Once again the LNER had to be shut down in order to collect Mallard's twisted remains from inside Flying Scotsman's private yard. The commotion of their brawl had been mostly disguised by the raging winter storm but alarms were raised when Mallard's blood curdling cries penetrated the vortex and startled nearby suburb residents from their beds. Scotsman offered no mercy to his long-time foe when ripping his head from the rest of his broken body and like previously threatened, he tore Mallard's face with his bare teeth and left it in pieces to freeze in the red stained snow.

Hayden was quick to collect his living engine still high on adrenaline and victory sex, confined him to a crumpling carriage shed inside Victoria's yard, and left Edgar and Quicksilver to make sure he didn't leave as the scene was completely cleared. Surprisingly, Scotsman didn't protest, instead he sat in his wooden prison warmed by his steam and fantasized about Meredith, completely indifferent to the violence committed by himself.

"I didn't even think engines were capable of killing like this," Kenneth whispered to Hayden as they watched from a distance while crews worked out the best way to pick up Mallard's remains. Water and blood continued to drain from his crushed boiler, the plating scalding despite sitting out for hours in the cold. "How did Scot even manage to cave in his frame like that?"

Hayden exhaled a cloud and shook his head. "I can only imagine. You'd be amazed what someone can do when they're blinded by rage. I wouldn't be surprised if he found a way to rear himself up and slam down on top of Mallard."

Another man joined the pair, as wrapped in thick wool as they. "This was a long time coming," Edward said after removing his scarf from over his lips. "It was only a matter of time before Scot snapped on him."

"Can't say I blame him," Kenneth mused as he attempted to light a cigarette without much success due to the wind. "I didn't know Mallard well but from what I did know he seemed to be a right prick."

"He was," Hayden agreed quietly. The workmen had finally managed to tie off most of the body and lifted it onto a flatbed pulled by Bittern who was unusually stoic. The young controller moved to stand between his driver and inspector. "In hindsight I probably shouldn't have asked Bittern to do this."

Edward gave his controller a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "He was the closest engine, you needed to clean this up quick before any more civilians saw such carnage."

"Yes, but he was his twin," Hayden persisted, the guilt weighed heavy in his stomach. "No matter how screwed up Mallard was, that's still his blood."

They all stood in silence once the final mechanical bit of Mallard was tied down to the flatbed. Then came the gruesome part, clearing his torn face. Hayden felt nauseous as the crewmen adorned gloves and pulled out massive plastic bags. He flinched when one of Mallard's eyes dropped to the ground and caused the workmen to all nearly wretch after being splattered by thick fluid and snow.

"Fuck," Kenneth too felt his stomach flip and worked even harder to light his smoke, his hands shook but not from the cold. "That's fucked up."

Hayden noticed Bittern begin to turn slightly to see what the noise was about and he whistled to draw his engine's attention and he shook his head once Bittern's sharp gaze was on him. The engine snorted in annoyance but turned back forward per his controller's silent instruction. While he was shocked by Mallard's death, he had mourned the loss of his twin long ago, though he secretly appreciated the controller's attempt to spare him of witnessing his brother's gore.

"Have you decided how you plan to address this with Scotsman?" Edward inquired to distract from the mess being made. "There certainly needs to be consequences, regardless of if Mallard deserved it or not."

"I agree," Hayden stated. "I'm just… figuring out what those consequences might be."

"Meredith is coming back soon, yes?" Kenneth asked with a shrug as both men turned to look at him. Hayden raised his brow. "Forbid him from seeing her. Isolate her to a shed for a few weeks."

"No no, I'm not punishing Meredith like that." The controller crossed his arms. "And I don't think that would be smart. That would likely cause Scotsman to act out more if he couldn't be with her."

"Would certainly send a message though," Edward added, ignoring his controller's scathing glare. "Withhold her from him, just for a short time, let him understand that you call the shots."

Hayden rocked his jaw and glanced at the bloody scrap metal once known as Mallard. He hated that his driver and chief inspector were right, it was time he put his foot down and remind his engine exactly who was in charge.

Bittern left with what remained of his twin brother covered in a black tarp while the three men all stood round watching as the tainted snow was shoveled into barrels to be discarded safely. Hayden continued to feel conflicted over the whole situation, he had done so well to keep Mallard alive, to offer him grace and forgiveness and a chance to live safely, but still lost to the consequence of the engine's own damned ego. In the end, Mallard's death was no one's fault but his. Still, the issue of Flying Scotsman's non-stop acting out needed to be addressed and so he would do so. He quietly decided that upon Meredith's return Scotsman would be temporarily paneled and the young female be isolated to her shared yard with Kjell. Only when Scotsman settled permanently would he be uncovered and allowed to see Meredith.

Once Hayden had returned to Victoria he stood in the rarely vacant terminal in silence and watched as a gentle gust of wind blew loose snow through its platforms. It was nearly ten pm by then but the cloudy sky had left the day as dark as night, he knew no difference between then and noontime. He found a bench nearest the track and sat down, in his hands he held the paperwork which he would have to complete to officially declare Mallard as deceased. He gripped it tight, so tight he could feel the edges through the leather of his gloves. He felt his eyes had begun to water and he wiped the tears with the back of his sleeve. The wool was scratchy and painful against his skin but he didn't care, it distracted from the mental drain. Losing two engines. It weighed heavy on his heart and mind.

"Are you okay, sir?"

The controller didn't even hear Emerson roll in, he was too lost in his own strange grief. He wiped his eyes again and forced a smile to the blue A3. "Yes yes, I'm fine, it's just been a long day."

Emerson frowned and scrunched his brow but then looked away and sighed. "Sir… I— I was wondering if… do you remember my old livery?"

Hayden sat up, set his papers down. "Of course I do, a handsome deep shade of maroon with gold and silver flaked pinstripes along your seams."

"Yes," Emerson whispered, he didn't look at his controller, he feared his own emotions. "I, well, I was wondering if I might could be repainted to that… again, sir."

It was then the man had stood up and began to approach the young engine. "And what brought this request on?"

"Mallard."

Hayden stopped in his tracks and swallowed. "Yes, what about him?"

Emerson took a deep breath. "I'd just… like to be freed of him."

The controller again felt comfortable enough to walk all the way up to the engine and look him in the eye. He was close to tears, though he glared at his controller once he took notice of his closeness. "Freed of him how?"

"I'm not going to be associated with his weakness."

Hayden blinked and crossed his arms. He didn't know how to respond. He wasn't expecting such a bold declaration but he also wasn't surprised. The years were unkind to the once gentle-hearted male, he'd been hardened to stone and in turn seemed to possess his own desire to rise up. Suppose Mallard's death was his chance to do so. Of course the man relented and simply nodded. "I'll see that it's done immediately."

"Thank you, sir," Emerson responded then took off towards Liverpool, likely to meet Kjell. Again, Hayden was alone, braced against a new forceful wind.

"Meredith had called for you." Quicksilver said to Flying Scotsman from outside the rickety shed. "She was upset you were unavailable."

Edgar rolled his eyes as they both waited for their superior to respond, but all they heard was the whistling of air through cracked planks. He decided to take a different approach to starting conversation with his cousin. "Care to explain why you decided to butcher Mallard?"

Still nothing.

Both the A4's groaned, their patience was thin, battered by the cold. They weren't about to play the silent game. Edgar turned himself around, as did Quicksilver who watched as his brother bashed open the shed door to stare down a red faced and livid Scotsman. "What the fuck is the matter with you?!" Edgar howled, entering the shed despite his dominant's growing steam. "You've gone completely mad!"

"I thought you wanted your brother dead?" Scotsman hissed, his deflectors already locked forward in a defensive display. "He had Kestrel murdered!"

Edgar sat silent for a moment, Quicksilver still in the background intently listening to their exchange. The black A4 finally spoke, his tone solemn. "It wasn't Mallard…"

Scotsman froze but his anger never died. "Well then who the hell was it?!"

"Edgar, I don't think this is the best time for this." Quicksilver insisted from behind his brother who ignored his pleas.

"It was Sam."

Then Scotsman's demeanor changed, his eyes widened and he seemed to almost lose balance on his suspension. He shook himself, refusing to believe it. "No… no. Where did you hear this rumor?"

"It's no rumor," Quicksilver spoke softly. "I overheard his driver while he was having tea at one of the northern stations. Apparently he was feeling sore about the whole situation and decided to confide in a close friend to clear his conscience. He kept trying to justify it saying Kestrel was old, making up lies that he was actually assaulting Marilyn. It made me sick to hear it."

"Liar." Scotsman growled. A sound so guttural it rattled his throat.

Quicksilver stammered, caught off-guard by his superior's take on the news. "Why would we lie to you about this, Scot? What would we have to gain from defaming your son?"

Scotsman rolled forward, pushing up against Edgar who did well to hold the A3 back. "Mallard comes to me accusing Sam of assaulting and abusing his own sister and now you're telling me he's a murderer?! The boy is odd and aggressive but I will not stand to listen to such nonsense!" He shoved Edgar out of the shed and into Quicksilver and snarled. "Figure out whose side you're on unless you want to end up faceless and in a bloody heap like your worthless brother!"

Both the A4's collected themselves and stared at Scotsman, steam rolled steady from his nostrils and the corners of his curled lips, his eyes dark and full of ire. Quicksilver watched Edgar carefully, his black brother had taken on a more defensive stance and held Scotsman's searing gaze. The silver A4 decided he'd had enough, he tapped Edgar's tender and quietly whispered. "Let's leave him be," he said, ignoring Scotsman's growing smirk. "He's had enough trauma for one day. Let him settle."

"I'll never settle," Scotsman threatened. "Not ever again."

Edgar locked his jaw but did as his older brother suggested. The two bowed respectfully then slipped from the yard to let Scotsman brew in his anger. They hoped after some rest and time to reflect, the dominant male would come to his senses, but in reality that time alone would leave him to dig further into his belief that Sam was innocent.

Marilyn slipped out of Doncaster, repaired and heartbroken, her face soaked in fresh tears as she loudly sobbed her way onto the mainline and back towards London. She didn't even remember to switch on her lamps and barreled on in the darkness. The freezing air forced her to turn off towards her yard and waves of nausea struck her as the glowing lampposts surrounding the yard's walls came into view. Merilyn prayed quietly that her brother wasn't home. Much to her horror, he was already there waiting for her. She took a deep breath before crossing through the gate and forced a smile. "Hello, Sam."

"Hello, beautiful," he grumbled with a growing smirk. He took note of her tears but never acknowledged them.

Hearing her own brother address her as some sort of intimate partner and not his sibling made the young female sick. She tightened the lock on her undercarriage, hoping he wasn't about to keep her up all night yet again. "Did you hear the news?" Marilyn was desperate to break the one-sided sexual tension. "About Mallard…"

Sam's smirk only widened. "Yes I did. Glad to see our old man finally grew some bearings." His gaze then slithered over his sister's sleek build and he took disgruntled note of her distance from him. "Come to me."

Marilyn took a shaky inhale. "Sam… I'm so tired, maybe in the morning?"

The male growled and straightened himself tall on the tracks. "I wasn't asking."

His sister blinked away tears and reluctantly closed the gap between them, she closed her eyes once Sam's hot breath was able to touch her face. She didn't have to see him to know he had that disgusting grin as he began to drag his nose and lips across her cheeks and forehead. He then spoke softly into the side of her smokebox, his tone heavy with warning. "I suggest you swallow whatever love you had for those A4's quick, not unless you wish to join them in a shallow grave." He then lowered his mouth to her's before she could protest to initiate an aggressively deep kiss. She only kissed back so as to not anger Sam but allowed him to take the lead as he desired. Her undercarriage began to warm as his tongue twirled against her's and Marilyn cursed her body for its innate reaction.

Sam did eventually break the kiss once Marilyn loosened up and started to grind against him, he dragged his tongue out and spit clung between the small gap in their lips. He licked the mess up, his boiler rumbled in arousal. "Get inside."

Marily exhaled before she swiftly reversed into her side of their shed, she avoided her brother's eyes as he slinked towards her which she knew he wouldn't like, she simply couldn't help it until he grabbed her and huffed steam right at her. "Where are you supposed to look?" He demanded.

"At you, my dear." She stated in a way that seemed perfectly rehearsed. She forced her eyes up and she found him glaring at her while his pupils steadily dilated until all the white in his eyes were replaced with darkness. "Please forgive my mistake."

"I suppose I can considering exhaustion is drooping your entire face," he sounded put-off at the fact his toy was tired. There was certainly no sympathy to be found. "I'll put in the work tonight, but I expect you to make up for it handily tomorrow."

Marilyn nodded but didn't verbally respond, she then relaxed her body and allowed her brother to push her up to the stops. He traced his tongue along the edge of her face and slipped inside her while she was distracted by his mouth. The female winced and grit her teeth, the supple slide of his rod in and out of her was lost, it felt as if his length was wrapped in razor blades, ripping her from the inside out. She wanted to cry in pain, beg that he stop, but instead made a good show of moans and satisfied sighs simply to avoid angering her brother, but eventually the show exhausted her. She forced another kiss on him so she could use that as a reason to not vocalize, but he certainly did. Sam had proven to be just as vocal as Scotsman, groaning, grunting, and swearing loudly as he worked her over, oblivious to the pain he caused her until she reached her threshold, she began to sob and all at once screamed for him to stop. It startled the male and he froze mid thrust to look at his sister's contorted face. "What was that?!"

"You're hurting me!" She yelled through her bawling. "Stop it now! I can't take it anymore, I need to rest!"

Sam took pause, he watched the tears as they streamed down her flushed cheeks and decided to remove himself from her and looked down, his rod coated in a thin layer of fresh lube and blood. He growled in frustration. "I suppose you should have that checked. Go to Doncaster and be quick about it."

Marilyn wanted to snap at her brother for being so cruel and selfish, but she accepted the demand as a break and quickly moved past him, simply happy to be freed of him even if only for a short time.

Once the young female returned to Doncaster it was well past midnight yet Dirk was still at the first bay door ready to greet her though shocked to see her yet again. "What's happened now?" He asked quietly as he took her to an open ward still manned by an exhausted crew.

Marilyn bit her lip, embarrassed by her injury. "Well… I seem to have… strained myself— uhh… down there."

The little black tank engine blinked then understood. "Ohh! Okay, well let's have a look and see what we can do, yes?" He watched her settle into her spot as she eyed the workers warily. "There's nothing to be embarrassed of, dear. It happens to the best of us."

Marilyn smiled shyly as an engineer climbed into the dugout beneath her to inspect the damage. His flashlight could be seen between her spokes and he used his free hand to give her shut panel a gentle knock so she would know to open it. Once she did he let out a high whistle and gestured for a couple other engineers to join him. Once at his side they spoke softly, assessed the damage, and made sure to not touch her. The female looked to Dirk who was listening to the workers talk. "Is it bad?"

The tank engine smiled softly. "You'll need to lay off playtime for a few days, you have some tears that need to be fixed this evening, but aside from that you'll be fine." It was then he became curious. "Might I ask who caused you such damage?"

"You might," Marilyn said, but she looked away. "I won't tell you, though."

Dirk suddenly felt suspicious, he neared the youngling and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Did someone force themselves on you?"

"No!" Marilyn yelped all too quickly, she then winced when she felt a gloved hand over one of her lacerations. "No…" she repeated, slower.

The German engine's suspicions only grew. He sighed again. "You know… your mother came to me a few years ago with similar injuries," he paused to look at the female still dodging his eyes. "She was raped, can you look me in the eye and tell me that this isn't the same case?"

Marilyn then forced herself to lock her gaze with Dirk's. "I wasn't raped." She stated firmly.

He narrowed his eyes and moved for an engineer to grab tools from a nearby station. "Then tell me who did this."

"You'll judge me." She pressed.

"I won't," Dirk insisted. "I've seen many odd pairings over the years, been involved in a few myself," he paced around her then stopped just as he reached the middle of her boiler. He whispered. "Is it your brother?" The question caused her to tense up and he noticed. "Maybe you should ask your fellow to ease up." He'd returned to her front and held her eyes— he knew. "For your own well-being."

Marilyn nodded and winced as the men beneath her worked to patch up her injuries. "Please don't tell Scot."

"I won't," Dirk assured softly, then he moved closer to her, whispered in her ear. "Unless you show up to me in this condition again. Then I will report straight to him, understood?"

The young female nodded quickly. Dirk then seemed satisfied with that. He backed away and smiled. "If you need anything else don't hesitate to reach out."

Marilyn muttered a thank you and watched as the tank engine rolled out the rear entrance towards his covered siding. Once he was out of sight she closed her eyes and tried to contemplate how she would tell Sam she wasn't allowed to couple while she healed. She just knew he wouldn't take the news well.

Despite only requiring a few hours for repairs, Dirk had slipped word to Micah that Marilyn needed proper rest and she was kept in the steamworks for a second day to sleep and relax. The young engine greatly appreciated the break and even cracked a genuine smile for the first time in quite a while. She enjoyed watching the engineers chat and work, engines she'd never seen before would come in for maintenance and she would converse with them eagerly, though her day off seemed to truly brighten when a handsome blue A4 she had only ever seen in passing rolled in, she knew his name was Emerson if only from the murmurs of other engines. He steamed in wearing a small smile and kindly greeted a team of painters before being taken to a far corner of the yard that had been tarped off. She had never taken a good look at him before but he was mighty handsome, a gentler version of Flying Scotsman with a smile that could warm up a room, but his eyes seemed strangely empty, it puzzled her. She wanted to see more of him but he was hidden behind the opaque plastic for hours on end, though she patiently awaited his reappearance, curious as to what changes might've been made to his livery.

At some point in her waiting, Marilyn dozed off and completely missed when Emerson was discharged with his new paintwork, of course the female was disappointed, she wanted to see more of him, but soon it was her turn to be given the all-clear. Dirk was satisfied with the light that had returned to her after the extended nap and she was free to return to work though it was evening-time and there were no jobs remaining for her to complete that day. She decided to wander down to Victoria, hoping to maybe meet up with a friendly engine who wouldn't mind some casual conversation. She certainly wasn't about to return to her yard where she was certain Sam would be waiting.

When she pulled into the large terminal all was quiet, the last of the holiday decor had been cleared and the only light to be found inside were the lanterns and lampposts scattered throughout. It was eerie, yet better than what she would've gone home to. She sat in comfortable silence for some time, she noticed the snow had begun to melt in certain places. She breathed in deep the cold air and smiled at the way it burned her lungs. She quite liked it, but was excited to see all the beautiful pastels of spring. Upon her exhale she thought it sounded funny, like the whoosh of relief valves, she glanced next to her and felt her face grow hot at the sight of a stunning male painted in a glossy maroon finish with gold and silver hand-applied accents along his boiler. "Emerson?" She whispered.

The male hadn't noticed Marilyn yet, but when he heard his name he turned to look at her. "Yes?"

Marilyn fumbled and looked away, it was the first she'd ever spoken to him and his voice titillated her senses. "I'm sorry, I— I didn't mean to stare. I saw you come into Doncaster earlier today, but you were painted blue."

He blinked, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Yes, well, I figured it was time for a change… sort of." He narrowed his eyes at the pretty green female. He'd seen her before but couldn't recall her name. "I'm sorry… forgive me, but what's your—"

"Marilyn," she said quickly, still feeling quite embarrassed. "It's Marilyn."

"Oh! You're Scotsman and Meredith's daughter," he enthused. "I should've known, only those two could produce a lovely specimen such as yourself."

Marilyn's face grew brighter at his compliment. She wasn't expecting him to be so charming, it frightened her. "You're not so bad yourself," she whispered finally.

Emerson's smile grew as did a certain pressure between his wheels. He hooded his eyes and turned up the seduction. His fresh paint job left him with newfound confidence. "Not so bad, hm? Is not so bad enough for you to consider sharing a berth with me this evening?"

The female stiffened, completely surprised at the sudden switch, though not entirely put off by his bluntness. "And uhh— what exactly would your intentions be if I did accompany you?"

Emerson glanced around then leaned towards her. "You want me to be subtle or tell you straightforward?"

"Straightforward."

"I fully intend to put myself between those gorgeous wheels of yours and fuck you till daybreak."

Marilyn had suddenly forgotten how to speak, her own valves sputtered and sweat beaded down her face. "I— I'm supposed to refrain from that for a little while… I've injured myself." She internally cringed. What a stupid thing to say.

Emerson purred, undeterred by her admission. "Like it rough do ya?"

Marilyn couldn't help but smile though she kept her eyes low. "Occasionally…"

"Well, if that's the case, whenever you do heal up don't hesitate to reach out." Emerson, though disappointed, held onto the charm. He leaned close to breathe against her face. "I'd like to be the one to rough you up next time."

Marilyn mumbled a shaky okay, allowed herself another good look at his face. She wanted to kiss those luscious lips so badly she ran her tongue over hers and before he was able to depart she stopped him. "Wait!" She cried and quickly collected herself before looking too desperate. She cleared her throat and tried to appear indifferent. "You can't just leave me without some sort of parting gift."

"Parting gift?" Emerson chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"You expect me to hold myself out for you," Marilyn pushed, forcing down her shyness. "You have to at least give me a little hint that it will be worth the wait."

Emerson raised his brow and pondered the strange request then suddenly left the terminal and a rather confused Marilyn in a cloud of smoke and steam. The longer she sat, the angrier she became until a set of headlamps coming down the line distracted her. Once the light turned off she smiled wide, Emerson was only a few feet away from her, facing her on the same line. She grinned. "I like you even better from the front."

Emerson smirked and moved even closer until their buffer pads were flushed together. "So… about that gift."

Marilyn licked her lips again, he was so close, his breath warmed her cheeks, she was more than ready to taste him. "Yes," she sighed.

"Close your eyes."

The young female pinched her eyes shut and held her breath. She wanted to peek but fought the urge. Then something soft brushed her lips, she reacted quickly and parted them, giggling when she felt him fully push his own lips to her. The kiss at first was timid and superficial, but after a few moments of careful, playful pecking their mouths opened to fully embrace each other. Marilyn moaned low in her throat as his tongue explored her mouth, he tasted as sweet as he looked, like morning dew rested on the petals of a wildflower. She then wanted to ignore Dirk's orders, she wanted to take this new male and experience the whole of his strength, but fear for permanent damage held her back and once the wet kiss broke the both of them were breathless and hot. Marilyn smiled. "You'll wait for me too?"

"I'll count the seconds," Emerson cooed and he kissed her forehead.

Marilyn shut her eyes and savored the light tingling left on her face and lips as the male left her alone yet again, though her smile began to fade with him. She couldn't let herself fall in love… not again.