Chapter 9: Turn Turn Turn

The emergency call had been sent down the line, and it wasn't long before James, Henry, and even Toby arrived, one after another.

"Well, well, well," James sneered as he pulled onto the cliff. "What's happened here?" He took in a little of the whole sight, but his satisfied smile was meant for Gordon.

Though he had a number of things to say back, in respect for the miracle that had happened today, Gordon kept his mouth shut, and paid little James no mind.

"Looks like Gordon took a spill and needed help from the little tank engines," Henry mused.

"But you didn't—" Emily started. She wanted to remind Henry that he never came to Thomas's defense back at the sheds when the fight happened. But she felt more exhausted than she ever did in her life, and could barely speak, let alone argue. "Ah, nevermind…"

Toby, on the other hand, noticed the little blue tank engine's state right away. "Thomas!" He rolled up on the track to the right of his friend in reverse, and looked him over with wide eyes. It was worse than any damage Thomas had taken before. Half of his frontside still lay on the plush, green grass, with the cable that had already been untied from the girls. "You're… mutilated!"

"Can see that," Thomas replied weakly, looking down at himself as he was slowly untied from the utility pole. He couldn't see it now, but to top off his condition, dark circles had formed under his eyes. "But thanks."

A familiar two-beep greeting of a blue buggie's horn brought the engine's and their crews to attention. The car parked a safe distance from the tracks before the driver's side door opened, and out stepped Sir Topham Hatt. His eyes darted across the landscape. Calm though he was, he was unsure of what to look at first, what questions to ask, and who to ask them to. "Gracious me, this was quite a day."

"It would've been a lot worse if Emily, Mira and Thomas hadn't come when they did," Gordon's driver said. He and the fireman went on to sum up the story for the fat controller.

"Is that so?" Sir Topham Hatt asked. He wandered over to the front of the little blue tank engine, and took in his damage. "Well, Thomas, it looks like you've been a bit more than a useful engine today. And for that, you have my sincere thanks. But I hope you don't plan on making a regular thing of this… pulley business."

"No, sir," Thomas answered. His gaze shifted away worriedly. "So… I'm not out of commission?"

"Not if you're not trying to be," the kindly controller told him. "But you did quite a number on yourself. You do realize what's in store for you…?"

"I know, I know," he replied, reluctantly. "The works."

"I was thinking more along the lines of Crew, actually," the top hatted gentleman said, folding his arms across his chest. "The works has enough jobs on their plate. And I would like to have you back sooner rather than later. I can't guarantee you will, with damage like this. But we'll see."

With that, Sir Topham Hatt left to check on the welfare of the other engines, and make plans for the cleanup.

"Hey, we can get that patched lever of yours fixed proper while we're there too," Thomas's fireman said.

It was at this time that Gordon slowly chugged forward until he was just a few feet from the tank engine.

"I guess we're finally even," Thomas said.

"I should say so. I almost puffed my last fire for sure today."

It took a woozy Thomas until then to notice Gordon's face. "What's that look for?"

The big tender engine's cheeks were red, and saying the next words seemed to take the force of pulling a tooth out. "It just occurred to me. To think I used to chastise you for your recklessness... when it just saved my life."

Though sort of still out of it, Thomas recognized he was receiving an apology. A special apology that had been a looooong time coming, and he smirked. "Sometimes being reckless isn't such a bad thing..." He looked away, clearing his throat. "At least sometimes."

Gordon looked him in the eyes boldly. "The truth is, you were correct about something, Thomas: I was insecure. But not just about our guest. Ever since you were given your own branchline, I've realized how very not special I am. You may have required some humbling, but so have I."

"You really mean that?" asked Thomas.

"Cross my heart," Gordon insisted.

The other engines noticed the already dazed Thomas was having a hard time processing this. "Gee, Gordon, I don't know what to say."

"What do you know?" Mira whispered to Emily. "The big lug does have a tender side."

Just then, James and Henry pulled up in front of the injured engine. "Wow, Thomas, you take 'bust my buffers' to a whole new level," the red engine quipped.

And all the engines present snickered. Even Gordon.

"Hehe, very funny," a groggy Thomas replied. "Now which one of you blokes is going to cart my sorry bunker to Crew, anyway?"

Slowly, all of their eyes turned to the little brown engine, staring at Thomas with a grin. "At your service."

"Y-y-yo…." Thomas sputtered. "You're… you're the one that's s-su-supposed to—"

"Better throw some water on Thomas before he faints again," Henry said, as Emily was carefully coupled to the back of his tender.

"Too late," Thomas's fireman teased. "There he goes."

And true to his word, Thomas's eyes grew heavy once more. The world became dark, and he could barely make out the sounds of his friend's voices. But he didn't care what they said, anymore, anyway. He just wanted rest.

The little E2 was unconscious for most of the cleanup.

The sun was just beginning to set when Percy came and pulled away Gordon's abandoned freight train. Though he gave the wrecked Thomas a thoughtful glance, he said nothing before he chugged away with mixed feelings.

Bertie followed after as well to collect Emily's passengers from her abandoned coaches, and Henry had the honor of pulling a worn out, dazed Emily, tender-first, to the sheds for a long, well deserved rest. Working hard, James and Toby together assisted Gordon, sandwiched between them, back home.

The signalman sent warnings down the line about the broken switch, and as soon as the engines were cleared from the cliff's edge, the line was closed until further notice.

That left Mira, who had the honor of pushing Thomas, chained to a flatbed car, all the way to Crew. Under the twilight sky, the situation couldn't have been any more perfect for Thomas to make his confession. But unfortunately, he continued to fade in and out of consciousness.

When he did come to, he found himself impressed yet again by Mira's strength—pushing a fellow tank engine like herself on top of a car, with not a pant or grunt. Especially after she, too, had been involved in the strain of Gordon's rescue.

"This isn't exactly how I expected it to happen," Thomas drunkenly explained to her. "But I'm glad it ended with you and me finally alone."

"Come again?"

"Erm! I mean—that it was you that got assigned to take me. Yep..."

Mira smiled politely and as always, tried to hide how tired and worn out she actually was. On the way to Crew, they exchanged a few short conversations, but they never lasted long. She had half a mind to ask him what that remark about the two of them meant, but decided it was best to avoid prodding the vulnerable engine for details. It just felt good to be useful.

Instead, she chugged along happily as her fellow tank engine drowsed on the car in front of her.

Who cares if heroism is attractive? Thought Thomas. It's murder on an engine's fenders.

As if it were only yesterday, Thomas remembered once having to spend weeks at the works to have his frontside mended, after he crashed into the stationmaster's house.

Back then, Sir Topham Hatt neglected to dish out a restriction or anything of the like for Thomas when he came back. He knew that being sent away, coupled with the embarrassment in itself, was punishment enough for Thomas's cockiness.

Thomas expected fate to be no different this time, with his front end ripped from his body. There was nothing worse for an engine then being barred from work. Even worse when it meant being away from his friends.

Especially when one of them would be leaving soon.

But to everyone's surprise, the repair turned out to be simple. The pulling cable produced a clean, horizontal tear to his frontside from beneath his boiler that could be easily re-attached. Working around the clock, the specialists of Crew carried out the job far quicker than anyone could've expected.

So Thomas expected to produce quite a surprise, when after only five days, he chugged back to Tidmouths sheds. Shy of a fine seam line, where he'd been carefully re-welded, he appeared good as new, right down to his pudgy cheeks—albeit thinner now than when he was younger.

But the returning engine was in for a surprise himself. He arrived before sunset to find Percy and Toby already in their sheds, resting and chatting. "What are you two doing here so early?"

"Could ask you the same question," Percy replied. And despite their quarrel less than a week ago, the green engine smiled at him.

"Guess who's turn it is to push freight cars?" Toby asked, his cheeks taught in a wide smile.

Thomas grinned. "The big ol' tender engines."

"They did promise Sir Topham Hatt they'd do it every once in a while," Percy pointed out.

"'To everything, turn, turn, turn,'" Thomas sang, remembering that folkly song from the radio. "I told James that change was inevitable."

"Yeah!" Percy chimed in. "Uh… is that what that song is about?"

"I'm not sure," Thomas admitted, wheeling backwards into his shed. "That's just my interpretation of it."

And remembering the radio reminded Thomas. He felt bad for treating his closest friends the way he had this week, and they deserved to know the truth. He had a lot of explaining to do. With time to kill until the rest of the engines returned, Thomas began explaining the Mira situation to Percy and Toby. Even the crush—something he wouldn't dare do this with the bigger engines at any point.

To his surprise, it was Percy who extended the first apology. "Geez, Thomas. If I had known how you were feeling, I would've tried to help you out. Not get in your way."

"No, no! I should've been honest with you about what I wanted and why," Thomas said. "Emily's right. I have been an ass. And sometimes I take your friendship for granted. I'm sorry, Percy. And if you think you could find it in your tank to forgive an old miserable engine like me, I'd like to stay friends."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Hmm… I'll have to think about it..."

"W-What?"

Percy would've bumped him playfully, if they were on the same track. "I'm joking! Of course I forgive you."

Thomas sighed, switching his gaze from his left to his right, realizing what a lucky engine he was. "Good… I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

"You'd manage," Toby said playfully. "But not as well."

Percy cleared his throat. "So, uh, what exactly is this... infection?"

"No, in-fa-tu-a-tion," the blue engine corrected, careful to pronounce it exactly the way his driver had done. "It's just another word for love."

"That sounds painful," remarked Percy, wincing.

"It's not at all, actually," Thomas remarked, thoughtfully. "It's rather pleasant."

Toby was confused, too. "Well, what does it feel like?"

"It's hard to describe. It kind of makes me giddy," the blue engine tried to explain. "It makes me feel like I could chug a hundred miles in five minutes."

"That is giddy all right," Percy agreed. "So, how do I get one?"

"I don't think you can, willingly," Thomas told him. "It just has to happen."

"That's rubbish!" the little green engine complained. "Why do you get to have one and I don't?"

"Well, I didn't ask for it," Thomas explained calmly. "But if it happened to me, it can happen to you, too."

That made Percy content. Toby, too.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Thomas exclaimed. "After I left Crew, I got my paint touch up at the works. And I did see Bill and Ben when I was there."

"Are they in good shape?" asked Toby.

"I should say. They were a bit surprised to see me—just as well, I can't blame them. They wanted me to settle an argument over who's new big-boy fenders looked bigger and stronger." He rolled his eyes with a smile. "I respectfully declined to choose."

"Sounds like they're restless and ready to get back to work." Percy sighed gratefully. "Gosh knows we need them."

"Did you get a chance to speak to Edward?" asked Toby.

"Unfortunately, he was already at the polishing station when I got there, so I actually never saw him."

"Ooo, a polishing," Percy said.

"It sounds like he's doing alright, anyway. Though let's not tell the others just yet," he said with a wink. "Don't want them to get too jealous."

And Toby and Percy agreed. The three engines continued talking and laughing, watching the light fade, and the stars set in the sky.

A perfect night off, at last.