"That wasn't very nice of you," Edward commented as he steamed in to push Gordon up his hill.

The Big Engine had gotten stuck on his hill again after he had been deep in thought and not realised he was going too slow. His driver and fireman had been yelling at him to speed up but he had snapped out of his trace too late.

"Wasn't nice of me to do what?" Gordon grumbled and Edward bumped him and his coaches.

"Running away from your brother when he was upset, Duck saw you while doing deliveries to the works," Edward chided Gordon.

Gordon said nothing in his defence, simply turning his wheels to get up the hill.

"Your brother isn't well Gordon," Edward reminded him. "And I'm not talking about his physical damage."

Gordon said nothing as they breached the top of the hill only whistling a thank-you to the No.2 Blue Engine.

"He's the only brother you have left Gordon!" Edward called after him.

"He'll only put on a show and pretend he's fine anyway," Gordon mumbled to reassure himself but the guilt would not leave him.

By the time he got to Vicarstown the guilt had gotten even worse.

Tornado's chipper attitude only seemed to make him grumpier.

"Brother's really gotten that bad huh?" She noted and Gordon looked at her.

"I did something bad," Gordon admitted and Tornado looked at him curiously. "I abandoned him when I should have helped him."

Tornado was silent for a long while.

"I guess talking about feelings is not something we're good at," she finally said. "Scotsman has never outright told me but, I know he took me under his wing because he believes I'm his replacement. It's the reason why he never told you about me. He didn't want you thinking he was replaced."

Gordon stared at her shocked.

"You're not are you?" Gordon asked deeply concerned.

"No, I'm not, I was built because people wanted to restore my class to the rails," Tornado gave a weak smile. "I was built to remind people that there's still a future for us steam engines in the world."

Tornado looked at Gordon with admiration in her gaze.

"I could and would never replace either of you, I hope you know that Gordon," Tornado reassured him. "You have too much history, that'll never be replaced by a shiny new thing like me. I understand why you might feel threatened but I'd never replace the many years and stories you've had. I just wish I had told Scotsman that, before all this happened."

Gordon found himself being humbled by this young engine.

"I'll tell him," he declared. "I'll tell him for you."

"He may not believe you," Tornado warned and Gordon gave a sad sigh.

"I know. But I have to try. Start somewhere and make things right," Gordon admitted. "I'm just afraid, of seeing my younger brother in distress. I don't know how to help him."

"He's stubborn and prideful," Tornado observed. "Just like you. And you're both massive show offs."

Gordon could only give a weak smile at that.

"From what I've seen, you are too windy girl, don't think I haven't noticed," he said snidely and Tornado gave him a pouty face.

"Well Good Luck, Big Brother," Tornado said cheerfully as she pulled out of the station and Gordon felt a pleasant warmness grow in his boiler at her words.


"Are you feeling alright today Scotsman?" Jeremy asked and the Flying Scotsman opened his eyes to look down on the human standing beside him.

His eyes were still red from crying the previous night and he looked exhausted. He didn't say anything, only stared down at Jeremy with a tired look in his eyes.

"I wanted to apologise, for saying what I said yesterday," he said with a faint smile. "We all just want you to get better, I hope you know that. We want to restore you to your former glory so you'll be stronger than ever."

The Flying Scotsman looked away from the human, still clearly deep in thought but he seemed calmer and thoughtful at least.

"We're going to remove the rest of the damage today and then we're going to start installing the new boiler and tubes if you can handle it, okay?" Jeremy said reassuringly but Scotsman didn't respond, only stared into space blankly. "Tell us if you need us to stop, alright?"

The Scotsman gave a small grunt and Jeremy nodded, preparing his team to resume work again.

The Flying Scotsman had, despite everything, felt better after last night. The tears had seemingly washed away some of his stress but now he had a splitting headache. It wasn't all good however. He still felt alone and he still felt that he had been abandoned by his brother.

He jolted and gave a hiss of pain as the cutters began to tear into him again. There was a pause and he could feel the restorers watch him carefully before resuming.

The next few hours were a haze of pain and delirium as the Scotsman's grip on reality began to get hazy and confused, his mind desperately trying to protect him from the pain, dulling his senses and causing his vision to blur and swim.

He heard people trying to talk to him but he couldn't hear them, their voices sounding distant and noncoherent.

Part of him knew he was still in the steamworks being repaired but in the fog at the edge of his mind he could feel his tormentors and the scrappers snapping at his wheels, determined to scrap him.

Occasionally a hand on his buffer would bring him back to reality just as his tormentors managed to grab him, and the intense pain would start again.

He didn't know which was worse, the intense pain or his nightmares.

He returned to reality by a touch on his buffer after countless times of swimming in the haze.

He looked down and saw one of his restorers, Violet, staring up at him with worry in her eyes. He looked outside the Steamworks and realised that the sun was setting.

He'd been in and out of his delirium for the entire day.

"We've finished for the day," Violet said with a kind smile. "You can rest easy now Flying Scotsman."

He glanced over to the team who were reshelving tools and packing up for the night. As they began leaving and saying good night to him he resisted the urge to ask them to stay.

He didn't want to be alone with his nightmares again.

But his pride stopped him.

He didn't want to seem weaker than he already did.

He saw the little Steamworks Engine rolling around the place checking up on the engines that were in his care. Eventually the little engine came up to him.

"Are you alright my friend?" He asked and the Flying Scotsman felt his voice catch in his throat.

"Yes," he eventually croaked out.

"A lot of work was done on you today and you seemed very delirious throughout," said the engine, Victor was it?

"I'm fine now," The Flying Scotsman spoke clearly this time. "Thank-you. And I apologise for my outburst yesterday. That was indignant of me."

"Not at all my friend," Victor said with a reassuring smile. "You are under a lot of stress and in a lot of pain, your team and I understand."

The Flying Scotsman only gave him a weary smile in return.

"Sleep well friend," Victor returned the smile and began to move off.

"I-" The Scotsman called out suddenly but then felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. He didn't want to face another night alone with nothing but nightmares but couldn't find it in him to relent his stupid pride.

"It doesn't matter," he sighed and glanced at the small engine. "Good night."

Victor gazed at him uncertainty before moving off.


He found himself among the rusted broken remains of his brothers and sisters. All standing on the tracks in rows and rows, simply lifeless the elements had ripped away their paint, their identity, any marking of their history or their work.

They hadn't even bothered to have their metal be recycled into something else.

The Flying Scotsman didn't feel terror anymore.

He just felt tired.

He was exhausted.

This time he was aware of the nightmare but he couldn't control it. He could only watch, frozen and cold.

He didn't feel pain, only numbness.

He could see other engines, going about their work in the yards nearby, completely uncaring, completely involved in their work to bother with relics from the past.

Like him.

He found himself crying again. It was becoming a common occurrence.

He saw Tornado racing down his line cheerfully and Gordon not too far behind trying to race her.

He still held a huge amount of guilt for not helping Gordon at The Great Race when his boiler exploded all those years back.

He should have stopped.

But once again, there was that pride, tethering him like an overly long goods train, preventing him from doing anything except dragging him backwards.

He whimpered as it felt like his boiler was going to burst from the guilt and pain.

He wanted to hide and disappear.

Maybe it was fate.

To be left alone on a siding or abandoned in a foreign country to rust and wither away like he was nothing.

He felt a sharp bump against his buffers and cowered from it, too afraid to see what new nightmare beheld him.

"Please stop tormenting me," he whimpered weakly screwing his eyes shut tightly.

There was another sharp bump and he heard someone calling for him from far away.

"Leave me alone!" Was all he could cry out terrified. "Get out of my mind!"

There was a third bump which was more forceful and the nightmare around him seemed to dissipate slowly.

The world blurred and swam in lights and colours as he felt his consciousness being ripped from the nightmare and back into reality.

An engine was in front of him, desperately trying to wake him it seemed.

His vision was still a sickening blur of colour and lights that made him feel ill but he immediately recognised the engine's voice.

"Brother?"