Thomas was having a weird day.

When he had gone to shunt the express coaches for Gordon that morning he had been shocked by what Edward and James had told him. Gordon had fetched his own coaches before Thomas had even arrived in the yard.

When Henry questioned Gordon had simply replied that "It kept his mind off of his brother," and did not even snark or respond to James' teasing before quickly leaving with the Express.

Thomas had challenged Gordon to a race on the way into Vicarstown to cheer the Big Engine up.

Gordon hadn't even tried to race Thomas or scolded him for being reckless. He simply pulled into Vicarstown with little more than an annoyed expression.

Thomas was disheartened when he pulled into his platform. He had never seen Gordon so sad or helpless and it hurt him.

"Poor Gordon," Clarabel said sadly, looking over at the big express engine. "He must be so worried about his brother to not even make a snide remark."

An unfamiliar whistle sounded, one that was high pitched and shrill.

Thomas stared as a large green engine backed into the platform. At a distance it looked similar to The Flying Scotsman but it's smoke deflectors were different and it only had one tender, he noted as the engine rolled up alongside him.

"Hello! I've never seen you before," he remarked and the engine jumped, somewhat startled.

"Oh um hello, little tank engine," the engine said nervously, glancing at Thomas. "I've, um, never done this express line before, I'm, um, filling in for my big brother. Sorry, I'm, I'm really nervous, the Flying Scotsman usually double heads new routes with me."

The engine was stuttering and nervous. Thomas immediately felt sympathy for her.

"It's okay! We always get nervous when we do new jobs," Thomas reassured her. "I'm Thomas!"

"Oh It's nice to meet you Thomas!" The Engine said with a nervous smile. "I'm Tornado."

"I'm sorry about The Flying Scotsman," Thomas told her with a sad smile. "Our steamworks are doing their best for him."

"I'm glad," Tornado said with a hopeful smile. The guard's whistle blew meaning she could head off. "If you talk to him, can you tell him I'll do my best covering his line and that Tornado misses him?"

"Yes of course!" Thomas said brightly. "Good luck on the rest of your trip Ms Tornado!"

"Thank-you little Tank Engine!" Tornado shouted back as she peeped and pulled away.

"What a sweet young polite Engine!" Annie gushed. "I hope she does her job well!"

"Poor dear was so nervous," Clarabel said warmly.

Thomas glanced at Gordon who was staring after Tornado clearly confused and shocked.

"She's… she's a Peppercorn," he stammered, completely dumbfounded. "She was brand new."

"So?" Thomas asked confused.

"They had all been scrapped," Gordon said ominously. "Why did my brother never mention her?"

"Maybe he wanted to introduce her in person?" Thomas suggested and Gordon glanced at him. "She's obviously close to him, he's doubled headed with her. Maybe, maybe he wanted the three of you all together for a big reveal or something?"

Gordon only looked away in thought, before being uncoupled from his train and preparing to head back into Sodor with a pensive look on his face.

Thomas could only watch on, deeply concerned.


Gordon had finished his run for the day, but found himself waiting at the platform for The Fat Controller to emerge from his office with great hesitation. When he finally did, Gordon found himself struggling for words.

"Well I'm here Gordon and you're keeping me from going home for the night," the man said clearly annoyed.

Gordon swallowed his nervousness and decided to be blunt.

"I saw the new Peppercorn today sir," he said coldly. "Why was I never informed about her? I feel like that would be something I should know."

Sir Topham Hatt frowned at Gordon.

"I thought that the Flying Scotsman would have told you. You see him every weekday at Vicarstown," he said and Gordon narrowed his eyes.

"He didn't tell me anything about her," Gordon said coldly. "I didn't even know she existed until today."

The Fat Controller's gaze softened when he saw the hurt in Gordon's eyes.

"She's only been active for around a decade, she took over the Flying Scotsman line after your brother requested to be put on the London to Sodor Express Line," he informed Gordon. "From what I've heard, the other Mainland engines took to bullying and harassing her until the Flying Scotsman took her under his steam and acted as her mentor. He helped her achieve a record 112mph run so the others would respect her. He may have been worried you would bully her like the other engines did."

Gordon looked away and let off a faint gush of steam.

"Perhaps," he offered and looked meekly at the Fat Controller. "But you could have told me about her sir."

"I do apologise," Sir Topham Hatt took off his hat in a show of respect for Gordon's distress. "For the longest time she was a secret. The Museum Director and her owners didn't want anyone to steal her plans. But that doesn't excuse me not telling you Gordon and I do apologise."

Gordon gave a weak smile and accepted the apology.

"Are you going to sleep in the steamworks again tonight Gordon?" The Fat Controller asked as he replaced his hat.

"I'll try to sleep at Tidmouth tonight sir," Gordon admitted. "As much as I would like to look after my brother, the Steamworks is too far from here."

"As you wish Gordon, your brother's been through a lot, he'll pull through," the Fat Controller assured Gordon but he couldn't find it in him to smile.


The Flying Scotsman jolted into awareness to find himself tethered to a flatbed.

He had no steam and he couldn't move. He was powerless and the same horrible cold sunk deep into his boiler.

It overshadowed his pain and he felt as if he was back in America, his fate uncertain pleading for Pegler to come back to him, to save him again.

He tried to speak but found that he couldn't even move the slightest.

There was no stream. There was no fire. His boiler had been drained of water and his tenders were missing.

Panic slowly rose in him as he realised how helpless he was. He wanted to scream but found that he couldn't.

Slowly he realised that the flatbed he was on was moving towards a huge industrial plant.

The feeling of dread grew when he caught his reflection in a puddle outside of the huge steel doors.

Scrap.

Scrap.

For Scrap.

Sheer terror rose inside him and he began to panic and struggle. He tried to scream but found he still couldn't.

Inside the industrial plant glowed an evil red as diesel and electric engines around him, watching him began to jeer and mock him.

"Proud symbol of steam finally for the scrap yard."

"The kettle has finally boiled his last cup aye!"

"Third times a charm lads, told you we'd get 'im!"

"Ain't nobody gonna save you now you overhyped galloping sausage!"

He tried to struggle as workmen cut his straps and a crane lifted him from the flatbed and onto the ground where humans stood waiting with cutters, welders and grinders, ready to turn him into scrap iron.

"No please!" He found his voice and started begging indignantly and desperately. "Please, please I'm not for scrap, I'M NOT FOR SCRAP!"

The workmen ignored him and began ripping off his coupling rods disassembling his cab.

Pain exploded in his left side as someone with a cutting torch began cutting into his boiler and he let out a blood curdling scream of pain while the diesels and electrics simply laughed.


"STOP WORK RIGHT NOW!" Victor bellowed as the Flying Scotsman's scream of agony tore through the steamworks an eerie silence echoing through the building as everyone had stopped at the sound.

Victor sped his way to the Flying Scotsman and his crew. One of the crew had just started using a cutter on the Scotsman to remove his damaged parts.

"What are you doing!?" Victor demanded angrily of the workers.

"It's the Flying Scotsman sir," One of the younger workmen said. "He's always been like this when we've done work. He has a phobia of being scrapped, if we use any cutters or grinders on him he'll freak out and react this way."

"But we need to remove the damaged parts of his boiler to repair him," the lead restorer, Jeremy, explained to Victor. "It's partly the reason it took so long to restore him last time."

Victor looked to the famous Green Engine and found him clearly distressed and in a state of absoulte terror. He sadly still hadn't woken from his coma but was clearly reacting to the cutter's torch.

"How did you manage to overcome his fear last time?" Victor asked and the lead restorer shrugged.

"We covered his face, hung him from a hoist, clamped his wheels and immobilised him so we could continue work," he explained and Victor stared at the man in horror.

"That's horrifying!" Kevin cried out, dropping a stack of boiler tubes. Victor didn't even shoot a glare at the crane.

"You made his phobia worse by depriving him of his senses, you idiots!" Victor found himself uncharacteristically yelling. "Did you not once think to try and explain what you were doing to him? Try to talk him through his fear? Reassure him that his fears weren't real?"

"I won't have some riff raff scrap engine telling us how to maintain our prized engine!" The human snapped back but Victor ignored him.

"Look at him! He's terrified! He thinks he's going to be scrapped!" Victor urged the human glancing at the Flying Scotsman whose expression was warped into one of distress and fear as he whimpered, clearly having a nightmare. "That is no way to treat a prized engine, especially one that is as famous as the Flying Scotsman."

Some of the workmen looked guilty and some of them stepped away.

"Well, what would you have us do?" A workwoman asked Victor. "We need to remove his broken parts, we can't do that without cutting into him."

"Wait until he wakes up," Victor informed them. "Explain everything to him, help him understand otherwise he will only get worse."

The workmen around the conferred and began to agree with the smaller engine but their leader was unconvinced.

"We don't know when he will wake up," he said folding his arms across his chest. "It could be days, weeks even months."

"Yes," Victor agreed but still held his ground. "But in the long run, The Flying Scotsman will thank-you for it. He will perform stronger and better in future and it may help him overcome his fear. So, until he wakes up, there will be no work on the Scotsman, understood?"

Jeremy looked ready to argue but relented upon seeing Victor, Kevin's and the many other engines present glaring angrily at him.

"Alright, alright," he waved his arms and walked away as some of the others draped tarps and over the Scotsman's damaged parts hid them from view.

Slowly the Scotsman's distressed expressions began to ease and relax and he returned to being still and quiet.

Certain that the famous green engine had calmed, Victor returned to work.


The Flying Scotsman reopened his eyes after a long while and found himself no longer in the scrapping shed.

His wheels still trembled in terror however and fear still gripped him tightly, making it hard for him to comphrend anything around him.

He stood silently, his desperate gasps for air eventually petering out and he was aware that he was on one of a three track line.

He flinched as he heard two engines come up behind him.

"Big Brother? Are you okay?" A voice asked and Scotsman gazed over at Tornado who had slowly come up on his right.

"You seem a little shaken, younger brother," Gordon's booming voice came to his left.

He felt embarrassed and his face reddened.

"I don't want you to see me like this," he mumbled to them weakly. He tried to roll forward but let out a hiss as an awful grinding sound and a burst of pain came from his damaged side.

"I have to be strong. The Director said I have to be strong or Steam will perish with me! I can't ever be weak. Go away! Don't look at me!" He snapped embarrassed and his siblings were confused but obliged.

As both engines disappeared into thin air he immediately regretted his words, the only thing he could do now was weep.

"I can't show weakness, I have to be strong or they'll scrap me," he told the air where they had been through his tears.

There was no reply.