Autumn had officially come to the whole of the United Kingdom, its land rose and fell in speckled waves of golden brown and vibrant orange. Smoke could be seen puffing from chimneys all across the mainland as the weather was pleasant but starting to develop a slight bite in the mornings and late evenings. Liverpool, still scarred by war, was in the midst of returning to its former glory. Buildings turned to rubble by bombs were standing tall once more, lively civilians filled its streets with all matter of chatter and laughter. Stunning green double-decker buses zoomed through its newly paved streets lined with multi-storied apartment buildings, shops, and cafes. A grand open-air station sat on Lime Street and inside waited two handsome garter blue engines, Mallard and Emerson. Mallard of course was as smug as ever, basking in the excitement and admiration that surrounded him as humans small and tall clambered at his side to get a good look at the world's fastest steam engine. Emerson as well had a crowd, but he found it difficult to put on a smile, he was too busy watching Mallard and rather warily at that. Every time the A4 even shifted his weight Emerson's wide gaze flicked towards him. It was all the young A3 could do to not break a sweat despite the consistent cool breeze that wafted at his face and side plating.

A few minutes more passed as passengers filled either engine's coaches. Mallard was set to go back to London while Emerson was due to bring his express to Manchester and once Mallard was no longer distracted by the superficial love of his human admirers he shifted his bored gaze to Emerson, a cruel grin twitched at his lips once he noticed just how much tension the young locomotive was carrying on his wheels. He decided to have a little fun. "You alright there?"

Emerson swallowed and nodded. "Of course, I'm… I'm fine."

Mallard was no fool and suppressed a chuckle. "You scared of me, boy?"

"I'm not," the A3 said. He licked his teeth and forced his own confident smile.

Mallard looked away for only a moment just to give Emerson the impression their short conversation was over, but once he noticed the young engine's guard was down Mallard jolted his body as if he was going to lunge forward. Emerson started, blowing blistering steam from his nostrils and immediately sent a murderous glare straight through Mallard's boiler, teeth clenched and eyes blackened.

"So you do have some fire left, interesting indeed." Mallard's smirk only grew despite the obvious threatening display from the young engine. "Makes me wonder where that fury was the last time you confronted Scotsman."

Emerson stiffened his jaw and rumbled in annoyance. "I would've had him if it wasn't for your brother! And now with Quicksilver and that Edgar I've not a chance should I act out again."

Mallard took a moment to consider the young engine's words. He certainly had a point. Quicksilver was undoubtedly strong, but Edgar even more so, between the two of them the dominant A3 and his precious Meredith were practically immortal. So what were they to do? Bittern hated Mallard, but he also didn't care much for any authority and Kestrel is Quicksilver's puppy. There'd be no persuading that talkative dope… and Spencer— much too passive. Mallard felt like he was back at the coastal cliffs with Ellis, dilapidated and at an impasse with just a mouthy partner to turn to, though Emerson wasn't much of a partner, just a misguided, traumatized child, easily influenced, and that's what Mallard liked. Based on what he observed he still had a solid grip on the young lad so he had that going for him, but was the odd A3 too far gone? He was incredibly jumpy, but his fight or flight response was promising. Mallard certainly wasn't expecting that violent of a reaction from the same engine who only moments prior was eyeing him like a nervous fawn. That sort of unchecked aggression was exactly what Mallard needed on his side, he certainly didn't want it turned against him.

"You're a clever lad," Mallard said after his extended period of pondering. It was time for him to depart but he held off for just a moment. "I bet you can think of a way to lure ole Scot away from those two, Hm?"

Emerson furrowed his brow and frowned when Mallard winked at him before departing the terminal. Just when Emerson thought he might've found peace within himself, that damned A4 showed back up to flip him on his head once more.

"Hallå!"

Emerson jumped at the strange voice and looked over to the tracks on the other side of his platform. In rolled Kjell with his luxurious new coaches. They glistened in the soft afternoon light and the A3 couldn't help but be impressed with the passengers that departed them, all dressed in the finest clothes carrying designer bags, adorned in bright icy jewelry. He could see the lavish gilded interior of the coaches through the narrow doors and was completely stunned. He had never seen such a blatant display of wealth before.

"Uhh… do you speak, vän?"

Emerson shook himself out of his trance and put on an apologetic smile. "Yes, I'm sorry. I've just never seen coaches like that before nor you." He studied the new engine's livery and made a face. "That's a unique livery, you look just like—"

"Meredith? Yes…" the new locomotive blushed and looked away. "I get that quite a bit. I figure she's been the only engine with this look until now."

"Until now," Emerson repeated with a nod. "It's not a bad thing, however. It looks good on you, uhh— I'm sorry, what is your…?"

"Kjell," he said enthusiastically. "Kjell is what I'm called, yes."

Emerson chuckled. "That's a strange accent, where are you from?"

"Sweden! I was built in Trollhättan though through the whisperings of engineers I've come to realize I was a dud at one point. It's how I ended up here I suppose."

"You don't look like a dud to me." Emerson raised his brow in curiosity. "You look in perfect shape."

"Yes, I had to be overhauled. I've been here for a few months, but only started work just last week." Kjell kept his smile, though his tone was weighed down with subtle shame. "It took them some time to get me running reliably."

"Well the men at Doncaster certainly did well with your overhaul. You look as if you rolled fresh from your proper factory." Emerson continued to study the new engine. Something about him was familiar, his soft-spoken tone, the inviting smile, his virgin naivety. Then he frowned, remembering once a time where he himself carried that same level of innocence. Emerson tensed up and looked away from Kjell. "How are you liking our railway so far?"

"I'm having a wonderful time! Everyone is so welcoming and the passengers are so kind!" Kjell beamed, oblivious to Emerson's sudden mood shift. He was just happy to be having a conversation with another less-perverted engine, or so he thought. "How long have you been in service here? You remind me immensely of Scot. Are you of the same build?"

"A little over a year at this point." Emerson stated, eyes still straight ahead. "And I'm based on Scot's original Gresley design, but we're of no relation."

"Certainly look it," Kjell chuckled. "Equally as handsome at least."

Suddenly Emerson felt the need to look at the new engine with a single brow raised. "I'm handsome now?"

"Well… uhh—" The young engine looked away and tried to hide the heat in his cheeks. "Yes, I wasn't trying to be rude, I just wanted to be nice."

"Of course," Emerson's voice dropped to a deep hum. He shifted around on his wheels and breathed out some more steam. "When are you due to depart?"

Kjell glanced at the station's big clock poised above the center most platform. "I've got about an hour. I'm supposed to be napping, I'm just too wound up I suppose."

Emerson ran his tongue slowly over his lips, a gesture that made Kjell break into a sweat. Then Emerson spoke in a voice like black silk. "Would you like to unwind with me in that goods shed just south of the station?"

The new engine was speechless, he had been hit on so many times by other engines and even entertained Edgar in a deliciously messy, inexperienced makeout his first day out, but Kjell could see the lightning in Emerson's eyes. It made his axles wobble. He had chickened out when Edgar attempted to mount him, but Emerson… he was irresistible. "Depends on what you mean by 'unwind.'"

Emerson grinned, his eyes lowered and half closed as he leaned close to whisper into the side of Kjell's smokebox. "I can smell your newness, Kjell. Should you have me I intend to spend the afternoon… breaking you in, fucking you until your body goes numb and your voice is but a breathless, raspy whisper."

"Å helvete…" Kjell swallowed. He wasn't expecting all the males to be so unabashedly feral, but he as well wasn't too disappointed. At least the railway's roster was full of solid tens, even some elevens. Emerson was for certain one of the rare elevens.

"Is that a yes?"

"Ja…"

All the way on Sodor at Knapford station sat an idle Gordon, full steam but no coaches in sight. His bored stare was in the moment fixated on the door to Sir Topham's office where Kenneth and Sean, the North Western controller had called them to his office earlier that morning and they had been in conversation ever since. Typically the large engine wasn't all that curious about the goings on of his crew, but they had been talking for hours and he found himself feeling unusually nosy. He had clicked back his deflectors to better his view into the office, but all he saw was the occasional bouncing shadow of Sir Topham as he paced the room. The station itself was oddly still, Knapford square devoid of any life despite the pleasant weather and mid-afternoon hour. Gordon could hear the chuffing and chattering of Knapford yard behind but that wasn't what drew his attention away from his failing attempt at eavesdropping. It was another engine coming towards him from the junction. A little engine with a glimmering white livery.

"Hey there, stranger." Meredith smiled, it was a cautious smile, however, she had no clue how her former lover would react to seeing her again. "Are you not taking the express today?"

"My crew are in a meeting." Gordon said slowly as the little tank engine came to a stop in front of him. His expression was dead, but there was a hint of wonder hidden in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Meredith watched as Hayden eagerly hopped from her cab. He nodded quickly to Gordon as he jogged over to Sir Topham's office and let himself inside. There was a brief moment of laughter when the door opened, but once shut it was silent yet again. Meredith then looked back to Gordon and shrugged. "Hayden said he had an important meeting with Sir Topham, he didn't say what for."

"Does it involve my crew?"

Another shrug from the little engine. "Maybe, though it didn't sound like their current conversation was one of heavy importance."

"No…" Gordon looked away. He had briefly forgotten his anger towards Meredith, briefly. "Do you see yourself coming back to Sodor often for meetings?"

"Often? No, I don't imagine so." Meredith said. She rolled away from the big engine when she noticed his steam had thickened. "Only when Hayden has something to discuss that can't be handled over telephone."

Gordon's jaw stiffened and he kept his eyes locked onto a stray newsprint left on a nearby bench. "Good… I'd like to see you as little as possible."

Meredith sighed but said nothing more, she didn't wish to start a fight in the middle of the day. His anger with her was certainly justified, but hearing him say that felt like a shotgun to the face. She was heartbroken over their ruined relationship but it was her own selfish behavior that caused it. She had no one to be mad with but herself, but even so she wanted to lash out. She wanted to scream in Gordon's face. How dare he expect her to act rationally after the trauma she endured. Yet… despite her head and heart wanting to blister and rage towards him, she sat as still as the ballast beneath the track. Weighed down and crushed by the impossible weight of her conflicted emotions. Thankfully she wouldn't be forced to sit in such horrible silence for long. Only thirty minutes after Gordon's scathing statement Hayden emerged alongside Kenneth and Sean. They continued to talk quietly then Hayden gave Kenneth's hand a gratifying shake before he reached and squeezed Sean's shoulder with a regretful smile.

"We'll be in touch." Hayden said to Sean who nodded curtly. He seemed put off, but Meredith couldn't tell why. Hayden, being the polite sort, did his best to ignore the young man's clear irritation with him and turned his attention to Gordon's driver. "I'll phone you this evening and we can hash out the details then, yes?"

Kenneth nodded and gave his friend another strong handshake. His aura was much different. He seemed light, like he was just given exciting news. "Safe travels, alright?"

"And to you," Hayden then turned to the still open door of Sir Topham's office. "Have a lovely day, sir!"

"You as well, lad!" Sir Topham's hearty voice enthused from inside the office.

Hayden chuckled but his smile dropped as soon as he laid eyes on his engine. "Mer, you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" She said, feigning a genuine smile. "What's got you so thrilled?"

"I'll tell you on the way home," Hayden said, still suspicious of his engine. He saw her droopy posture before. Then he turned to Gordon who was quietly brooding in front of her and refusing to look at anyone. "And you can fill me in on whatever it is ailing you, good?"

Meredith heaved a defeated sigh. "Right…"

Hayden's gaze hardened as he walked over to his engine and once again he looked at Gordon. "Good to see you, big guy. Sorry to hold up your work."

Gordon narrowed his eyes at Hayden and hmphed. He didn't like the sharp tone the new controller had taken with him, but he wasn't given a chance to properly retort; Meredith had already reversed and swapped tracks. She was quick to leave the big blue engine behind. For good.

"I'm not going back!"

Meredith paced around in front of her and Kjell's shared shed just outside Victoria Station. Kjell was in his berth, watching the little engine roll about angrily, his eyes were dreamy and his steam ran hot. Emerson followed through on his commitment to break the new engine in, his undercarriage ached and all he could think about was how soon he could get it again.

"Ugh, he's such a piece of shit!" Meredith cried again, Kjell's distant stare was lost on her. She didn't care that the new engine wasn't listening, she just needed a set of ears to absorb her bellyaching. "I can't believe I wasted so many of my early years with that motherfucker— Kjell!"

The addressed engine started, it was the first time in her ranting Meredith called to him directly and he wasn't sure how to respond. "Uhh—"

"From now on, anytime Hayden has to go to Sodor, you're taking him." The furious little engine hissed. The dying light of day gave emphasis to her fuming state, the fading sun cast a fiery glow across her glower and it truly highlighted just how serious she was.

Kjell swallowed nervously. For such a little engine she had moments where she was extremely intimidating. "I— I suppose… so long as Mister Jameson is okay with it."

"He better be." Meredith grumbled, she had stopped just in front of Kjell and her scowl began to morph into pure sadness. "I've been through this with him before— many times really. I shouldn't care this much."

"What he said hurt you," Kjell spoke softly. "He has a right to be angry with what you did, yes, but it's on him to choose whether he'll grow from the heartbreak or use it as an excuse to be nasty. Clearly he's chosen and that's not your fault."

Meredith offered a faint smile in return. "Thanks." She looked her new shed mate over and raised her brow. "You okay? You're pushing a lot of steam."

"Oh! Ah—" Kjell fumbled his words and began to recoil back inside his berth, his eyes lowered, smile crooked and awkward. "Just uhh… well… I—"

The little engine in front of him burst into uncontrollable laughter, she clicked her headlamps on as it was finally nightfall and time for her to visit Scotsman. "Have your cherry popped did ya?"

"Cherry…? I don't—"

Meredith began to reverse away while still giggling to herself. "Oh don't worry about it. You get some rest, you look like you need it." She gave the young engine a playful wink before she turned herself completely around, disappearing into the wooded darkness.

Along the sharp edges of Aberdeen there was a familiar streamlined silhouette etched against the flickering starlight. Mallard, still and silent, stared down at the waves battering the cliff side. The expression he wore was unusually thoughtful, his eyes devoid of their usual fire. Something about that entranced scowl seemed lost. The ungovernable engine was given yet another chance to live by a human who had every reason to hate and destroy him. It haunted Mallard's mind, wondering what he did to ever deserve such mercy. Hayden's patience with him was unusual; compassion wasn't commonly practiced with locomotives, and while Dr. Hart eventually refused to scrap him after what happened on those very cliffs, his decision was purely self-serving. Hayden, however, could've cared less about Mallard's fame, his decision to leave him alive was well-intended. Hayden saw the life engines' held… he valued it. He valued Mallard's life. In turn, the A4 was spared a gruesome, painful death.

Mallard winced, snarling steam. Like Meredith, he had sat in a scrapyard long enough to know how inhumane and brutal the practice was. Torches taken to their side plates and undercarriages, ripped apart piece by piece, rivet by rivet, all while the poor engine was still very much awake and alive. Their cries and screams echoed at the back of his mind. It wasn't often an engine would vomit, but the pain would force many to completely purge what little contents of their boiler remained while streams of hot blood and oil flooded and burned their eyes. The humans… they would laugh at the engines, thinking they were being dramatic in the vain hope of being spared. They didn't realize the pain felt was very real, very blistering pain. It was the first time in Mallard's life he felt paralyzed with fear. He watched so many engines die; some died after a few minutes, while others had to have the cords powering their hearts clipped as their boilers were being lifted away. Tank engines, narrow-gauges, massive freighters… all reduced to crumpled piles of tears, blood, and metal.

"Fuck me…" Mallard growled to himself as he blinked away the images. He hated Dr. Hart, but when the former controller showed up to the smelter to claim his engine and return him to London, Mallard felt light as air. The time the blue A4 spent on that flatbed in the lightless midnight as he was carried to the shed he would spend secret months in felt like a dream. It was one of only two times Mallard allowed himself to cry.

The second being just then when he shut his eyes with a slow, burdened sigh— tears flowed free.

So... I know shit with Mallard is becoming a little confusing; is he good now is he bad? Short answer-- yes. He's thankful for the life given to him, but old habits sure die hard, don't they? He's still power-hungry. *shrugs* but I'm sure y'all are smart enough to figure that out. Lol. You can be an ass and still feel feelings. I just like creating internal and external conflict... it's fun.

Well I'm actually at the hospital rn, one of children is in surgery so I'm gonna leave this post-script short! Thank you for reading and I'll see y'all next update!

Much love;

Bumble