Hayden stepped through the front door of Marjorie's on-sight quarters and was met with a warming and heavenly scent. He dropped his keys on the table set beside the door and hung up his coat. "What on earth are you cooking?" He called from the entryway. He noted a pair of dusty work boots on the tile next to the coat rack that were much too big to be the little woman's. "It smells delightful!"

"Chicken an dumplin's!" Marjorie called from the kitchen. "It's my Grama's recipe though I've not quite got it on lock just yet."

Hayden sauntered through the floral-clad living room and into the open dining room and kitchen area where he saw Marjorie and another bearded man he'd never met before. "Oh! Hello there."

"Evenin'," the strange man grunted. He stood from his spot at the dark wood table and approached Hayden with his hand outstretched to shake. "You must be the Brit I've heard so much about."

"Yes…" Hayden didn't like being called a 'Brit' but took the man's hand and gave it a single curt shake. "Hayden Jameson, pleased to meet you."

"Brett," he responded, smiling finally. It was obscured by his dark scraggly beard but was evident in his eyes. Suddenly he didn't seem so harsh.

Marjorie walked over and put her hands on Brett's shoulders. "This is my brother," she said with a gleeful grin. "He's an engineer as well, but he's actually allowed to drive the engines. I just get to tend to them like their personal therapist slash secretary."

"Oh so you drive?" Hayden sat across from Marjorie's brother and rested his elbows on the table.

"Occasionally," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm very hands on so I prefer stickin' to the shop, but sometimes shit gets so busy they've gotta pull me for travel." It was easy to tell the man preferred dirty work. His hair was shiny from a fresh shower, his clothes clean and stain free, but his sun-wrinkled skin suggested a hard worker, his hands permanently dark at his fingertips from years of exposure to oil and grease. He was built with strong, wide shoulders and round belly. Hard to imagine his relation to a woman as lithe and delicate as Marjorie.

The aforementioned had returned to the stove to check her dumplings and to pull the chicken from the oven. She was dressed comfortably in house shoes and robe, her hair up in curlers, face makeup free. It was the most casual Hayden had ever seen her but he quickly returned his attention to Brett who had already diverted his own gaze to a piece of newsprint on the table. He decided to make friendly with the new acquaintance. "Do you have an assigned locomotive?"

"Huh? Oh, no," the man flicked the newspaper as it had started to sag in his hands. "We tend to stick with one type either diesel or steam, but we rotate who we work with."

"It's safer that way," Marjorie added, she was tearing the chicken with a fork while the broth bubbled beside her. "We can't have them getting used to whoever is at their controls. They become reckless when comfortable."

"I suppose that makes sense," it made too much sense and suddenly Hayden began to think how he could implement that concept on the LNER. "How often do your engines run off on you?"

"Never," Brett stated with a bemused snort. "When they're on the clock they mean business," he glanced to his sister and smirked. "Most of them."

"I assume you're inferring about Jimmy?" Hayden inquired with a tilt of his head.

Marjorie nodded. "Like I've told you before, he's a lot like your Flying Scotsman. Independent and demanding. He doesn't do well with being ordered around." She stuck a spoon in the broth as it had begun to thicken and tasted it, her eyes widened. "Where did Meredith end up turnin' in for the night?"

Hayden poured himself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher already set at the table and took a sip, smacking his lips. "That roundhouse by the depot I think."

The American engineers exchanged a wary glance, Marjorie couldn't help but giggle. "That can't be good." She watched Hayden stop mid-drink and raise his brow in question. "That's where all the playboys stay when they're in town."

Hayden swallowed and when he spoke his voice was pitched awkwardly. "Your… playboys?"

"We call it The House of Sin," Brett chuckled. "That little tank engine of yours might not make it through the night in one piece."

The English controller swallowed again as Marjorie placed steaming hot bowls in front of him and Brett then set one down for herself beside him. "Do I need to move her?"

"Nah, she'll be fine," Marjorie sat down after passing out the silverware and napkins. She took a bite then chipmunked it in her cheek to keep talking. "I saw how she took Silas yesterday. I understand why she's the favorite on your line."

Hayden frowned as he took a bite of his food, then he frowned even harder. "I resent that statement," he said, waving his spoon, his voice muffled. "And this is delicious."

Brett and Marjorie both laughed and the rest of dinner was spent discussing less graphic topics of the railway. Brett detailed his work as one of the railway's travel mechanics which was his main job when he wasn't caught up driving an engine. Essentially he would be called out anytime there was a major break-down on a line and the locomotive was stuck in place. His job was to repair the engine enough for it to limp to the nearest steamworks where the issue could be mended properly. While he could work on both diesel and steam, he showed great favoritism towards steam engines, particularly articulated steamers. The mention of that preference resulted in a solemn change of tone when he spoke of the Erie Railroad's Triplexes, a sibling set of steamers which boasted three sets of eight coupled drivers. The idea behind them looked great on paper, but their construction was not well thought out and their boilers were much too small to provide proper power to all their drivers. Brett was brought in to assist in scrapping the last of the siblings in 1933 during his first year as an apprentice. It was his first time seeing an articulated steam engine and since he'd kept a soft spot in his heart for them.

"That was the hardest job I've ever done," Brett said, scraping his spoon over the bottom of the bowl sadly. "We were able to euthanize him before the process of breaking him down but I'll never forget the way he looked at me. It was the first time I'd seen an engine cry. I didn't know they could." He sighed, dropping his shoulders. "In a way it was an act of mercy, I guess. They spent most of their time in lonely sheds, they were too slow, no one wanted to run them, but even still you could tell he knew what was happening before we'd put the mask on."

Hayden had cleared his plate and pushed it aside, his hands were interlaced over his mouth and he stared at the grain in the table with more focus than necessary. "How do you euthanize an engine?"

"There's several ways to do it," Brett set his spoon down and wiped his hands. Marjorie remained silent the entire time. She didn't like speaking of those topics. "The most brutal is to just cut into them and let them die naturally. Some smelters prefer captive piston bolts like those used for livestock, though they're much bigger and require two people to handle. I've seen the bolt used and it's about as ugly as it sounds, sometimes it doesn't even work the first shot and they have to fire it a second or even a third time." Hayden covered his eyes and winced as he felt his throat grow tight. He hated the sound of that. Brett looked down at his hands in his lap and exhaled long and deep. "My preferred method is using the mask that I mentioned earlier. It covers their face and nose and sucks all the oxygen from their lungs after a small dose of laughing gas makes them loopy. It's the least painful, the cleanest, and the quickest."

"Humane suffocation?"

Brett nodded, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "While it's painful to watch, I insist on being present for as many euthanizations as possible. Smelters don't like when I show up, it means they'll have to treat their prospect with a bit of humanity."

"Okay, okay," Marjorie threw up her hands. "Can we change the subject please? I'll pass from heartbreak if we don't."

The young controller was eager to shift the topic and faced the woman. "Who all is housed at Cheyenne?"

She grinned. "Well we've got Jimmy, his brothers August and Dallas, they all call him Chief—"

"Then the Challenger triplets," Brett finished, a smile adorned his features once more. "Silas, Joey, and their sister, Abigayle. She's the only female Challenger on the railway."

"She's a loaded pistol too, one of Jimmy's favorite flings." Marjorie's smirk dropped. "It might be best we keep her and Meredith separate considering Jimmy's newfound interest in your little engine. Abby's a bit jealous."

"She's a bitch," Brett stated plainly.

Hayden sighed. "Great," he slumped back in his chair. In that moment all he could think about was Ellis. His body shuddered. He quietly prayed Abby would be nothing like her.

A new morning sun crested the horizon, a lone steam engine chuffed the mainline, his dark smoke trailed high above his glimmering body. It was Sam and he was already en route to his first stop at Liverpool. Though his flat affect suggested boredom, he quite enjoyed his early runs. Very little noise as the world was still waking up and there were no other engines around to bother him with droning conversation. His sharp eyes watched the suburbs as he passed by. Cars could be seen sputtering to life as adults prepared for work and their children were out walking to school. He snorted steam at the mundanity of it all before he turned off the line towards his destination.

He groaned low in his throat when he saw Kjell was sitting at the platform beside his with those fancy coaches at the Lime Street terminal. Sam could hardly stomach the perky Swede, sharing a livery with the sod didn't sit well with him either.

"God morgon, Sam!" Kjell called with a slight bounce. He knew the newest male detested him, but he still was insistent in his attempt to make nice. "You look smart! Did you have a polish?"

Sam ground his teeth and sighed. "I did earlier this week, yes."

"I can see it!" Kjell enthused, his smile was wide but he felt himself shrinking under Sam's cold glare. "Running just passengers today, yes?"

"Yes."

"How nice! It's a shame seeing someone such as you being forced to do the dirty work," the Swedish engine was trying so hard to be friendly, but it seemed the more he talked the angrier Sam appeared. "I— I'm sorry…" he looked away and sighed.

Sam huffed, he could feel his coaches' weight begin to shift as passengers boarded. "I don't mind the small talk but please don't flirt with me."

"Oh!" Kjell gasped, his cheeks flushed and he began to stammer. "I'm not— no! I'm sorry… I'm just being kind. I mean— you're a handsome engine but I— okay… sorry." He lowered his gaze and bit his lip. He'd never been so embarrassed.

Sam let a smirk twitch his lips for a brief moment. He released his valves with a chuckle. "Best you stick with that Emerson fellow. He'll at least leave you in one piece."

The Swedish engine lifted his gaze as Sam started up with a blast on his whistle. He swallowed nervously. He didn't like Sam's tone in his last statement, it felt too much like a threat and suddenly he found himself feeling wildly uneasy. He decided then it was best to keep the chatter with Sam to a dead minimum.

Once departed from Liverpool, Sam powered on towards Doncaster, his coaches full of passengers. He hated them. They cooed at him like some sort of newborn, talking about his 'pretty paint' like he was an infantile being incapable of complex thought. He cursed his paintwork, he matched that Kjell, and he matched Meredith. He looked soft like them while his sister was a proud BR Green, an engine worthy of respect from look alone. He brooded over his appearance until he slid to a startling halt at Doncaster's little terminal where, coincidentally, Flying Scotsman was parked on a siding overcome with boredom.

"What's got you so cross?" The A3 observed of the young engine.

"My paint," Sam groaned, pouting like the youngling many forgot he was. "I feel like some worthless ornament and not a proper engine with this sparkling getup."

Scotsman's gaze hardened more. "You should consider yourself privileged to be able to wear such a color."

Sam rolled his eyes, he didn't like the parental tone Scotsman took with him. "You just like it because of that little whore tank engine you're fucking."

Scotsman's firebox blasted to life, his throat burned from the influx of blazing fire. He rolled up into Sam's face in a flash of sparks and hot smoke. "You listen here you ungrateful little shit, you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Meredith or me and while she may be interested in making some sort of relationship with you, I am not. So do not get comfortable with me, and do not speak of her like that again otherwise I'll reduce you to a pile of scrap! Understood?"

"You like to think you're tough, huh?" Sam mocked with an unwavering grin. A crowd had gathered at the platform, everyone was puzzled over why two engines were facing each other and why Scotsman looked the way he did. It wasn't often every day people saw a locomotive completely unraveled and feral.

The young engine glanced to the side at the people then back to Scotsman's scalding gaze. "The worst I can see you doing is fucking me on a siding with no foreplay and calling that punishment."

That curt accusation was the last straw. Scotsman's eyes lit up with fire, he snatched Sam's buffers, snapped them off with a snarl and threw the young engine onto his side. Sam's couplings cracked, the coaches he was pulling rocked violently but after a few precarious tilts on the tracks they settled as they were. Sam breathed blazing steam, he tried to wiggle himself upright but Scotsman was able to reach him and hold him down with his fender. He smiled a vicious smile, ignoring the terrified screams at the platform behind him. "Boy, you're not even worthy of the spit in my mouth, let alone the lube in my rod."

"I swear to fucking God!"

Hayden slammed the phone to the receiver, turning immediately to the wall and giving it a solid punch. He recoiled back as his arm radiated hot pain and he waved his hand, attempting to shake the discomfort.

"Hey hey!" Marjorie had just come into the office in her regular engineer's getup (overalls, boots, and a t-shirt). She grabbed Hayden's shoulders and set him down into a creaky leather chair in front of her desk. She glanced at the hole in the drywall and sighed. "What the hell happened?!"

"Flying Scotsman," Hayden sighed as he looked over his newly bruised knuckles. "He attacked Sam; nothing major but Sam was still coupled to his coaches. Scot knocked him onto his side, nearly taking the coaches with him."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Only Sam, and I think his pride is more damaged than anything." Hayden dropped his head in his hands. He felt on the verge of tears. "I should have brought Scot with us. I knew how much he hated Sam and Marilyn, but I thought he would've been able to behave himself better."

Marjorie rubbed her guest's back as she pondered what to do. She glanced around the humble office and nothing stuck out to her until she laid eyes on Meredith's file. "C'mon," she slipped her arm under his and yanked him from the chair. "Let's go find Mer."

The two crossed the stockyard from the Cheyenne depot. They spotted Jimmy and Chief talking quietly as they were being washed down and inspected. Marjorie waved hello to them and they returned the greeting with enthusiasm. She then inquired where Meredith was, Jimmy quickly answered that she was being cleaned over by the roundhouse with Silas and Joey who were preparing to deliver heavy freight to Texas later that week.

Hayden stumbled along where Marjorie traversed with ease as they approached the roundhouse. They found Meredith between the two Challengers talking casually in the shade of the building and the little engine was giggling as they quietly buttered her up for another long night. She was the first to notice the humans approach and she smiled but it dropped almost immediately when she took note of Hayden's harsh frown. "What happened?"

"If you want to follow us, we have a phone call to make." Marjorie maintained her pep if only to keep the engines around her relaxed. "Gentlemen," she bowed to the Challengers, they returned the gesture.

The humans waited for Meredith to be rinsed off and then led her to a siding out of the way of the main passenger line. Hayden was still clueless until Marjorie approached a singular phone perched at the end of the spur and held it out to him. "Call your railway, tell them to bring Scot to the phone."

He took the handheld with slight apprehension while Meredith chuffed up behind him, her boiler bubbled when she heard she might get to talk to her lover. The controller looked back at his engine and sighed when he saw how giddy she was. He dialed the operator, gave her the number for Victoria's shunting yard. When the yardmaster picked up Hayden asked him to call for Flying Scotsman. The man on the other line was a bit confused but did as his controller asked him. There was a pause of several minutes then the line picked up again.

"Here he is." There was a shuffle and Hayden could hear his engine's relief valves hiss by the receiver. He held up the phone to Meredith and nodded. The little engine hesitated.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my darling."

Meredith's heart nearly beat out of her throat, tears welled in her eyes. Hearing his voice made her forget about all the lustful Americans. She only wanted Scot at that moment. "Are you okay? I heard you got into a bit of trouble when I left."

"It's nothing to worry about," the pain in his voice was apparent, but so was the smile. "How are you? Are you comfortable? Are the other engines treating you well?"

Meredith giggled. "Well, they've certainly been—" she glanced to Hayden who raised his brow. "They've been welcoming, yes."

"Not too welcoming, I hope." He laughed which made Meredith relax.

"Of course not… I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"I love you."

"And I love you."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Eventually, when you're home."

Meredith paused. There was something about his voice, something in his tone. He knew about Mallard. "Scot… about Mallard, I—"

"I'd really rather you not talk about him, okay?"

"Okay…" There was a deep inhale on the other end and Meredith's throat tightened. He was mad. "Scot…"

"My love, I'm trying so hard not to yell, please don't…" The little engine blinked away tears, she heard him shuffle on the tracks, he was livid. "I just— dammit, Meredith, I thought I could trust you! I thought— Jesus, I thought you were smarter than that."

She stayed quiet, Hayden and Marjorie exchanged a glance and Jimmy had just rolled up beside her, his brow furrowed. He heard Scotsman scolding her and he didn't like it.

Scotsman sighed again. "I still love you, more than I should probably, but I need some time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to forgive you."

"Okay…"

"Be good, my darling, we'll talk again soon. I love you."

"I love you too…" Meredith whispered then Hayden hung up the phone. She sniffed and bit her lip, lifting her eyes to look at the man and woman before her. "Thank you for that."

Hayden reached up and patted her cheek, smiling softly. He could see the regret in her eyes, she sagged on her suspension. It was her own doing that led her to that horrible feeling, but he still felt sorry for her. Then he glanced up to Jimmy, he was shocked to see the large engine appeared to be irritated. "Something wrong?"

"I was about to ask her that," he said, moving his gaze to the little engine. "Baby doll, do I need to straighten someone out for ya?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, just a lovers quarrel."

"Hmph," the Big Boy wasn't satisfied with that answer though he decided to hold off on interrogating her. Instead he watched her reverse back down the spur and away from everyone. She was going to find somewhere to hide and cry on her own.

Flying Scotsman stared at the little phone with enough hatred the metal should have crumpled under its weight. The yardmaster had gone back to his office and left the engine to brood alone in the evening's grasp. He began to grind his teeth, his boiler growled angrily. The engine didn't know what to do. Hearing her voice after several weeks was like an unexpectedly sweet treat, but she had to go and mention Mallard and the whole experience soured on his tongue. He was overcome with the urge to find that bastard A4 again and beat the oil out of him, but did well to keep still. The male knew if he moved he would do something stupid so instead he sat there for over an hour, until the sun was well and gone from above the horizon. When he finally decided to relent and retire to his shed, the breeze brought in a familiar scent. His eyes shot upward towards the front of the yard and a set of pistons pumping towards him. "What are you doing here?"

Gordon rolled through the gates looking unimpressed by his brother's defensive tone. He rolled his eyes and kept moving. "Making a late night call, I'm sure you're well familiar with those."

Scotsman growled, he backed down the siding and advanced his brother. "I don't recall permitting you back on my railway."

"And I don't recall needing your permission," Gordon shot back, he stopped just before a switch in the tracks where his brother could easily come face-to-face with him. "It's a bit late for you to be out. Figured you'd be in your shed with Meredith."

"She's on a lease with Mister Jameson. She's in America."

Gordon couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe those oversized brutes will rough her up a bit, teach her some manners."

Twice. Twice in one day Meredith was disrespected by some salty male. Twice Scotsman's boiler pressure about blew his valves. He took a steadying breath, upon exhale released a startling amount of steam that burned his throat. He needed to do something fast before anymore engines got the idea that they could undermine him without consequence. The engine realized in that exchange that he had become too soft, he'd lessened his grip on his railway, but not anymore. No more idle threats, and no more mercy. "Get out." He hissed.

"Please," Gordon huffed indignantly and continued on. "Enough with the dramatics."

Scotsman was quick, he slipped the switch and bashed right into Gordon, he put himself in his older brother's face, their noses touched. "I'm not being dramatic," he growled. "Leave my railway now!"

The Sudrian engine locked his jaw, narrowing his eyes to read his brother's expression. There was genuine hate crackling in his eyes, the sparks in his smoke box visible in their blackness. "I don't even know who you are anymore." He remarked, backing away slowly.

"I'll tell you who I am," his brother spit, each syllable laced with deadly venom. "I'm The Flying Scotsman and if you dare show your face on my railway again I'll be your Grim Reaper."

Pretty Katydid;

So Scot has officially cracked, he's now unafraid to kill his own brother! Huzzah!

Also I'm glad that raunchy scene at the roundhouse tickled your particular fancy! It was a slightly difficult thing for me to write because I just didn't want to be too gross about it. I aim to be incomparable so I feel a little bit of satisfaction knowing you weren't able to come up with a paralleling scenario. Hehe

I also wanted to mention something about this installment specifically. It's going to detail the more animalistic side of my engines through the Americans including little quirks and 'customs' that they have. The little bow with Marjorie was one of them which is similar to when a cat blinks at you, if an engine respects you or feels safe around you he/she will give a little 'bow.' On a railway where engines are respected it's practiced, but somewhere like Sodor or the LNER it isn't often seen. I also hinted at another bit that they're very in-tuned to their people's emotions which is why Marjorie did well to maintain a calm, perky demeanor around the Challengers. It's also why Meredith can basically read Hayden's thoughts with only a weird glance from him. There's more but I'm sure you'll notice them as you go on! If only Edward could have joined Hayden, I'm sure he would appreciate seeing locomotives acting more 'natural,' less trained and restricted.

Anywho, thank y'all for all the support! I'll be seeing y'all in the next chapter!

Much love!

Bumble