A/N: I've received some really lovely messages and reviews from people who have asked me to write another story in my 'Crewe' universe. Previously I had kept from writing more stories with my OC, Ellie, because I was worried that perhaps they were cringey and that they didn't make for good fanfic. However I was really touched by some of the comments sent to me so I decided to have another go at using my OC. I might make this a series of short stories, I might not, it depends on your feedback, if it's worthy of any. ^^' If you do like it, I'd love to hear your suggestions for stories you'd like to see, too. :)

I'd like to dedicate this in particular to RosieAngelina and an elusive person known only as 'Guest' who left such a lovely review on "After Crewe"; I longed to thank you properly! :)

Friends or Enemies?

"Keep still."

"It hurts! Get off!"

"Look, the only way I can give you any kind of relief is if you let me do this. I don't think they make sting cream for engines."

James half-growled, half-whimpered.

Do you know what my job is? I am employed at the Fat Controller's Works as a sort of deputy manager for a small group of workmen. Our jobs are to see to the small yet important things that are below the Foreman and his team, but if ignored could potentially cause accidents or other problems on the railway.

So how have I ended up also being head of First Aid? Not First Aid in the normal sense – this is Sodor after all – no, I'm talking about First Aid for engines.

At the present moment, I was battling to tend to a certain red mixed traffic engine who had decided to get himself promptly stung on the nose.

Attending to such things on Sodor's engines is always a bit of a puzzle; whilst most of their illnesses and the like are mechanically related, occasionally you come across something a bit different. Something like this, for example. I had no idea what action to take when I first encountered such an incident; you didn't get steam engines come in with bee stings back at Crewe – those engines weren't alive. Dealing with flesh wounds on an engine came as a surprise to me; I had almost expected their skin to be like a sort of rubber, I suppose. It had come as a shock when I'd found it to be soft and warm, just like any human's skin really. I don't understand how this came to be; so therefore it's easier if I just accept it.

"You're killing me!"

In fairness to me, I was trying to be very gentle, but when you've got a temperamental (stroppy!) red engine on your hands who keeps fidgeting it can be pretty much impossible not to hurt them. I had been rather sure of myself when it came to treating him; it wouldn't be like a human, I told myself, James can't run away or deliberately dodge me while I'm trying to sort him out.

Oh, how wrong I was.

James might not have been able to dodge me but he made tending the bee sting extremely hard going. I had reckoned without the 'muscle' movement in his face. He wasn't quiet and resilient when it came to pain like some engines; he twitched his (enormously swollen) nose and tried to push me away with his mouth. The expressions these actions resulted in were comical; I might have died laughing if I hadn't been trying to keep my balance and not be pushed right off of his front and onto the rails below. I had started my mission right in front of his face, making him go cross-eyed trying to watch me; but now I had wisely moved to his side – he couldn't do much to me with his cheek - and was doing my best to wash down the stung area with cool water. He looked at me with absolute contempt; I did my best to ignore him, which is not easy when his eye is about the size of my whole head.

"I don't know why they had to give you the job of sorting me out; an important engine like myself should be being seen to properly by someone of adequate experience."

To be honest I wasn't completely sure why he was even sent to the Works in the first place for a bee sting, but then I remembered that the Foreman's words had been along the lines of: "You can sort James out, Ellie. It's not a serious problem and he can easily manage to do his work despite a sore nose in my opinion, but the Fat Controller does insist on his engines' health and comfort as well as their mechanical reliability."

James' comments didn't really bother me, either – I was used to him being both abrupt and insulting; it's just part of his persona. But I'd been battling with him for a good hour now; luckily it was quite late and the next stop for him would have been Tidmouth Sheds anyway. The swelling was gradually starting to go down – it would have been far less pronounced if he'd have kept still as I'd asked him; but James is James, and if you want him to let you do anything you have to call his bluff.

I had several debriefings to write-up after this; it had initially been a quiet day with most of the jobs being done by the Foreman and his team. I had been planning to catch up on paperwork – but James had completely ruined this idea by coming in with his crew whining and throwing about some interestingly chosen curse words.

I chucked the towel I had been using into the bucket of icy water and climbed down from his front using a small ladder. I folded the ladder up nonchalantly and leaned it against the wall and started sidling off towards the office, well aware that James was watching my every move with an aghast expression on his face. People very rarely cross James – maybe that's how he ended up with such an attitude, I don't know – but when they do it shocks him to his core.

I didn't look back at him; obviously I wasn't going to let him suffer for too long, but I wasn't going to let him sit there and insult me when I was doing my best to help him either.

"Ummm…" he was the first to speak. "Where are you going?"

"Paperwork. I've got plenty to do, James. If you don't need my help then get your driver and fireman to take you home."

James' mouth hung open in a satisfactory manner. I turned and carried on into the office. The red engine has a lot of pride; time ticked on and I heard nothing from him. I suppose I partly wanted him to beg me to come back and finish sorting him out – like most women, I wanted to flat out win the argument. That would be asking too much from James; if he'd been 'born' human he'd never have made marriage material.

After about an hour I was a little bit concerned; I knew he hadn't gone home because he was the only engine in the Works that evening, and the noise they make it'd be impossible to miss him leaving.

I crept over to door of the office and peered out into the main Works area; I knew James' driver and fireman wouldn't be around for a bit because they'd gone off to see to another job while they waited for their engine; I had a feeling another this 'job' might have something to do with a bit of dinner somewhere, but that was neither here nor there. I really felt for James's crew sometimes; more often than not they were the ones who ended up doing extra overtime because of their engine's behaviour, but the Fat Controller – Sir Topham Hatt – didn't always seem to remember that he was not only punishing engine, but also crew as well.

The red engine was staring miserably at the floor; his nose was almost back to the size and colour it had been on his arrival – if indeed it was not worse – and he looked like he might actually be about to cry at any minute. It was a strange scene to picture and one I suddenly realized I didn't want to become an actual reality. James can be a pain, and half the time I can't stick him, but…I don't know. There's something about a steam engine shedding tears that cuts me to the quick.

That's where being a girl will get you.

I didn't say anything when I quietly put the ladder back up and continued to bathe the stung area. James was silent too. He gave me a bit of a look - if looks could kill with James I'd have been dead the first time we met - but he didn't deliberately try and knock me off his running board anymore either.

When his driver and fireman returned a short time later, I'd finished tending him and he was looking a fair bit better, despite still resembling a certain reindeer often immortalized in all things Christmas. It was funny how my mood had changed towards him in the last hour; I felt almost fond of him at the moment.

His crew thanked me gratuitously, not noticing their engine squirming in discomfort - I think he thought I might snitch on him over his behaviour – then climbed into the cab ready to take him back to Tidmouth. I started make my way back to the office.

"Hey, Ellie."

His voice came from behind me as I walked away.

"Are we friends or enemies?"

I thought about it.

"I don't know. I haven't worked it out yet."

I closed the door and went back to work.

~ End

A/N: My aim of this story was to try and show my character's not perfect; I don't want her to always be right, know everything and everyone to luurrrrve her XD I hope that this lives up to those kind comments from you; I'm not sure it does though Dx and I hope you'll leave me a review and let me know if you have the time. I'm so grateful for each and every one. :)