Bitter.

That was the only word to describe the past few days that Diesel had been having.

It was early December of 1977, and old Jack Frost was starting to reach around the corner. Bringing with him chilling winds, cold rains, and subsequently, dangerous rails. Whenever Diesel wasn't shunting in the roller-rink that had become Knapford yard, bumping trucks in and out of their rows, he was put on permanent way and inspection trains with Harvey, making sure the main line was safe for trains to continue operating.

"Oh, cheer up Diesel. It's not that bad. In fact, it could be much worse!" Harvey said as he lifted a fallen branch away from the tracks.

"Your right. You could continue on chatterboxing," Diesel oiled, annoyed as ever.

Harvey had gotten used to Diesel's snide remarks, as most engines had, but from what he had heard of from the other engines, he was much worse when he first came to the island.

"Well, just be glad you won't be out here a month or so from now, clearing away the snow with Donald and Douglas. You wouldn't last out in that mess."

Diesel's face grew a curious look. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Harvey's remark.

"It would be... unpleasant, yes. But what makes you say I couldn't handle it?"

"Because, being even as cold of an engine as you are, you wouldn't last long in the dead of winter."

Harvey didn't need to say anything more. Diesel's face fell, as if he had been beaten down. And, subsequently, was silent the rest of the time they were clearing the line, and for a long time after too. Every engine that passed him noticed it. As if Diesel was, thinking. Thinking very hard on something.

He didn't want to be bitter anymore. He wanted something new.

…..

Over the next few days, he seemingly doubled the effort he put into everything. Trains in the yard were shunted and arranged twice as fast. He didn't waste time with washdowns, slowly gathering grime with each passing day, only ever being washed by the frigid, pouring rains. And only ever refueling when he was running on fumes. The other engines didn't know quite what to make of it. But they could tell that he had been filled with a fierce determination.

"I'll tell ya this much, James," Thomas said, as the two engines waited for their trains to depart.

"Diesel may had done wrong in the past, but he certainly seems keen on putting on a show for us now."

"Yeah," James replied, laughing,"He always knows just how to put on a show!"

…..

Sir Charles Topham Hatt had been the one who first brought Diesel to the NWR for a trial. And of course, the one who sent him packing time and time again. But, he did value an engine that worked hard. And as he watched that "Devious Diesel" from a bench at Knapford station, sipping his warm tea in the frigid weather, and wondering just what was so funny to Thomas and James, he thought about how glad he was that he had purchased the shunter when he had caught word how he was to be withdrawn.

Gordon, however, wasn't so pleased. So, he puffed over to Diesel to give him a piece of his mind.

"Funny isn't it? All these years later, you still bang the trucks about. It's almost as if you haven't learned your lesson."

"Oh, come off it Gordon," Henry said, as he uncoupled from the empty fish vans from that morning's Flying Kipper, "He may have yet to fully make up for what he did, but it was years ago. It's not like anyone teases me about the tunnel anymore, or Edward for being 'Old Iron.'"

Gordon simply scoffed at this.

"Fine, take his side. But just remember, old habits die hard. So don't come crying when he turns on you once more." And with that, the big blue engine chuffed away to find his train.

"That. Exactly that." Diesel said, suddenly. Henry looked confused.

"Exactly what, Diesel?"

"That sort of stuck-up, jerkish behavior. It's what turned most diesels against steam engines back on the mainland."

"Really?" Henry said, surprised.

"Oh yes. Our drivers tried reassuring us. Telling us we were newer, stronger, or as you would know best, 'revolutionary' compared to steam traction and older diesel prototypes. But, I suppose being revolutionary doesn't last long."

Henry was shocked to hear this. He couldn't recall ever hearing just why Diesel had thought he was so 'revolutionary' when he first came to Sodor.

Unknown to Henry and Diesel, Emily had been listening in from behind a line of tankers.

"Diesel," Henry asked softly, "In all the years I've known you, why are you saying this just now? If you had said something sooner, we wouldn't have treated you the way we did…"

"I know that now, but back then, well, what could I have done? Open up to those I had been led to see as an enemy. And after I was sent packing, I started being called out by fans of the Reverend's books on the mainland. Hearing it from an outsider's perspective, well…"

The two engines sat in silence for a moment, before hearing movement of another engine.

Diesel spoke up, "Emily? What are you doing back there…"

"Oh, uh, nothin' much. A wee bit of shuntin is all.. Heheh.."

"You heard everything, didn't you?" Diesel asked, dryly.

"Well, enough to understand that ye went through somethin similar to what many engines 'ave."

Diesel seemed interested. "Why, whatever do you mean?" he oiled inquisitively.

"Well, back on the Great Northern, my class were some of the top express engines at the time. Funny, really. We only average around 60 miles-per-hour on trains."

Diesel was a little surprised at this. With what his life had been, he never really gave much thought into the pasts of older engines.

"Although, I dinne think this is the best way to make up for your past, Diesel," Emily continued. "Sooner or later, you'll bash the trucks to pieces."

He looked around, noticing how the trucks were in quite the state from his aggressive shunting. Looking dazed, some even staring angrily at Diesel. He caught on quick enough, and thought it best to leave the trucks be for now.

"Well," said Diesel, "do either of you have something in mind? Preferably away from this lot of trucks…"

"Oh, dinne worry about that. I'll take over shunting. Maybe you could find something ta do around the dieselworks? Maybe clear your mind a bit."

"Thank you, Emily…" the old diesel said as he backed down onto a train of old parts for the works, and oiled away down the line, just as the snow started to fall.

…..

With the shift in weather, bringing with it stronger winds, Diesel had to run at restricted speeds on his way back to Vicarstown. Trundling down the mainline at this easy pace, for once he took a look around at the once-wretched Island of Sodor. Most other diesels on the mainland always hated this place, just like many preservation lines, given how they solely focussed on outdated technology. But having been here this long? He started to know better.

This self-reflection didn't last long however, as Gordon hurried past him in the other direction, followed by a cloud of steam and snow, blowing his whistle loudly at him, visibly angered by something. He had caught him mumbling something along the lines of 'bloody snow, always slowing me down,' but could only imagine his whistle was to drown out something more profane.

After about half an hour's time, Diesel finally arrived at the dieselworks. Nestled in an industrial estate developed in the late 60s, the Vicarstown Dieselworks was originally meant to be a temporary works until Crovan's Gate works could be fitted with the proper equipment for servicing diesel engines. However, even for such a new building, even with Percy having "helped" to get it renovated a few years back, it still seemed all too derelict.

As he was shunting his trucks, he noticed Boco being inspected by some workmen.

"Afternoon, Boco…" he said.

"Oh, hello there Diesel," He said cheerfully as always. But he couldn't help but notice the look on Diesels face.

"Something the matter? Your looking glum today. More so than usual, at least," the Metrovik asked, staring inquisitively at Diesel. The old gronk was hiding something, that he was sure of. But he doubted anyone, man or engine, had ever cracked what exactly made him tick.

"Tell me, Boco. What was it like?" Diesel said, with a nervous "What was it like when, you and the other class 28s were deemed, unreliable?"

Boco was surprised at this, he had never heard Diesel ask about anyone's past before. And his own past was something not many engines other than Edward and Bill and Ben knew about.

"Ah, I think I see what's going on then," Boco said, knowingly. "Well, me and my classmates knew we were knew something was up when the last of us were re-allocated to Barrow after we were found to be performing 'sub-par' spread out across the midlands. Funny, really. I was running on the same rails as Edward before I even knew him. No wonder he's so friendly, that line is such a lovely place…"

"Ahem" Diesel went, cutting off Boco sharply. He thought that Boco just might of gone on forever about this "lovely" line just across from Sodor had he not done something.

"Anyways…" Diesel murmured, "I've heard you didn't have any… quarrels with the steamies when you first came here? Other than a misunderstanding with those yellow Brendam bugs."

"Oh yes, I did try my best to make a good first impression. The Fat Controller selected me specifically, and I hoped I wouldn't let him down."

"Yes, but. Why? Most diesels had a hatred of the more inferior engines."

"Well, as a diesel-hydraulic, I was inferior to diesel-electrics such as yourself. So when modernization went into full effect, we were allocated to where some of the last steam engines were as well. Forming a sense of comradery that we were all out-dated, and decided to have no ill-will towards another, for anyone of us could have been withdrawn at any time…"

Boco had started to stare off into the gray evening sky, as if he were remembering…

"What happened to them? Surely you would be the last of your class then?"

"Oh, thankfully no. A brother of mine, D5705, was preserved. Along with a few of the steam engines, or so I've heard at least."

"I see…" Diesel said, in a pondering tone. They sat there in silence for at least another 20 minutes. Both engines being left to think. One of the future, and another of a time gone past.

"So then, Diesel. How do you feel about it?" Boco asked.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Diesel oiled defensively.

"I mean, what's it like having ended up in the same situation as myself and all other engines on this railway? Being shunned for being outdated, or sent for scrap by the other railway."

"Well, it has been a long time coming, in retrospect…" Diesel said, sadly. As if, he had lost a part of himself. Just then, a workman walked up alongside Boco.

"Alright, your all good to go now. The line's clear down to Wellsworth for about another hour," he said, and walked back inside the dieselworks.

Boco looked over to Diesel, and said, "Just remember, we all know what it's like. You might not know it yet, but I'm certain if you open up to the other engines, it will be for the better. Goodbye now." He said, as he trundled off, out into the yard and off down the mainline.

…..

That night, as Diesel rested in the shed outside of Knapford station, he reflected upon the recent events. With his own class now being marched onwards to the cutter's torch, he knew he had to carry on. Not with spite for what he had known as "inferior", but rather to at least try and better himself. As he drifted in and out of sleep, waking once more as the midnight goods passed by. He also felt, grateful, in a way, to Emily. She being the one who first opened up to him. He sat there and had a long hard think. As he drifted back off to sleep, he knew that he was ready to make sure the next day would be better. And that he wouldn't simply go down in history as the Devious Diesel.