and dirt, their face was wide and their eyes were yellow with shrunken pupils, next to them was a french soldier leaning against their front, lighting a cigarette for them. Not too far away lay a dead soldier, sprawled out in the dirt with fresh blood on their hand. The picture sent shivers down the engines’ boiler tubes. It was haunting to see such an image, the engine looked nothing like the engine in the works, well, at least based on the description of them.

Obviously, the estate engines are no strangers to seeing old photographs of engines, they remembered vividly the display for the 75th anniversary of the Railway Series. That year, sir Topham put together a walk-through display up at Tidmouth, he and a group of people took an old passenger coach and set up a mini traveling museum inside featuring pictures of each engine when they first arrived on the island, various news articles, film reels, and illustrations from the books. It was a wonderful display, seeing the old projector showing film reels on the side of Tidmouth station’s wall was a real treat. It was an evening filled with nostalgia, laughter, and plenty of people and engines saying, “they sure do grow up fast! Don’t they?”

Seeing this picture just hit them differently, there were no rose colored lenses of nostalgia to look through, No. 2456 looked to be over a hundred years old despite being fresh off the factory floor around that time, it felt so alien. Sure, they knew that no. 2456 went through some stuff, but now that they are seeing it in an old photograph drove a spike into their boilers.

Richard sighed, “hard to look at, isn’t it? Especially if you know the person.”

One of the groundskeepers came over to Sir Robert, “sir, you’re needed on the phone.”

“Excuse me,” Sir Robert left in a hurry.

Millie watched him hurry into his office, “He’s always on the phone these days… more than ever ever since he got that cellular phone.”

“Indeed,” Glynn agreed, he turned back to Mouse who was rather quiet, “So, Mouse, is it? What will you be doing for volunteer work?”

Mouse pushed her circle framed glasses back up, “mostly helping the curators build their model layouts for the museum, and scaring the crows away.”

Millie groaned in disgust, “those crows have been nothing but trouble all spring! We just got done laying down some nice fresh grass in the dinosaur park, came back the next morning to see that the crows tore it all to shreds just trying to get at the grubs. I also caught them throwing trash out of the bins! I whistle at them of course, but they just come back as soon as I leave. We even put plastic owls out, but they just use them as perches.”

“Shame, they’re such smart and wonderful creatures.” Duke remarked, “when they’re not trashing the place of course.”

Mouse smiled, “as soon as I bring Odin out, you shouldn’t have a problem with the crows.”

“I also remember Emily talking about a pigeon problem in Knapford,” Millie commented, “I wonder if Sir Topham would allow your Merlin to scare them away.”

Mouse folded her arms, “we’ll see how well Odin does with the crows first.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Sir Robert came running back in, he looked shocked and pale.

“What? What is it? Is something wrong?” Stephen asked worriedly.

“It’s No. 2456!” Sir Robert struggled to get his words out, “they just attacked the manager!”

___________________________________________________________________________

Sir Robert rushed down to the works as fast as he could, he found Sir Topham Hatt, the Thin controller, in the manager’s office. The Manager had his arm bandaged, and resting up on his shoulder. Victor and Kevin were both parked outside, chairs were set up in the doorway, close to Victor and Kevin.

Kevin’s face was drained of all color aside from his red, flushed cheeks. Victor looked rough around the edges as well, both were speaking to each other tensely in spanish.

Sir Robert took off his hat when he approached the group, “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, it’s about No. 2456.” Sir Topham crossed his arms, “they attacked the manager of my steamworks.”

Sir Robert covered his mouth, “oh my-... what happened?”

The manager spoke, “Oliver was having a meltdown and-”

“Just tell me what happened to No. 2456!”

The manager rolled his eyes, “Alright! Alright! While Oliver was having a meltdown, No. 2456 began freaking out, and they ended up biting me on the arm.”

“Morgan!” Kevin interrupted.

The men turned to him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“They have a name by the way! Their name is Morgan! You don’t need to call them No. 2456 anymore.” Kevin explained.

“Right, Morgan.” The manager continued.

Sir Robert leaned forward, “what made them bite you?”

The manager shrugged, “I don’t know! I stepped up on their front running board and they attacked me.”

Victor raised his eyebrows, “you saw them threatening to kill you, and you decided to approach them?”

“Well-” the manager huffed, “look, Oliver was having a meltdown which set Morgan off, which only made Oliver worse, I needed to calm Morgan down somehow!”

Mr. Percival cleared his throat, “has Morgan always been this aggressive?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Victor replied, “well, they haven’t outright attacked anyone like this, they mostly threaten the workers.”

Kevin rolled back and forth, “from day one they were threatening us with violence.”

“I think it might just be a learned behavior maybe,” Victor thought out loud, “see, Morgan is a trench engine that was built specifically for war, they obviously were exposed to tons of violence while they were alive, maybe violence is just a way of life for them. They have been so desensitized to it at such a young age that maybe it’s just how they should act?” Victor wiggled his bifocals in place, “or perhaps it could just be their nature, like how express engines tend to be rather prideful? A classic case of nature versus nurture.”

“Either way I cannot have an aggressive engine around my visitors!” Sir Robert crossed his arms and pinched his nose bridge.

“I really don’t think you should have Morgan as part of your estate branchline period!” the manager flipped open Morgan’s file, “not with their blindness and aggression, they outright refused to work with you, they barely complied to do anything until we told them that if they don’t behave, they can’t have any cigarettes, they straight up hate the aristocracy and refuses to work for anyone affiliated with them, and overall they are very emotionally unstable and cannot regulate their emotions.”

“They also want to work on the Skarloey railway instead,” Victor said, “I did tell them that they probably won’t be able to due to their disability and all.”

Mr. Percival sighed, “I can’t deal with Morgan on my railway,” he rubbed his forehead, “I already have so much to deal with, Sir Handel and Duncan’s outbursts take so much out of me. I would like to have Morgan on our rails, I really do! I just don’t have the time to deal with their meltdowns.”

The Fat controller hummed in agreement, “their blindness also limits them on what they can do on the railway, they can’t pull passengers due to their aggression and build, we could maybe find a sort of guide for them, but I would rather if they work on a smaller railway that’s more controlled.”

“Is there a way we could get them a guide of some sort?” Victor asked, “like how some humans need a guide dog?”

The fat controller scratched his chin, “hm… it would have to be either a piece of rolling stock, or their driver…”

“I actually found a driver for them,” Sir Robert added.

“But what about Morgan’s trust issues?” the manager asked, “they clearly hate humans, if they don’t trust humans, how is that going to work? having the driver also be their guide?” the manager turned back to Sir Robert, “you don’t have any rolling stock or an engine to help them, right?”

Sir Robert sighed, “all of my engines are too busy to be a full time guide, we have several fall weddings booked, a tea party, and of course the annual haunted castle walk. All of the rolling stock we have are faceless.” he looked over at Mr. Percival, “what about you? Do you think you have any rolling stock you can spare?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t, we’re actually quite short of rolling stock this year.” Mr. Percival said, “Narrow gauge rolling stock is kind of hard to come by these days.”

Sir Topham stood up, “Morgan’s blindness is the easiest of their problems, it’s their behavior issues that are the problem.”

“This isn’t the first time we had an engine with similar issues.” Victor pointed out, “Oliver seems to have some form of Post Traumatic Stress disorder.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Kevin remarked, lifting up his crane arm, “he still sometimes freezes up when he has an episode from what I heard, and he sleeps with his eyes open…” Kevin spun around to where Oliver was parked. Oliver was coupled up to Toad, his buffers were scratched and dented, his whole face and his boiler were coated with soot, some spots on his face showed where the ash mixed with his tears. His eyes were half open and had a glazed, distant look to them as they jittered.

Sir Topham quietly went over to Oliver and gently closed his eyes. He sat back down and huffed.

“My grandfather never had any problem with Oliver’s mental issues,” he rubbed his face wearily, “I remember all the times my Grandfather let me polish him, and he never showed any issues. Aside from ripping Scruffy apart and falling into the turntable well.”

“Hm, interesting…” Victor hummed, he made a mental note of the fact, “perhaps we’re looking at a case of CPTSD.”

“What?”

“Complex post traumatic stress disorder,” Victor explained, “PSTD stems from a single traumatic event, such as escaping from Scrap as in Oliver’s case, CPTSD is from more prolonged trauma such as war. I’m not too familiar with the latter, all I know is that it’s a different form of the disorder, similar, but a variation.”

“Okay, but how do we cure it?” Sir Robert asked.

Victor looked down at the ground, “That’s the problem, there’s really no cure to it, the best we can do is treat it and hope for the best, but that requires Morgan’s cooperation and willingness to actually use the treatments…”

The hair on sir Robert’s neck prickled, “you mean that Morgan is going to be experiencing the mood swings and the flashbacks and the anger for their entire life!?”

“The mind is very complicated,” Victor sighed with great exhaustion, he blinked heavily, “it really depends on Morgan and the treatment…. I can’t make any promises that Morgan is going to not have any aggression in the future! Alright?”

“But what am I supposed to do with Morgan!?” the earl threw his arms out, “I simply cannot have an aggressive, violent, and moody engine around the visitors! They’ll be too much of a liability!”

“We can’t keep them in here!” the manager exclaimed, “the longer we keep them, the less space we have to take in other engines that might need work done! We simply can’t afford to keep them here for the long term, we already burnt through half of the funds on restoring them!”

“Whoa whoa whoa what!?” Kevin exclaimed, “We seriously used up that much money already?”

“We had to replace and make new parts from scratch,” the manager shook his head, “I would really like to have them moved out of here to be honest. At least that could free up some room until we get more funds.”

Mr. Percival scratched his chin, “I could see if we have room in our shed… ugh, but then we’ll have to move them and winterize them! What if they lash out at my engines? I know Skarloey and Duncan have visited them, but I don’t know how they would react to the other engines. What about you sir?”

The fat controller took off his hat and set it on the table, “in most cases if an engine is too far gone, they would be scrapped, it’s really the most humane thing to do in some cases. Like with smudger’s case.”

Victor felt a pit in his boiler at the mention of Smudger, many years ago, a team of historians and fans went into the hills in search of smudger, they found him, but unfortunately they were too late, Smudger had lost his mind, he could only mumble out a string of pained gibberish and never responded to any form of stimuli. He was reduced to just a rusted old bucket with a gaping hole in his boiler. In the end it was deemed that Smudger’s condition was too far gone and the humane thing to do was to put him down. The only thing that remains of him are his name plates in the museum.

“Do you really think Morgan should be…you know, put down?” the earl asked.

“they’re perfectly fine mechanically,” the manager said, “it’s just their mind that’s broken.”

“But they have already made a lot of progress!” Victor protested, “we got them to a point where they can have visitors and obey my orders!”

“We’re not going to scrap Morgan,” the fat controller said firmly, “but we can’t have an aggressive engine on the railway.”

“I know! I know! Just-.... Just give me some time! I just need to figure it out! I need time, I need to do more research, I know I can help Morgan! Please! I’ll find a solution, and work with them! If I could just get them to open up to me, just tell me what is wrong with them, and just tell me why, why are they so disturbed, why do they hate people, Why! Why! Why! Why! Just tell me why!”

Victor broke down into tears, the rest was just in garbled Spanish, he felt the immense weight of it all come crashing down onto him, did he take off more than he could chew? Morgan’s case seemed to press down on them from all sides with no way out. He just wanted to get Morgan out of the shop and be done, he felt burnt out by it all, he wanted to turn to other tasks and jobs, but didn’t have any interest or even the energy or will to do so. He felt everything get sucked out of him, all of his interests and will to do what he loved, gone.

This was it, the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Chapter Text

“...here with the hourly news, crackhead truck on the loose, last seen snorting “henry’s special coal” off of a rubbish can lid-”

Victor blinked sleepily awake to the small tv playing the nine o’clock morning news.

Wait.

Victor shot awake, how long did he sleep in? He had so much work to do, he needed to repair Oliver, figure out how to help Morgan, plus a new shipment of paint and metal is coming in.

“Morning Victor! Ready to work on the Skarloey railway?”

Victor looked up to see Kevin with Rusty with much confusion, “the… what?”

“I talked to the thin controller last night about your burn out.” Kevin rocked back and forth, “he said that you can work on the Skarloey for a day.”

Victor opened his mouth to speak but Rusty cut him off.

“Don’t worry about the steamworks! I volunteered to help out! Kevin showed me everything that I need to do.” Rusty smiled, “you can take over my jobs for the day. We’re just going to do some track maintenance, trim back some of the trees, rake up the dead weeds by the track, very simple stuff, the track maintenance workers will show you what to do!”

“I… what?” Victor stammered in confusion, “...wait, what is going on?”

Kevin buzzed back over with a bucket of coal swinging from his hook, “You were feeling burnt out, right? me, Rusty, the manager, and the thin controller had decided that maybe you have been cooped up in these works for so long and just need a little change in pace. Here, I got your coal!”

Kevin dumped the entire bucket of coal directly onto Victor, Victor closed his eyes as the coal clattered down his boiler.

“Oops.” Kevin wheeled back, lowering his crane arm, “I meant to get that in your bunkers.”

Victor sighed to himself.

Once Victor got steamed up, he set off to the Skarloey railway.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Victor asked Rusty as he left the Steamworks, “I am grateful, thank you, but I just think that with the shipment and Oliver’s repairs.”

“It’s fine! You can’t work while burnt out, all you need to do is just to move slowly up the line and stop at certain points, and wait for the men to finish cutting back the trees. It’s a rather peaceful job, you don’t have to do much, once you’re parked, you can take a nap, look at the scenery. It’s very therapeutic!” Rusty ushered Victor on his way, “your train will be in the yard, second siding from the left, you can’t miss it! Have fun! See you later!”

“Thank you Rusty!” Victor called back, he still wasn’t quite sure about it all.

Victor shivered in the autumn air, “driver? Can you maybe make my fire nice and hot please?”

The fireman added an extra scoop of coal to Victor’s fire; he felt a little sense of relief as the warmth slowly filled his boiler.

When he reached the yards, he not only found his train, but sir Handel and Skarloey arguing with Duncan.

“For the last time Duncan! Nose rings are for cattle! Not engines! You are not a cow, so you are not getting a nose piercing!” Sir Handel blew a cloud of steam into Duncan’s face.

“Ugh! In that case, we might as well pierce your nose instead, seeing just how much Bull !!!^%$#!!! You’re spouting! !!^%$!!!” Duncan blew steam back at Sir Handel’s face and stormed off.

Sir Handel sputtered, “DID YOU SEE THAT!? HE JUST CUSSED ME OUT!! ARE YOU GOING TO JUST LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THAT SKARLOEY?”

“What do you want me to do?” Skarloey asked.

“I don’t know! Something!”

Skarloey watched Duncan roll down the line, “you know what? Let’s let him learn for himself. See where his attitude takes him.” he grinned to himself. He noticed Victor parked in the siding shivering, “oh! Hello Victor! Rusty told me you two were switching jobs for the day!”

“Yes, a bit of an unexpected change though,” Victor said, slowly exhaling steam in an effort to warm up his face.

Skarloey smiled, “well it’s nice to get out of the steamworks and breathe some fresh clean air, I do worry about all the chemicals you’re exposed to in there sometimes.”

“Oh those chemicals don’t have any effect on us engines.” Victor remarked, “the workmen are more concerned about me developing welder’s eye more than anything. They even made me a pair of welder’s goggles from an old face shield that fits over my glasses.” Victor looked up at the makeshift eye protection clipped onto his glasses, “I better get going now, the sooner I get the job done, the sooner I can go back to the steamworks.” Victor tooted his whistle and coupled up to his train.

Skarloey could sense that Victor wasn’t too keen on the idea of switching jobs with Rusty, he thought up of an idea to make Victor enjoy the job a bit more.

“Victor?” Skarloey called out, “did Rusty tell you about the other job you need to do?”

Victor stopped, “what other job?”

“The annual bird census of course,” Skarloey said, “the local ornithological society tasks us every year to count the birds we see and take note of where we see them, and what kind since our line sees the most birds. Usually Rusty does it since he’s the one making the most stops, but seeing that you’re taking over for Rusty, you’re going to have to keep count, got that?”

Victor raised an eyebrow, he never heard of such a job in his life, but then again, he does spend most of his time in the works so maybe there’s such a thing, “okay then…. I’ll keep my eyes peeled then… I don’t know much about birds though…”

“Just count how many you see and where they are located! There’s no way you can mess up on it!” Skarloey smiled.

Victor coupled up to his train and puffed out of the yard. Sir Handel waited until Victor was out of the yards before turning back to Skarloey.

“Huh, Bird census, I never knew we had such a job, or knew that we had an ornithological society.”

“We don’t.”
____________________________________________________________________

Victor came to a stop on the line, he watched the workmen grab their tools, and get to work. He let out a sigh, so this was supposed to cure his burn out, he wasn’t quite sure how it was supposed to do so. Well, he was here now, mind as well settle in and keep an eye out for any birds.

Victor’s mind drifted right back to Morgan, how was Morgan coping without them? They obviously knew Rusty, but did they trust him enough? After yesterday’s meltdown, who really knew? It was sad though, Morgan seemed to have made a lot of progress. Should they even be trying to help Morgan though? What if in keeping Morgan alive, they’re actually hurting them. Is that possible? Maybe with the funds running out and Morgan’s poor health and disability, maybe it would be for the better to put them out of their suffering.

No! No, absolutely not! Victor shook those thoughts out of his head, he saw just how much potential Morgan had, they already came a long way since they woke up. Victor wasn’t going to give up on Morgan yet, he just needed to find a solution, maybe some tools to start with? If he could find some tools for Morgan, then maybe they would be able to cope better?

“Seen any birds yet?”

Victor snapped out of deep thought by his driver, “no, not really. My apologies.”

“Thinking about Morgan?”

Victor let out a heavy gush of steam, “yes. I’m not going to give up on them, they just need to learn how to cope.”

“Hey, give it a rest, okay?” his driver patted him on the cab, “you’ve been thinking about Morgan since day One, how about you focus on counting the birds, alright?”

Victor gazed up at the sky, well, there were three little birds that just flew by now, probably robins. They were cute little birds though, a bit different from the birds he was used to seeing in Cuba.

Ah, Cuba, though his memories were covered in a layer of thick dust, he did remember seeing a few birds while working at the plantation, maybe a curious hummingbird would buzz him, or a green woodpecker would drill a hole into the side of the shed, and how can he forget the few sightings of a trogon? The longer he studied the robins, the more they kind of reminded him of a trogon with the red belly.

A sparrow landed in a nearby grove of trees, Victor watched it hop around in the trees, bobbing his little brown head. Now that Victor was studying the tree, he noticed how the leaves were placed along the branches, they weren’t very symmetrical, and the further away you move from the trunk, the more leaves there are. Of course Victor never really gave much of a thought about trees or birds before, he really just saw those as just set pieces, not something that a technically minded individual would care about.

Now that Victor wasn’t thinking technical, he found he could appreciate the birds and the trees a bit better. A small flock of song birds flew overhead, Victor noted their flight patterns, a huge burst of wing flapping followed by a dip with wings pressed up against their tiny bodies like missiles. It was pretty fascinating to think about, for years humans had studied the shapes and movement of birds in hopes of achieving flight. Birds were the perfect flying machine by nature’s design.

“Victor! Hello!”

Victor looked up to see Rheneas puffing down the track with a passenger train, his face was pink from the chill in the air.

“Hello Rheneas, nice to see you.” Victor greeted.

“Oh it’s so nice to see you! Rusty was telling us about the job switch and I was afraid that I wouldn’t have a chance to see you! How are you liking the line so far?”

Victor looked up at the trees, "it's definitely scenic.” he said, “the forests look rather nice.”

“Oh! This time of year is the best! The trees are just painted with so many colors! You should see the lake when you get a chance, it looks so beautiful with the yellow leaves floating on the blue lake. And the restaurant, of course, how can I forget the restaurant? They go all out on their fall decorations. Definitely go there at the end of the day and just take it all in.”

The workman waved a green flag. Rheneas gave a toot of his whistle and made his way carefully down the line.

“It’s a great place to clear your mind Victor.” he called back, “oh! And tell Morgan that I wish them well!”

Victor gave a polite toot back, clear his mind, clear his mind, clear his mind, how do you do that? Just not have a single thought in your head, Victor’s mind was always busy, thinking about how to repair an engine, where stuff is in the workshop, even when he was resting, his mind was always filled with some kind of noise. Is it even possible?

Victor thought about it the entire time he was working. Maybe he should take a small trip down to the lake, just for some peace and quiet.

____________________________________________________________________

“There you go Victor, all set for you to go.”

It was late afternoon by the time Victor finished up his jobs and was back at Croven’s gate station. He shunted his train back into the shed, and puffed off to the platform. He was surprised to see Thomas parked at the platform with a good’s train, talking to a lady with a patch of white hair, holding a large square covered birdcage, and covered in burrs.

“I’m sorry Mouse, I can’t help you, I don’t know what the rules are for live animals on passenger trains.” Thomas explained.

Mouse peeked under the cover, “oh… I really don’t think he enjoys being in there…. What about buses? Is there a bus going up to Ulfstead that allows live animals?”

“Where did you say you came from again?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

Mouse twisted her hands on the handle and looked away, “well… I started off in Ulfsted, and then went down to the docks to pick up Odin, except… I…. forgot which docks to go to…. And uh…” Mouse looked down at the ground nervously before blurting out, “I ended up at the wrong docks and then had to take another train back to the right docks but I ran out of money and the trains wouldn’t allow live animals on board, so I started walking and I ended up here and I have no idea where I am, and dad is going to be worried sick about me, and what if I get trafficked?! Traffickers always target those who are strangers to the area?! If I don’t get back before dark, I’m going to get kidnapped and trafficked and held captive, and my dad and opa will never see me again, and I will be drugged and they might kill Odin-” Mouse began fluttering her hands with anxiety.

“I’m heading back to the steamworks.” Victor offered, “you can use the phone there to call your father.”

Mouse clutched her chest, “will that be okay with you? You don’t have to, I mean, I could walk home, I think I can find my way back, I’d hate for you to get into trouble for breaking railway regulations, and get your crew into trouble or arrested, or me arrested.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a short ride back, I do need to bring back a brakevan anyways. You can sit in the brakevan with the guard.” Victor explained.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Mouse sat back down on the bench.

Victor waited until Mouse was out of earshot before speaking to Thomas, “what was that all about?”

“She was having a panic attack because she couldn’t bring her hawk onto a passenger train.” Thomas explained.

“A hawk?”

“Well, a merlin to be more precise. But you get the idea.” Thomas explained, “so, what’s been happening at the steamworks? I haven’t heard much about No. 2456.”

“Well, they have a name now,” Victor said, “their name is Morgan, Skarloey suggested it.”

“Really? That’s great news! Morgan is a very nice name.”

“It is! Though, sadly, we’ve run into some hurdles…”

Thomas grew concerned, “Really? What happened?”

“Morgan’s mental health hasn’t been that great lately…” Victor explained, trying not to go into details about the attack, “on top of that, we’re low on funds…”

“What?”

Victor sighed, “we’re running out of money for their restoration, I don’t think I can keep Morgan in the workshop, the longer they’re in there, it’s one less berth for us. Except I don’t know where we can store them until we get enough funds to continue the restoration! If we don’t finish the restoration, Morgan might end up as a static display for the museum.”

“Did you talk to sir Topham hatt?” Thomas asked, now concerned.

“We did! We held a meeting about it. We’ve got nothing!” Victor huffed.

The guard on Thomas’s train blew his whistle, “I hope you figure something out.”

Victor watched Thomas go before picking up his breakvan. With Mouse in the brakevan with the guard. Victor left the yard feeling worse than he did initially.

Chapter Text

“Hello boss! How was your day?” Kevin buzzed over to Victor when he returned to the steamworks with Mouse.

Victor was too dejected to say anything. He dropped the brakevan off and dragged himself back to his berth.

“Oh, okay, good to hear.” Kevin watched Victor with great concern. He lowered his arm and looked at the ground, “Victor? If you want to know, Oliver slept in today, we fixed up his buffers and they just need a bit of paint. Morgan….” Kevin looked over at them, they had a distant and glazed look on their face.

“Is everything alright?” Rusty asked, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, thank you though,” Victor puffed into his berth, he was all out of puff, all he could do was let his wheel roll him back into the buffers.

Rusty exchanged a disappointed frown with Kevin.

“You tried.” Kevin reassured him, “It was worth a shot.”

Victor struggled to keep his eyes open, his head pounded with an oncoming migraine. Before he crashed, he heard Mouse exit the office, footsteps, and a small gasp.

Victor cracked an eye open, Mouse had her hawk cage placed on the ground, she was staring up at Morgan with awe. Curious, Victor puffed out of his berth towards her. Morgan was asleep with the afghan draped over them. Mouse stood quietly in front of them, eyes shining, and hands covering her mouth.

Just then, Oliver yawned and blinked awake, his eyes swollen from crying, his face immediately turned to disgust and anger at the sight of Mouse.

“Mister Oliver?” Toad looked at Oliver, he followed Oliver’s gaze over to Mouse, “oh.”

“That’s her!”” Oliver hissed, “That’s the lady that I was talking about! The one that fell on the tracks!”

Mouse caught Oliver’s conversation, she jumped back, covering her mouth and letting out a surprised squeak.

Oliver gave her a very angry glare, Mouse’s face turned pale.

Victor quickly stepped in, “alright, what is it?”

“That’s the one! That’s the lady that fell in front of me and Douglas while trying to film us! The fat controller had to give her and her grandfather a stern talking to about it!” Oliver recalled tripping over his words.

Mouse squished up her now bright pink face with embarrassment, “I’m so so sorry! I was in such a rush! I didn’t know!” Mouse said something else, but her strong Scottish accent made it hard to understand.

Morgan jumped awake gasping, “wh-what? Is it Zero Hour?”

“It’s just us Morgan.” Victor said.

Mouse let out a very loud, sharp gasp at Morgan’s empty eye sockets.

“Who’s there?” Morgan barked.

That’s when Oliver and Toad had their first look of Morgan. Their faces turned to shock at the sight of them.

“Oh my…” Toad uttered in grief and horror, “your eyes, they’re… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s worse than I thought…” Oliver’s face turned to sadness, “what happened to you?”

Morgan felt the eyes staring at them from all angles, they closed their eye sockets. Was their face really that bad? They knew it was messed up, but to what degree? Was it just a few simple scars, like a few scratches? Or was it like some of the soldiers they saw? Giant gaping holes in their face making it hard to differentiate between injury and mouth, entire bottom jaws blasted off, burnt leathery skin that looked like they were wearing a loose pigskin mask over their faces. One poor man had the misfortune of losing almost entire face, save for his eyes and lower jaw. Morgan gave their face a good wiggle, stiff, but everything else seemed to be intact.

“Mouse?”

Victor looked out of the building to see Richard Meriwether approaching them, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw Mouse.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you! Your dad is worried sick and-” he stopped just short of Morgan, he quietly walked over to them, he reached his hand out to their buffer beam, and hesitated, his hand hovered over it visibly shaking. Victor and Kevin held their breath,

Please don’t touch Morgan! Please don’t get upset Morgan! Be good! Don’t attack anyone por favor mi amigue!! Victor prayed.

Richard broke out into a light chuckle with tears in his eyes, he placed his hand on Morgan’s on top of their buffer beam, Morgan flinched slightly at the touch, but it felt strangely familiar? Something about the hand and the way it rested on their running plate, what was it?

Richard smiled and looked up at Morgan, “hello No. 2456, it’s so nice to finally see you again!”

It clicked.

“August!?” they cried out, “August is that you!? Where are you!? Did-did you come back for me!?” their frame shook, this couldn’t be true! They must’ve died!! No way August came back for them!

“August?” Rusty asked Kevin, confused, Kevin just shrugged his crane arm not knowing who Morgan was referring to.

Richard laughed and rested his arm against Morgan’s running plate, “so you remember my father! Eh?”

A huge shot of emotions sliced through Morgan, “f-...Father!?”

“Yes! August Meriwether! Your driver! I’m his son! Richard Meriwether!”

Toad’s mouth dropped. Kevin quickly closed it with his hook.

Morgan’s thoughts were a mess with emotions, they couldn’t process what was going on! What was even happening right now?! Tears of overwhelming happiness filled them, they could officially say this now: they have never, ever, not even when Percy gave them the blanket, or when they hung out with Duncan, or even when they received their name, that they felt so happy before! They didn’t know what to do! It was so overwhelming to feel such a strong and unfamiliar emotion. The only thing they could say was this,

“You sound just like him.”

Richard broke down into tears of laughter and sobs as he threw his arms around Morgan the best he could, Morgan was absolutely speechless! Their driver, the fresh faced boy who had never operated a steam engine in their life, survived!? How!? Just how was that possible!? How is this possible!? How is any of this possible!? What is going on right now?! Why do they feel like they were going to explode!? Morgan broke down into a sobbing mess. Richard wiped away their tears, this time, Morgan did not flinch, they welcomed the hands, they were short and chubby, but calloused and gentle, and smelled like potting soil.

Victor’s mouth hung agape, he glanced back over at Mouse, she just held her hawk cage close to her chest.

Richard let go of Morgan, he kept his hand on their face, “I’m so happy that you’re here! You look just as beautiful as you did in your photo!”

What photograph?

“I do?”

“absolutely! “ Richard laughed.
Does that mean their face isn’t that messed up as they thought it was?

So much was going through Morgan’s mind now, there was too much to process. They had to be dead, there was no way they could even be alive. To describe how they felt was so hard to even put in words, they were just feeling, that’s it.

Richard gave Morgan one last hug, “I have to go now, but I will be back tomorrow evening with my son, you need to be properly introduced to him!”

Morgan listened to Mouse and Richard’s footsteps. They listened until the steps reached the exit of the works.

“Wait, I-....”

The footsteps stopped. Morgan scrambled trying to collect their thoughts.

“My name is Morgan,” they said, “and… everyone calls me a “they”, so I guess I’m a “They”.”

Richard smiled and nodded his head, “I’ll try and remember that Morgan.”

And with that, the Meriwethers left. Morgan kept their face turned to the sound of the footsteps.

Victor smiled up at them, “good job Morgan. Good job.”

_________________________________________________________________________

It was later in the night when Victor got to sit down and talk to Morgan.

Despite how tired Victor was, he found himself unable to sleep. The first half of the night was spent reading, while the other half was spent watching TV. There really wasn’t much on that night, just late night talking heads. At some point during a segment about the salmon population, Victor caught sight of Morgan visibly shaking under the tarp and blanket.

“Morgan?” Victor quietly puffed over to them, “Is something wrong?”

Morgan instinctively froze, but then relaxed, “I’m sorry, was I too loud?”

“No, not at all, I was just wondering if you are alright.” Victor whispered.

Morgan hesitated, what’s even the point in keeping it a secret anymore? It’s obvious at this point.

“I,” Morgan began, they jumped when Oliver stirred in his sleep, they froze until Oliver settled down again. They waited a few moments before speaking again.

“I can’t sleep at night.” They said, “I never did.”

“How come?” Victor asked, parking alongside them.

Are they going to get in trouble for having loose lips? They shouldn’t, it’s all over.

“We only operated at night.” Morgan explained, “night time was when we came out of the trenches.”

Victor listened closely, “I see, was this just your company, or did everyone do it?”

“Everyone,” Morgan said in a low and fast tone, “our smoke would tell the Germans our location, while the men strung up the barbed wire and dug new trenches, we, me and the other trench locos, would transport troops and equipment. Of course there were always night raids and snipers, and the rats.” they shuddered.

“So what you are saying is that you never were able to sleep here because your sleep schedule is messed up, and even if you could sleep, you’re too scared too?” Victor asked.

Morgan pursed their lips together and nodded.

“Oh…. Morgan… how come you never told any of us? We could help you fix your sleeping problems.” Victor asked.

Morgan sighed and repeated the phrase that Péchot-Bourdon told them countless times, “Keep a tight lip, the enemy might be listening. Keep all discussions about the military to yourself.”

Victor’s face fell, “Morgan, you don’t need to hide anything now, the war has been over for over a hundred years, you can talk about the war without worrying about spies. Those people are all gone.”

“I know.”

“But you feel like you have to comply with those orders?”

“It’s the only thing I know how to do, I’m stuck, I don’t know how to explain it, um.” Morgan scrunched up their face, “I don’t mean to do it, I just, well, you see, you could get court martialed if you break the rules. I don’t want to live like this! I don’t mean to, I just can’t do anything else.”

“What you’re probably describing is a habit.” Victor explained, “have you ever seen a rut before?”

Morgan chewed their lip, “yes sir, I have.”

“A habit is like a rut, the more you travel down the same spot, the deeper the rut gets, eventually, the rut gets so deep that you cannot get your wheels out from it. You’re stuck in a cycle where you cannot get out of the rut to travel on the smoother road, but the more you travel down the rut, the deeper it gets, and the deeper it gets, the harder it is to pull yourself out from it.” Victor explained quietly, “I think that’s what happened to you, you have developed these habits from your time in the military that is making adjusting to civilian life extremely hard. Does that sound right?”

Morgan felt a weight lift from their boiler, “yes! That’s what it is! I’m stuck in this rut! I keep going back to this rut, I feel like I’m on this loop of tracks that keeps going around, and around and around. I can’t live like this anymore Victor! I want to be a civilian! All the soldiers were so excited to get passes to go into town. I want to smell the flowers! I want to be with the Skarloey engines! I want to be with the Meriwethers, Richard, and mouse. I want to live! I want someone to teach me to be alive again!”

Victor smiled, “that’s the spirit Morgan!” his face turned serious, “but you have to understand that this won’t be an overnight fix, it’s a process, I cannot make your trauma go away, but I can teach you how to live with it. It’s like repairing an engine, I can only give you the tools and instructions you’ll need to fix the engine, but it’s up to you to use those tools and know when to use them. Otherwise they’re useless. Are you willing to do that?”

“Yes sir! Please sir!” Morgan shouted.

Toad stirred loudly in his sleep, Morgan froze and waited for Toad to settle back down. Toad yawned and smacked his lips before falling back asleep.

Victor whispered, “alright, we’ll start our first session tomorrow, okay? You have to be willing to participate and open to learning. Otherwise none of my teachings will help you.”

“I understand sir.” they whispered.

“Good, now try and get some sleep, even if you just close your eyes. You are safe here, all of the doors are locked and there’s a watchman outside, Kevin and I are in the back and Toad and Oliver are a few sidings over to your right. If you hear any strange noises, it’s just from the television, we like to have it on for white noise. Alright?”

“Alright…”

Victor smiled gently, “okay, good night Morgan.” Victor started quietly puffing back to his berth when Morgan spoke.

“Bomber plane.”

Victor puffed back to Morgan, “what?”

“A bomber plane killed me.” they said in a distant voice, “August and I were moving a supply train from a reserve trench to a frontline trench. We were supposed to be back by dawn but the heavy rains flooded out most of the communication trenches, we had to go the long way around. When we reached the front line trench, we were under fire from German artillery.”

Morgan squeezed their eyes tightly with pain, they continued with a shaky voice, “We tried to get to a cubby hole, but the rain flooded out the tracks. I tried to push through but the mud was up to my firebox. I couldn’t move. My fire went out and Fritz was right on top of us. August tried his best to dig me out, but the mud sucked him down too. I heard a loud buzzing noise, I looked up and this huge German bomber was flying towards us.”

Morgan swallowed thickly before choking out, “August told me to close my eyes and hum a hymn. And then….” Morgan let their voice trail off.

Victor felt his heart ache, but he tried to remain professional, “That explains a lot. Thank you for telling me, it really helps put more things into perspective.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, it’s very hard to talk about trauma, some people find that it helps to talk about it, others find it too painful as it brings up bad memories.” he smiled warmly at Morgan, “telling me about your story is a very brave thing to do Morgan. You might not think so, but you are a brave little engine in your own way.”

Morgan was taken aback, what? How could they be brave? Though now they think about it, it does kind of make sense, in its own way.

“I guess I am.”

Chapter Text

Oliver left before Morgan woke up. They jolted awake at the sound of crashing metal.

“Sorry boss! Slip of the hook!”

Morgan relaxed remembering where they were. Same spot as always, somewhere in the back of the works, they could hear the small television playing, something about the annual fall carnival and tractor pulls. They could hear something about the Vicar hosting a fundraiser to help needy children.

Suddenly, a loud sharp whistle rang out. Morgan yelped in surprise.

“Sorry about that my friend.” Victor apologized, he puffed up next to them, “Oliver and Toad left earlier today, the parts for your chassis came in, we’ll be working on that today. We will have to put you up on the lift, don’t be nervous, you will be secured to the crane and you won’t be too far up off the shop floor. Alright?”

“Alright.” Morgan replied flatly.

The manager got straight to work directing the workmen, Morgan listened to the sound of the giant lift overhead. They flinched as the loud, metal buzzing noise got closer and closer. Soon it was right over them, the loud droning noise of heavy equipment. Morgan clenched their jaw, any minute now, it would come down on top of them. Morgan felt small, they felt like a mouse being hunted by a hawk out in the open, nowhere to hide. They had to hide, take cover somewhere.

“Morgan?”

“WHAT!?” they snapped angrily.

Kevin jumped back, “um… you just look frightened, that’s all.”

Morgan glared, “I’m alright! Just get on with the work already!”

“Morgan,” The manager spoke up, “you were shaking.”

“What’s wrong Morgan?” Victor spoke in a calm voice, “you seem pretty agitated. What are you feeling right now?”

“Of course I’m agitated!”

“Morgan,” the manager said, “we can’t have you freaking out on the lift, okay? You need to tell us what’s going on, the lift is turned off.”

Victor wiggled his glasses back in place, “okay, first I need you to breathe, got that? Just take a deep breath, and hold it.”

Morgan went to snap back at Victor, but they stopped, they looked away before taking a deep breath just as Victor instructed them. They let it out after a few seconds.

“Good job.” Victor said, “now, why were you shaking?”

Morgan spoke in their usual flat tone, “I don’t know.”

“Were you anxious about the lift?” Victor asked.

Were they? Morgan didn’t answer right away, they gritted their teeth tightly.

“Just get on with it!” they said through their teeth.

“Morgan.” Victor said firmly, “I need you to tell us how you are feeling, if you have an anxiety attack while on the lift, you could potentially hurt the work crew, and damage yourself and the lift. If that happens, then it will slow down your restoration and cost us more money to fix. Now, tell us, why are you shaking?”

“I’m nervous, that’s all! Okay?” They said in a sharp tone.

Victor closed his eyes, satisfied with Morgan’s answer, “alright, that’s all you had to tell us. You don’t need to be so secretive with us. You can tell us how you are feeling, how are we supposed to help you if we don’t know what you are thinking.”

The manager patted the lift, “this lift is very strong and secure. We’re going to roll you on it, and lift you a few feet off the ground, we’ll be working directly underneath you, so if you hear or feel anything on your chassis, it’s just us replacing parts. The lift uses hydraulics to lift you, you’re in good hands Morgan.” the manager unconsciously went to give Morgan a pat on the buffers, but stopped, and moved his hand away.

“And if it gets too much, you can just tell us to set you back down.” Victor said, “there’s no shame in needing to get off. Alright?”

That wasn’t really why Morgan was anxious about the lift, but they didn’t feel like explaining it all to Victor. They let out a heavy sigh, “alright.”

“We still can’t have you be nervous while up on the lift.” Victor chewed his lip, “do you have anything that you like that calms you down?”

Morgan blinked with confusion, “what?”

“What makes you feel calm?” Victor explained, “when you start feeling nervous, is there something you like that makes you feel at ease?”

What did Morgan like? They scrambled to think of something, they liked flowers and warm blankets, but it wasn’t really something that put them at ease. They did remember one thing, sometimes while they worked, Péchot-Bourdon would start singing, Bourdon would sing the lyrics while Péchot would carry the tune, once they started singing, it didn’t take long for the soldiers to join in. Sometimes on very quiet nights, the engines could catch a tune wafting over from the German trenches, neither of them understood the words, it was haunting and rather terrifying to hear the enemy who was so close to them, though it was somewhat comforting to know that there was something beyond the mud filled trenches and barren wasteland.

“Singing,” Morgan finally answered, “I like singing.”

Victor smiled satisfied, “great! Now whenever you start to feel nervous, you can sing.”

Morgan blushed, “I’m not that great of a singer.”

“You don’t have to be, we won’t judge my friend.” Victor reassured them. Morgan gave a soft smile.

The Manager called out, “we’re ready to put Morgan on the lift.”

Morgan flinched, Victor turned back to them, “What songs do you know of?”

Morgan chewed their lip, “well, I know a few… I guess…”

“What’s your favorite?” Kevin asked eagerly.

Morgan tried to think, “well, I don’t remember the lyrics exactly… I think the melody goes like this…”

Morgan closed their eyes and hummed the melody, the workers got Morgan onto the lift. The lift buzzed loudly, Morgan winced and stopped humming.

“Keep going Morgan, how else does the song go?” Kevin asked.

Morgan stuttered before singing the lyrics, “If you want to find the colonel, I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is. If you want to find the colonel, I know where he is, home again on seven days leave.”

Morgan’s voice wavered and cracked, the years of being buried under the earth must’ve affected their voice in some way. They were already short on breath when they finished the first verse.

Kevin smiled up at Morgan while he unloaded several parts off of a flatbed, “That’s a nice song, is it just one verse, or is that all you can remember?”

“There’s more, the lyrics aren’t always the same, this is just the version I know of.” Morgan explained. They winced when a workman removed a rusted out rod. Morgan hissed through their teeth in discomfort.

“Victor?” the manager called over.
“Yes?”

The manager shined his light up inside Morgan, “this might take a while to disassemble, all of the parts are rusted out, or rusted together. Try and keep Morgan as calm as you can, this is going to get uncomfortable for them.”

“Understood sir.” Victor wiggled his glasses, “Morgan? Can you sing us the next verse?”

Morgan thought for a moment, how did the second verse go?

“If you want to find the Captain, I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is, if you want to find the Captain I know where he is, pinning some more medals on his chest. I saw him! I saw him! Pinning some more medals on his chest, I saw him! Pinning more medals on his chest.”

Oh yes, it was coming all back to them now, they cleared their throat, and continued,

“If you want to find the Sergeant major, I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is. If you want to find the Sergeant major I know where he is! He’s drunk upon the cookout floor! I saw him, I saw him, drunk upon the cookhouse floor, I saw him! Drunk upon the cookhouse floor.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile, they remember it all now, them and Péchot-Bourdon, trundling down the line with a line of injured soldiers, Péchot always took the end facing the injured soldiers, while Bourdon would face the front and focus on getting them to safety. Péchot never showed any fear, he stayed calm, and talked to the scared soldiers. He would sing songs in French, and would advise Bourdon on what to do if the tracks are too rough or blown up. Péchot was the planner, and Bourdon was the action, there was nothing they couldn’t achieve when working together.

“If you want to find the Quartermaster I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is! If you want to find the Quartermaster, I know where he is! He’s drinking up the company rum! I saw him! I saw him! He’s drinking up the company rum, I saw him! Drinking up the company rum!”

“When Morale is low, just start singing, it lightens the mood.” the fairlie twins used to say, “especially patriotic songs! Everybody likes a song about their motherland.”

Morgan stopped for a moment, they let out a heavy sigh,

“If you want to find the battalion, I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are. If you want to find the battalion, I know where they are. They're hanging on the old barbed wire.” Morgan raised their voice and belted out the last verse.
“I saw them! I saw them! They’re hanging on the old barbed wire! I saw them, I saw them! Hanging on the old barbed wire, I saw them! Hanging on the old barbed wire.”

They let their voice fall. They felt a sense of loneliness, they didn’t realize just how much they missed Péchot-Bourdon. They thought they didn’t get attached to them. They hated it so much! Why did Péchot-Bourdon have to die? And why does it hurt?

Morgan listened to the men work away, they cringed every time an old part was removed. If this is what it felt like to have old, rusted out parts removed, then they were more than thankful that they were unconscious when their eyes were removed, they couldn’t imagine how much pain they would’ve been in during the procedure.

Victor kept his eyes focused on the work in front of him, he hummed some little tunes to himself before speaking up, “you know, Toad really likes to sing too.”

“Hm?”

“The little brakevan who was here with Oliver yesterday.” Victor explained, “he’s always singing little tunes, I also heard that Oliver likes to make up little tunes as well.”

“Oh.” Morgan said flatly.

Victor looked up at them, “You know, maybe if you see Oliver again, you should ask him about his escape.”

Morgan listened in, “Escape?”

“Yes, from scrap,” Victor said, “he, Toad, and Isabel used to work on the mainland for the great Western Railway. But due to….” Victor paused, “Modernization, they were all going to be scrapped. So, one night, they fled for Sodor.”

Morgan’s face widened, “you mean they cheated death?”

“With some help from Douglas, yes.” Victor smiled.

“But if they left their railway, isn’t that like deserting?” Morgan asked, perplexed.

“Well, it’s more like “taking a chance for freedom and a new life”, it was a choice, either Oliver could stay, and be cut up and melted down, or he could take a chance and make the risky journey to Sodor while being hunted down by diesels.” Victor explained, “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

“No,” Morgan admitted sheepishly, “They would’ve court marshalled me, and executed my driver, and had me cut up and turned to shells.”

“But Victor means if you weren’t in the trenches,” Kevin chimed in, “like, you were working for a railway of sorts, and you were going to be scrapped, no fault of your own, but you can escape to a safe haven, would you have done it?”

Morgan didn’t know, “I suppose… but your captain-.... The person who owns you, they still own you, they can just send you right back, right? Like send out wanted posters. In the end, they have the final say, right?”

“Actually Morgan, no. no one has a final say in anyone’s life.” Victor shunted a flatbed away, “we’re the ones who have the final say on what we do.”

Morgan scoffed loudly.

“It’s true! Think about it!” said Victor, “I asked if you can sing us a song, and you chose to sing, you picked out the song yourself, you could’ve easily chosen not to, or have chosen a different song, but you didn’t. We can control how we act and what we do and think, it might not be correct, but we still chose that. Oliver chose to escape, I chose to wake up this morning and work here, and Kevin chose to help with your restoration as well.”

Morgan disagreed, “That’s impossible, nobody has control over their life! Life is cruel, you’re just a chest pawn, life does not care how you do things, we’re all set on one path, and that’s it! Life doesn’t care. You cannot control life!”

“True, but you can control yourself.” Victor replied, “just think about it, you don’t have to agree with everything, but I do want you to think about it. Just ask yourself, what do you have control of?”

Morgan snorted, impossible! They’re a machine, they’re designed to have someone control them, that’s the point, right? Though after hearing about Oliver’s story, maybe there might be something they have a say in.

____________________________________________________________________________

Thomas arrived back at Tidmouth later that evening. He was still thinking about Morgan’s situation. Morgan deserved better, they needed this restoration, but how are they supposed to do that if they’re low on funds? Thomas pulled into the yard where Edward was chatting away with Trevor and the Vicar. Edward was plastered with posters advertising the Vicar’s fundraiser at the upcoming fair. Edward’s crew, and the vicar’s children and grandchildren were scraping off the posters.

“...So I’m thinking that maybe George could be useful this fall, as a halloween decoration, of course!” Trevor grinned. He and Edward laughed loudly, Edward spotted Thomas coming over to them. Before Thomas could stop, a group of children dropped their buckets and brushes, and raced over to Thomas, Squealing with delight.

“THOMAS!! IT’S THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE!!”

Thomas became surrounded by children, as soon as he came to a stop, they threw their arms around him. Thomas was used to this reaction from children by now.

“Oh! Hello Thomas!” Edward smiled, “lovely day, isn’t it?”

Thomas looked up at the sky, “it’s very nice. What have you been up to?”

One of the Vicar’s children took a rag, and wiped off the grim from Edward’s face, “oh! The Vicar’s sons came home today! They brought their grandchildren, they’re going to be staying for the fair!”

“They are so wonderful too!” Trevor’s eyes spun with joy, “We picked apples, and I showed them the barn owl nest in the shed! I don’t think they spent a minute inside! We even had a picnic! Well, we actually gathered up a bunch of apples, and they ate so many apples. We even read some of the railway series books! The girls brought their dollhouse and set it up outside, they wanted me to play “house” with them, I told them that I was too big to play house, so they said, “okay! Trevor will be the family traction engine”!”

Thomas couldn’t help but notice the glitter eyeshadow and pink lipstick smeared on Trevor’s face.

“Thomas! I saw you on television!” one of the girls shouted, bouncing on his buffer beam.

“Yeah! We saw you take a balloon to a clown show, and it got away!”

Thomas looked up at Edward and cringed, that show these days!

“So,” Edward moved on, “did you hear about the Vicar’s fundraiser? This year he and Trevor are going to do a charity spaghetti dinner and auction. The money is going to a children’s hospital.”

“We’re going to be serving apple pie for dessert.” Trevor said, smiling, “Edward has been helping us advertise it all day. I’m also going to be there doing tractor pulls and hay rides. It’s going to be so wonderful! The children always loved going on the hay rides! They always line up to get a picture with me, and they always have the biggest smiles!”

James, who was in the sheds, huffed loudly, “You know, I don’t get the thrill of those types of events,” James puffed out of the shed, and moved closer to them, “every time I go to one, I get sticky hands leaving smudges all over my brass, and milkshakes spilt all over my nice paintwork.” James shuddered, “Footprints on my running board, boogers stuck to my face, screaming, kids that have not been potty trained crawling all over me, getting who knows what on my nice, shiny paintwork!” James grimaced at the thought.

“Oh come now James, it’s not that bad, you can always get a wash down afterwards.” said Edward.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” James laughed, “it’s not that simple! Paint is something that can’t just be washed and done with! People judge you for how you present yourself, what are they going to think in between getting dirty, and the wash down? No offense Edward, but it’s just easier to not get dirty in the first place. I work so hard to maintain this livery, and it only takes a few seconds to completely ruin it. You understand, right?”

Neither Edward or Thomas understood. Thomas shot James a dirty look.

James huffed, “look, you got to understand that I am the only red engine here on this line-”

Thomas opened his mouth to object.

“STANDARD GAUGE!! I am the only red STANDARD GAUGE engine here!” James quickly corrected, “I have to hold up certain expectations, you blue engines would not get it. It’s a red engine thing and- Thomas, stop giving me that look! Okay, What I am trying to say here is that it’s just easier to keep your paintwork nice and clean.” James looked over at Edward, “see, what Edward is doing, with the posters, you wouldn’t ever see me do that. It’ll take up my paint.”

A lightbulb went off in Thomas’s head.

“Even if it’s for charity, you wouldn’t let someone mess with your paintwork?” Thomas asked cheekily.

“Probably not. Thomas, what are you getting at? You’re making me nervous.”

“What if someone pays you to change your livery to… blue?” Thomas smirked.

James looked over at Edward nervously, “Edward? What’s he getting at?”

“I’m just asking, say someone were to pay you a lot of money to get your livery changed to blue, would you do it?” Thomas pressed.

“No, because the money would be absolutely useless. What would I need the money for? Coal and water? That stuff I can get for free.” James huffed angrily, “Thomas, I am not changing my paintwork!”

“But what about for charity?” Thomas pressed, “what if the money goes to help someone, say… oh… an engine’s restoration. Would you do it? Okay, how about this? Say if we raise a few thousand pounds, and we reach our goal, would you then get painted blue?”

“Edward?”

“Just say yes to him, James.”

James rolled his eyes, “okay! Fine! Fine! You win! If you somehow are able to get five thousand pounds, then I will get painted blue!”

Thomas peeped happily, “perfect! Thank you James! This is exactly what we needed! I’ll go get the arrangements made!” Thomas rushed off leaving a very terrified James in the yard.

“Edward?” James muttered, “what did I just agree to do?”

“I have no idea James.”

Chapter Text

Good job Odin!”

Mouse ran across the courtyard to her merlin. Odin had a pigeon pinned down. She removed Odin and picked up the pigeon. The poor bird was trembling with fright, it had a few scratches on it, shaken, but not seriously injured. Mouse tossed the pigeon back into the air where it flew off as fast as it could. Mouse smiled and gave Odin a tidbit and a head scratch on the head.

Mouse looked up at the castle arches, tucked away on one of the ledges were a few pigeon nests, she would have to get a ladder and remove them, the squabs should have left their nests already, it being late autumn and all. Shame that the pigeons had to go, they are such wonderful birds. Except they make an awful mess of the castle.

Mouse sighed and put the hood back on Odin, they should probably take a quick patrol around the dinosaur park in case any starlings decided to roost there. Mouse really did not like starlings, they’re a huge problem in the states, they compete with the native birds and wreak havoc on buildings.

She had a soft spot for wild birds, some of her favorite memories came from visiting her Grandmother and her birds. Grandmother Evelyn loved birds, she built a flight pen in her garden for injured birds. She had pigeons, doves, finches, and budgies. She taught Mouse how to have a wild bird perch on your hand, how to identify different bird calls, and how to train pigeons to fly to you. Mouse remembered spending her time after school teaching budgies to fly to her, from there she flourished, she moved up from budgies to pigeons, and from there, falcons. They say that Mouse had inherited her gift of birds from her Grandmother. Her father recalls a time when she was a baby, she was in a crib outside when a little robin landed next to her.

Mouse could see the head of one of the dinosaurs, she couldn’t remember exactly what it was called, a diplodocus maybe? The park just closed for the winter months, meaning that Mouse and Odin had the entire park to themselves. She removed the hood off of Odin and walked down the dirt pathways. Mouse had to admit, they did a nice job in the construction of the park, though, very out of place when juxtaposed next to the medieval castle.

Fortunately, there were no starlings to be seen in the park. With some time on her hands, Mouse found a nice sunny spot next to a tree, and pulled out her sketchbook, and started doodling.

Millie was nearby, she was helping the groundskeepers bring in some tropical plants for the season. She spotted Mouse, doodling away.

“Hello Mouse,” she whistled.

Mouse jumped, “Oh! Hello Millie.” she clutched her sketchpad close to her.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Millie looked at the sketchbook, “what are you drawing?”

Mouse looked down at her drawing, “just some of the dinosaurs.” She held up the drawing for Millie to see, the page had the start of a dinosaur head, it was scribbled out and had another one that was quickly abandoned, in favor of starting over. The dinosaur head was covered in eraser smudges and still had the rough outline on it. Mouse shut her sketchbook and gazed out at the dinosaur park.

“How are you enjoying your job?” Millie asked.

Mouse hugged her knees, “I’m enjoying it. It’s a good little temporary job.”

“What do you mean by temporary?” Millie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, um, you see, I’m not planning on staying here forever. I’m just here because my father and grandfather are here.” Mouse looked down at the ground and frowned, “Next year I’m going back to Scotland to study Nursing for a few years.”

“Are you interested in nursing?” Millie smiled.

Mouse continued to gaze down at the grass, “I guess so… everyone in my friend group is doing it. They’re all working in hospitals now, I have to go into something eventually.” Mouse stood up and brushed the grass off of her trousers, “I guess I’ll get back to work now.”

“I hope I’ll see you later,” Millie whistled as Mouse trotted off with Odin’s cage.

Millie carefully puffed back to the green house with her train of garden waste and tropical plants. She found Stephen at the platform finishing off the recent tour.

“Watch the step there!” Stephen watched as his guard helped an elderly man out of the first class carriage, he smiled as Millie rushed by.

“Good morning Millie!” Stephen smiled warmly. Millie didn’t respond, she just rushed by while muttering a bunch of french words to herself. Stephen watched her with great concern.

“Millie?”

Millie didn’t even whistle. For the rest of the day, she barely spoke to the other estate engines, she stayed hyper fixated on her jobs, sometimes taking on extra jobs at once. She only stopped to fill up on coal and water. She had an iron glare on her face the entire time and only spoke in blunt french. Her driver began to struggle keeping her in control.

“Easy there girl! You have plenty of time to let the groundskeepers pack up their tools!” he told her after she took off while the powerwasher was being loaded back on. Millie responded with a loud, aggravated growl.

Glynn and Stephen watched on with growing concern.

“What do you think is wrong with Millie?” Stephen asked Glynn.

Glynn eyed Stephen, “I don’t know! She’s been like this all day. Do you suppose she’s mad at us?”

Stephen thought for a moment, “what would we have done to make her this angry?”

“MERDE!!” Millie screamed loudly when she overshot the signal. Glynn and Stephen winced.

“I can’t think of anything.” Glynn replied, “you?”

“Other than the six tier wedding cake and the open top carriage incident, I can’t think of anything either.” Stephen figured, “maybe we should ask her tonight.”

“Not tonight, I have to be at the fair with the railway society.” Glynn reminded, “maybe when I get back?”

“It’s my turn to take the garbage down to the dump.” Stephen sighed.

“How about this: I’ll see if I could arrange it so I could take the garbage to the dump on my way to the fair. That way we should have some time tonight to talk to Millie.”

Stephen nodded, “Sounds like a good plan! I’ll let Duke know when he gets back from his tours.”

“Right!” Glynn gave a whistle and went back to work, “see you later tonight.”

Stephen politely tooted back, “I’ll see you after the fair.”

Glynn puffed down the tracks to collect his coaches for the next tour, he suddenly came to a screeching sudden stop.

“Wait a minute, What was the wedding cake incident!?”

____________________________________________________________________________

Later that day, Glynn was coupled up to a row of vintage coal trucks and a brakevan. The members of the rail society showed up at the platform with VIP passes, and tickets, some wore period clothing. They were to ride in the brake van and help out with demonstrations. An extra flatbed was coupled up to the train with an old hand pump car and a pair of buffers.

“I think that’s everything.” Sir Robert said, he was dressed in period clothing as well, “I am so glad to get ahold of one of these!” he patted the pump car.

“What is the pump car for again?” Glynn asked.

“We’re going to lay down a straight track, and let children take turns pumping the car.” Sir Robert smiled, he tightened his bandana, “I remember when I was little, I used to have this little train set, it wasn’t electric, it was one of those wind up sets, it came with one locomotive, three cars, and a caboose. I enjoyed it though, but I remember seeing one set with this little wind up pump car, it had two little tin men on either side that would move their arms up and down. Of course I wanted it, I wanted to have a set for my cowboys, every western movie I’ve seen had one.”

“Did you get it?” Glynn asked.

Sir Robert huffed, “by the time I’ve saved up enough allowance to buy the set, they discontinued it.”

“Oh.”

Sir Robert put on his vintage cap, and took his spot with Glynn’s crew,“We better be off then! We have a lot to set up!”

“Right!” Glynn grinned, “is everyone on?”

“Yep! We got everyone!” his guard blew his whistle, Glynn smiled and headed off for the fair.

The fair grounds were still being set up when Glynn arrived, Trevor and Terence were already there helping people move old farm equipment around. Trevor perked up when Glynn arrived.

“Glynn!” he called out, “You’ve made it!”

“Yes indeed! You must be Trevor! I’ve heard so much about you!” Glynn chuckled.

“It’s so good to see you here!” Terence remarked, he waited for the volunteers to uncouple him from a set of plows, “I see you brought the rail society.”

“It’s going to be great! We have a nice exhibit planned out, we brought the pump car and a set of rails, we’re going to be doing pump car rides.” Glynn glowed with excitement.

“Trevor, could you lend us a hand over here?” Sir Robert called over, as he and the rail society unloaded their equipment.

“Of course! Just make sure to move Glynn back a bit from the points, we need to make room for James.” Trevor said.

“Erm, how come?”

The earl’s question was answered when a very ticked off James was dragged in by his coupling hooks by Thomas. Sparks were flying from James’s wheels as he locked his brakes on.

“Does it have to be blue?! I mean, could we make it like a different shade of red? Like dark red? Maroon red? Garnet red? Pastel red? Or what about vermillion? Vermillion’s a nice shade? We could do that? Oh! What about we go half way?! We could make it a reddish purple! That way it’s still red, but also blue so it’s like kind of red, but not, and you’ll still get the blue, but it’s still not blue because it’s purple. Why don’t we just compromise with that?!” James protested.

Thomas shunted James into place, “No, you agreed to get painted blue if we raise enough money. That’s the deal!”

James spluttered, “well, uh, we’re not going to get five thousand pounds anyways! There’s not going to be a lot of people, as in, they can only donate so much!”
Thomas puffed back, “I know, that’s why you’re going to be here all week during the entire fair duration. Also my driver had set up a place online for donations.”

“Online donations don’t count!”

“Yes they do! It’s still money!”

“Okay, but why blue specifically!? What do you have against red? I’d look terrible in blue! Besides, it’s “James the red engine” not, “James the former red engine who is now painted blue and now we don’t know what we’re calling Edward, because he’s the blue engine, so now we have to switch everything around, or so help me”!” James rambled.

“Why’s that an issue? Your paint looks just like Henry’s to begin with!”

James’s face narrowed, “it is to you and your color blind bunker!”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I’ll see you after the fair! Have fun!”

“I hate you Thomas!!”

“Pfft! Tell me something that I don’t know already!” Thomas scowled and puffed away, “Hey! Remember to throw you and your splendid tender back into that cowfield!”

“I’ll save you the trouble and do it myself!” James shouted back. He pouted, “hmph! “Do it for charity James!”, “it’s just paint James! It’s not gonna kill you James!” rubbish! as if I haven’t had my driver buy special polish to keep my brass nice!”

James spotted Trevor and Glynn giving him the side eye, “what?”

“What’s what?” Glynn asked.

James groaned, “I told Thomas that if we raise enough money for Morgan’s restoration, I’ll go down to the works, and get painted blue. I mean, why me? I’ve never even met the engine! Why am I the one who has to do this?! Why not Gordon or Edward? Edward’s the one getting covered in posters each year! He wouldn’t mind getting painted a different color! Not red of course, maybe like green, or Chartreuse! We don’t have anyone with that livery!”

Glynn looked up at his fireman, “Sir? Do you think we could donate the cash from my money box to James’s charity please?”

“You’re gonna what now!?”

“Oh, me and the estate engines sometimes fans like to send us cash with their mail, we tell them not to, but they still do it. I have been saving mine for a new name plate, though I think that name plate could wait seeing that there’s a good cause.” Glynn smiled. His driver walked over with a wooden box filled with foreign currency, paper bills, and loose change.

James panicked, “wait, wait, wait, you’re going to donate all of that cash? You don’t need to donate it all, maybe just one bill, or-or split it 35-65! Yeah, so like you donate 35% of the cash, and keep the 65%! I think, oh! Maybe do 30/70! 20/80? 10/90-AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

Glynn’s driver emptied the cash box much to James’s horror, “WHAT-WHY!? NOW YOU HAVE NO CASH FOR THAT NAME PLATE!”

“Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t really want a new name plate.” Glynn grinned. James’s face turned beet red with furry.

“May your water tanks always be half full, and your firebox ice cold you tea kettle.”

“Ah! You mean coffee pot.”

“Whatever Bloomer.”

The fair went without a hitch, Glynn was surrounded by curious children, all eager to stand on his foot plate. The earl took his time helping the children get up and down from Glynn, and answering questions. Glynn had his picture taken so many times that he almost got eye strain from the camera flashes. The pump car rides were a hit as well. Trevor was busy with the hay rides, so busy in fact, that he didn’t have much down time.

Trevor popped over later that evening with the Vicar’s grandchildren, Trevor looked a bit different as well, he had a pig and some stars painted on his face, his pupils were huge, he looked exhausted but still having the time of his life.

“So!” Glynn said, “how’s things going on your end?”

“Best. night. Ever!!” Trevor exclaimed, “the children were so awesome tonight! They all had the biggest smiles and were all showing off their prizes! I never felt so alive! There’s so much going on! We just took part in the tractor parade, and there’s a live band playing, we also took part in the pumpkin judging contest, and there’s sheep! So many sheep, pigs, and cows, someone brought rabbits! Oh my goodness gracious! I love them! I got so many hugs and kisses-”

“Trevor, what’s that in your mouth?” James eyed the stick poking out of Trevor’s mouth.

Trevor adjusted the stick, “it’s a corndog. The grandchildren bought a few and insisted that I try one, I didn’t know what to do with it so I’ve just been holding it in my mouth.” Trevor let the corndog fall out of his mouth and onto the ground.

“Gross.”

“It’s actually kind of tasty.”

Trevor was quickly called away. James slowly looked back at Glynn. Glynn shrugged his eyes. The two settled back into watching the fairgoers doing their thing, it was nice just to sit back and watch the world go by. James’s charity money box was getting fuller by the minute, much to James’s dismay.

“Please don’t donate! Our box is too full!” he would say whenever someone got near.

“We don’t accept British currency!” he said another time.

“You’ll live to regret it!”

“Do not donate if you know what’s good for me!”

“I’m allergic to blue paint!”

“I have been forced into this against my own will!”

“This violates the Geneva convention!”

Of course, everyone ignored James’s pleas, people just kept on donating regardless, and every time he would scream.

The four regrouped at the end of the fair to watch the evening fireworks. The Vicar’s grandkids, sticky from cotton candy, were curled up asleep around Trevor, who looked equally exhausted and was trying hard to stay awake. The vicar joined Sir Robert and Glynn’s driver on his buffer beam for a piping hot cup of tea.

Terence was parked not too far off next to Trevor, “tired?”

Trevor forced his heavy eyelids open, “hnk…”

“You get some rest, I’ll keep an eye on them,” Terence looked over at the sleeping children. Trevor crashed before he could reply. Glynn, equally exhausted, stayed awake long enough to admire the fireworks lighting up the autumn sky, he wasn’t thinking about Millie or the estate, he was just living in the moment, he closed his eyes and watched the colorful flashes through his eyelids.

“You okay there Sir?”

Glynn jolted his eyes open when he felt the weight shift off of him, he could make out sir Robert sweating and struggling to stay upright, he was leaning heavily against Glynn, struggling to lift his arm up to hold his head.

Chapter Text

Millie had just finished up her evening chores and gone to bed when Stephen slammed into her buffers, jolting her awake.

“Millie! Millie wake up! It’s the earl! His grace!” Stephen cried..

“What? What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Millie blinked awake.

“He’s- I Got the call! Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Sir Robert-”

“What happened to him? Is he okay? Is he dead? Stephen, just tell me!”

Stephen chewed his lip, “the watchman, he just got a call! Oh my… I can’t- it’s sir robert! He’s in the hospital!”

Millie’s boiler froze, “HE WHAT!?”

Stephen gasped, “He’s- He was fine- he was standing at the fair, and then he couldn’t stand… I don’t know what happened! Glynn told me that he started having trouble standing straight-... it’s terrible Millie! He could barely speak! Harold is taking him to the hospital as we speak! Glynn is still at the fair- I don’t know what to do Millie! I was just told to pass on the message, and pray for him! They think it’s something called a stroke! It sounds serious! I don’t know!”

Millie stood frozen in her shed, it happened, it actually happened. All of her fears for the earl’s health came true. This had to be a nightmare, it’s just a dream, she was going to wake up, and it will be morning, and the earl will be standing in front of the sheds sipping his morning tea, and listing off the day’s jobs. It’s fine, it’s all going to be fine, he’s just a bit ill, he’s going to get some rest, human doctors nowadays are good at repairing humans, they have all of the tools to make him better. They’ll fix him up, he’ll be back.

Millie let out the loudest, ear piercing scream. Several homes nearby switched on their lights. All of the pent up emotions she had were released from that scream. She gritted her teeth trying not to scream again.

Stephen gazed at her sadly, “it’s going to be okay.”

“Just leave me alone…” Millie muttered in her strong french accent. Stephen sighed and went to his shed, staying awake for Glynn.

Glynn came home later with the rail society, once everyone had packed up and left for the night. Glynn pulled into the shed, he looked defeated.

“Glynn! What happened? Is his grace going to be alright? What happened?” Stephen’s calm demeanor broke. Glynn didn’t say anything, he just quietly unloaded his train, and puffed into his shed, front first.

“Glynn?”

“I’m not in the mood.” he said sharply.

“But Glynn! This is serious! I need to know if he’s going to be alright! Just tell us what happened!” Stephen protested, “We might lose the earl! It’s going to be like losing our builders all over again!” Stephen’s eyes jittered with worry, “Duke is going to be so upset, how are we supposed to tell him that his grace fell ill?! He’s always been loyal to him! Maybe we should tell him first thing in the morning? No, no, that would ruin his day. And we can’t tell him when he comes up with the tourist train, maybe we should wait until the evening? Or would he just be upset for not telling him immediately?”

“Stephen, stop it, just go to sleep already!” Millie snapped.

“But what about Duke? He needs to know!”

“We’ll tell him in the morning, and that’s final.” Millie flipped her smoke box door open, facing away from Stephen. He let out a heavy frustrated sigh.

“Millie, look,” he began, “Me and Glynn noticed that you have been acting out a lot lately, we meant to ask you this, but what’s wrong?”

Millie let out a loud, frustrated huff, “It’s the earl! Ever since he purchased Morgan, he’s been pushing himself more than he usually does, he’s so hyper focused on getting his museum up and running, he starts one project, and then immediately starts another. He hasn’t visited Morgan once since he purchased them. I warned him to not push himself and then this happened. He’s getting old. He needs to slow down.”

Stephen just nodded along, “I see. Is that the only thing that’s been bothering you?”

“Well, not really, it’s hard to explain. I don’t want to talk about it.” Millie kept her face turned away from Stephen.

Stephen sighed, “you’ve been very busy. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take over a few of your jobs and maybe you could go down to the works and get a fresh coat of paint and see Morgan.”

“No!” Millie said sharply, Stephen jumped, “I’m…. I’m sorry, I meant, thank you for the offer, but I have to help pull the dead weeds around the tracks. Don’t worry about me! I’m fine. Let’s go to sleep, okay? Good night Stephen.”

Stephen scrunched his forehead up, he wanted to press Millie, but she had made it clear that she was not interested in any further conversation. With that, Stephen closed his eyes and went to sleep

Chapter Text

Morgan sang to themselves as the men worked on them.

“By the light of the silver moon, I want to spoon, to my honey I’ll croon love’s tune,” they hummed the rest of the chorus to themself, not too sure how the rest of the song goes. Below them, they could hear Victor and the workmen tinkering away on them.

“Victor?” they called down.

“Yes my friend?”

“Do you have a favorite song?”

Victor chuffed back to offload a flatbed of rusted parts, “I do, it’s in Spanish though, I remember when I used to work on the plantation, some of the workers would sing while they worked. I don’t remember the title of it, or the lyrics exactly, it was an old Cuban folk song.”

“What’s a folk song?”

Victor tooted his whistle, and came back with the empty flatbed, “I don’t know the exact definition of it, it’s kind of a genre of music that people sing, it has to do with their culture. I’m not exactly an expert on music.”

Morgan hummed, they closed their eyelids, “I wish I still remember all of the folk songs. Do people still sing folk songs today?”

“Oh yes! They do! Folk music is timeless, everyone can name at least one folk song.”

“I guess that’s good to hear.” Morgan winced harshly when a workman wrenched a rusted piston rod off. “Oh!”

“Steady now Morgan!” the manager called up, “it’s going to get a bit painful here, there’s just so much rust and mud.” The manager was then showered with rust and mud clumps, “Victor, make sure Morgan remains as calm and still as possible.”

“Understood! Morgan?”

Morgan grunted and clenched their jaw tight, the manager continued to carefully scrape, and pry off parts.

The manager popped out from underneath Morgan with a rag, “If it’s that painful, I could give you a rag to bite down on.”

“Give me! I’ll bite the bullet!”

The manager placed a twisted rag in Morgan’s mouth, they bit down hard on it. They clenched their eyelids shut and tried to hum a song to themselves. Every scrape, every tug, they asked themselves if this was what their old driver went through when he lost his legs. Morgan felt a sickening pit form at the thought of those long trains of injured men being sent to the surgeon’s table. Morgan felt faint. They could almost smell the stink of human carnage again.

“Morgan?” Kevin said out loud.

The rag fell out of Morgan’s mouth, “hmk…”

“You’re doing great by the way!” Victor reassured, “Just take deep breaths, okay? Just like how I showed you, do you remember how?”

Morgan took a very shaky deep breath as instructed.

Kevin parked himself next to the lift, “the workers will be taking a break for lunch at noon, that should give you a bit of a break. I think my operator brought himself a sausage sandwich for lunch today.”

Morgan grunted weakly, “Barkers, I heard men like barkers. Tray beans.”

Victor looked up at them, “oh yes, people absolutely like sausages and beans. Some people even like to put them directly on their sausages.”

“Frogs liked it when the babbler served them with soft tack and grease…” Morgan slurred deliriously. “Better than iron rations… Tray bong.”

“Morgan?”

Before they could reply, Morgan passed out. Their thoughts were nothing but a slurry of word soup.

__________________________________________________________________________

“Morgan?... Morgan?...”

Morgan groaned and opened their eyelids and coughed, their entire frame was aching to the point where they felt like they were going to fall apart right there on the shop floor. They flinched at the touch of a cold piece of metal.

“You good?” Kevin’s voice asked.

“Hmf…”

“You did good my friend,” Victor said, “We got the rusted parts and your wheels removed, Mr. Hugh is going to come down with the blueprints to help with milling out your new parts.”

“Mr. Hugh is very good with narrow gauge engines, he’s going to take over your restoration from this point on.” the Manager explained, “he used to be the chief mechanical engineer of the Skarloey railway.” the Manager wiped off his greasy hands, “it’s going to be so good to have him back, things have never been the same since his retirement.”

Morgan closed their eyelids and tried to get a sense of their surroundings, the floor felt more solid, they could feel rails and concrete. They wiggled their face, something soft brushed against their face, they must be off the lift and covered with their afghan.

“Can I have a cigarette?” they asked.

The manager crossed his arms, he and Victor looked at each other before nodding, Victor cleared his throat, “About that,” he began, “we were talking about your smoking, and we’ve decided that it might be best to take you off cigarettes.”

If Morgan was in steam, they would’ve blown their safety valve clean off.

“WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN “TAKE ME OFF OF CIGARETTES”!?”

“Morgan, calm down, I need you to listen to us for a moment.” Victor continued, “we know you like your cigarettes, but we have a no smoking policy here, it wouldn’t be fair for an engine to smoke, but the workers can’t.”

“Besides, it’s just not healthy.” the manager explained, “it causes staining on your face, tar in your mouth, and it will ruin your teeth. Plus the secondhand smoke is harmful to us humans as well, and we have too many flammable chemicals here.”

“!!%$#!!” Morgan scoffed.

“Morgan!”

“Everyone I knew smoked cigarettes ten times a day, and they all lived! In fact, they were better than they were after smoking!” Morgan argued.

“Yes, smoking wouldn’t kill a human immediately, but it’s still harmful to humans and will kill them eventually.” Victor explained.

“HA! It can’t be that bad if it makes me feel happier! Besides, the doctors always smoked, and they knew way more about the human body than any of you do! It’s just smoke! Steam engines produce it all the time! You inhale Victor’s smoke all the time and you’re fine! And he produces way more smoke than one tiny cigarette! You’re just too lazy to clean off a bit of staining!”

“The smoke that I produce, and cigarette smoke is not the same my friend,” Victor explained, “The manager does not want you smoking cigarettes anymore, and I agree. It’s too dangerous for the workers here. We have rules here that we need to follow, it wouldn’t be fair if one person is allowed to break the rules, and everyone else isn’t. Does that make sense?”

Morgan snorted loudly in disgust, “I can’t do that.”

Victor looked at Morgan firmly, “okay, how about this: if you can go one week without smoking, we might let you go outside, does that sound alright? We’ll put you on a flatbed and you can sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. You must be tired being cramped up here. How does that sound? One week with no cigarettes.”

It did sound nice. Morgan reluctantly agreed to the deal.

Victor smiled, “good, I know you can do it. If someone offers you a cigarette, just be honest and tell them our deal, okay?”

“Alright…”

“Get some rest now my friend.”

Morgan closed their eyelids, they were too worked up to go back to sleep. They pretended to sleep and listened to the workmen around them. They’ve gotten good at listening, Morgan was now able to differentiate between workmen speaking, and tune in on certain conversations and focus on certain sounds while filtering out the rest of the noise. Maybe it was from their blindness? That afternoon, Duncan came over to visit Morgan.

“So,” Duncan rolled in, “Where’s the wounded infantry person?”

Morgan perked right up, “Duncan!”

Duncan puffed over, “I’m supposed to be shunting right now, tricked Ivo Hugh into doing it for me, those !!%$#!! Trucks probably don’t miss me at all. In fact, I’m probably doing them a favor as far as I care!”

“Swinging the lead, I see.” Morgan remarked casually, “the workmen removed my wheels today, I’m a real basket case now.”

“You know, while they’re at it, they ought to take a look at my wheels. They’ve been wobbling for months! And I keep telling them, “my back wheel keeps wobbling!” and they look at me, and tell me “Nay, there’s nothing wrong with your wheel!” so I tell them if they could just take the two seconds to ride in my cab, they’ll feel it. But nay! Nay nay nay! Just like a horse.” Duncan rambled, “you’d think us veterans would get more respect around here.”

Morgan smiled slightly, “I was told that Mr. Hugh is going to come over to help out with my restoration.”

Duncan perked up, “Really? Mr Hugh is coming back? That’s great news! It’ll be great to see him again!”

“You knew him?”

“Aye, he used to work on us back in the day. He was the one who built Ivo Hugh. maybe he’ll take a look at my wobbly wheel. Surprised he’s coming out of retirement for this. You’re gonna love him! He’s like some kind of magician, he knows how to talk to engines, a real engine whisperer if you ask me.”

Morgan chewed their lip, “I’m nervous, the procedure the men did today hurt. Even singing didn’t make it go away.”

“You like music?” Duncan asked with interest.

“Well, I guess so.” Morgan answered.

“What kind of music do you like?”

Morgan thought for a moment, “I like hymns, I like the songs the frogs and tommies used to sing.”

“That’s it?” Duncan raised an eyebrow, “Just period music?”

“I guess…”

“What about Rock? What’s your thoughts on Rock music?” Duncan asked.

“Rock?”

“Yeah! You know, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, black sabbath, Queen, KISS?” Duncan listed off, “do any of those names ring a bell?”

Morgan scrunched their forehead in thought, “no? What are they?”

“Oh right, you weren’t around for them. Well, they’re some of the best bands in history! They were legends! The Beatles pretty much invented rock and roll music! You just had to be there to see them! They were gods during their day! Their concert attendances rivaled Sunday church, going to their concert was a right of passage that only a few could do.” Duncan glowed with excitement.

“The day Ringo Starr came to Sodor was the day our island was blessed,” Duncan reminisced, “I nearly burst right out of my boiler when I learned that he was coming to Sodor to meet us. He was to narrate our television show. I don’t know how the producers did it, but they mind as well have hired Jesus to narrate! Ringo and the show’s producers came, and they were given a VIP tour. They even came to our railway!”

Duncan looked as if he was about to burst at the seams, “Ringo stepped off of Thomas’s train, and greeted us in the yard. He looked at me and smiled! He even called me a “smashing little engine who really knows how to rock!” he didn’t say it to Skarloey, or rheneas, but to me! And he also autographed my forehead!” Duncan was shaking at the frame so hard that he looked like he might accidentally derail himself.

Morgan stood nearby taking in Duncan’s story, they were very confused to say the least. Duncan sounded like he was speaking an entire new language. Tell-o-vision? Ring Go Starr? Beetles? Zeppelins made of lead? Lead is a heavy metal, it’s too heavy to use in airships. Morgan has seen airships before, none of them were made of lead, unless they figured out how to turn lead into a lighter material?

“There you are Duncan!”

Duncan huffed when the thin controller marched into the steamworks.

“I was told some really interesting news.” mr. Percival began, “Peter Sam was telling me that you were unable to work this morning due to a burst cylinder.”

“So?” Duncan replied.

“Interesting that you were able to get yourself down here on a burst cylinder without needing to be shunted.”

“It was interesting.”

Mr. Percival crossed his arms, “Tell me, how did you manage to get all the way down here on a burst cylinder?”

“Sheer willpower.” Duncan answered simply.

“Then how about you use that “sheer willpower” to get back to work?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?’

“I used it all to get here!”

“Duncan.”

“What? What did I do? I told you already that I can’t work, I already did enough yesterday, don’t you think I deserve a break for once? So what if I decided to take the morning off? There’s barely any work for me to begin with!” Duncan argued.

“Duncan, you can’t just go gallivanting off, we have a time table to keep.” Mr. Percival argued, he climbed into Duncan’s cab, “Come on, let’s get back to work, thanks to you, you now have extra work to make up for.”

Duncan spluttered as his crew finished off their hot cocoa, “What?! You’re just going to force me back to work like this!? In this state!?”

“Yes Duncan, I am.”

Duncan puffed out of the steamworks, “didn’t you hear me!? I said that I have a burst cylinder! I can’t move! I’m not supposed to work in this condition!”

Mr. Percival called out to Kevin, “Kevin? Does Duncan have a burst cylinder?”

“No!” Kevin called back.

“You’re dead to me Kevin!” Duncan shouted back.

“Boss! Duncan just told me that I’m dead to him!”

By now, he and mr. Percival were far out of the steam works. Despite being far away, Morgan can still hear Duncan insisting that he can’t move.

Just then, Thomas rushed in, shunting James. James had his brakes locked on and showering the rails with sparks.

“Oh for !!%$#!! Sake James!” Thomas grunted, “quit being so dramatic!”

“You call this dramatic!? I’m not being dramatic! You’re the dramatic one!” James argued.

“I’m not the one throwing a tantrum over paint! You’re the one who’s acting like you’re about to be turned into tin cans!”

James growled, “no I’m not! This is a very reasonable reaction to BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING THAT YOU NEVER AGREED TO DOING!!”

“We had a deal James, if we reached our fundraiser goal, then you get repainted blue!”

“I never thought we would actually reach it!”

“A deal’s a deal!”

“WORKPLACE HARASSMENT! WORKPLACE HARASSMENT!! I’M BEING HAZED! SOMEONE REPORT HIM TO THE MINISTRY OF WORKPLACE UNHARASSMENT OR SOMETHING OR ANOTHER!!”

“OH AND WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO FAT PIECE OF LARD? ARREST ME FOR SOME KIND OF HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATION? NEWS FLASH! PEOPLE DON’T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT STUPID PAINT!”

“OKAY MISTER THE TANK ENGINE, HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF SOMEONE FORCED YOU TO GET PAINTED RED!?”

“HA! I WOULD LET THEM! I ACTUALLY LIKE THE COLOR RED! LET THEM PAINT ME RED FOR ALL I CARE! IN FACT, I’D LOOK WAY BETTER THAN YOU EVER DID MISTER, THE SOON TO NO LONGER BE THE RED ENGINE BECAUSE FOR ONE THAT TITLE IS STUPID BECAUSE IT INSINUATES THAT THERE’S ONLY ONE RED ENGINE ON THIS ISLAND, EVEN THOUGH THERE’S ARTHUR, SALTY, SKARLOEY, VICTOR, GLYNN AND WINSTON.”

“REALLY? YOU WILL LET THEM PAINT YOU RED?”

“YES! I WILL LET THEM PAINT ME RED!”

“FINE! THEN DO IT!”

“FINE! I WILL!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!” Thomas gave one final puff, and shoved James into the steam works, Thomas gasped for breath, “Victor,” he panted, “paint his majesty fat tender blue.”

“And give sir cruddy wheels a coat of red paint as well!”

“And give me a coat of red paint!”

Victor and Kevin just stared at Thomas and James in absolute disbelief.

What the heck is happening here?

Chapter Text

Saturday morning, Mouse found herself up and early feeding Odin. she smiled as Odin scarfed down the little tidbits of meat. Mouse sighed and gazed out the window of the caretaker’s house while scratching Odin on the head. The house wasn’t much, it was cozy though, but nothing like their home back in Scotland. It wasn’t the first time Mouse had moved homes, and this was temporary until it was time for her to go back to school.

Richard came into the parlor with two cups of instant coffee, “Morning sweetie. What’s on your mind?”

Mouse took the coffee from Richard, “Nothing much, where’s dad?”

“Oh he’s up at the castle helping out with the engines, you know how he is with this kind of stuff.” Richard took a sip and noticed the open sketchbook next to Mouse, the page was open to a scribbled and smeared drawing of ulfstead castle from the caretaker’s house, “that’s a pretty good drawing you got there.”

“The perspective’s off and none of the lines match up,” Mouse remarked, “it would look better with my actual drawing pencils.”

“It’s better than Picasso's work.” Richard commented. He cleared his throat, “so, what do you have planned for today?”

Mouse wiped the coffee off of her lips, “well, I got a commission today, the stationmaster up at… kin-nap-ford, needs someone to clear out the pigeons from the station.”

“So someone did see your ad in the paper.” Richard smiled.

“I was growing worried that no one would read it.” She picked up the paper, in the classified section had a hand drawn advertisement for pigeon removal services. Mouse guzzled the rest of her coffee and packed Odin up, “I better get going.”

“What else was I going to tell you? Oh yes! Your mum called last night, she wants to talk to you about college living arrangements, you should call her back tonight.”

Mouse sighed, “right, I still need to get back to her about job shadowing at the clinic. So much to do, so much to do.”

Mouse gathered her stuff up, and headed out the door for the station platform. On her way, she made a mental list, first things first was the living arrangements, then her falconeer services, oh, and can’t forget about her volunteering, what models need to be done? One of the layouts still needs epoxy resin added, what day were the models coming? Mouse was so hung up on her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had stopped on the tracks in Millie’s way.

“Mouse? What are you doing?”

Mouse jumped at the sound of Millie’s voice, “Oh! Um…” she scurried off the tracks, letting Millie by.

“Sorry to have startled you,” Millie apologized, “where are you off today?”

Mouse gripped Odin’s carrier, “Pigeon removal, kin-nap-ford station master wants me to scare off a few pigeons.”

“Knapford station? That sounds nice.” Millie smiled, “I have to stay here and help rake leaves, I think I saw your father up by the sheds, he’s on the footplate today training on Duke.”

“I heard him talking about it.” Mouse replied simply.

Millie’s face fell, “Did you hear about sir Robert?”

“What?”

“He had a stroke last week, did you hear about it?”

Mouse twisted the cage handle, “I’ve heard!”

“Well?” Millie looked up nervously, “did you hear anything about how he’s doing?”

Mouse shook her head and sighed.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?” Millie asked, “if you happen to overhear anything about him, please tell me.”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you so much,” Millie whistled, and puffed along, “Good luck on your falconeer services!”

________________________________________________________________________

Mouse arrived at Knapford station on time. She hurried across the parking lot and into the station where she found the station master in his office, watching sir topham scolding…. Who were those two engines? One of them was a blue tender engine, maybe it was Edward? But the wheel configuration was wrong, and who was the red tank engine?

Mouse clutched the carrier handle tightly as she quietly entered. She jumped when the station master turned to her.

“Um,” she said, “hello, I’m the falconeer you hired.”

“Ah, perfect, right this way.” The station master led Mouse out onto the platform.

“...And until Victor can get more paint, you will both remain painted this way. Understood?” sir topham crossed his arms.

Thomas and James both looked away sheepishly, “Yes sir…”

Sir topham gave a stern nodd, “Good, now no more repaints without my permission.”

“Hold on sir,” James said, “Victor had plenty of cans of red paint left over, what happened to those?”

As soon as Thomas finished his sentence, Edward pulled into the station sporting a sophisticated scarlet red Livery, he gave a polite toot of his whistle. James’s mouth fell open with horror.

Edward smiled, “I figured since we were switching liveries, I might as well get repainted. After all, you did say blue is such an awful color.”

Gordon smiled smugly, “and you were right James, it looks so awful on you!”

“Absolutely! Doesn’t Edward just look so dashing in red?” Henry said grinning.

“Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! Why, Edward looks like a true gentleman with such a wonderful livery!” Gordon replied, Edward blushed.

Thomas laughed, “you’re both right! Edward looks so lovely in red, or should I say… SPLENDID!”

“ACK!” James looked like he was stabbed in the boiler.

Gordon chuckled, “Yes! Just splendid! Maybe we should keep him in red. Make him the red engine.” Gordon laughed and left the station with the morning express.

“Edward the red engine!” now that has a nice ring to it!” Thomas teased.

James looked like he was about to blow his boiler wide open, he huffed and hurried out of the station, “he’s not that splendid!”

Thomas bellowed out laughing, he stopped when he spotted Mouse staring at his unusual red livery, “it was an impulse.” Thomas’s face blushed red with embarrassment, “Come along, we’re rather late!” He rushed out of the station with Annie and Clarabel before the guard had a chance to close the doors.

“Thomas!”

Mouse watched them hurry down the tracks. She cracked her knuckles and got to work. First step was to take Odin out of his carrier. Odin perched on Mouse’s gloved hand as she went around the station. She spotted a few pigeons roosting up in the station’s rafters.

“Go get them boy!” Mouse released Odin, he flew up at the pigeons causing them to scatter. Odin chased after the fleeing pigeons until Mouse called him back. Odin returned, landing perfectly on her hand.

“Good job Oddie!” Mouse stroked Odin who clicked his beak. Mouse took Odin around the station, whenever she spotted any pigeons, she sent Odin after them. The pigeons quickly dispersed at the fight of the Merlin.

Odin caught the attention of the passengers, some of them pointed at Odin.

“Mummy look! It’s a hawk!”

Mouse smiled to herself, she took Odin out of the station into the parking lot where a few pigeons had decided to take roost along the building. Mouse gave the command and sent Odin after them. The pigeons loudly scattered at the sight of Odin. One pigeon wasn’t fast enough, in one swoop, Odin caught the pigeon and had it pinned to the ground.

“Hey! Easy! Easy! Mouse ran over to Odin, she knelt down and pried the traumatized pigeon out of Odin’s talons. Odin shrieked in protest. Mouse threw the pigeon back into the air, which flew away, dazed and very traumatized. Just then a man pulled up in his car. He stepped out and went over to Mouse.

“I couldn’t help but watch you and your hawk.” he said, “that was fantastic, reminds me of the medieval times when they used hawks for hunting.”

Mouse tickled Odin’s breast, “Oh, Odin’s not a hawk, he’s a merlin, they’re a type of falcon.”

“Huh, I guess you learn something new everyday,” he stretched out his hand, “Mr. Hugh.”

Mouse looked down at her glove covered hand, “Eva,” she said, “but you can call me Mouse.”

“Nice to meet you Mouse,” Mr. Hugh said, “did you happen to hear about the next train to Croven’s gate?”

“Um…” Mouse looked back at Odin.

“It’s okay if you didn’t, I was called to help out with a major restoration project at the steam works.” Mr. Hugh explained.

“Oh, you mean Morgan?”

“So you’ve heard?”

“Yes, they’re my very great grandfather’s engine, back during world war one.” Mouse said simply.

Mr. Hugh took note, “really?”

“Aye, my father is going to be their driver, up at the museum.” Mouse leaned against her knee.

“Must be pretty exciting to have that connection with an engine! I remember when I was building Ivo Hugh, we just clicked. Engines are very loyal once you bond with them.”

Mouse let out a long sigh, “I hope Morgan is able to bond with my father…”

“Just give it time, if your father is patient, maybe they’ll learn to trust your father.” Mr. hugh picked up his suitcase, “it was nice meeting you Mouse. Good luck with your work!”

Mouse watched Mr. Hugh hurry into the station. She made a mental note to herself to take a quick trip to the steamworks.

Chapter Text

It was a dark and stormy night.

Morgan was sitting on a flatbed wagon, on a long supply train. It was loud and noisy being stuck between an artillery gun, and another wagon hauling horses. Morgan grimaced whenever the grime from the engine’s smoke mixed with the rain, leaving gross grime on their new coat of grey paint. Morgan couldn’t even see the big engine pulling the train, just the giant dark outline of one.

It didn’t matter though, Morgan just couldn’t wait to be unloaded and serve their king and country. A very noble cause, the factory workers told them. Every able bodied man should stand up for their country, if not, then are they really a true patriot? Can one sincerely say that they loved their fatherland if they’re not willing to fight for it? Anyone who isn’t willing to go to war against those who besiege their home country support the attackers.

Morgan didn’t want to associate with those Huns, The ones who sodomized innocent women in Belgium, and murdered their children. Morgan would never tolerate that, they were going to kill as many Huns as they could. They were made to fight for their king and country, and they were going to put up a fight. When the war’s done, they’ll come home as a hero. King George V was going to personally kiss them, they’ll be part of parades. They’ll be seen as the engine who fought for King and for Country.

Whatever that all means. It was what the boys at the workshop were saying.

As the train puffed along the French countryside, Morgan tried to get a good look at the scenery, they couldn’t make out much with the rain. What would they even be doing at the western front anyways?

As the train grew closer to their destination, the rumbling from the train was slowly turning into rumblings of bombings. They grew stronger and stronger as the train grew closer. The air started to smell of a stench of something burning. What it was, Morgan didn’t know. Finally, the train came to a grinding stop. The wagons shifted and clambered into each other, Morgan yelped in surprise. The old engine let out a long, dead, cloud of cold steam, followed by a hollow, long, cold whistle that stuck in the air for too long.

Men shouting in a language that Morgan couldn’t understand shuffled to the train, they were wearing blue uniforms and moved like zombies. Morgan was able to catch a quick glimpse at one of their faces, their eyes were sunken in, and their cheekbones protruded out, they looked like boys who aged fifty years in one second. Morgan felt themselves get moved from the flatbed, and onto a set of rails. They couldn’t help but notice just how small they were compared to the wagons.

A fire was lit in Morgan’s firebox. The sensation of flames licking their firebox was jarring at first, Morgan never was fired up before, but it felt nice compared to the freezing rain. Morgan quite liked it. Once the train was unloaded, the big engine let off a loud wailing whistle. With a creak of its wheels, it clattered off into the night like Charon crossing back over the river of Styx.

This is it. Morgan thought to themself, they were finally at the front, what that entailed, they had no idea. But they felt strangely ready to do whatever job they were assigned. This should be easy. Morgan had a tank full of water, and a bunker full of coal. It took a little while before Morgan was finally up to steam, it felt like forever to the impatient young engine before they felt the regulator open.

Morgan was surprised to be running under their own power, the feeling of all their gears and pistons moving at once felt alien. Morgan rumbled down the slick tracks and was coupled up to a line of supply wagons and a few empty wagons. Morgan quickly looked back, the bigger engine was long gone, it was just Morgan and the crew now. Morgan puffed off with their wagons down the tracks, the tracks were very bumpy. Morgan kept their head down studying the tracks as they passed under them. Morgan giggled a little bit when they managed to splash up a puddle.

When they came to a stop before the trenches, Morgan looked up, they instantly regretted doing so. Though it was dark and rainy, Morgan’s headlamp and few lanterns cast a shadow over rows of wiggling men, it was an awful sight. Both sides of the track as far as Morgan’s lamp could shine, nothing but a field of dead and dying men. Some were screaming and begging for their mothers, others were sobbing, one was gripping a rosary with the remains of his hands, praying over the body of a man, torn in half with viscera spilling out, but still alive.

Reality hit Morgan like a freight train, no matter where they looked, there were pieces of men, a torso missing its bottom half, a Frenchman with half of his head blown off but still alive trying to scream. A terrified German holding his intestines in his helmet while speaking desperately in his native tongue, rats nibbling on the fresh wounds on a thrashing soldier with no limbs, and a stretcher with only the minced meat remains of a man who was scrapped off the ground,The smell! Oh the smell! The air was so thick with the stench of feces and rotten meat, Morgan could taste it! They couldn’t even look down, the heavy rain and corpses only created a slurry that pooled onto the tracks.

Every single one of Morgan’s senses was screaming for them to run. They were the only ones here in this field of death, they weren’t even in the trenches yet! Morgan closed their eyes, they wanted to run so badly, but they had to wait for the empty wagons to be uncoupled first. Morgan’s boiler ached, what were they supposed to do? Their safety valve began to screech, they squeezed their eyes shut, but the sounds of the dying men around them amplified. Combined with the noise from the rain, and their safety valve, it sounded like hell. Where were they supposed to run to? They were trapped, trapped in this field of death. It’s just a night mare, only a nightmare, this wasn’t real. These dead men aren’t real, it’s fine! It’s fine! They need to run, run away no. 2456! What’s taking them so long? No.2456! Get out! You’re not safe!

Get out get out get out get out get out get out.

“On dirait qu'on a un nouveau moteur.”

“Avons-nous un masque supplémentaire?”

Morgan felt something press up over their mouth and nose, the smell died down a bit. Morgan was able to take a few deep breaths. They relaxed a bit and opened their eyes. A man was pressing a human sized gas mask over their mouth and nose as best as he could. Behind them was another engine’s face squinting through the lantern light. He had a big funnel, rectangular water tanks, and a square goatee. He squinted at Morgan hard.

Morgan nervously glanced around, they were still in that field filled with bodies. Should Morgan do something? Were they being judged? Were they in the way?

“Hello?” Morgan spoke up timidly, “I… I’m new. I just came from the factory…. A… a big engine… came and… kind of… brought me here…”

Morgan waited for a while, the other engine kept a hard gaze on him. A voice from the back cut the silence.

“Que dit-il, frère?”

The engine called back, “Je ne sais pas. Ce doit être un anglais.”

Morgan tried to see who he was, they could only make out the dull outline of a funnel.

The engine motioned for Morgan to follow them, “De cette façon.” he tooted his whistle, “Tu montres la voie, mon frère.” a second whistle came from behind, Morgan quietly followed them into the depths of the trench.

The engine guided them to a siding, Morgan pulled up next to them and finally got a good look at the second engine. To their surprise, it wasn’t two engines, but one. It looked like someone welded two engines back to back. The back engine had sharp eyes and a simple mustache. They studied Morgan over carefully, the two muttered back and forth with each other in french.

Morgan spoke quietly, “is something wrong?”

The two looked at Morgan confused. Morgan felt trapped, “hello?”
The entire sky lit up in a loud explosion, Morgan screamed as a bombardment of shells exploded not too far away from them.

“Nous sommes être attaqués! Obtenez l'artillerie!”

The entire trench came to life with men scrambling to get their guns. Rapid pops rang out in between explosions. Morgan froze. What was happening? They tried to turn their wheels but they couldn’t move!

The engines, (or was it engine?) kicked into action, they rushed away with the goateed faced one leading first. Tears formed in Morgan’s eyes as the sky lit up with bright flashes.

“Que faites-vous? Faites venir le train d'artillerie!” the Mustached faced one barked at them, as they were quickly coupled to a set of wagons.

Morgan stood frozen, what was happening? They were too scared to move, dirt and shrapnel was raining everywhere around them. They could only stand there and cry and shake in fear.

The Mustached face engine noticed, “J'ai dit déplacer!”

Morgan had no choice but to follow after them, still shaking in fear and confusion.

_________________________________________________________________________

“Morgan my friend,”

Morgan growled as they arose, they were instantly met with a pounding ache directly behind their smokebox door, and a nauseating feeling in their boiler. To put it mildly, Morgan felt like utter crap.

Morgan could barely pay attention to Victor’s voice, something, something, repairs. They couldn’t care less.

Victor stopped talking as soon as he noticed the glazed look on Morgan’s face, “Morgan? Are you still with me?”

Morgan snapped, “"Que veux-tu!?”

Victor puffed back a bit, “What was that?”

Morgan growled at Victor and tried to go back to sleep, “!!!@^^%$!!!”

“Morgan, I can tell that you're extremely irritated right now, do you want to tell me why you’re feeling so irritated?”

Morgan gritted their teeth and squeezed their eyelids shut tightly, “Tais-toi et laisse-moi mourir.” they hissed through their teeth.

Victor got more stern, “I can’t understand what you are saying right now, if there is something bothering you, you need to tell me so we can work it through. You were feeling alright yesterday, what’s caused you to become so irritated so suddenly?”

Morgan’s face flushed bright red with irritation, “"J'ai. Besoin. De Cigarette.” they spat out like it was a clod of wet ash.

“What was that?”

“"J'ai. Besoin. De Cigarette!” Morgan snapped back even more agitated than before. Can’t Victor get the memo!?

Victor raised an eyebrow, “Cigarette? Oh! Okay, I think I know what’s happening, Morgan, like we’ve discussed yesterday, you cannot be smoking cigarettes anymore. They’re only going to cause more harm than good. Remember our deal? If you can go for a week without smoking, you can go outside.”

Morgan just scoffed, “Tsch.”

“It’s only the first day, you just need to make it until next tuesday. That’s easy, isn’t it?”

“Je ne peux pas faire ça. J'ai besoin de mes cigarettes.”

Victor readjusted his glasses, “hmph, well we obviously can’t work anything out right now. Perhaps when you decide to go back to speaking English, we could have a better talk. Right now I have no idea what you’re saying, so I take it as you’re not in the mood for a conversation.”

Morgan growled at Victor, they listened to Victor and Kevin talking in the background. Their mind was too much of a mush to understand. They tried to go back to sleep but the sick feeling made it impossible. All Morgan could think about was one thing, cigarettes. Just smelling one would do it, maybe they could catch a whiff of smoke from one of the workers? At least somebody here has to smoke! Morgan’s eyelid twitched as they gritted their teeth.

The manager paced around the workshop, he checked the clock on the wall, before heading out of the shop, Mr. Hugh should be here any minute. He grinned when he saw Ivo Hugh puffing up the line with Mr. Hugh hanging out from his cab.

“Hello! Hello!” Mr. Hugh called out.

“Mr. Hugh! Oh it’s so great to see you again!” the Manager laughed.

Mr. Hugh hopped out from Ivo Hugh and hugged the manager, “It feels so great to be back old buddy!” He laughed, “ And to see the steamworks is still standing!”

The manager gave a hearty laugh, “How was your trip here? I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”

“Not at all! Not in the slightest! Ivo Hugh and I were just catching up! He tells me that Victor is still in service.”

“Yes! Victor and Kevin have been working hard.” The Manager led Mr Hugh into the office.

Mr. Hugh hung his coat up, “So much has changed since I retired, I can’t believe it’s been that long. I barely recognize this office! I can’t believe this was the same place where I drew up Ivo Hugh’s blueprints.”

“Yep! Gave it a good fresh coat of paint, and replaced some of the furniture. Rusty was the one who surprisingly gave me the idea to remodel. Their driver has been letting them watch those home improvement shows during downtime.” the Manager said, taking a seat.

“I never thought Rusty would be interested in home improvement, maybe I should ask him about remodeling my kitchen sometime, see what he thinks.” Mr Hugh set down his briefcase, “so, about this new engine. No. 2456?”

“Morgan? Oh yes! Their restorations have been going on for a while now. The Earl specifically wanted them for his railway museum.” the manager slid Mr. Hugh Morgan’s file. Mr. Hugh took the time reading through the pages, his forehead creasing at the amount of pages available.

“Is this all?” he looked up from the final page, “No information on where they were built? What year? Previous owners? Nothing like that?”

“That’s all we have, all we know is that his previous driver’s name was August Merriwether, according to his son, Richard Merriwether. He was the one who donated the photograph to the museum and told us about them.” the manger showed Mr. Hugh the old photograph, “His son, Joseph is going to be their driver at the museum.”

Mr. Hugh examined the files more closely, “so what’s this about their eyes?”

The manager sighed, “when they were brought here, their eyes were too damaged from the years of being buried, we had to remove them. I don’t know how it’s going to affect their work, they’re going to be very limited on what type of jobs they could do.”

“I remember when that happened to Sir Handel.” Mr. Hugh leaned against his elbows, “that tree branch really did a number on his eye.”

“Don’t remind me!” the manager shuddered at the memory of watching a human eye doctor coming in, and draining fluid from Sir Handel’s eye.

“Do we still have the contact number for the person who made Sir Handel’s glass eye? Maybe we could have them fashion a pair of glass eyes for Morgan.” Mr Hugh suggested, “it wouldn’t fix their sight though, but it might give them a sense of normalcy.”

The Manager hummed, “oof, that was years ago, I don’t know if they’re still in business! But we could try reaching out to someone. Right now we have much, much bigger concerns on our hands.”

Mr Hugh leaned forward, “oh? And what about?”

The manger rolled up his sleeve, a scar was clearly visible on it, “Morgan gave me that.”

Mr Hugh covered his mouth in shock, “They did that!?”

“Yep.” the manager said flatly, “they were having a panic attack and bit my arm.”

“Oh my… wow.”

The Manager rolled his sleeve back up, “Morgan’s mental state, well, they’re suffering from severe PTSD, Victor’s been trying to work with them, but it’s proving to be… very tedious.” the manager cringed, “they barely trust humans, they don’t sleep at all, they get these violent mood swings that just come out of nowhere, one moment they’re singing and are calm, and then bam! They’re threatening to kill everyone in the works. Just like that.” the manager snapped his fingers.

“And you want me to help restore them?”

“Well, you are really good with working with narrow gauge engines, Victor and Kevin are working on restoring their mental state, so far they’ve found that singing calms Morgan down and keeps them distracted. They have an afghan that was gifted to them that they really like, they also love flowers and seem to be getting along great with Duncan. Now, I totally understand if you don’t want to work on them, Morgan can turn pretty violent during mood swings.”

“Show me where they are.”

Chapter Text

Kevin and Victor puttered about the works, while Morgan slept. Kevin was humming a little tune to himself as he moved a few pallets around.

“Do, doodoo doop, do do, doo doo doo dopdop, ey! Ey! What’s the matter with your eh-eheheh fine and your mind and look so divine and eh eh.” Kevin mumbled out the melody, “COME AND GET YOUR LOOOVE!! COME AND GET YOUR LOOOVE!!” the paint cans toppled off the palette and splattered all over the floor. The manager winced at the mess.

“Sorry sir! Just a slip of the hook! Let me just-” Kevin went to set the pallet down, but instead he spilled even more paint cans off of it, “oops, uh… uuhhh….” Kevin watched helplessly as the rest of the cans tetter tottered off of the pallet, and onto the floor, “uuhhhhh…..”

“Mr Hugh! Hello there my good old friend! How are you doing!” Victor hurried over before the manager could address the paint mess on the floor.

Mr Hugh chuckled and patted Victor on the buffers, “There’s my favorite honorary apprentice! I was wondering how you were handling the works by yourself!”

“Muy excelente,” Victor chuckled hardily.

Mr Hugh grinned, “that is so good to hear! You really know your stuff! What was that Cuban saying you taught me? Va a la havana y…”

“Va a la Habana y apaga fuego.”

“Yes! That’s the one! Va a la Habana y apaga fuego.”

Victor laughed at the grammatically incorrect sentence, and blushed, “I did learn from the best after all!”

“Mr Hugh! You’re back!” Kevin zipped over covered in paint.

“Kevin! You’re still here!”

“Yep! And believe it or not, I’ve gotten better with my hook!” Kevin proudly held up the lopsided, paint splattered pallet, one of its straps gave away causing one end to crash against the floor, “Just ignore that, it’s supposed to do that.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Kevin unhooked the pallet and rolled back and forth, “so you’re here to work on Morgan?”

“Yes!” Mr Hugh cracked his knuckles, “I heard a lot about them, I’m referring to them right, correct?”

“Yep, they/them.”

“Good, so where are they?”

“This way my friend,” Victor let Mr Hugh hop into his cab. They trundled over to Morgan’s spot. Morgan was completely out of it all, they were covered with their afghan, and had a distant, irritated expression, almost like a worn out soldier standing guard at his night post. Mr Hugh covered his mouth in shock at the sight of the empty eye sockets and facial scars.

“Morgan,” Victor said, “mr. Hugh’s is here to help with your restoration.”

“Va te faire foutre!” Morgan snapped back crossly.

Victor grew stern, “Morgan, I know you’re still cross about the cigarettes, but we’ve been over this before, speaking in french and refusing to cooperate isn’t going to get you anywhere. I need you to take a deep breath, and calm down for a moment.”

“Ta gueule!”

“Morgan. I wish that you can cut out this attitude, I am growing quite frustrated and we haven’t made any progress with the restorations, I would like it if I can continue the restorations.” Victor said sternly.

Mr. Hugh stepped out of the cab, “Morgan-”

“Don’t say anything to them,” Victor instructed, “they’re having a bad day, I took them off of cigarettes, I just need to figure out how to get them to calm down.”

Morgan’s eyelids twitched, it’s all just a repeat, same thing every day, the workmen come, poke and prod them, hours and hours and hours of tightening bolts, hot welding arcs, banging, crashing, buzzing sawing, aches, pains. Day after day after day of having to wallow in the never ending agonizing memories of the hell that was the western front, over and over and over, on loop, day after day after day, memories of the western front, men dying, hour after hour, no sleep for days, every time they rest, they’re right back in the trenches. Waking up, constantly surrounded by workmen, pounding on them, no rest, can’t sleep, memories of the trench are back on loop, can’t be awake, poking, prodding, memories of the trench are on loop. Memories of the trench, looping over and over, smoke a cigarette, memories go away. Calm, peace, silence, cigarette, Morgan with cigarette, Cigarettes drive the memories away. Memories are back, right back in the trench, no cigarette, life plays on loop, need cigarettes, cigarette, stop the memories. No sleep, can’t sleep, trench memories, cigarette, cigarettes makes them happy. Why can’t they have a cigarette, head hurts, body hurts, mind hurts, need cigarette, why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why.

“!!!!@###$%$!!!!” Morgan erupted into a cursing tirade, they used every single french swear they knew. One after another, the works echoed with a symphony of angry french swears.

“!!##$$!! !!!@#$%%!! !!!^%$#!!! !!!^%%$!!! !!!@##$$$!!! !!!##@@$!!”

The workmen halted their work and looked over in Morgan’s direction, A few covered their ears. A row of troublesome trucks outside burst into a fit of raging laughter.

“Come on! Keep going! Cuss louder! Cuss louder! We want to hear it Trenchie Frenchie! !!$#@!! !!$#@!! !!$#@!!”

“Frenchie in the Trenchie! Frenchie in the Trenchie! Sittin’ in the workshops getting mendie! Got so mad that he cussed a-many! Fill her up! Fill her up! Fill the swear jar with all the pennies!” the trucks sang and laughed.

“Oh you shut up!” a yard worker gave a truck a whack across the face with a shunting pole.

“Ow!”

“!!@#$#!!!” Morgan’s angry tirade ended with them still very riled up, and seething with anger. Mr. Hugh stood a good way back, too afraid to move.

“Did that feel better?” Victor asked.

“RRAAAAUUUUUGGGHH!!!” Morgan screamed, they panted still seething with anger. They just wanted to bash themself into a set of buffers.

Victor watched them closely, “do you want to talk about how you’re feeling?”

Morgan didn’t say anything, they gritted their teeth, and seethed with anger.

Victor decided to try something, “you know,” he said not knowing if it would work, “I know a nice music station, if I can find a radio, would you like to listen to it?”

“I have a transistor radio in my car,” Mr. Hugh remarked, “does Morgan like music?”

“Oh yes! They love singing, is that correct Morgan?”

Morgan didn’t respond, the haze of angry thoughts stuck in their head.

“Actually, Duncan and Morgan were talking about music the other day.” Victor said, hoping to try and distract Morgan from their thoughts, “Mr Hugh knows Duncan as well!”

“Oh Have you now?” Mr Hugh said, “he’s… quite the character, isn’t he?”

Morgan grunted, why wouldn’t they just leave them alone? Can’t they see that they’re not in the mood? Why do humans have to be so difficult? Just !!$^%!! Already!

“I found the old radio in the back.” a workman lugged a dusty stereo over, “I don’t know if the CD or cassette player still works, the antenna still looks good. Let’s see if I can try and get it working.” the workman plugged in the stereo, instantly, Morgan was bombarded with radio static, the workman slowly made his way tuning into the different stations until one came clear.

“....and continuing with our story after the following, we received a strange request in the mail yesterday, a fan sent in a mix tape requesting that we play it over the air, the only thing that says on it, is that it reads “Terrible Truckloads of trouble records”.”

“Ah… Sodor public access radio, I missed it.” Mr Hugh sighed.

“You actually like this station?” Kevin asked.

“Of course! It’s nice to hear people talking sometimes.”

Kevin bit his lip, “I think it’s okay, I did like how they used to do the segment where they interviewed us. It ended after Cranky’s interview, I wonder why?”

Morgan quietly listened in on the soft crackles and pops of the radio, it sounded familiar. Morgan knew what a radio was, they would sometimes have a soldier ride with them in their cab carrying a big chest filled with radio equipment, and listening with headphones. At least something still survived to this present day. Morgan smiled a bit, they felt better, secure? Was that the word? Safe? Never mind.

Victor gave a satisfied smile when he saw Morgan’s face relax a bit, “you can listen to the radio while Mr. Hugh works.”

Morgan didn’t care, they just clung onto the radio. Mr. Hugh and the workman got to work on Morgan. The repairs still hurt and Morgan hated it, they had no idea what to even make of Mr. Hugh, he said he was a friend of Duncan, but good people can still have bad connections, what if Mr. Hugh is just a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Morgan remembered soldiers telling them about German ladies who posed as French prostitutes who would then seduce the soldier and get him to talk, before taking all the information back to the enemy.

Do not trust anyone.

Do not get close to anyone.

You have no friends in the trenches, everyone is going to die eventually.

Keep your lips tight, anyone can be a German spy.

But Victor said that the war was over and they didn’t need to be so tight lipped? Morgan didn’t care anymore. All they really wanted was a single cigarette. But nooo! Apparently cigarettes are bad now! !!&%^!!

What kind of society is this anyway? If a man, or engine in this case, can’t have a cigarette, then Morgan doesn’t want to live in this Society!