A/N: I so appreciate ALL the feedback so far. It seems like people are enjoying this concept and story which brings me much delight in having chosen to share it with the world after all (and there was some HEAVY deliberating, believe you me). Thank you all for waiting, I hope this next chapter was worth the week of wait. The plot (hopefully) thickens, albeit among a lot of character/relationship building dialogue. I love mah dialogue.

It was early in the morning and not yet time for any of the trains to start pulling into Knapford- as such, Thomas took the opportunity to rush to the main office. The mail trucks would've made their deliveries last night and he was eager to get ahold of his mother's first letter, eager to write her back a reply of how wonderful things had been for him so far.

"Excuse me," he said to the only person he could see behind the desk, a young woman doing a once over of the telephone switchboard. Her thick waves of strawberry blonde curls that fell down her shoulders were all that he could see of her now. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if the mail had arrived and where I might get my letters?"

She turned then, her bright green eyes widening at the sight of him.

"At your personal address I would think!"

"Well…yes, that'd be true if I had a personal address. I don't yet though. There was an understanding…they'd leave my letters here for me until I-...found a place to live?"

"Oh, I see! You poor thing. Yes, some have been put aside for you. You must be Mr. Huntington."

Because she went to work straight away looking for his letters Thomas couldn't really find it him to be too indignant about her unwarranted pity. Still, he didn't like admitting how penniless he was to perfect strangers. It was a temporary condition but an insecurity nonetheless.

"Expecting anything important?" she asked with an eager look as she handed over his small collection of mail. It wasn't really her business but she had been kind and helpful and there was no reason for Thomas to be rude.

"Yes…a letter from my mother. She'll get so worried if I don't write her back quickly, you know? God forbid what might happen if one gets lost in the mail."

He chuckled to himself (nervously, maybe) at the very idea. The young woman continued to stare at him.

"Uh…what's your name, Miss?" It seemed just as polite an attempt as any to get her to stop looking at him like that.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" she giggled, hiding her face a little out of embarrassment. "I'm Miss Sinclair. Or just Rosie. Rosie's fine. I work the switchboard here part time. It's an extremely busy job, but I guess we're all very busy around here, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely…" Thomas' reply was a bit absent, as he was moreover focused on flipping through the stack. "Her letter doesn't seem to be in here…are you sure that was all of them, Miss Rosie?"

Looking shocked and disheartened, Rosie checked once more in the drawer the letters had been stored. She shook her head after a moment, apologetic.

"I'm sorry…that seems to be all of them…but wait a moment! I see the mailman! He usually transports local letters but perhaps your mother's got put in by mistake!"

Thomas beamed at that, hoping she was right.

"Thank you, Rosie, I'll go ask!"

And off he went out the door, after the small man with the burlap parcel bag.

"Sir! Excuse me, sir! Mr. Mailman!" he called, unaware of how strange he must have looked to the awaiting passengers, running about after a mailman in his porter's uniform.

The mailman turned at the sound of Thomas' calls but at the worst possible time. He didn't see the big burly man heading his way and bumped right into him.

"Oy, watch where you're goin', postman!" the burly man huffed, pushing the mailman aside with so much force (or too much for his small body) that he fell hard to the ground and spilled the contents of his messenger bag.

Thomas gasped, hardly believing what he saw. Sodor had been so notorious for the generosity of its people. There was no way this big wretch of a man could've been native to the island!

He rushed to the side of the fallen mailman first and helped him to his feet. Rosie, who had apparently seen the whole ordeal from the office, was already outside gathering the spilled letters.

"Are you alright, Percy?" Rosie asked the mailman, to which he answered with a nod.

"Yes...thank you, it was just a tumble. And thanks to you too, Mister."

Mailman Percy's smile of gratitude was gentle and kind, in no way did he seem anything but mortified for what happened. Feeling as though he had just witnessed a rhinoceros kick a rabbit, Thomas turned his fury to the burly man that had continued on his way.

"Hey, you! The big brute that knocked my friend over! I'm talking to you!"

Behind him he could hear Percy squeak and Rosie whisper discouragements but Thomas wasn't listening. The burly man might have been ten times his size, but he did not abide by bullies.

"You 'wot?" the burly man growled, turning to see who had such nerve. "You talkin' to me, you little weasel?"

The burly man was making his way over now and Thomas could've sworn he felt the ground shake every time the man took a step. He started to feel real fear, knowing what the man could do to him if he wanted…but he couldn't let that kind of behavior go unaddressed.

"I am talking to you! I want you to apologize to my friend!"

"He ought to apologize to me!" The burly man was very close now, a mere foot or two away from Thomas and clenching his fists as if preparing to use them. "He wasn't watching where he was going!"

"Well neither were you! It was an accident and you knocked him over like a stack of cards! Are you so dense that you have to use force instead of words?"

Percy and Rosie's collective gasp and the burly man's look of enraged shock let Thomas know he was in for it now. It was either take the beating that was coming or run and well…he was not going to be known as a coward.

But instead of a hard fist colliding with his face as Thomas had expected, there was instead the voice of yet another stranger and the permeating smell of cigar smoke.

"Now, now, Daniel, this is no place to be uncouth."

If there had been a sense of collective fear when the burly man confronted them it was nothing compared to this. Thomas opened his eyes to see the owner of the voice; a tall, thin man with a sort of twisted suavity in his neatly combed, greying hair and finely-tailored suit. For as much as he seemed a gentleman of distinction, the cigar he held in his metal claw (of all things!) suited him. The way the smoke curled around his serpentine face and sharp eyes made Thomas feel he had stumbled upon a dragon in human form. His was not the power of mere physical strength, but something much, much darker and more potent.

The burly man backed off without hesitation but Thomas couldn't feel safe as the thin smoking man stared him down.

"Young man, you've quite the backbone to speak in such a way to Danny Diesel," the thin man observed, either intentionally or not blowing smoke in Thomas' face. "You must be new here."

Thomas nodded. "I am, sir…but I've always been led to believe the island of Sodor was a friendly place. What I witnessed your friend do to mailman Percy was not acceptable. Not anywhere."

The thin man smirked and Thomas could not decipher its cause or intent. Trying to read him was like trying to read a book with type the same color as its pages.

"I'm inclined to agree. My men know only blood and steel, they're far too incompetent to reason with. Much like guard dogs, don't you think? Must keep them on their leashes. Must throw them a bone or two when they behave. I find I prefer that to…foolish acts of bravery."

The man's tone turned into something of a hiss and though Thomas was still unable to guess his intents, he could gather that the man did not like him; he gathered from the way Percy and Rosie had recoiled that being this man's enemy could be very bad news indeed.

He didn't really know what else to say as the man stared him down, as if threatening him with his very gaze. Thomas was finding it effective, all of a sudden losing his resolve…until yet again, he was interrupted.

"Diesel 10," said the booming voice of Mr. Gordon Hatt, the station master. "This is a very odd place for you to be. I would think your railway would require your immediate and continued presence."

Thomas didn't know very much about Sir Topham Hatt's eldest son, save for the failure of his business ventures in London (everyone knew about that), but he did feel quite safe with him here, as did Rosie and Percy for how they calmed.

"Pigs will soar through the sky before I take any kind of management advice from you, Master Gordon," the man, Thomas now knew to be named Diesel 10, sneered, though he wasted no time turning on his heel and gesturing for his henchman to follow him. Thomas wondered if Diesel 10 left on account of being intimidated by Gordon Hatt or if he was spurred by another cause entirely.

He hadn't time to really think it over, as Gordon then turned his attention to the group of them.

"As for the rest of you! Miss Sinclair, the phones are already ringing off the hook and I am much dissatisfied to see no one in there answering them."

"Yessir, sorry sir," Rosie murmured as she scuttled off back to her post.

"Mr. Monday, I'm sure the residents of Sodor would appreciate their mail on time. And you, Mr. Huntington! The morning express will be arriving any moment and I will not have my Porters lollygagging about with such important visitors to tend to. Learn what is expected of you as employee of this railway and return to your assignment!"

The cheeky side of Thomas wanted to argue that he only left to check his mail and got sidetracked when he tried to help someone…but given his newness here and how important this job was to him, he refrained from defying his superior.

"Yes sir," he agreed dutifully, to which Gordon huffed before marching off elsewhere.

"You had better get back to work," said Percy as he straightened his hat. "You're new. Every new employee of the railway is on a strict probationary status until they can prove themselves to Sir Topham Hatt. He runs a tight ship here! Or, well-…train, I suppose."

Thomas nodded and laughed, maybe a bit out of relief.

"Oh, I know. I've known that since I first took an interest in the railway. I'm Thomas, by the way-…oh! I just remembered why I flagged you down. I don't suppose you might have a letter for me in there?"

Percy took a glance through his bag, sidling through the various letters in such a way that suggested he was quite used to making sense of the jumble.

"I do, as a matter of fact!" he said after a time. "Here you go, Thomas. I better be on my way now. Thanks again for your help."

The two waved goodbye and Thomas continued on to work, grateful to still be in one piece.

Victor knew it had been a risky move, suggesting that Emily Hatt come work alongside them in the Steamworks. He knew full well that this could backfire, that it might be decided he had put her in a dangerous situation (or something of the like) and he'd have to suffer the consequences. It was possible, but…he only took such a risk because of his trust and faith in his employer's integrity. Sir Topham Hatt liked him, bragged often of how proficient a Chief Engineer he was, how he had never seen the like. He did not think theirs was the kind of professional relationship to be tossed aside just because of a spoiled daughter's complaints.

That aside, this was important. An employer that knew nothing of the conditions her workers were facing would be bad news for all of them. For however proficient Emily Hatt may have been at management, she was too far detached and would need the proper education before he would feel confident in seeing her take her father's mantle. Victor would make the plunge on everyone's behalf because that was his nature as a natural born leader.

Work volume remained slow for the morning and, for once, Victor was grateful for that. It would be a necessity to making sure this meeting of worlds went as smoothly as possible.

Emily Hatt arrived on time, due in no small part to the fact that her father had driven her, Victor was sure. She looked absolutely furious in the standard uniform overalls, her makeup and jewelry gone, her hair tied up, the same as every female employee. Everything about this was so removed from her personal realm of being that it only confirmed Victor's certainty that she needed to be here.

"Good morning!" he called, meeting her at the front of the depot. "We're so pleased to have you with us, Miss Hatt."

That was something of a lie. Many of his workers had expressed disdain and intimidation for having Sir Topham Hatt's daughter work alongside them and were only grudgingly amenable after Victor had explained his reasoning.

Emily scowled at him.

"Mr. Castillo, I maintain that you're making a very big mistake having me here. I know nothing about any of this, I'm only going to be a hazard."

"It's Victor, please," he sighed. "And I must respectfully disagree with you. I think you stand to learn quite a bit from us today."

He led her inside, towards the first assignment. He had already gone over with the workers present how Miss Hatt's responsibilities would cycle through for the day and hoped they could stick to that schedule without any problems.

"Now, don't be worried. Kevin is going to keep an eye on you and make sure you've got everything you need. But…where has he gotten off to now? Ay, dios. Kevin? Kevin, I told you Miss Hatt would be arriving this morning!"

There was a loud clanging somewhere in the depot, followed by a sheepish, "Sorry, boss!" before Kevin could be seen whizzing over to them in his unwieldy yellow crane. Without even so much as a warning, Victor all but lifted Emily from the ground as he ushered her to his other side just before Kevin could accidentally run her over (not for the first time).

"Sorry boss, Miss Hatt!" Kevin apologized again.

Emily looked to Victor with nothing less than pure shock.

"If he's going to be helping me then I'll surely be dead by the end of the day!" she said low enough that Kevin couldn't hear. Victor knew she hadn't intended it to be funny but he laughed anyway, to which she rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you find my safety a laughing matter, Mr. Castillo."

A very tempting rebuttal of 'don't be so dramatic' played in his mind but Victor knew better than to vocalize it.

Kevin jumped out of his crane –much to the relief of everyone present- and gestured for Emily to follow him.

"Come on, Miss Hatt! I've got your first assignment right over here. Isn't this exciting? Your first day in the Steamworks! It's the best place to work on Sodor!"

"Is it indeed?" Emily huffed with no small amount of haughty doubt as she followed Kevin away. "Mr. Castillo has made me less than confident of that."

Victor sighed and massaged his temples in frustration, preparing himself for the difficulty having Miss Hatt around would bring to his day.

Sir Topham Hatt was keeping his focus evenly divided between his pocket watch and eldest son. It was nuisance enough that Gordon had decided running off and riding horses in the middle of the day was acceptable, that he had to keep watch over his adult son to ensure the behavior wasn't repeated, but it wasn't all; the Donovan Sisters would be arriving any moment on the next express and if Alicia (who should have been at her flat but had a gift for popping up unexpectedly) happened to see him giving them attention it would be his ruin. She didn't much care for them as it was, even less when her darling Bertie was paying either of them too much mind.

He had decided there was nothing for it but to take the risk, when…he saw the new employee, Thomas, working nearby as Porter. Recalling how charming the boy had been, an idea flew into his hat.

"Mr. Huntington!" he called as he approached.

Thomas jumped a little at the sound of his name being announced so authoritatively. He stood straight at attention.

"Sir? Yes, sir! What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have a special assignment for you, Mr. Huntington, regarding two very important passengers on the next express. I don't suppose you've heard of the Donovan Duo?"

Thomas paused for a moment as he thought. "Hmm…Donovan Duo…they're a sister act, aren't they? I think they're the ones my mother enjoys listening to so much!"

Sir Topham nodded, pleased.

"Yes, yes, good, that's them. They'll be pleased you know their work. They'll be arriving on the next express and it would be very helpful if you took personal responsibility for their bags. They enjoy company and discussion, so don't be afraid to be charming."

Sir Topham was certain the sisters would take so dearly to a handsome young man that engaged them in conversation, more than they would be interested in vying for his attention. His suspicions were very correct…at first, anyway. The sisters arrived shortly after their discussion and Thomas rushed to their side, introducing himself as he took their bags.

"What a helpful young man!" Clarabel Donovan exclaimed her hands flying to her cheeks in amazement.

"A very helpful young man," Annie Donovan agreed. "True gentlemen are rare these days, Thomas. Even when they run a railway, some men don't think it fitting to acknowledge their most important passengers!"

It took Sir Topham a moment to see what she was alluding to, as he was so busy with making sure to notice if Alicia arrived on the scene.

"Oh, uh…! Annie, Clarabel! So good to see you two again, I'm afraid I was a bit preoccupied. Lots to think about, you know!"

This was hardly justification enough for the sister act, both of whom turned up their noses and 'harumphed' in indignation. The two of them came close to rivaling Alicia in the amount of attention they required from him.

"You will owe us both a dance at the Gala to make up for your cheek!" Annie warned him before blowing Thomas a kiss goodbye. Clarabel cooed, "And you, thank you so dearly for your help, young man. I do hope we cross paths again!"

It was only when the Donovan Sisters had disappeared that Sir Topham all but collapsed on a nearby bench. He fanned himself with the newspaper he had picked up earlier, trying to cool himself from the heat of stress.

Thomas couldn't help but notice his employer's fatigue.

"Excuse me, Sir…I don't mean to pry, but…it really seemed as if you were trying to avoid being seen by the Donovan Sisters."

Sir Topham sighed and motioned for Thomas to join him on the bench. This he did, albeit with some amount of reluctance as sitting about wasn't something his employer would've encouraged on any other day.

"I have a remarkable gift for overbooking myself, Thomas," Sir Topham admitted. "Be it with women, business, my children…I am always endeavoring to do it all. People know me as a man that can do it all. It's a troublesome reputation…you see, when I can't do it all, I leave great disappointment in my wake. There's nothing I despise more than disappointment."

Sir Topham knew it wasn't the most professional thing to confide like this in one of his porters, but there had been something about Thomas from the beginning, a certain indefinable trustworthiness that he couldn't seem to second-guess. He barely knew the boy, had only met him the day before! It didn't seem to matter, he trusted him all the same.

It could have been desperation, Sir Topham knew this. He hadn't really anyone to talk to this way, having to always give the impression of being strong and charismatic and in control.

"That…does sound difficult," Thomas agreed, uncertainty clear in his voice. "I guess…even really successful people can have a hard time of things."

"That they can, dear boy. More so than most, perhaps…you see, where there is great success there is even greater responsibility."

"Huh…I never would've thought that. I think I still want to be successful though, like you!"

Sir Topham Hatt smiled at that, seldom as it was that he ever got sincere compliments. He didn't think even his own children looked up to him in such a way.

"How would you like to achieve your success, Thomas?"

"I-…I'm not really sure," Thomas admitted, sheepish. "…you know, I'd like to hope it would be in the railway business somehow. I'd like to see the world by train, learn all there is to know about them. I'd really like to drive an engine someday!"

It would be impossible to describe just how touched Sir Topham was to see the light in Thomas' eyes as he spoke of rail travel. It reminded him so very much of his younger self, the boy who dedicated hours of service to learning about and experiencing locomotives. The love of the railway was one that had been passed down now from grandfather to father and now to son…and, perhaps, where it would end, and not only because his children (even Emily) didn't seem to share the same passion.

The world was slowly, ever so slowly, moving away from the railway vision Sir Topham Hatt had fallen in love with so long ago. Yet, something about Thomas' palpable excitement, the evidence of his enthusiasm in the way he spoke, gave him implausible faith in the future. With everything that had been happening, it was enough for Sir Topham to invest hope.

"I do hope to see you on one of these engines soon enough, Thomas," he said with an even prouder smile. "Keep up the good work and it won't be long."

Thomas seemed so very pleased and surprised by this. Sir Topham only wished he had seen the same response with any of his children.

The moment of bonding was brought to an abrupt end when there was a distinct change in the general air of the station and Sir Topham was approached by a frantic worker. They spoke in hurried whispers and hushed tones.

Sir Topham snapped-to quickly, trying not to make his horror evident. If what the man said was true and not an exaggeration (and he had the futile hope that it was just that) this would be the worst catastrophe the railway had faced.

"Call emergency services. I need engines equipped for hoses on every junction not yet reached- I know they'll only make it to so many. Let Mr. Castillo know there will be an influx of work. Go, now, see it done!"

As the worker ran to make the calls, Sir Topham Hatt turned to Thomas and said, "Tell Gordon there's been an emergency, I haven't the time," and then rushed as fast as he could to his car.

Victor was starting to question his own judgment. It seemed even with the lack of work Emily Hatt found things to complain about, ways to sustain minor injuries and otherwise be the absolute nuisance he had feared she would be. Slightly burning her hand was the final straw, the last thing she was willing to suffer before taking it out on him.

"This is absurd!" she announced as Victor worked on dressing her very small wound. It hadn't been necessary but Emily had insisted. "I told you and father time and time again I shouldn't be here! You couldn't have found a worse place for me to be!"

Some residual patience and sense of self-preservation stopped him from assuring her that neither he nor anyone else wanted her to be here anymore than she wanted to be here.

"The very fact that you are complaining like this tells me there's no better place for you to be, Miss Hatt. This is only a very small glimpse of what we experience every day in the Steamworks. I refuse to believe this is beyond your understanding just because God has seen fit to bless you with such a comfortable life. We have not all been so fortunate!"

There was little Victor could say that did not offend the very foundations of her being and this was no exception. He couldn't quite understand the reasoning for that. Did she not already cite her privileged background as the reason she was unfit for work?

"How dare you!" she hissed. "The very nerve to insinuate that I'm ignorant just because I have been isolated on this island and the estate all my life. It's hardly been my choice and it hasn't stopped me from educating myself!"

"You are being educated now!" he barked back, firm enough to draw in the attention of his workers. Victor couldn't be bothered to notice. "If you would pay attention half as much as you complain, you might learn something! ¡Ay, no puedo creer esto!"

Maybe it was the natural transition back into his mother tongue that silenced her or the fact that maybe he had gotten to something like reason in her brain. Either way, Emily Hatt went silent and at not a moment too soon. Victor was called to the phone.

Emily turned on her heel and huffed back to where she had been helping Kevin. He gave her something of a terrified, albeit sympathetic look.

"The boss really isn't that grumpy most of the time," he offered. "I think he's just stressed. He's usually so nice and patient. I'm sure you just caught him on a bad day!"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Your boss is trying to scare me away. Either because he thinks I'm too young or should be married with children instead, he wants to discourage me."

If there was one thing that fueled and inspired Emily to do her absolute best, it was when someone doubted her. Her childhood had been nothing but doubt, be it her brothers doubting that she could run up a hill or pick up something heavy, be it her family members doubting that she would do much more than marry a dignitary, be it her father doubting she could make a career on her own, it defined her every day.

However, being a fusion of the ambitious Hatts and determined Norrambys, Emily's response was not to give up, not to be defined by that doubt, but to do her all to disprove and utterly destroy it. As such, she rolled up her sleeves and resumed the task at hand with determination.

It was about then that Victor returned from his phone call and made a panicked announcement.

"Gentlemen! We have an emergency today like none we've faced before. The signal boxes of the Northwest Railway, all of them, have caught fire. Many trains have been derailed and damaged as a result. Our work today will be immense! I'm calling for more hands, but I need everyone doing their absolute best and giving me their greatest work yet. If we all work together efficiently, we can help the railway sooner recover. Can I count on everyone?"

There was cheering and clapping of hands that didn't go unnoticed by Emily. She would've expected groans, maybe some show of reluctance, but apparently Victor's management brought about a very different response. It would be a lie to say she wasn't impressed.

Following this speech he approached her. She knew what he was going to say.

"Miss Hatt, in light of what's happened I've no choice but to-"

"Don't you dare send me away, Mr. Castillo," she countered, the look in her eyes not allowing for argument. "You need all the help you can get and I need you to understand that I'm not to be underestimated. I'm a fast learner. Put me to work, I'll ask for help if I need it."

Victor said nothing, he just nodded in reluctant agreement and left to do what needed to be done. There was no time to argue in any case.

"Don't just stand there, Kevin," Emily ordered to him suddenly. He wasn't really sure what to make of her sudden change in attitude. "Come help me. We need to show Mr. Castillo and everyone else that I'm more than just a silly little rich girl."

Kevin smiled at that, for as much as he liked Victor he couldn't help but be inspired by Emily's ambition.

"Right away, boss! I mean, Miss Hatt!"

Sir Topham Hatt drove up to the Wellsworth Junction just as Chief Fireman, Belle Marchand, was dousing the last of the flames. Cranes were positioned nearby, hoisting the wreckage of trains on to their flatbeds. The sky, which for a time had been nothing more than a blanket of soot, was just beginning to clear. He had never seen the like, not in all the years spent with the railway.

"I've word that all the fires have been extinguished, Sir!" she announced, shutting off the huge hose in her grasp. He sighed as he came to stand beside her and take stock of the charred building that once was the signal box. Her news was of little relief, given all the damage caused and everything they would have to do in the wake. He could only hope no lives were claimed in the process but he knew the likelihood said otherwise.

"Excellent work Chief Marchand," he commended nonetheless. "You and your skills of delegation are a sincere blessing to the island. We couldn't have stopped this without you."

She smiled in gratitude, though it was a bit tired and solemn. There wasn't much to smile about now, successful extinguishing or no.

"Thank you, sir."

"Even still…I think whoever masterminded this has accomplished their goal. This will put a significant strain on the railway."

It wasn't even a point of speculation. Sir Topham Hatt didn't need a straightforward confession to know that this had been planned and carried out accordingly; junction boxes didn't just light up one after the other by pure happenstance. Someone intended to send him a message and Sir Topham was quite certain he knew who that someone was.

Diesel 10 meant to have the North Western Railway and he knew how to hit his opponent where it would hurt. Not only was the railway damaged, but people had been injured in the process, maybe even killed. Was it responsible to continue defying Diesel 10 in the wake of what had happened? Was the blood on his hands?

No, he decided. Taking the blame was exactly what Diesel 10 wanted from Topham Hatt. If the former were to take over it would mean a lot more suffering than what had happened this afternoon. Sir Topham's responsibility was to protect his railway, maybe better than he had been, considering. He couldn't and wouldn't give in.

The day was the longest Victor had ever known in his years working for the railway. Broken and twisted engines kept pouring in, one after the other, and not one workman put in less than his best to get as many repaired as possible. No one, however, seemed to do more than Emily Hatt. He noticed her, even in the flurry of movement, always with a look of determination on her face as she handed over tools, held things in place, and otherwise made herself as useful as possible with her limited knowledge. She was a fast learner, and Victor found himself grateful to have her working alongside them.

Daylight turned to night, Victor had to call it good for the evening even if there was more work still to be done. As he considered his responsibility divided between his employer and his employees he always endeavored to do right by both of them. Even an engine ran out of steam eventually, whether the job was finished or not.

Everyone had dispersed, Victor was headed to the office to finish some paperwork he hadn't gotten to in all the commotion…when he heard the distinct sound of crying. It was a very subtle thing, certainly not loud wails or cries of woe; it was the sort of quiet sob that someone had been conditioned to make as silent as possible over time. Victor only heard it by virtue of the Steamworks being empty and a bit cavernous.

He walked towards the sound, leading him just outside of the building where he found Emily Hatt folded up in a very unladylike crouch on the corner stoop.

"Miss Hatt…?" he said, his voice soft and tentative in concern of not startling or upsetting her further. "Miss Hatt, what's happened?"

She all but jumped, either surprised that he had heard her or bothered to take notice, perhaps a bit of both.

"Oh, Mr. Castillo…I thought certainly you'd left by now."

"Me?" he chuckled softly in disbelief. "No, no, I practically live here. What about you? I thought Sir Topham Hatt collected you hours ago."

"No...he's far too busy. Likely there was a miscommunication with my brothers of who would fetch me. It's not terribly uncommon."

Victor knew, instinctively perhaps, that this wasn't the cause for her tears. It would've been an insult to guess as much out loud, but he didn't know if she'd want him to ask for clarification. He settled on,

"Is there…anything I can do for you?"

"I'm so tired," she confessed. The way she sighed out her words gave him the impression she didn't often admit such things. "I've never been more tired in my life."

That wasn't the exact cause of her tears either, he knew. Really if he had any sense he would've called for her father and gotten a ride arranged, but a certain spontaneity (and sympathy, perhaps) motivated him towards something else.

"I was just about to have a drink," he said, offering her his hand. "And I have never seen someone more in need of one than you. Join me?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes and he wasn't certain if that came from a place of surprise that he had asked or unfamiliarity with drinking. She was a woman of the upper class after all, likely the strongest thing she had ever imbibed was a tiny glass of champagne at a gala.

Even so, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. No doubt reminded of her breeding, she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and brushed the dust from her already quite dirty overalls as he led them to the office.

"You did a splendid job today," Victor commended, pulling one of the worn chairs out for her beside the desk. "I have to admit, you surprised me!"

Emily cleared her throat and tried to look unaffected by the compliment, but her cheeks were glowing.

"Yes, well…thank you, Mr. Castillo. I don't wish to be thought of as inept on account of my background. My father would not choose an heir lightly."

Victor nodded, resisting the urge to remind her to call him by his first name. Her father hadn't ever taken to it, he felt it likely she never would either.

"So he has chosen you then?" he asked, pulling the bottle from his locked drawer and pouring them both glasses over ice. "You're to be the next Controller?"

"Well…not in so many words, not just yet. He hasn't made any sort of announcement or declaration. I'm sure he won't until he feels I'm comfortable and knowledgeable about everything…perhaps a bit older as well."

There was an unmistakable dread in her eyes as she explained this and Victor knew it wasn't on account of the sight of the unusual drink.

"You must be looking forward to that day," he suggested as he took a swig from his glass. "It's quite an honor."

She glanced sideways and grabbed and gulped down her drink, probably for want of something else to focus on. She moved so fast Victor hadn't time to warn her otherwise.

After choking out a gasp she exclaimed, "What on earth have you given me?"

Victor grinned.

"A drink from my country. I've kept it close to me for a special occasion such as this. Care for another?"

Emily wrinkled her nose. "I've been to Spain before, Mr. Castillo, and I've never tried or heard of anything like this…!"

He couldn't help but laugh. Had she truly mistaken him for a Spaniard? Emily was not in the least bit amused, ever defensive about her lack of worldly exposure.

Victor explained before she could snap at him, "I'm not a Spaniard, Miss Hatt, I'm Cuban. We've been drinking rum, a favorite back home."

She seemed to have forgotten her indignation in the surprise of what he had revealed.

"Cuba? That's a terribly long way to go! Do, you-…I mean….you must miss your home dreadfully?"

Victor smiled but decided to say nothing specific on the subject. It was true, he did miss his home as dreadfully as she suggested, but that was a sentiment he always kept private. He didn't want his employer to get wind of this and think it somehow meant that his chief engineer wasn't grateful, that he didn't hold Sodor and his job here in the highest regard- nothing could be further from the truth. Besides, the fact remained that he couldn't return home even if he wanted to.

Instead, he switched the focus.

"As long as we're getting personal, might I be so bold as to ask why you were crying?"

Emily's face fell, though not with anger or defensiveness.

"It's silly," she admitted. "I don't suppose you've ever felt-…? No, no…of course you haven't. You'll laugh if I try to explain because, after all…I live such a charmed life, don't I? I've no concept of what misery means."

Victor remembered his scolding of her earlier in the day and felt, for the first time, some amount of guilt for it. On the one hand he suspected it had spurred her into action, but on the other it had been born out of impulsive anger and it failed to take into account her life was as complex as anyone else's. Granted, it was sometimes hard to remember that in light of her wealth.

"Try me," he insisted. "Perhaps I've no concept of what your suffering is like. I've had my chance to enlighten you, now you do the same for me."

Satisfied with this, Emily continued.

"I know I have more than most people can even dream of. I know, to some, that alone negates any right to complain of anything…but this life comes at a much larger cost than I think most people realize- the cost of free will. When you're a child born to nobility you must behave as best reflects on the family, you will become what they see fit. In my case," she shrugged with a long sigh. "I will take over my father's railway and I will do so with enthusiasm- whether that is where my heart lies or not."

Victor began to realize now what she meant and the fact that she could know the very feeling that drove him from his country in the first place shook him to his core.

"It's a cage," he suggested. "One that we can neither see nor touch, but exists more surely than any other. You feel trapped."

She looked to him with wide eyes and nodded in agreement. No one had put it in such apt terms before, he guessed. Perhaps no one knew her suffering, for as strong-willed as she could present herself to be.

"What…is it you want to do, then?" Victor asked after a time. Emily blushed again.

"It's silly…I've never even suggested it to father, it's not-…apropos, but…well. The truth is, I've always wanted to be a dancer."

Victor brightened at that and Emily, out of her own insecurities, took it as him making fun.

"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's a silly thing, especially for a girl...my size."

He wasn't really sure what she meant by that. Emily wasn't thin as a rail but she certainly wasn't fat as a pig, either. If having feminine curves in England made a woman undesirable that was a heresy that Victor would have to see to.

"Not at all!" he said. "In Cuba the best dancers are the women with ample hips, our music requires it."

Emily laughed, disbelieving.

"Really? It seems like all the girls that dance here are so tiny, like little pixies. I feel I'd look like an elephant beside them all."

Victor remembered what he had brought with him from back home -besides rum- and turned back to the drawers. Emily could only see him pull a record and place it on the phonograph in the corner of the room, but the look of confusion on her face told him she wasn't sure what he had planned, even as he took her hand and led her to the open space of the depot.

"I think it's best if I show you what I mean," he said, addressing her look of surprise as he placed his other hand on the small of her back, pulling her close. "You're a fast learner, yes?"

She hadn't time to answer before the music began, an upbeat, smooth twang of guitar strings that brought back for him so many memories of dancing like this in the Havana streets on hot nights. It was obvious she was not accustomed to the style or tempo, but true to her form earlier that day she caught on quickly.

"I've never-…I've never heard music like this before!" The wonderment and sheer delight that began to blossom on her face caused a warmth in his chest that he hadn't known before, either. "And this dancing…it's-…well, I think my Granny would blush if she saw me!"

Victor laughed, albeit a bit nervously, as they continued on through the song. He didn't really want to imagine what any of Emily's family would think if they saw them now. Of course, his intentions were pure. It was just a dance between friends, something he did time and time again back home.

What neither of them realized was that they had an audience- a single, cigar-smoking figure in the shadows, grinning with intent as they swayed and laughed together, oblivious.