Down below, Luke's crew wiped his tears away with oily rags and whispered soothing words, as their friend's frames shook with grief, sadness and fear. He did not speak- indeed, he could not – until he had calmed down again.
"I know you're not in a positive mind set at the moment, but you will get better, eventually." Geoffrey reassured the little engine. "You're plucky and you always bounce back from anything. We know you can do this."
"Go raibh maith agat." He whispered shakily to his crew, managing a small, but heartfelt, smile.
"Do you feel any better, Luke?" Owen called down awkwardly. He could provide some form of comfort to his friends if necessary, but he felt uncomfortable dealing with crying, as he never knew what to do or say in those scenarios.
"I'm still feeling down, but I'm glad I got that out of my firebox." Luke answered. "Thanks Owen."
"You're welcome, Luke." Owen replied, but he didn't feel like he'd done anything to help Luke at all- well, apart from him listening to his friend's problems. Sure, Luke definitely needed a listening, sympathetic ear, but he wished he could offer more than that.
Then he remembered what Luke had said about Smudger- and wondered if that was leading somewhere.
"Hey Luke, I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you bring up Smudger before you began confiding your feelings about your current mindset?" he asked curiously, hoping desperately that Luke wasn't planning something dangerous again… not after what had happened on the MSR.
"Oh, that! Well, I... I wanted to go back there and see him for myself, see if he wants a friend to talk to."
"I see." Owen felt his hope deflate like a punctured balloon on hearing that. Of course, he was hoping for too much.
He loved Luke dearly; but the little Irish engine sure had big ideas, with little common sense and wisdom to match it.
"When do you plan to visit him, Luke?" Owen asked him cautiously.
"Tonight," Replied Luke, determinedly. "and I know how I'm going to do it."
"Well, if you're sure. When will you be back here, Luke? I don't want you in trouble again like before. I can't help you if something happens." Owen warned him, starting to panic. Oh, God, why weren't his crew doing something?
"I'll come back here before midnight, so I'll head out about 9 o' clock."
"… okay." Owen replied. "Just be careful, okay? You do mean a lot to me- and Merrick too, even if he's too sleepy to say so."
This touched Luke deeply, and he smiled; even though he knew Owen won't be able to see it so well…
"Thank you, Owen. And don't worry- I will."
...
Luke had a nap in the early evening whilst his crew had their supper. Then they headed back to the quarry by road to get Luke ready. A trusted friend of theirs had Luke's fire sizzling and burning, the smell of burning carbon wafting through the cab. It was as temptingly intoxicating as walking past a baker's shop; Luke's crew never tired of the smell
"Are you sure about this, Luke?" Geoffrey asked.
"More than anything, driver." Luke answered confidently.
"Alright then."
So, Luke set off out to the old Sodor Midland Railway for the second time that week. This time, he wasn't going to run away. He was going to be like Finn McCool, the famous giant from Irish legend, who faced untold dangers, and returned home, safe and sound.
May Heaven help him!
...
At last, he arrived back, and quietly entered the yard of the old railway. Thick brambles reared their ugly heads out of the white snow like fierce beasts, poised to attack.
Luke shivered with cold and fear as he approached the derelict line towards the sheds; the one Sir Handel had pointed out to him on their visit. It looked foreboding, the shed looming, hidden in a cloak of white, fluffy snow. Nonetheless, the brave little engine switched tracks and went down the line.
Presently, he came to a small shack behind the old engine sheds, which was showing its age. Luke paused, trying to remember when the line closed. He couldn't remember what Sir Handel had told him; but he did remember it was just after the Second World War. Or was it the First World War?
'No, Second,' he corrected himself. Peter Sam, or Stuart, as he was back then, arrived on Sodor after the First World War.
"Hello?" Luke whispered softly into the darkness. "Are you there?"
"You have no business being here." A voice rasped suddenly, making Luke jump. "Now leave me be."
But Luke nobly stood his ground. "In the name of the Claddagh, I'm not moving." He swore. "Now please, I came here all the way to see you. I want to talk to you."
"You shouldn't have bothered, kid. Now beat it."
But the stout-hearted little Irish tank engine puffed closer to the shack. "Please, why won't you talk to me?" He asked softly as he drew as close as he could.
"Well, cos you shouldn't be with an engine like me. I'm just a reckless twit who feels remorse for being so rude to everyone I met. You wouldn't know how I feel."
"But I do. I know you might not believe me, but I do know the feelings of guilt." Luke protested softly.
"How so?" The voice asked.
"Well, I..." here, Luke paused. He was about to tell an engine he'd only just met about his most private secret. But he came here for a reason, so he decided to take the risk.
"I knocked an engine into the sea." He said, quietly.
"Man, that's rough." The voice said, now sounding a bit more sympathetic. "Do you know what happened to him… or her?"
"Well, the last I heard about him was when I was at the Steamworks, awaiting inspection. I heard that he was so rusted when they lifted him out of the ocean; the workmen all said he looked more like a scrap engine than an engine fit for service."
"Darn it all," The voice said. "That's something I can't imagine. You may have heard of me," he continued, quietly, "cos Dukie… well, he said that my sorry end will serve as little more than a lesson for young, foolhardy engines.". He was stern and very bossy and annoying, but he was trying to help me... yet, I called him names, insulted his speed and ignored any advice he gave me."
Luke gasped sympathetically. He wished he could see the engine's face, but it was too dark in the shed to see anything more than a faint silhouette. His build resembled Rheneas's vaguely, from what he could make out of that view.
"Wait, how did you know where to find me, anyway?" The engine asked suspiciously.
Luke gulped, wondering if Smudger knew someone with a gun… "Well, my cousin and a friend of ours knew where to find you through hearing Duke's stories about you." He explained. "They grew up here."
"Oh yes, I remember. Stuart and Falcon, was it?" Asked the voice. "I was stuck back here, listening to their bickering all night long, every night of the week."
Luke chuckled. "Nice to know they haven't changed much," he teased. "Yes, that's them; except their names are Peter Sam and Sir Handel now, respectively." Luke told him. "Speaking of which, I never introduced myself. I'm Luke."
"And I'm Smudger, but I presume you knew that already." The voice replied sardonically.
"Yes, I do, and I presumed it was you; but it's still polite to introduce oneself." Luke said., earning a snort of amusement from his hidden companion. "Please, may I ask one favour?" he added suddenly.
"What?" Asked Smudger, clearly surprised.
"May I see what you look like?" He asked.
There was a hiatus of silence, followed by a "Sure, whatever."
"Okay. Thank you!"
So, Luke's driver fetched a torch from his cab and turned it on; before aiming the beam towards the opening of the shack; somehow unobstructed by snow. Luke gasped at what he saw; he could see that Smudger was indeed falling to bits. His windows were broken, his lamp long since busted, his paintwork rusted away, his face altered by Time itself. It looked worn and weary, like a crumpled piece of paper. And, it looked to be the same colour as a piece of paper, too.
"Well blow me down," Luke whispered in dismay, suddenly noticing that he couldn't see what Smudger's original paint colour was, so he began squinting to see if he could spot any clues of what Smudger's once-proud livery would have looked like; but to no avail.
"It was dark green." An unimpressed Smudger told his new friend, having clearly deduced what he was doing.
Luke, embarrassed, just mumbled a thank you and trailed off into silence, allowing his thoughts to wander away with him.
