The day of Kestrel's burial was stormy and frigid, Hayden once again shut the LNER down to give his brothers and friends a chance to mourn without the weight of labor. None of the regular passengers fussed over the inconvenience, word quickly passed of one of the resident engine's untimely demise and they were understanding. The burial itself was quiet, no one hardly moved as his body, freshly polished and repainted, was lowered into a deep pit dug out beside the barn. Hayden and the rest of the LNER's administrative personnel were there as well as Marjorie, Alex, and Kenneth all dressed in their very best mourning dress. The rest of the usual A4's— including a few new faces— all lined the track to watch the hole be covered with dirt that had quickly turned to mud. It was the first time anyone had seen Bittern cry, despite the downpour and his stern aspect his tears were unmistakable. Gannet was the only one to acknowledge his older brother's visible grief and leaned against him, which only made Bittern's tears flow heavier.

Once it was all over and his body was completely covered most of the engines went their separate ways other than a select few who hung around in silence. Hayden tried to encourage them to return to their sheds to rest and seek shelter from the rain, but they never budged, so he left them to process on their own and returned to his flat with Alex, Kenneth, Edward, and Marjorie for dinner.

"This is insanity," the young controller had said as he threw his drenched trench coat over the rack beside his front door. "How am I supposed to have my engines trust me again after this?" He pulled a chair out from under the dining room table and slouched down in it.

"They're resilient creatures," Edward assured as he took a place across from his controller. "Just give them space for now and let them work."

Marjorie leaned against the kitchen counter beside Alex. "They'll find plenty of comfort in each other, you'd be surprised how quickly they can bounce back. They grieve hard, but not for long."

"I'm more or less worried about how they'll look at me considering it was my choice to keep Mallard alive. It's blatantly obvious he has something to do with this." Hayden crossed his arms over his chest and let out a rather juvenile exhale. "I should've scrapped that bastard long ago." He glanced to his chief inspector. "What're the chances of the board approving his smelting now?"

Edward sighed. "It'll be difficult. He's in fine working order and recently has been on his best behavior. Unless you have a way to prove he was the direct cause of Kestrel's death there's slim chance they'll give the go-ahead."

"Wait— you have to have approval to scrap an engine?" Marjorie interrupted with a wave of her hands. Alex nodded.

"It's this new engine-friendly policy the railway commission adopted within the last few months. They felt too many engines were being scrapped without proper cause and so they figured it might mitigate it by putting a bit of paperwork in the way of the torch."

Marjorie didn't respond, she looked down at her mud-caked heels with a strained frown. Hayden leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Mallard has—had a record, but it was wiped clean with the enactment of this new procedure. All the bad he'd done in past years…" he made a broad gesture as he slouched back into his chair. "It's as if it never happened."

"But now Scot has marks against him for their confrontation that happened when you first left," Edward added solemnly. "He instigated the fight therefore… it was he who suffered the consequences."

"Maybe if Meredith wasn't such a floozy," Alex mumbled, earning a sharp elbow in the side from Marjorie. He grunted and made a face, but otherwise ignored the minor assault.

Hayden raised his brow pretending he didn't hear his partner mouth off, then he looked to Kenneth who was being unusually quiet. "What do you make of all this? Quite a contrast from Sodor."

"That's putting it lightly, don't you think?" Kenneth jeered, he sat up, rested his arms on the table, tapping the wood thoughtfully. "It's definitely different, though I can't say I don't enjoy it. Of course the events surrounding Kestrel are tragic and Mallard seems like a real piece of work; I enjoy my assignment with Edgar, it feels more personal than with Gordon." Kenneth shook his head, then ran a slow hand over his face. "It's hard seeing him bereaved, that's been the worst of it to me."

Hayden nodded and everyone else seemed to acquire the same sullen look about them. Watching the brothers' grief had been difficult for everyone, they went about their work as usual, labored as if nothing had happened, but they were quiet, reserved, and hardly acknowledged their human colleagues unless absolutely necessary. Quicksilver and Edgar spent less time around Flying Scotsman by request of the dominant A3 himself. He figured his lieutenants needed a break from his power struggle and kept mostly to himself, the alpha often seen with a far-off look and hardly paid Mallard and his band mind despite their constant attempts to heckle and provoke him. Overall a cloud had rolled over the LNER, the chatter, casual love-making, and playful noise of the resident locomotives had gone silent. The full weight of Mallard's demand for power was finally felt by all, not just Flying Scotsman.

The rest of that stormy evening the human companions spent in quiet conversation over hot food and stiff drinks. By the stroke of midnight Hayden and Alex's flat was a cacophony of drunken laughter, tears, and nonsense, by three am everyone had passed out scattered across the sitting room floor, the best any of them would sleep for a long time.

The following morning the storm had cleared, leaving the whole of England glittery in the new sunlight. Kjell had just arrived at Edinburgh Waverley for his first long run of the day, it was still early and the terminal was mostly quiet as vendors set up for the day and passengers remained groggy from sleep. He checked the platforms that flanked him to be sure they were clear before he gave his body a solid shake to remove itself of the little bit of rain that hit him when he first departed. He blinked as droplets slipped into his eyes which somehow caused him to sneeze.

"You alright there, kiddo?" A new voice questioned from an adjacent track. Kjell's gaze shifted to his left and caught a rather handsome fellow smiling warmly at him. He suddenly felt very shy.

"Y—yes, I'm fine," the Swedish engine fumbled. "The rain made me sneeze even though it was in my… eye?"

The black freight engine chuckled. "You're cute, what's your name, lad?"

"Kjell."

"Alastair," the engine mused, he liked this fancy foreigner.

"Oh! You're Emerson's shedmate!" Kjell bounced. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

"It's alright, we've really not crossed tracks often, which is a shame." Alastair hooded his gaze and began to lay on his own brand of Scottish charm. "Those are some glitzy coaches you've got there, they're about as enticing as you." He winked.

Kjell felt his face becoming hot. He let out an awkward breath of a laugh and looked away only briefly. "You're a B12 right?"

Alastair nodded. "That I am, I see you're also very perceptive." Still flirting it up.

"Yes… I'm surprised I've not seen you considering." Kjell wasn't often flirted with, most males who had further intentions with him preferred to be up front. Alastair was laying it on thick and he loved it. "I mean I see a lot of your siblings as I do quite a few runs out of Liverpool, why are you so far north?"

"Oh well, I don't much like passenger work so Mister Jameson does his best to give me freight jobs. Course I'm no freighter, but the smaller trains I can pull no bother. I've no set line so I run all over the island wherever needed."

"That must be very nice to have such variety!"

Alastair nodded with a laugh. "It certainly keeps things interestin'. One day I can be hanging round only London and Brighton, the next I'll be all along the coast taking in the salty sea air."

"How lovely!" Kjell smiled big which made Alastair's boiler bubble, he decided it was safe to make an official move.

"Say, if you've not any plans this evening perhaps you'd like to accompany me to a quaint little hut outside Liverpool." He began, his tone thickened with every word. "It overlooks the sea with a dashing view of the sunset and it's… secluded."

Kjell bit his lip, his cheeks once again burned with excitement. He liked Alastair so much already, he was effortlessly charming and undeniably good looking. It was unexpected as whenever Kjell did catch glimpse of the dark engine on the rails he was always straight-faced and reserved. He almost appreciated that Alastair didn't have the reputation of whoring himself to every character who tickled his fancy.

"You're going to make your mouth bleed if you keep chewin' it like that, lad."

Kjell started and grew even more embarrassed as Alastair laughed at him. "I'm sorry…"

"Not used to being properly courted, huh?"

Kjell shook his head. "Nej… everyone is very blunt which I don't mind but…"

"It can be a little wearisome, can't it?" A slow nod from the young engine. "Well, I'll tell ya what, you accompany me to the Quonset Hut outside Liverpool tonight with no expectations other than to enjoy each other's company. If something happens it happens and if it doesn't it doesn't, sound good?"

The passenger engine's smile returned and he nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Alastair offered up his own satisfied grin then laid on his whistle to depart. Kjell watched him go with his line of freight cars and once he had fully cleared the station he allowed himself to breathe a dreamy sigh. He loved the idea of going on a date with no physical expectations, but he already knew once he was alone with that engine they would be all over each other.

The rest of Kjell's morning seemed to drag by, he returned to London with carriages full of the island's most affluent as they flocked to the capital city for their fancy morning teas and shopping. He watched them go from Victoria Station with his usual friendly mien though all he could think about was Alastair and their hot date. His body tingled with anticipation, Alastair was so smooth in his words he held the proper idea it would translate to his actions in the berth— or hut.

Kjell remained at Victoria for a slow hour as his crew decided to have their breakfast at a cafe nestled right at the base of the terminal. He didn't mind sitting but he felt antsy, he knew Emerson was due to arrive any moment and was afraid of what he might say about his flame's newest interest. They hadn't coupled since the incident involving Gannet and Bittern and he was slightly worried the A3 would be in a rather cross mood hearing he was being snubbed for his shedmate. Once said engine slowed into the terminal beside him Kjell was quick to read his body language. His steam relieved at a normal rate, there was no clear tension as he settled, and his expression was mostly bored, sleep still weighed his gaze.

The young engine swallowed nervously and cleared his throat which caught Emerson's attention. "Good morning," Kjell expressed, though with an unusual slowness.

"Morning," Emerson huffed. He studied his boy toy then narrowed his eyes. "Who've you been talking to?"

Kjell blinked, he didn't think he was that transparent. "Uhh… your friend— Alastair."

Emerson scoffed and looked away. "We're not friends."

"Oh… but I thought—"

"Sharing a shed with someone doesn't make them your friend, Kjell." Emerson spit. Kjell had begun to recoil, again caught off-guard by Emerson's hostility.

"I'm sorry…" he chewed the inside of his cheek more and stared at the white marbled platform. "I didn't mean to offend—"

"Don't worry about it."

Kjell's throat tightened. Never had Emerson been so mean to him, he felt sick to his boiler. He decided to end his attempt at a conversation there and focused back to a pile of leaves being jostled by a delicate breeze just outside the station. He blinked and a few tears slipped down his cheeks which Emerson noticed. The A3 sighed.

"Kjell, I'm sorry," his tone had softened but only marginally. "I shouldn't speak to you like that."

"It's okay…" he breathed shakily, still blinking out tears.

"Please don't cry," Emerson begged, his own boiler twisted with guilt.

Kjell tried to ease himself to no avail, his muffled sobs began to echo across the terminal and Emerson panicked as people immediately began to notice Kjell's distress. He uncoupled himself from his coaches and was swift to turn around to come back in on Kjell's line facing him. He nuzzled the young engine's cheek, whispered soft assurances to him and after a few precious moments of public cuddling Kjell calmed, he looked at the blue A3 and gave him a meek smile, his face shiny with tears. "I didn't mean to make you mad with me."

"I'm not mad at you," Emerson assured, pushing his forehead to Kjell's. "I'm just… mad."

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

Emerson clenched his jaw, furrowed his brow. "No." He then kissed Kjell's lips. "You'll have a good time with Alastair, he's a kind engine."

The Swedish engine smiled. "Thank you."

Emerson placed himself back in line with his coaches and half-listened to his crew moan about having to re-couple him just in time for his train to depart. He cast a small smile to Kjell then thundered on north leaving his partner behind for his own crew to return, surprised to see fresh tears had stained his face. His driver grabbed a soft cloth from the cab and climbed Kjell's footboards to wipe his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. The man tried to have his engine confide in him but Kjell insisted he was fine and that it was nothing to be concerned with. Of course his driver was none too happy but decided it was best to drop the subject and cleaned the rest of Kjell's face in frustrated silence. When it was time to depart Kjell's whistle was as perky as usual and he departed back towards Liverpool feeling lively once more.

Still at Victoria, Hayden laid on a leather couch in his office with the lights off and blinds shuttered, holding an ice pack to his head as he struggled to ward off a lingering hangover. He'd about thrown up everything he'd eaten since he was a tot and overall felt clammy and gross. His jacket crumpled in a heap on the floor with his tie, his shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, he was desperate to cool down. He had about decided to return home when the phone at his desk rang and he tumbled to the wood floor with a thud after an abrupt start. The young controller shoved himself to his feet, groaned and slunk over to his desk, grabbed the phone from the receiver and slumped back into one of the chairs in front. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mister Jameson! It's Sir Topham."

"Oh! Uhh," Hayden tried to straighten himself and his voice out though he only made himself feel sick doing so. "Yes sir, h—how can I help you?"

"I was wondering if we could possibly revisit an old agreement I once had with Doctor Hart."

Hayden pinched his eyes in a poor attempt to force away his splitting headache. "Uhh… agreement… you'll have to remind me."

"Of course, it involved The Flying Scotsman! I'm sure you recall he used to run a special express along the island's coast but after those scuffles between he and Gordon we decided it best to keep them separate for a while, but it seems things between them have calmed and I'd like you to consider allowing him to run here again during the summer and holidays."

There was a tense pause, Hayden was unsure as he knew there was still major tension between the A3 brothers, though he also figured a change of scenery might be good for Scotsman's mental health. "Well… I can't imagine why he couldn't, the fee for outside railways to utilize his services has increased since his time on Sodor, how—"

"Oh, never mind about fees, I'll pay whatever needed! The time he spent here we saw the highest tourism numbers in years and we just haven't been able to match them since. So just name your price and I'll sign the check!"

Hayden chewed his pinkie finger for a moment as he considered Sir Topham's eager words. "I suppose as long as Gordon is okay with it I don't see why I can't add Sodor to Scot's route."

"Bah, we won't worry about Gordon, he's rather contented these days, less ornery. They'll be fine."

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. "I suppose if you're not concerned… let me draw up the paperwork and I'll have it mailed express."

"Excellent! Go safe now!"

The line hung up before Hayden could say more and he stared at the black handset with disdain before he slapped it onto the receiver and slid back into the chair with a long exhale. "Fuck me…" he grumbled as he dragged his palms over his face. He turned to the window and could see the faint light between the panels of the blinds, he knew Scotsman would be arriving soon for his first round of passengers to Edinburgh. He clapped his hands to his knees and forced himself to his feet, buttoned his shirt and threw on his jacket without his tie. He just knew his quarrelsome A3 was not going to be thrilled with the news of his new job, but better to rip the bandaid off now than let it pluck away steadily.

He stepped out of his office and winced at the sunlight, he cursed low to himself and made his way through the crowds gathered to board his most famous engine's express and was disgruntled to find him already positioned at the main platform with Ian at his helm fiddling with his blinkers. The driver noticed his controller trudging up to him and chuckled. "Well don't you look like hammered shit!"

"And I feel it as well," Hayden responded curtly. "Ian, would you mind giving Scot and I a moment?"

The driver shrugged as he popped a cigarette in his mouth. "Sure, just don't take too long," he hopped down from his engine's footboard and gestured with his thumb to the smoke deflector he was just working on. "I've gotta tighten that up before we can depart."

"I only need a minute," Hayden assured then pat his driver on the shoulder as we walked by.

The young controller slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and sauntered over to look his engine in his face. "Morning, Scot."

The A3 raised his brow at his controller but didn't return the greeting. "What now?"

Hayden frowned then climbed aboard his front fender which only furthered his locomotive's clear irritation. "I've got a new job for you, one that I know you're quite familiar with."

"What is it?"

"I've just agreed to extend your route back to Sodor and its coastal lines for the holidays and especially tourist heavy seasons. I vaguely remember you running it for quite some time before you and Gordon fell out." Hayden chose to ignore his engine's unhappy growling. "Sir Topham believes Gordon can behave himself around you so I'd expect the same for my engine."

Scotsman began to grind his teeth which vibrated his footboards and Hayden's nerves. The controller however steadied himself and remembered the best way to communicate with a furious engine was to keep calm and level. "Look," he started gently. "I know you and your brother have your differences, but you don't even have to acknowledge him, just go about your work and pretend he isn't even there."

"I'll kill him."

Hayden took a deep breath in and coughed when Scot let out black spark-filled smoke from his nostrils. He looked his engine's face over with more care than typical as the sunlight was hitting him just right to highlight every detail. The struggle of years past and present had begun to show in wrinkles and scars across his face, its dark alloy more textured than when he had first met the engine many years ago. He looked more tired and less spry though he was still one of Hayden's most stately males. It pained the young controller to see his engines growing old. He reached out to touch his face and Scotsman bared his teeth. Hayden made an unimpressed face and carefully grazed his fingers across the bridge of Scot's nose. He had never pet Scotsman before, like Gordon, he hated human touch, but the controller felt the need to caress his engine and comfort him despite his display of protest. He pressed his palm fully to Scot then moved it to his right cheek, his face was rougher than Meredith's with very little give under his fingers and it was hotter, the pad of his hand burned as he pushed more into the touch. The entire time Scotsman's boiler rattled defensively, his blackened gaze firmly on his controller. Hayden finally looked his engine in the eye.

"Please don't do anything stupid, I know you want to see Meredith home."

It was then the male began to ease up, his defenses dropped to reveal sadness, his eyes lightened and he looked away from his controller. "I miss her dearly."

"I know you do," Hayden cooed, he had begun to rub the wrinkled area beside Scot's eye with his thumb. For a moment he thought he saw tears begin to show. "So if you can't keep your cool with your brother for me, then do it for her. You don't want her coming home hearing you died too."

"Okay…" the engine whispered. As Hayden kept with his petting Scot felt his walls crack and a single tear trailed down. He sighed as did Hayden.

"I know you haven't been the happiest with me lately," the young controller began. He noted Ian back on the platform watching the exchange impatiently and he held up a finger to hold the driver off. "But I care about you deeply, if only because of how hard I know you love Meredith. Even with Gordon keeping her away you supported her more than he ever did, and through her I've watched you grow up into a steady engine, more than just the railway's notorious playboy, and I'm proud of you for that. Now I know you're capable of being civil with Gordon because this present Flying Scotsman I know is better than the one who constantly brawled his brother so many years ago."

Scotsman remained silent though he relaxed and flexed his cheek as if to direct his controller's hand upward. A small smile twitched Hayden's mouth and he rubbed his fingers over the engine's brow, catching the thick black fuzz that lined its edge and made up his eyebrows. He chuckled as he smoothed his engine's disheveled brow back down. "Funny how you machines have hair."

"We're not machines."

Hayden's smile flattened and he patted the side of Scot's firebox. "Of course… I know this." He rubbed Scotman's nose one more time then climbed back down to the platform, nodding to Ian that he was free to go about his work and he strolled back towards his office to turn on the lights and open the blinds.

Right at sunset Kjell meandered to the outskirts of Liverpool, his boiler fluttered, his body hot with anticipation as he eventually located the wood hut Alastair was talking about. He stopped as the wind buffeted his plating and the field of dead grass surrounding. It was open on both ends, facing the water with two hugging spurs, each with its own set of stops. It felt intentionally placed that way and Kjell wondered if it was Mister Jameson's doing or if it had been there for some time. The wood was split in some areas, warped by the damp coastal air, but it still stood strong, which suggested some age, so the engine remained unsure. He looked out to the horizon and marveled at the dying sun as sank into the sea creating waves of rippling fire. He chuffed forward and stopped again when he reached the edge of the cliff. He was so distracted by the breathtaking view he completely missed Alastair joining him at his side until he looked over and saw that sea-born fire reflecting in his eyes. "You were right," Kjell began, Alastair simply gave the young engine a knowing side-eye. "The view is dashing."

Alastair smirked and leaned close. "You want to see it from the hut?"

Kjell nodded and reversed into the shelter, the sound of the waves amplified the second he was under the canopy. He accidentally bumped the stops and yelped which made Alastair laugh as he came in after his date— facing him. The Swedish engine looked down at the tracks nervously and stammered. "Shouldn't you back in, you'll miss the sunset."

"I like this view better," Alastair purred, he rolled in slow, his eyes dark and low as he drew nearer to Kjell. "The light reflects beautifully off that fancy paint of yours."

"Oh, uhh, thank you…" Kjell backed into the stops again, his breathing quickened as he felt Alastair's heat upon him. "I'll admit it's been a bit since I've… done this."

"That's okay, cutie," the black engine closed in on his prospect, he hovered his lips over Kjell's and breathed out slow and long. "I prefer to take the reins."

Kjell swooned, closing his eyes as Alastair's lips embraced his, the young engine savored how his new partner moved with the same experienced ease as Emerson and Edgar, though he was softer, their tongues lightly grazed, Alastair pulled back often to peck at Kjell's face and overload him with surface kisses. The playful foreplay did well to warm up Kjell, only a few minutes in and his undercarriage burned with arousal as he pushed himself to Alastair subtly begging for his entry. The Scottish engine groaned with a smile and slipped himself deep inside Kjell with a slowness that caused the young engine to bite his lip and inhale sharply. "Ligg…"

Alastair chuckled as he maintained the methodical movement. "What was that?"

"Du känns så bra…" Kjell breathed, not realizing he wasn't speaking English.

The black male laughed again and kissed his partner. "If you're gonna talk dirty to me I'd like to be able to understand you."

"Sorry…" he whispered, he'd only ever known rough, rivet-popping sex and the deep, easy pace was nerve-tingling. Everything was hot, he could feel every ridge of Alastair's rod as it glided in and out, it made him shiver uncontrollably. "Slower…"

Alastair raised his brow but did as the sparkly male requested, he stopped thrusting his body and instead utilized the piston in his rod to move it back and forth as gently as physically possible. A sensation that nearly sent him over the edge just a few minutes in but he held off, the way Kjell was moaning was hypnotic and Alastair wanted to drag it out for as long as possible even if it became practically painful to restrain himself from hammering the young engine through those stops. Their release did come and Alastair gave himself a solid shake then laid into Kjell with the hot intensity he knew well, whispering sweet nothings, taking in Kjell's voice as he yet again reverted to Swedish at the height of his pleasure. They kept their pace until the burning sea was blackened by midnight; neither of them ever saw the sunset.