A/N: First, thank you all so much for your reviews! Especially after my 7-month hiatus :/ to thank you all for being so supportive of LTL2: The Sequel, I have here another little update for you all and seeing as it is the first update of the new year, I decided to try a different approach, with no dialogue involved. Also, this will be Kirsty Heron's intro into my headcanon. She doesn't really have much impact on this story, she just gets fed up of her husband being so 'shady' 😊

Disclaimer: I only own Kirsty Heron, Geoffrey Heron, Jack Heron, and Dr. Moon. Owen, Merrick, Victor and Kevin belong to the Thomas franchise, and Morpheus belongs to the Greeks.

Night fell- and from the Steamworks, in the lonely heart of Crovan's Gate, solitary chuffing and puffing could be heard echoing off the walls.

Victor shunted the last of trucks filled with brand new engine parts, such as wheels, pistons and buffers, into a siding and sighed in relief as he heard the reassuring clang.

He was done. The works was finally tidy and organized, ready for another day's work. Now he could sleep and prepare himself for that new day.

Rolling out to the shed that he shared with his assistant, Kevin, the Hispanic engine smiled fondly at the little yellow crane, fast asleep and snoring quietly. Kevin was becoming a close friend; he even viewed him as his best friend; but this was a sentiment he generally kept to himself. Strangely, he felt just as reserved as a Briton, if not more so.

That smile faded away to a melancholic frown upon the sudden reflection of his biggest and most dreaded secret; which even now brought tears of shame to his eyes whenever it crossed his coupling rods.

Ever since he had learned to speak English; which, surprisingly, didn't take as long as he feared; Victor had longed to talk to someone about what happened that fateful afternoon…. But fear and shame of his vulnerability following his accident kept him in silence. He had come to Sodor to help others; not burden others with something that happened to him.

All the same, he was still haunted by it; and oft wondered if the green engine, his companion on the boat, had felt so disturbed by the day's events, as he had been; or has been.

Oh, how he longed for the light to be thrust upon his burden'd, darken'd heart!

….

Dr. Moon put aside her book, and lain down upon her pillow, allowing the smell of her beloved black lab, Poppy (who was lying beside her), to waft through her nose as she thought about her newest client.

She had no idea how to help a suicidal engine… she had never dealt with anything like this before. But there was something unchivalrous in turning down a plea for help- even if it was from a tank engine she only just met.

In addition, deep under her mask of professionalism, lay a woman whose heart never healed from past tragedies she feared to dream of whenever she entered Morpheus' realm.

Turning off her bedside lamp, Artemis allowed her short hair to pillow her head. She lay there, praying tonight will not be another one of those nights; another night of her heart withering in the darkness of what was supposed to remain her sanctuary.

….

A small thump on the sofa let Kirsty Heron know he was finally home; conked out too, no doubt, after his 'busy day'. She sighed, tossing aside her knitting. The click-clack of her needles, her sons and her daughter seemed to be the only company she had these days.

She and Geoff had been best friends, partners, and parents to three beautiful children across the span of over twenty years they had been together; and they hardly ever hid secrets from each other. Of course, birthday surprise parties and any secrets belonging to themselves and/or their families alone were such exceptions.

But now, Geoff was hiding something from her. Something big. He told her nothing; but she had recently found her youngest child, Jack, had been bribed; on numerous occasions, to keep some sort of secret communication line open and yet… secret.

She knew he would never betray her trust. They loved each other too much for one to even consider ever throwing away their relationship for a lousy fling.

Besides, she was one of the best lawyers from her Scottish law school; she was trained in the art of unravelling secrecy and lies in the courtroom; to fight for the light that victims of cruelty, heartlessness, bigotry and misery sorely needed.

But, even when she could bring so much light to everyone else's lives, she was unable to uncover her own husband's secret from the dark.

….

Owen appreciated how the moonlight made the quarry rock glitter, like fallen stars, on clear nights.

He did of course, feel a bit sad that it usually got blasted in the morning; so, he always appreciated the beauty of the night whilst he still could.

On the other platform, he found out that things could get boring, very quickly. In all honesty, he could kind of understand why Merrick slept when he wasn't working.

But Owen himself…?

Well, he had still been haunted by Luke's first suicide attempt to jump off the bridge. Even though Merrick saved Luke from derailing himself towards death, he knew that if the little engine tried again, they might not be so lucky.

Besides, he and Luke often used to chat at night; before the latter's depression and suicidal thoughts imprisoned him in the tunnels.

Owen barely saw the little chap anymore; which was saddened about; but Rusty had filled him in on Luke's therapist, Doctor Artemis Moon, and how she was to help Luke overcome his suicidal thoughts and his depression and feelings of shame and guilt.

He also mentioned, worriedly, that no one had any idea how long it would take before Luke would feel any better; but they were doing their best to help him in the meantime.

Owen allowed a small, soft exhale to escape him, and looked at the tunnel Luke seemed to take to hiding into the most nowadays.

He could just see him, silver buffers shining dully in the light of the moon. He seemed to be snoring softly, and, for once, having a restful night's sleep.

Owen hoped so.

He wanted to do so much more than just gaze at rocks sparkling in the moonlight, no matter how pretty a sight it was to see.

For the truth of its tunnels was far more dismal and darker than he could imagine.