Emerson awoke with a start. His boiler covered in hot sweat, his heartbeat pounding his head. He glanced around his shed. Sonny, thankfully, was still fast asleep, snoring softly.

Carefully Emerson rolled from his berth and into the cool midnight air. He wasn't sure what had startled him, but he had a heavy feeling that he simply couldn't shake. He felt nauseous and his mouth was dry. Something had scared him on a subconscious level, but what?

His gaze drifted to his reflection in a puddle of water beside the tracks. Lately he had not been able to sleep a solid night. His psyche was clearly disturbed by something. He had dark, heavy circles under his set of wide-wild eyes. It looked as if he was scared to even blink.

Emerson grumbled, pulling his stare back up and down the tracks. He sighed in defeat and began the long, arduous drive to the steamworks. Maybe Victor would be able to help him put a stop to whatever it was that plagued him.

By the time Emerson made it to the complete opposite side of the island the moon had begun it's journey back to the horizon. He cursed inwardly. He was tired, in every sense of the word. He thought maybe he had made it out of the slump after opening up to Sonny, but the new relationship high didn't last.

The maroon Pacific pulled up to the steamworks and was surprised to see the lights on inside. As he drew closer he could hear men working. He hummed curiously as he nudged the door open. It wasn't too odd for them to work into the wee hours of the morning, but Emerson didn't know of anyone who required overnight servicing.

As his eyes adjusted to the warm, artificial light he raised his brow in surprise. Hanging from the heavy gantry at the front of the yard was none other than Mallard from London. He was well asleep despite all the men working all around him. The A4's paintwork appeared brand new and freshly polished, but the workmen were chipping out bits of rust and dirt from his undercarriage.

Emerson furrowed his brow in a frown. The situation didn't quite sit well with him. Shouldn't the engine be repaired on the mainland?

"Hello, Emerson, what're you doing here so late?" Victor asked as he rolled up to the dazed A3.

Emerson looked away from Mallard. "I need help."

"With what, my friend?"

"I can't sleep. I keep waking up in a sweat as if I've been running from something, but there's nothing." Emerson realized how crazy he sounded as soon as the words left his mouth and he clenched his teeth.

Victor pursed his lips in thought. "Are you having nightmares?"

"No…" Emerson then dropped his gaze with a long exhale. "I've not had a dream in months. I just close my eyes and then it's morning."

"Well, I can certainly tell you're tired. Did something happen? Something that might be hurting your ability to sleep?"

Emerson shrugged, then a chill ran down his boiler. He peeked at Mallard and found the blue A4 staring right at him. His throat tightened. It took every ounce of his strength to not run the other way. "I'm not sure what's wrong."

Victor noticed Emerson's gaze was locked on Mallard. He didn't believe the express engine was being wholly honest with him. "Well I can't help you unless you tell me when this started?"

Emerson's mind immediately flashed to Flying Scotsman's threats several weeks ago. The way he grabbed Emerson, the malice and fire that laced his words. He thought he had managed to shake it off, but clearly there was a part of him that was not just worried, but completely terrified.

"Actually I think maybe I should just get ready for the work day." Emerson said quickly. He started to back out of the bay, he could still feel Mallard's eyes glued to him. "Thank you, Victor. Sorry for wasting your time."

Victor watched Emerson leave. He was not only confused, but concerned. It was abundantly clear that Emerson was not in a solid state of mind. He shook himself to try and void the worry then turned his attention to Mallard. "Feeling better, are we?"

"Completely," Mallard forced himself to smile to try and appear friendly. It made him feel sick.

"Good," Victor's own smile was genuine. "I'm sure your controller will be happy to have you back in working order."

Mallard merely nodded. He was still watching Emerson's steam as it faded into the distance. Victor was out of sight by then and he was able to drop the kind facade. He had to figure out a way to get that wayward engine alone as he had an inkling that Emerson's instability had something to do with Flying Scotsman.

"So you don't hate it?"

"Darling, I've told you countless times I love it."

Meredith shrugged as she studied her reflection in a storefront window. Flying Scotsman was beside her looking as well, but directly at Meredith and not her reflection. "Maybe I should change it back."

Scotsman laughed, nudging her boiler. "What if I don't want you to?"

"Too bad." Meredith furrowed her brow. She really did miss her old paintwork. It set her apart from all the other engines, but it also brought her a lot of unwanted attention. She huffed dramatically then continued on, glaring at the tracks ahead.

Flying Scotsman followed, shaking his boiler. "Mer, you're being ridiculous. You look beautiful."

"As beautiful as before?"

"As much… or maybe more." Scotsman purred.

"Oh, so you thought I was ugly?"

Scotsman rolled his eyes with a chuckle. Meredith could be so melodramatic. "If I thought you were ugly I wouldn't have quite literally risked my life chasing after you."

His comment made Meredith smile, but it also made her feel guilty that he went through what he did just for her.

It was one of the rare times the two engines spent their free time not in the confines of a private shed. They decided a slow drive around London would be a nice change of pace. Meredith was entranced by the city life. She would stop and watch people as they dipped in and out of shops carrying armfuls of bags of goodies. She admired the women's colorful clothes and lipsticks that were more splendid than James' livery and awed at how clean-cut and dapper the men were in their tailored suits and trilbys.

She watched as children would run up to Scotsman begging to sit atop his fenders, gesturing for him to blow his whistle. Of course Scot being a rather polite engine he was happy to humor them. His fame meant he was used to the attention from children and adults alike, though adults were a little less handsy. They were typically satisfied with a picture or two.

Meredith stopped suddenly when she spotted a dress shop. Inside she could see a gathering of women all huddled around a short stage. They whispered excitedly to each other as they stared at a wall of mirrors in anticipation of something. Then another woman stepped out. She wore an ankle-length white dress with strappy heels. The dress flared out playfully at her slender waist, her torso hugged by an embroidered bodice with her arms draped in fitted lace sleeves. It glimmered and sparkled in the sun the same way Meredith's old paintwork once had.

Scotsman noticed Meredith's longing gaze. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like all that's happening is my fault…"

The big engine frowned. "What do you mean?"

Meredith continued to watch the women giggle and gush over the bride's dress. She wondered what it must be like to be excited about the future. "I should have been with you from the start. Maybe all this unrest could've been avoided."

Scotsman's expression softened. "The unrest was there long before you came along."

"I certainly didn't help things though."

"No— no you didn't." He said, his gaze hardening again. "But it's not your fault. Mallard had been gunning for my position for as long as I can remember. He's an engine who craves control."

Meredith swallowed hard. She learned firsthand just how intense that craving was. "But don't you?"

Scotsman raised his brow. "Over certain aspects of my life, yes."

"Me?"

He chuckled. "Dear, I've learned quickly there's no controlling you. You're a force to be reckoned with."

Meredith smiled, but only for a moment. It disappeared when she saw the bride twirling excitedly. She must've decided on that dress. "How long were you and Ellis together?"

The question took Scotsman aback. It was unexpected. "Longer than we should have been. I knew she didn't want me for me. She wanted my authority, but she was a good lay so I ignored it." He made sure not to look at Meredith as he said the last bit, but he didn't need to see her to know she was seething. "When I finally cut her off she was pissed, but she left me alone. However, when she found out about you she threw a rod. Most larger engines on this railway have no respect for you little engines— I'll admit I had that mindset at one point, but not like Ellis. She would be happy to see all little engines dead. When you came into the picture she turned to Mallard who shares— similar sentiments. He sees my commitment to you as a weak point." Scotsman started down the line once more, Meredith followed, her eyes never leaving his firebox. "I just know they're off somewhere. Planning something."

"So… what do we do?"

"Go on about our lives, but keep on high alert." Scotsman shrugged. "It's all we can do for now. I'm not going to walk into a fight."

Meredith smiled again. She didn't like talking about either Ellis or Mallard with Scot, but it helped lift a specific weight off her boiler. It as well eased her worry knowing he wasn't taking chances.

They continued their driving date in silence. Meredith's attention remained focused on the streets and shops. They approached a square full of restaurants and as they passed through she took a deep breath in and her mouth began to water at all the savory, sweet, and warm scents. Oh how she wished she could taste all that she smelled.

When they finally arrived back at Victoria Station Gordon was there along with Ada. The two were whispering quietly to each other, Ada giggling like mad. Meredith began to bristle. Scotsman noticed and gently tapped her fender as if to reassure her everything would be fine.

Scot then watched as his brother flirted it up with the little K1 and felt himself becoming consumed by anger as well, He was frustrated with Gordon for his sudden and complete lack of regard for Meredith's feelings or well-being. For an engine that claimed to love her as much as he had, Gordon clearly had no issues hanging her out to dry.

Ada noticed the two engines had pulled in. Her face lit up when she saw Meredith's new livery. "Oh, Meredith! You've been repainted. It looks stunning!"

Meredith's face grew hot from both embarrassment and annoyance. She suddenly wanted to have her paint scraped off. Instead she forced a half-baked 'thanks'.

Gordon turned his attention to the little engine as well. He appeared stoic and rather unimpressed. "I suppose I've seen worse paint jobs." He said plainly. Ada glared at him, but he ignored her disapproval. "It makes you look more mature at least. Heaven knows you need the assistance as far as that is concerned."

"Hey!" Flying Scotsman snarled. "You've no reason to speak to her in that way."

"I have every reason." Gordon retorted loudly. The station was beginning to fill with the passengers for Gordon and Ada's trains. They were blissfully unaware of the dramatics occurring between the engines.

"Just let it go already," Scot could see Meredith becoming upset. He needed to quash the subject immediately. "She's been through enough already. She doesn't need you belittling her every chance you get."

"If you ask me she needs that loose panel of her welded tight! Maybe then will she learn some civility."

Scotsman's steam rose high above him, he was livid. He wanted to jump the tracks and send his brother straight to the scrap heap. "If only I had known the turn you would take. I would have killed you the moment you set wheel on my railway."

Ada desperately tried to grab Gordon's attention but the former Sudrian engine was as furious as Scotsman. He was too dug in to let the subject go. "You don't have the bearings to kill your own brother."

"You're no brother of mine."

An unexpected spring rain fell upon the island of Sodor. Emerson had taken shelter in a long shed outside Vicarstown station. It wasn't long that he realized it was the same shed where he and Meredith had their little flings. He suddenly felt nostalgic. As if it was ages ago that it happened. But the good feeling was fleeting as he recalled being pinned down and threatened by Flying Scotsman in that same shed.

He closed his eyes, taking in the gentle tapping of the rain against the metal roofing. He hoped if maybe he focused on the soothing sounds he might be able to block out all the badness that haunted his subconscious. Maybe he would be able to catch some sleep.

Then he heard pistons. They were coming right towards him. Emerson's eyes popped open at the screeching sound of a rather large engine's brakes outside the shed. He swallowed then held his breath. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who it was waiting on the other side of that door.

He shrunk backwards as the doors creaked open, revealing Mallard rain-soaked and stoic. "What're you doing hiding out here, boy?"

Emerson tried to swallow but nearly choked. "I— I was just wanting to have a rest is all." He still hadn't figured out why Mallard was at the Steamworks earlier that morning. Or why he was even on the island at all. He spent a good chunk of his day trying to piece together such a poorly laid out puzzle.

"Ah, well, I'll make this quick then." Mallard let himself into the shed, his body sparkly and new from the fresh polish and the cool rain. He inched himself closer until the door clicked shut behind him. Then he adorned a most sinister smirk. It was then Emerson noticed the hideous scar running across the engine's face.

"I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Aaand I'm back. Sorry this one's a bit short. I've been working on other things regarding this AU. Hehe.

Not too much to explain here. I'd say it's all mostly self-explain explanatory. It's kinda early in the morning for me here but one of my twins decided to get his leg 'stuck' in his crib slats in his sleep and he woke me up with his hysterical crying. He's fine tho. Just dramatic. Lmao. Sometimes I find myself worrying about my kids or husband finding these fics. I think I may pass away if that happens. Not that I'm not proud of them, I just know some of the material is a bit... odd. Lol.

Anyway, I've rambled enough. I'll see y'all in the next chapter!

Much love;

Bumble