Another hot day in the yard. Meredith groaned as she shunted her little heart out. She was growing weary of being stuck on shunting duty. It was her fifth time that week alone. She wanted to run passengers and goods trains and explore the mainland more. But instead she was surrounded by brick walls and grisly diesels. Damned to navigate the same cluster of lines and sidings while all the other engines rushed about at their full potential. Flying Scotsman visited her before his early express but he wasn't able to stay long, which made the little engine sad indeed. She had to face the cruel heat and cruel engines alone once more.

As Meredith was busy gathering empty coal cars, Mallard slithered in wearing a rather mischievous grin. His undercarriage throbbed uncontrollably as he laid eyes on the little engine. The humidity of the day had settled beautifully on her pearly paintwork and she glistened like she came straight out of a magical fairytale book. He wanted to run her ragged and there was no hesitation when he rubbed his body against hers, rumbling his boiler in what many might consider a locomotive's version of a purr. Meredith wasn't shocked. It was hardly the first time the blue A4 had approached her so. She wanted to knock him off and deny his advances, but she was terrified of the big engine. He was rough and demanding. She wanted so desperately to tell Flying Scotsman about him, but she was worried the A4 would retaliate so instead any time he coupled with her she had herself scrubbed deeply in the hope of clearing her of his scent. Between Mallard's lack of control and Flying Scotsman's usual persistent rigor, the little engine hardly caught a break. She felt overworked and outright wasted. She needed a rest.

Unfortunately, rest would not come anytime soon. Without saying a word, Mallard grabbed Meredith's coupling hook with his chains and dragged her to a shed where he had her turned around so he could look her in the eye with that sultry grin before interlocking his lips with hers. His kisses were unhinged and sloppy. He loved how the little engine tasted and would sometimes give her lips a lick before he would chase her tongue with his. Meredith did like a good rough makeout and, therefore, didn't entirely mind the drippy kisses. They were animalistic much like how the engine made love —if one could call it that. There was no real foreplay, no sweet nothings whispered, just a quick lift of the buffers and the two were locked together. He would knock her back so hard the tracks creaked and the buffer stops groaned against the weight. It hurt. Her climaxes were quick and exhausting. She would be left trembling and breathless, begging for a break but Mallard never listened.

Eventually he left Meredith in the shed to try and recover her sense of dignity but it was hard. She felt leaky and creaky and whenever she tried to move her axles screamed in pain. It was then she understood what Kestrel was talking about the other day at Kings Cross. Mallard truly didn't understand proper love-making, but she was sure the brutal A4 simply didn't care. He merely wanted to fulfill his own needs regardless of the engine he met them with. She discovered she had a newfound appreciation for Spencer's slow approach. At least she still felt proper after laying the silver doofus. With Mallard Meredith felt… icky.

The little engine forced herself from the shed. Her undercarriage was raw and it pained her to slide the protective plating back into place. She whimpered quietly and that was when Hayden jumped down and stood in front of his engine. He crossed his arms as he stared her down with a cold yet concerned glare. "Meredith, you need to tell someone about this. I'm not sure how engines regard that sort of behavior but people with any sense would call it assault."

"I don't want to make a fuss." Meredith said quietly. She squinted in the sunlight, which served to frustrate the little engine more. Now her eyes were hurting.

"You need to make a fuss." Hayden said with a wave of his finger. He paused for a moment to remove his jacket. The uniforms for LNER were black dress suits and it took no time at all to feel sweaty and uncomfortable in the sun. "He's hurting you, Mer. There's quite a big difference between being rough and being brutalized."

The sun disappeared behind a cloud and Meredith was able to look her driver in the eye. "I'm scared…"

"You need to tell Scot. He's obviously the head honcho of this railway. He can handle Mallard and I'm sure he'll make certain there's no backlash from him towards you." Hayden placed a gentle hand on his engine's buffer. He could see Mallard was sucking the life out of her. Her eyes had nearly lost their light. "Please, Mer. You can't keep letting him take advantage of you like this."

"What if I deserve it?"

"Don't you go there. No one deserves that."

"I suppose…"

Hayden noticed Alex watching him from her cab. He too was concerned for Meredith's well-being, but the German twit wasn't one to make his emotions clear. Alex raised his brow and Hayden shrugged in response. Neither knew what to do. Hayden could report it to Dr. Hart, but it would serve no good. The controller was indifferent to his engines' behavior no matter how problematic it may have been. As long as they did their jobs and kept his railway in high standing.

Hayden continued to pester Meredith as she went about her work. She was in obvious pain but refused to go to the Steamworks. She didn't want Dirk to see her banged up again. It had been about a week since her initial visit and since then Mallard had gotten a hold of her several times and each time left her with some sort of damage that Hayden did his best to repair on his own. He couldn't repair her bent buffers, however, and when Scotsman inquired about it one day she claimed a diesel shunter shoved her too hard. He bought it and the next morning ripped into all the diesels of the London goods yard. They were very confused but they also weren't about to argue with him.

By the time Meredith finished her shunting duties it was dark out and she was incredibly weak. The heat mixed with the pain in her undercarriage sapped her strength. She was wobbling out of the yard hoping no one would see her in such a poor state. She decided against staying in the shed with Flying Scotsman and instead hobbled over to the roundhouse located just outside the city. She saw Arik and Allan out in the engine yard harassing a diesel who had brought water for the tower. The diesel was unimpressed with their jesting, he kept his expression flat until the tower was close to bursting with fresh water then he whizzed quickly away, nearly knocking Meredith off the tracks doing so. The attention of all the engines in the yard and sheds snapped to her. She began to wonder if maybe she should have just gone to Scotsman's shed. "Hi," her voice was so low it was barely audible.

"What're you doing here?" Arik prodded with a raise of his brow.

"Scotsman get tired of you already?" Allan said and the rest of the engines all chuckled.

Meredith took a deep breath. "No, I just figured a change of scenery was in order."

Ellis snorted in annoyance from her berth at the center of the roundhouse. Beside her was another K1 locomotive. It was Ellis' sister, Ada. Meredith didn't know much of the engine. She had only ever seen her in passing. Her features were delicate; almost child-like. With a livery as black as Ellis' but she was given green piping to help distinguish her. She was exclusively a passenger engine and was always brightly polished.

Meredith approached the turntable, but was stopped by Ellis who steamed angrily from the shed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to get some sleep." Meredith hissed back. She didn't like Ellis being so close to her, but she held fast. She wasn't going to give into the bratty engine's bullying.

"Then you bunker down with all the other titters. This shed is for tender engines only."

"On whose orders?"

"Mine."

Meredith glanced at all the engines around her. There were several she didn't recognize and they were all watching her and Ellis intently. She took another breath in. "Fine," she sighed and reversed back out of the yard. She didn't look back at Ellis' pleased grin. She simply turned herself around and drove on to find Flying Scotsman.

On Sodor, the engines at Tidmouth had all settled into their berths. They talked amongst themselves save for Gordon who sat quietly at the end of the roundhouse and listened. His mood had improved somewhat, but he still ached for Meredith and he refused to even look at Sir Topham. He merely ran his express during the day and slept at night. Any engine felt lucky to get so much as a 'hello' out of him those days, but no one tried to press him for conversation. They didn't want to risk the big engine lashing out on them.

Just then Spencer rolled onto the turntable. There were no available berths but he wasn't there to sleep. "Gordon," he said. "May we talk?"

The big A3 sighed. He could feel the eyes of every other engine locked onto him. He truly wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone and he especially was in no mood to speak with Spencer. However, his streamlined cousin was never one to seek him out so he figured he better humor him. If anything just out of pure curiosity of what could have him so pressed. "Alright." Gordon finally said and he steamed from his berth. All his friends gaped and watched him leave with Spencer. They all wondered what could be wrong and wondered if maybe it had something to do with Meredith.

Out on the mainline Spencer and Gordon traveled in silence for a few minutes before the latter became too impatient. "Spencer, what is so damn important you felt the need to drag me out of my shed?"

"I heard about Meredith."

Gordon slowed, his throat tightened, but he kept as serious as he could. "Yeah… so?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. I hadn't seen you since I found out and I was just cruising around so… Here I am."

"Why do you care?"

"I just know how much she means to you."

Gordon kept silent. He focused on the track beneath his wheels. He could tell by the slight slipping of his drivers that he was due a new set. Supposed he could go to the Steamworks in the morning. He wanted to think about anything besides Meredith. His heart couldn't handle it, and his typically aloof cousin's unexpected sympathy was no help at all.

"Gordon?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Spencer. Anything else?"

Spencer studied Gordon carefully. He knew the stubborn A3 was anything but fine but he pondered whether or not it was the best idea to continue with the conversation. They had passed through Wellsworth. The only engines running on the island at that point. All the late workers had turned in for the evening. Gordon had gained some speed on Spencer and the silver A4 sighed. He realized it was much too soon to try and prod Gordon for anymore. So he decided to keep the Sudrian express engine company as they steamed around the island.

As they both rounded the bend back towards Tidmouth Gordon stopped. He stared at the shadowy tracks ahead of him. "Spencer," he whispered.

"Yes?" He had reversed back the second he realized Gordon had halted.

"Keep an eye on her." Gordon said. His voice was low and strained. "Whenever you go back, I mean. Make sure she's safe."

"Sure, of course." Spencer bit his lip. "I know you don't want to hear this but- Scot won't let anything happen to her either. He may be a right bastard, but that bastard will snap on anyone who so much as looks at her funny. Trust me."

"Mallard!" Flying Scotsman bellowed as he powered towards his leeching, filthy, wretched cousin's private berth. Scotsman was without his driver and fireman. Pure, hateful fury kept his boiler building enough steam for him to make the trip across a sleeping London. He didn't even make sure his lamps were lit before he made the journey to the berth. He merely navigated the dusky tracks using the minimal starlight that illuminated the sky. The sound of Scotsman's powerful pistons startled Mallard awake and he retreated further into his berth when he saw his cousin barreling towards him. He looked absolutely furious. "Mallard you disgusting motherfucker, I ought to kill you right here and now!"

"Whatever are you talking about?" Mallard was trembling as Scotsman was directly in his face by then. He knew exactly what the A3 was upset about, but he wasn't about to admit guilt.

"Don't play coy with me," Scotsman growled. He buffered up to the A4 and started pushing him backwards. "You forced yourself on Meredith you pig!"

"I did no such thing!" Mallard gasped. "How dare you stoop me to that level!"

"You stooped yourself!" Scotsman locked his buffers with Mallard's and gave them a forceful twist. The streamlined engine let out a painful yelp. His fender began to bend and crack while Scotsman continued to twist as tight as he could. "Now I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you will keep as far as possible from Meredith, lest you wish for me to splatter you across the rails." Mallard's eyes welled from the pain and he nodded as best he could. Scotsman tightened his grip and dropped his voice to a deep growl. "Say it."

"I'll stay away from her- I promise!" The pain caused Mallard's voice to pitch up. He had begun to bleed oil, one buffer had popped off. "Please! Release me!"

Scotsman eyed his cousin then with a stern bump, he untangled himself from the whimpering pile of metal. His own buffers suffered mild damage, but he felt nothing. He was too enraged to notice the stabs of pain that radiated throughout his own front fender. Without another word he removed himself from the berth and started on towards Doncaster to check on Meredith. She was at the Steamworks. He brought her there himself before he rolled on to confront Mallard.

I've nothing to say this go around so thank you for reading and supporting! I'll see y'all next chapter!

Much love;

Bumble