In the weeks following his scouting at the scrapyard, Henry's life had shifted with a new goal fueling his fire. Having befriended his new accomplice Murdoch, the gentle giant had offered accommodations at his flat close to the facility. And while a pullout couch mattress wasn't the epitome of luxury, Henry was grateful to be rid of camping in the steadily chilling wilderness.
Henry had felt guilty by the second week of crashing and not contributing to Murdoch's lifestyle that he'd opted to find employment in the area. A forest conservatory had advertised a need for an ecology inspector which Henry eagerly jumped to. He'd always liked forests and felt most happy whenever he could be out in nature. The job paid well enough to allow him compensation for Murdoch's rent and food expenses, as well as some overflow to finance farming parts for Number 3.
Under cover of night, as he'd done just months before, Henry would join Murdoch at the scrapyard near the end of the day and set to work on the secret restoration of his engine. On an abandoned siding just up the trackline, barricaded by a line of inoperable hopper wagons, Number 3 rested stoic and resilient. A railcrane braked as cover blocking the engine from sight and being utilized for lifting parts by the slim illumination of lamplight.
Running over blueprints in his head, Henry absent-mindedly filled out his clipboard as he walked through a tiered section of woods just outside the town. Inspection nearly complete, he ran over his prep list as he made his return talk down to the outpost to hand in his reports.
"Swing by the flat and grab my kit and a sandwich, Murdoch should already have been by to drop off the car. Check the post.. Hopefully Gordon's gotten back to me by now… And then we're off to the yard. Easily done. Right."
He gave a hasty goodbye to his coworkers in the office and set off to catch the bus at the bottom of the incline. The sky above was dark as the threat of a downpour made Henry uneasy. Rain could off-set his plans for the night, making bolt tightening complicated if things got too slick.
Once at the flat he snagged the keys Murdoch had left for him off the table and decided to just ham-fist a couple slices of turkey breast into his mouth instead of wasting time on building a sandwich. Tool kit in hand he fled out the door in a rush and set toward the scrap yard.
The night came quickly with the cloud coverage and Henry had no trouble sneaking through the lines of wagons and engine husks to get to his siding. Number 3 as he'd left it. A hodge-podge of new and old parts carefully pieced together into a conglomerate of green, black, and rusted orange. Black oil and soot streaks webbing across the body from the fluid autumn weather. Henry approached and ran a strong hand along the Walcherts valve gear they'd applied to the chassis the day before.
"Hey friend me again. Hope you had a… contemplative day." Henry spoke to Number 3, a weary smile breaking across his lips as he eyed it over.
"Didn't have the chance. I was too busy cooking books for missing parts." Came a low voice from within the engine.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Anyone ever tell you you're too quiet!?" Henry barked, clutching his chest from the surprise.
Barrel chested and grimy, a look of sheer enjoyment on his rigid demeanor, Murdoch emerged from the cab window with a jolly wave.
"Never been a problem for anyone before." He answered in earnest. "Didn't mean to interrupt a tender moment, but I figured I'd stop ya before you said anything too… intimate."
He smiled cheekily on the last word as Henry felt his face flush.
"Well get down here you sod. Let's get a plan together."
Murdoch clambered heavily down the cab steps of Number 3. Each foot fall bearing the weight of pure muscle from the man making the motion. He lumbered happily to Henry and clapped him decisively on the shoulder.
"I am sorry for scarin' ya. Honest. Just meant for a bit of fun." He half-smiled apologetically as Henry shook his head and laughed it off.
"You're fine. Just spend a lot of time alone these days. Any unexpected noise makes me jumpy."
"Preachin' to the choir."
Henry nodded and hoisted his kit onto the running board as he unzipped his boiler suit to pluck blueprints from the inner pocket.
"So I think with the valve gear finished we're almost done with what we're able to do on the drive train. Until I hear back from my contact we're almost at a stand-still. How'd it go talking with your connection today? Bob Cord? Did I remember that right?"
"Ol' Boco says it'll be a cakewalk. As long as the parts can be waiting at Vicarstown, Boco says he'll get them hitched to his Friday freight runs."
"So then it's up to Gordon…" Henry murmured crestfallen. "'Misplacing' parts isn't hard, but the extra effort to transport them so far…"
"Seems Impossible. I told ya this when you pitched the idea mate." Murdoch looked seriously to Henry who'd begun pacing as they discussed.
"In my head it just seems so simple. Gordon finishes his express in Vicarstown right near the Steamworks. He checks the backlog for any parts sent for scrap against my list of what's needed. And then just shunts the wagon full of essentials to the yard. Boco retrieves it and wham, bam, thank your nan they're here for us to use."
Henry was kicking mud everywhere as rain began to fall upon the duo. Murdoch pulled his cap from his back pocket and squared it over his brow waiting for his friend to finish. At the opportunity he interjected what he hoped would be clarity.
"The hard part is that so much of this plan relies on the efforts of others. Now you should know me enough by now to understand my beliefs. You get good out of the world if you put good into it. But favors can only carry you so far Henry.. And this is an enormous ask. I won't tell you what to do, and we here are on your side, but you may need to think of alternative options.
Henry avoided Murdoch's eyes. Stopped in his tracks he watched the rain ping off of the boiler of Number 3. The metal glistening from the lamps sat on the sleepers by the drive wheels.
In through his nose, out his mouth, Henry took a deep breath.
Every day they came back to work on restoration was a risk. For Murdoch getting caught, for the engine being discovered and scrapped, for him being found and detained for trespassing. The stakes were too great to prolong the process.
Henry finally faced his friend and saw the same determined expression his previous cohort had worn when the chips seemed down. Rebecca hadn't given up on him, and it didn't look like Murdoch would either. If he was to be any sort of friend he had debts he needed to repay first.
"I want you to know I appreciate you Murdoch. You're a good friend."
"Don't cut yourself short mate. You're a good friend too. Don't doubt that… We just need a better plan."
Henry had an itch of an idea, but it would require a lot of legwork on his end. But first things first.
"How about we call it tonight and hit the pub? Best idea I've got right now."
"I can roll with that."
I really like writing Henry. I know it's not the hypochondriac version we see later in the TV series and this interpretation is a bit more introspective than the books, but I do like writing this character type for him. And Murdoch is such an underused personality in the show that getting to explore avenues with him is proving to be fun as well! Looking at my outline I made for this story we're close to the halfway point for the events that I intend to have unfold, so the next few chapters are going to get pretty fun. I hope y'all stick around for 'em =)
Big thank you to FurryFoxFires for their continued commentary and encouragement. And for assuring me that the website being difficult wasn't isolated to just me! lol
As always thanks for reading! -REN