Disclaimer: I do not own the places or characters distinctly owned by Mattel.
This story is simply for entertainment purposes.
Chapter I
His thoughts drifting from his work on the engine he conducted to his wife and daughter waiting for him back at their flat. What drove him to work day in and day out for. His family. "Jeremy," Stan, the one who conducted Gordon on occasion jostled the other driver's shoulder. "How has your family been? Kate still drawing those fancy diagrams of trains?"
Jeremy smiled at this. "Ah, yes she has. Getting better and better. Soon enough her drawings will be indistinguishable from the engines themselves." Another driver laughed a few seats ahead. "Don't tell Stan, I'd like to see if HE could distinguish them from HIS assigned engine." Most of the group chuckled, even Stan. Jeremy blew air from his nose in mock laughter.
"Or even you, Cliff?" Another uproar of laughter from the drivers as they waited for their arrival to their homes.
The night seemed cool, yet comfortable to Kate as she watched out the window of their top floor flat in the midst of Sodor's little town. Gentle brown eyes watching solemnly for the trolley that would bring her father home. The sketchbook sat upon her lap open to a half finished drawing of the inner workings of a steam engine's motor. Furious eraser marks left it looking messy yet full of a certain artistic flair.
Kate's mother knocked on the frame of her bedroom door, causing the girl shut her book as if she were hiding a deep secret. "Please come set the table dear, your father will be home shortly." Her mother glanced briefly at the sketchbook, knowing full well what was being hidden without saying so. Kate sighed. "Yes, mother." "Are you finished with that little sketch of yours?" Her mother asked, teasingly. One eyebrow raised as she smirked at her daughter.
"At this point I'm already frustrated with it. I think I'll leave it unfinished." Kate passed underneath her mother's arm, and through the hallway. "Why do you even care what I draw? Father would rather I worked on the engines instead of recreating their likeness."
Her mother followed behind. "Even if you don't decide what he dreams for you, he will still accept whatever path you take."
"You say that like it's what he really feels." Her mother pursed her lips and let the conversation end there.
Once Kate and her mother had nearly given up waiting on her father, the door unlocked with a distinct clunk. Kate looked up excitedly as her father brought in the night air with him. He kicked off his boots at the door as she sprung from the table and bounded into his arms.
"How was your time at the docks, Father?" She asked, excited to see him home after such a long day. He smiled kindly at her and undid his big jacket. Placing the conductor hat on her head like he always had when she was younger.
"Well," He began. "Have you ever seen a fish the size of Manhattan?" He asked her. "What's a 'Manhattan'?" She giggled. He laughed with her. half hugging, they walked to the dinner table where his wife sat. Like the nightly routine, every night, had began.
"So how is Percy?" Kate's mother asked, breaking the silence mid-meal.
"Useful as always." Her father joyfully replied. Percy was the engine Late's father looked after and drove on occasion to the docks and taking the mail across the island. They shared a brief smile before returning to their food.
"Who is Lyra?" Her mother asked out of the blue. Her father dropped his fork angrily onto his plate. The ceramic ringing into the thick silence that followed. Kate's stomach churned as the spaghetti she had been consuming only a moment earlier began to disagree with her. The tension grew within the dining room as Kate watched her parents stare daggers at eachother.
Such sudden animosity was not uncommon, unfortunately, in Kate's household. Such venous questions led to fights and outbursts from one or both of her parents. Her teacher once asked if her home life was 'good', but Kate had no real understanding of the question and replied that of course it was good, how could it not be? She had both of her parents unlike some of the other kids. Although they fought they never forgot to tell her how much they loved her. She was confused even now what brought about the sudden shouts that bounced off the dining room walls and around her head like flying arrows.
She winced away from the noise and eventually left the room. She ran down the hallway and slammed the door behind her. The shouts of her parents blaming one another for her disengagement.
Kate slunk to the floor and pulled her legs up to her chest. She fought the emotions. The feeling of fear and panic fading with her adrenaline as the pain of the situation caught up to her. Her chest burned, and her eyes were no exception. Tears stung her eyes as her sobs escaped her throat. Forced sobs quietly jolting her as she buried her face in her arms.
Eventually the heat from her face making her drop her arms and glance at her sketchbook. The ragged pages scratched with detailed drawings of engines and machinery that she escaped to in times like this. She sat up abruptly and locked her door, checking it twice to make sure. As she turned, grabbing the sketchbook off of her chair, she looked back at the wall behind her desk. Before her, pictures of Sodor and her family decorated the space. She swallowed a sob and grabbed a mechanical pencil.
The night wind bit at her face, making her hair play about her head as she lifted the window that lead onto the roof of their flat. She crawled over to the part that lead to the neighbor's and climbed a small ladder that lead to the very top roof of the entire apartment building. As she sat there in silence, taking deep breaths to console her raging emotions, she looked out across the town. She could see the docks from this high up. And very close, possibly an hour walk away, was the Tidmouth Sheds.
Kate cracked open her sketchbook and began to gaze with a critical eye at her creations. It was so beautiful to her, these designs. When she drew, everything became right with the world. As she flipped to her most recent drawing, she kindly smiled at her work and started up again. It didn't take long for the thoughts of her mother's question go prod at the back of her mind. Slowly demanding more attention. It did bother her, enough for her to sigh in exasperation and look out over the bay where the moon glinted off the small waves. She closed her sketchbook and tapped her foot lightly against the shingles below her.
"Lyra... Lyra... who on earth could this Lyra person be?"
"Kate?" Her father's voice called from her bedroom window. Kate maneuvered her way back to her home and crawled into her father's arms as he helped her back into the flat. "You are so much like your mother." He had a small laugh in his voice, but it sounded almost sad.
Kate knew her father had a key to her door, but she didn't expect him to unlock it so soon. "Father... who IS Lyra?" The question wasn't accusatory as much as it was genuinely curious.
Her father sighed and helped her off his lap so she could better look into his eyes. They were distant. Ashamed, even, giving Kate a shock of worry in her stomach. "Lyra is a conductor." He said carefully. "I knew her for a very long time. She helps us with scheduling." He explained on and on why she was important, but Kate wondered what he was truly hiding behind this useless information.
"Just tell me why Mother doesn't like her." Kate spoke flatly. Her father stayed silent for a moment before letting out a long sigh. There was pain in his voice as he spoke.
"Lyra and I have been having... A relationship. Behind your mother's back." Then, Kate could see the regret in his eyes. She pulled back from him as if he had slapped her.
"No," Kate whispered. "You're lying."
"I'm sorry, darling." Her father reached for her face, but Kate forced his hand away in disgust.
"You're not sorry." Her voice began to get stronger. "How could you... and not even tell me? Why would you do this to us, to mother? To your own family?" Jeremy bristled and looked to her sternly.
"If your mother had any love for me, then she wouldn't have treated me so harshly." Kate's eyes burned with pain. Her father rose from her bed and went to leave her room. She couldn't speak, her throat was tight with anger and sorrow.
"Your mother and I... we haven't been in love for a very long time. I just want you to know it isn't your fault. I love you so much." With that, he closed the door to her room gently. Leaving his daughter in the dark.
Kate knew it wasn't her fault. It was this Lyra person's fault. And she had seeped into her father's life through his diligent work. She tossed and turned in her bed in a futile attempt to quell her anger. Though it wasn't enough.
Eventually she raised herself from her bed and over to her open window. Fingernails digging into the wood of the sill. This time, she glared hard at the moon and the general direction of the rail yard. "First thing tomorrow." She spoke. "First thing I do will be to stop this entire disaster."
Shutting the window, Kate pulled herself into bright pink pajamas and took a hold of a story book on her nightstand. There wasn't any reason to keep it, she had long outgrown being read children's stories, but glancing at the face of the engines on the cover brought her great sentimental comfort.
Kate gently ran her fingertips over the cover. The glossy feel made her well up with nostalgia. Although the face was static, she felt in her heart he was there with her, in her room and understanding her predicament.
"I wish I could complain to you," she smiled at the book, letting it rest upon the nightstand once more. "Maybe tomorrow I will get my chance."