16 - Saved from Scrap
"Excuse me, are you Duck?" A voice called to him with a slight Australian accent.
Duck looked up from the tracks before him to gaze at an engine on the other track he had never seen before. At a glance, he could have mistaken it for Truro but on closer inspection, he recognised it as a Castle Class.
He put on his brightest grin and became excited. Castle Classes were a big deal on the GWR, one of their most successful engines and even said to outperform the Gresley A3s they worked so well.
"Why yes sir, I am Duck!" He introduced himself excitedly. "You're a castle class aren't you sir? I'm very pleased to meet you, sir!"
The engine chuckled. "Okay calm down there buddy, I'm not that big of a deal. Name's Pendennis Castle."
"You're the Pendennis Castle?" Duck suddenly shouted so loudly that he startled people on the platform. He ignored them and blushed a deep red, embarrassed by meeting another famous Great Western Engine.
"It's an honour to meet you, sir! I've always wanted to meet you, Truro speaks of you often and I hope that I made a first good impression and didn't come across as-" Duck ran his words together in a huge rush of word vomit to which Pendennis laughed at him.
"Alright! Alright! Just calm down, let some excess steam off there mate!" He advised and Duck let out a cloud of steam embarrassed.
"S- Sorry, I get carried away sometimes," Duck admitted embarrassed. "I'm just proud of being a Great Western sir."
"So you should be," Pendennis beamed at the little Pannier Tank. "And you don't have to call me sir. I'm not Truro."
"Sorry," Duck apologised.
"It's alright," Pendennis smiled before suddenly looking away nervously. "Uh, I know we only just met but I have a favour to ask of you Duck."
"Of course! Anything for a famous Great Western," Duck enthusiastically agreed but Pendennis gave a nervous laugh.
"Well, you might hate me for giving you this task after it's been and done but I can see why Truro speaks highly of you," Pendennis mused. "Are you up for possibly one of the most annoying and challenging tasks of your life?"
Duck raised an eyebrow but stared at the bigger engine curiously.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I need to leave an engine in your care," Pendennis explained. "She's brand new and she's uh, well let's just say she hasn't learnt the values of the Great Western Railway yet."
"There's a new Great Western Engine?" Duck asked, completely surprised.
"Yes, created a few years ago on Didcot Railway however she's never left said railway and requires some, breaking in shall we say? Do you think you could handle it?"
"I'll give it my best Castle," Duck declared and Pendennis gave him a nervous smile.
"Thank you, you're doing me a huge favour Duck," the castle class smiled. "And I'm sorry."
"It can't be that bad," Duck pointed out but Pendennis didn't look convinced.
"Just… try not to hate me five minutes in," was all he said, his face looking pensive and concerned.
After a few moments, an engine that Duck recognised as a Saint Class rolled up beside Pendennis Castle.
"Why can't I go with the others?" The engine snapped in a high-pitched childish tone. "I'm more important than Trojan or that fat, ugly engine!"
Pendennis scowled angrily.
"That is no way to speak about Tornado," he scolded angrily. "Tornado is your elder and it is the Great Western way to respect our elders young Lady!"
The Saint class just humphed childishly while Pendennis glared at her.
"Now, the Kings have entrusted you to me but I have things to attend to," Pendennis informed her. "Since you can't be trusted on your own I'm putting one of City of Truro's highly spoken engines in charge of you. He will show you what to do and you will obey him or the King Edwards will be displeased "
"I don't need a babysitter!" The engine snapped and looked down at Duck. "Especially not a little tank engine like that!"
"Now you listen here!" Duck snapped angrily at the engine. "I dunno who you are but you'll think twice about talking back to me now! Give me any more lip like that and I'll send you to the quarry to shunt coal trucks! Really! Do you call yourself a Great Western with that attitude? I have mind to send you to a shed and lock you in if you talk back to me again!"
Pendennis looked impressed while the Saint Class looked completely and utterly insulted.
"Maybe now you'll learn what it means to be a Great Western, Lady of Legend," Pendennis remarked sounding pleased with Duck's show of dominance. It didn't seem that the little engine was going to be pushed around as he fear. "I apologise Duck, the girl hasn't done a hard day's work in her life, she needs to learn but I think you can handle her yes?"
"I'll soon sort her out!" Duck said happily. "Sodor is the perfect place to break in a new steam engine!"
Lady of Legend looked appalled.
"You can't leave me here! I am a Lady! The Kings will complain!" She argued but Pendennis frowned.
"On the contrary, the Second was the one who ordered you to be sent to work," he said and Lady of Legend looked betrayed and insulted.
"But I am a show engine! I don't pull trucks or speak to the shunters!" Lady insisted causing Duck to raise an eyebrow. "Pendennis please!"
"Enough!" Pendennis barked. He looked to Duck. "I leave this engine in your capable buffers, Duck."
"Thank you, sir!" Duck called to the Engine as Pendennis slowly departed backing away.
Duck looked to the new engine, Lady of Legend who huffed angrily and pointedly avoided looking at the pannier. Duck glared at her.
Even at his worst, Gordon and his grumpiness was still miles above this newer engine's attitude.
"Call yourself a Great Western eh?" Duck scoffed at her. "You seem more like a spoilt brat to me. Great Westerns do not complain and they respect their peers. You'll soon come to learn that."
The engine still ignored him and Duck rolled his eyes.
This one would take some breaking in it seemed. That was fine, Duck told himself and then began to grin.
He did love a challenge.
"Um Sir Robert," Thomas asked the Earl as he came to pick the man up. "May I ask why there are all these strange engines up at the castle? Even Henry's brother went up there."
The Earl didn't answer for a while, his face set and pensive. Worry was written all over his face.
"Is everything alright sir?" Thomas asked concerned.
"I'm afraid not," the Earl said uncertainly. "There are many things not alright my dear Thomas."
"Anything I can do to help sir?"
"I'm afraid not," Sir Robert said grimly. "I do not want any Sudrian Engines damaged or hurt with the going on at the castle."
Thomas looked disheartened. The Earl turned towards him.
"But I want to help sir, I know that something is wrong and it's making me incredibly anxious sir," Thomas insisted. "I promised Gordon I would not interfere but it's eating away at me like a rust sir!"
Sir Robert gave Thomas a sympathetic but saddened smile.
"You're truly a kind soul Thomas, it's why everyone loves you around the world. However Gordon is right, you could get really hurt if you get involved. Hurt enough that you may be scrapped," the man said and Thomas's eyes widened in fright.
"Will- will the engines up there be alright?" He asked scared, almost like a child.
"I certainly hope so," the Earl wished. "But one can never know until fate arrives."
Thomas looked at him puzzled and was about to question him but the Earl had already begun to hope into Annie.
"Fast as you can to Ulfstead Castle if you please Thomas!" Sir Robert called and Thomas snapped out of his puzzled demeanour and became alert and confident.
"Yes sir, right away sir!"
Thomas pumped his pistons as hard as he could to get to the Castle, his wheels pounding the rails.
Even if he didn't know what was going on, he knew it was important and he knew that it was a very serious situation, whatever it was and the Earl was relying on him to get him there as fast as he could.
As he rolled into the station outside the Earl's estate he was surprised to find the man from the Museum waiting to meet them and a Green Saddle Tank that wasn't Percy.
The Earl thanked him and quickly left with Henry Stainer, talking to the man in hushed tones and with great urgency.
Thomas attempted to listen to them but the two men kept their secrets to themselves.
"You that famous tank engine that the kiddos like?" The green tank engine asked and Thomas looked over at him.
The engine sounded gruff and spoke with a thick Welsh accent.
"I am, I'm Thomas the Tank Engine!" Thomas said proudly. "The really useful engine!"
"Ah so you and your little green friend is the reason I keep getting called 'Percy' all the time," the engine said gruffly and Thomas blushed embarrassed.
"You do? I'm sorry about that it's not personal," Thomas apologised to the engine.
The engine just laughed. "Don't worry about it! It's funny seeing kids' faces when I'm not cute Lil Percy! Name's Trojan."
Thomas smiled at Trojan.
"It's nice to meet you, Trojan!" He said happily and Trojan grunted in reply.
He seemed to have a no-nonsense attitude and be a hardy engine, kind of like Duck. He wondered if the two were friends as he glanced at the words 'Great Western' painted over his 'saddle'.
"Um, Trojan, do you know what's happening up at the castle?" Thomas asked and Trojan looked at him puzzled.
"I'm not from around here so no, I don't," he huffed. "That Peppercorn lass had a mission and I get bored of Didcot sometimes you know?"
Thomas didn't know but he knew what he meant.
"There are times when I want to go beyond Sodor," he said quietly. "I love this place but sometimes, running the same lines every day gets boring you know?"
"At least you run lines, I only ever get to shunt or pull connections for the bigger engines," Trojan said. "You're very lucky. Very few tank engines have the privileges that you do."
"I know," Thomas assured the engine brightly. "I don't take it for granted."
He paused and looked away from Trojan.
"Any more at least," he mumbled to himself and Trojan gave a barking laugh.
"Sounds like you pissed off some other engines in your time huh?"
Thomas gave a mischievous grin.
"You could say that."
Trojan was about to speak again when the loud blast t of a whistle echoed through the station. The saddle tank groaned.
"Another of those bloody toasters!" Trojan groaned annoyed as a flash of silver glimmered in the distance.
"Toaster?" Thomas asked confused but then noticed the large silver engine pulling into the station. It was Spencer and he didn't look at all pleased or happy. In fact, he looked downright upset and depressed.
"Oi, you can clear off!" Trojan shouted at Spencer. "You toasters are nothing but bloody trouble! Get lost will ya!"
Spencer gave the Saddletank a glare but otherwise ignored him, his attention directed towards the passenger who was climbing off of his footplate.
The passenger wore a completely black casual suit and had bright red hair and a beard and was short and stocky. He had a grim expression and a proper demeanour like a lord or a railway director.
"North please, I'm begging you, reconsider," Spencer seemed to beg the man. "Think of your brother or Lady Olivia."
The man frowned at the Silver Engine who was looking desperate and concerned, something that Thomas had never seen before. His worry grew, something was going on and it was something very serious.
"Goodbye and thank you for being my friend, Silver Link," was all the man simply said before turning on his heel and walking away without even looking back.
"You're making a mistake Great Northern!" Spencer shouted at his back. "Please, come back!"
He was ignored and the man quickly disappeared up the path towards the castle.
"Silver Link?" Thomas asked confused.
"Great Northern? What do you mean Great Northern? That old rust bucket's been scrapped for over 50 years now," Trojan said looking at the silver engine confused. "Just what is going on you great silver toaster?"
Spencer said nothing, ignoring them, his eyes focused on where the man had gone an expression of deep sadness in his eyes.
"Spencer, what is going on?" Thomas asked, grabbing Spencer's attention. The big silver tender engine started at the little tank engine sadly before quickly looking away.
"I need to get back to the Duke and Duchess," was all he said before quickly departing, leaving Trojan and Thomas staring at one another.
Tornado stared pensively at Green Arrow as the humans buzzed around him with equipment, canisters of gold dust being mounted on him to protect him and big strong cables being fastened on to him to drag him out if the need occurred.
Her worry increased. What if this was to go wrong? What if Green Arrow was lost and he was damaged beyond repair by Mallard?
Mallard was so much large than Arrow, the A4 could seriously damage him.
"Wait stop," she called out to the men. "Don't, I don't want Arrow to do this. It's my plan, I should go instead."
Arrow looked over to Tornado. Her expression was completely distraught as the workmen paused what they were doing and stared up at her. The men then looked to Stainer and the Earl who were watching carefully.
"Tornado? Is something wrong?" Stainer asked.
"I- I don't feel comfortable with Arrow doing this, I want to do it myself!" Tornado insisted but she looked uncertain.
"Tornado, we've already made arrangements," Stainer said frustrated. "We have an entire Great Western Envoy. It's now or never. Truro will die if we don't act."
"But Arrow," Tornado looked at the smaller engine concerned. "I hurt him once before. I do not want my actions to hurt him again."
Arrow gazed back at the larger engine. He observed her for a while before speaking.
"You know, I don't have many friends, Tornado," he started and Tornado looked at him. "Even when my siblings were around, even while I worked the mainlines, I- I never really had any friends. I've always been a loner you know?"
Arrow gave a soft sigh and looked at his buffers.
"I never really cared for having friends. My siblings and I, just cared about our work, we didn't care for the other engines especially when those around us didn't care about us," he continued. "But when I became part of the museum and saw all these different engines, I wanted to befriend them but every time I tried I was always so… awkward and well I struggled. I really struggled Tornado. I just couldn't make any friends and I don't know why. I don't know what was wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you Arrow," Tornado tried to assure him but Arrow just stared at his buffers, a sense of deep sadness and hurt in his eyes.
"I was so lonely in rooms filled with people and engines," Arrow mumbled quietly. "But then I met Truro. He reached out to me one day. He saw that I was upset and just kind of befriended me. I don't know how or why but Truro was just, he was just there if I needed an ear or something."
Green Arrow stared at the ground tears burning in his eyes.
"He tried to help me befriend others but… but well it never worked. Except for Mallard. I talked to Mallard and he was friendly to me. I realise now he was just using me but… but please understand Tornado."
Green Arrow looked up and into Tornado's eyes.
"For the longest time, Truro was- is my only friend," Arrow said quietly. "Until I met you. I have to do this, Tornado. Truro was the first real friend I had. He made me feel like for once in my life I was actually worth something."
Tornado looked sadly at the paved ground around her, a deep sadness in her boiler. She had never heard Arrow be so honest, bare his soul so completely to her.
"I'm doing this for my friend, Tornado," Arrow said quietly. "I would never forgive myself if I didn't try. I would rather be hurt in the attempt than live with the guilt of doing nothing."
Tornado seemed to understand. She looked at her buffers.
"You've… never been that honest with me before," She said and Green Arrow gave a sad smile.
"I've never been that honest with anyone else before, not even Truro," Arrow explained. "It's always been hard for me to understand how I feel, let alone explain it to someone else."
"You trust me? Even after everything I did to you? After you burst your boiler?"
Green Arrow smiled. "Of course, I trust you Tornado. You're my closest friend, even, even if you're not ready to make up completely."
Tornado smiled sadly tears in her eyes.
"You better not get seriously hurt then," Tornado croaked. "Or I'll be really upset that we never got to."
Green Arrow gave Tornado a reassuring smile.
"I'll do my best, Young Iron," he said warmly. "I would hate to miss out on you growing up and experiencing the world."
Tornado gave a small half-hearted giggle.
"You make me sound like a child," she smiled, humour in her voice.
"Well, you're more like a teenager these days," Green Arrow mused and this time Tornado laughed.
"I guess that I technically am a teenager now if we go by human years," she giggled. "But seriously, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Please, please be okay Arrow."
"I will try my hardest, Tornado," Green Arrow said kindly. "You have my word."
Tornado smiled back but there was worry deep in her eyes. Green Arrow would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid.
There was a grand sense of dread and tension that hung over them. They heard the King Edwards arguing with each other over something but it was the least of their concerns right now.
"Do you think Mallard knows we're coming?" Tornado asked Arrow concerned.
"Without a doubt," Arrow said. "But I don't think he anticipated the Great Westerns."
"They're a funny lot," Tornado mused. "Pendennis and Truro seem so nice compared to the Twin Kings."
"Ah, that's because Pendennis and Truro have been away from that railway for a long time and have calmed down with the whole 'Great Western Way' thing," Arrow explained. "Stick around one of the Great Western Society's holdouts for long enough and you'll soon get a faceful of uptight perfectionism nonsense."
"I see," Tornado mused.
She glanced at the doors of the Castle's workshop nervously.
"I just hope we're in time to save Truro," she said and Green Arrow gazed shifted to the doors with her.
"We'll soon see Tornado."
"Gone?! What do you mean he's gone?!" Olivia snapped at her Doctor. "He was unconscious!"
"Yes, ma'am but when his nurse went to check on him his bed was gone and all the observation equipment was turned off!" Doctor Hendrick spluttered putting his arms up.
Olivia wanted to punch something, anything. First North had up and disappeared without a trace but now Flying Scotsman had simply gone now too.
She turned away from Hendrick and stared out of the window at the engine sheds. Her mind wandered to Gordon and speculation began to brew in her mind.
"Flying Scotsman?"
City of Truro was confused. The famous engine had been brought by Alan Pegler. He was now a private engine, no longer under the tyrannical grip of British Railways.
So why was he sitting in Barry's scrapyard with no tenders?
The engine looked frightened and terrified. There was none of that ridiculous pomp and circumstance of the LNER engines. No yelling at Truro or calling him an outdated piece of scrap.
They weren't friends. Most definitely not.
Truro hated the Scotsman with a burning passion. The young foolish upstart had dared to take his record from him. His record! He was the first engine to go 100mph, not this hideous galloping sausage!
His attention turned back to the Scotsman who was whimpering and crying as quietly as he could. The City of Truro approached him hesitantly.
Although he did not like the engine, it was clear that the Scotsman was in distress.
"Flying Scotsman?" Truro asked again and this time the A3 Pacific glanced at him.
"I always knew it was too good to be true!" Scotsman choked. "I knew it ever since Saint Mungo was sent for scrap it was only a matter of time before I was too!"
Truro frowned. The A1 Peppercorn was supposed to have been preserved. He hadn't and the poor young engine was dragged screaming and shrieking into the scrapyards.
It had been truly despicable how the poor thing had been treated. Saint Mungo hadn't been privately owned, however.
"You are privately owned," Truro pointed out. "I doubt Mr Pegler would be pleased if his prized engine was accidentally scrapped."
Scotsman ignored him.
"You'll get your wish I guess," Scotsman said bitterly. "Soon I won't even be around to defend my 100mph run. You win. How grand for you."
Truro frowned. "Do not joke about such things," he said sternly. "Our argument and hatred for one another is nothing compared to the threat of scrapping."
"Don't pretend to care about me Western!" Scotsman shouted at him angrily. "You would like nothing more than to see me smelted down to molten iron!"
"I wish for no such thing!" The City of Truro snapped. "I do not like you! I think you are a stupid, arrogant and completely idiotic engine yes! But I do not want any engine to be scrapped!"
"Yes, you would! You've done nothing but try to slander my name, you filthy Great Western!" Scotsman hissed angrily. "You've said it yourself in the past! That I would be more useful if I was melted down and turned into railway tracks!"
"I do not care about a stupid record when another engine's life is on the line!" Truro snarled. "An engine's life is more important than a record Flying Scotsman! That includes yours!"
Flying Scotsman glared at the smaller engine who simply matched his glare and stared back at him.
"If you're quite done being a ridiculous fool, I intend to pull you out of this scrapyard and take you back to your owner," Truro declared, his angry gaze never leaving the big A3 Pacific who just gazed at him, his cheeks stained wet with tears.
Truro moved tracks to couple the engine to him. He coupled the front of the engine and began to pull him out of the scrapyard silently. Scotsman said nothing, avoiding the gaze of his sworn enemy. The Scotsman was surprisingly a lot lighter than he thought that he would be.
For a little while, they travelled in complete silence, the awkward tension between the two vicious rivals until they stopped near a signal box in Barry where Truro's driver went to talk to the signalman.
Wanting to break the awkward silence, Truro voiced a concern.
"Just how did you get this far West anyway?" He asked genuinely confused. "Wales is too far a place to come here by accident. Cardiff is too far South for a LNER engine like yourself to accidentally be misplaced."
Scotsman looked away, a look of fear flashed in his eyes.
"Someone stole my tenders and dragged me here," he croaked out trying to hide his fear. "I don't know who it was, they dragged me backwards the entire time… I- I think someone wants me dead. I- I actually thought it was you."
Truro looked extremely offended.
"Me? Me!" Truro snapped insulted. "The very nerve of you to think I would do something so reprehensible!"
"I couldn't think of anyone else who hated me so greatly!" Scotsman defended. "Except my older brother but… look I don't know! I'm scared alright! Someone stole me from Mr Pegler and tried to have me scrapped! So forgive me for jumping to conclusions!"
Truro paused and observed the bigger engine. He was desperately trying not to cry and he looked shaken up and terrified beyond belief. It was a side to the engine that Truro guessed people rarely ever saw.
"I would not do something so horrid," Truro assured the other engine calmly. "I know we have our differences, our problems with each other but even then, I would never do something so vile as this. I pride myself on being an honest and faithful engine as is the Great Western Way."
Scotsman just stared at the ground hopelessly. He was clearly distressed.
"Who cares about the Great Western Way? Who even cares about the LNER or even the LMS right now?" Scotsman said bitterly. "Entire classes of engines are going extinct left and right, what's the point? I got sent for scrap, despite my record, despite being Sir Gresley's favourite! We all worked our hardest but… we're all going to die anyway!"
Truro was shocked. He'd heard some of the other engines say the same things but from the LNER's poster child, their golden calf, it somehow suddenly hit him all at once.
"I believe…" Truro ventured. "That there is hope."
"There isn't any," Scotsman said coldly. "Don't be stupid Great Western. Open your damn eyes."
"My name is Truro."
"Whatever."
"You were saved by people who loved you and wanted to save you. Your LNER saved me when my own railway didn't want to 'waste money'," Truro smiled. "There are humans out there who respect us and want to save us."
"Where were they when my brothers and sisters died? Or when the Peppercorns became extinct!" Scotsman snapped. "Why can't you see what's happening to us Great Western!"
"Truro," the engine insisted. "My name is Truro."
"SHUT UP!" Scotsman suddenly shouted his voice ringing through the nearby trees. "SHUT UP DAMN YOU!"
Silence fell around them as Scotsman desperately held back his tears but failed miserably. He began sobbing, frightened and scared like a child.
"Just… take me back to the scrapyard where I belong," Scotsman whimpered in a quiet voice.
"No, I'm not going to do that," Truro declared quietly. "I'll take you to Swindon and ask the museum owners to shelter you there if I have to."
The Flying Scotsman said nothing, he just continued to avoid Truro's gaze.
"As much as I dislike you," Truro stated. "It's clear that you have people who adore and love you. You are an important piece of history, not just for the LNER but I think railways across the world. It would truly be a shame if you were to be lost."
Scotsman hesitantly looked at Truro who was giving him a small genuine smile. Scotsman just gazed at his buffers, unable to think of something to respond with.
The two engines sat silently until Truro's driver came back.
"Pegler's furious that Scotsman was taken from his sheds," he said to the two engines. "We'll take Scotsman to Swindon and Pegler himself will come down to meet him."
"Do they know who stole Scotsman?" Truro asked. His driver frowned.
"They don't know for sure but it's a bit suspicious that Mallard suddenly had the extra tender that Pegler build for Scotsman," the man said and Scotsman began scowling angrily. "Mallard says he found it in a siding but others are not so sure."
"That greedy, arrogant, nasty brute of an engine!" He spat angrily. "He was mocking engines that were sent to the scrapyard! He was practically gleeful that my siblings were sent for scrap! It was him who sent me here! It must have been him! He's always been nasty towards me, calling me useless and insulting everything I do!"
Scotsman had no steam but Truro knew that if he did he would be fuming and hissing steam to no end.
"Mallard," Truro mused. "A very unpleasant engine from what I have seen."
"He cares for nothing except his ridiculous record!" Scotsman hissed and Truro smirked at the irony there.
"Much like you and I with our arguments?"
Scotsman froze and looked back at Truro. He wanted to argue otherwise but knew he couldn't.
"Well…uh… I guess you could say that," Scotsman mumbled his face flushing red.
"It's gotten old by now, I'm sure the other engines are tired of us arguing," Truro pointed out. "In light of what has happened, shall we agree to stop such pointless arguments as there are more important things in the world? It does not mean we have to be friends but… I would like to put to rest our differences. No matter what we say, there will still always be people who argue in our favour anyway."
Scotsman stared at his buffers for the longest time before looking back up at Truro with a nervous smile.
"Alright," he said awkwardly. "Lest we end up like Mallard."
"A fate truly worse than death," Truro remarked and Scotsman fought back the urge to snort laughter.
Flying Scotsman jolted awake as he felt someone poking him in the ribs. He looked up to find a well-dressed lady sitting next to him on the train seat trying to rouse him.
"We're almost at Vicarstown dearest Scotsman," she said with a kind smile.
He sat up, pushing himself off the wall of the carriage he was leaning against.
It was a curious experience, being a passenger on his own train. Braunton had been the one pulling the train, he'd wanted to say hello but Lady had advised against it, saying he might be recognised.
He glanced at Lady who was gently helping him sit up. Her presence was warm and it filled him with strength, her Gold Dust wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. It had eased him into another sleep where his memories came to the forefront.
"Is that your doing?" He asked the woman. "My memories of Truro and the scrapyard?"
Lady shook her head.
"You're worried about him," she said. "Inevitably you will dream of those you worry for the most. But it may also be Truro calling out to you."
Scotsman gazed at her confused.
"Calling to me?"
"Truro's connection to Gold Dust is stronger than most, much like yours," she explained. "That and the both of you care and love so deeply for one another. A deeper connection between you means that no distance will ever separate your souls."
Scotsman smiled slightly.
"He is everything to me," he said softly. "We've been through hell and back together."
"I know," Lady smiled admiringly. "Every time you talk about him, you smile."
"He makes me happy," Scotsman said simply. He looked out of the window beside him as the train began to slow, seeing the roofs and buildings of Vicarstown begin to appear.
"I want to save Truro but North if I can too," he muttered and Lady nodded at him.
"We can only do our best Flying Scotsman," Lady assured him. "That is all we can ever do in the end."
~For updates, extra lore or to ask questions or discuss the fic, you can find me on tumblr at tornadoyoungiron or on twitter as BakunawaArt.