And here, as they say, is the rest of the story… This is a sequel to 'He's My Brother', and if you're new to my Thomasverse fanfic and haven't checked that earlier story out yet, you might want to in order to avoid spoiling yourself here. Or you can just go ahead and try this one first anyway—it should work as a stand-alone. As usual, I'll be concentrating on human/engine interaction over how the locos are actually put together and operate and trying to explore their more fantastical qualities and what working with sentient machines might actually be like. There WILL be more reality-based railway stuff this time around later on, but tweaked some to enhance the drama, and hopefully the end results will justify a bit of messing about with history.

And that's it for this intro. Thanks for being here and happy reading!

Disclaimer: The following story is intended for non-profit entertainment purposes only and is not meant to infringe upon the rights of any Thomas The Tank Engine/Thomas And Friends copyright holders.

FOREIGN EXCHANGE

Chapter One – Making Amends

Christophe Pelletier, steam engine driver and foreign-engine specialist engineer for the North Western Railway on the Island of Sodor, thought he'd heard it all during his long, long career of caring for and operating living locomotives. But his current engine, a German Raubvogel class 48 named Lammergeier aka 'Lambchop', who'd pulled his share of stunts in the recent past, had to be the greatest source of surprises to do with engines which he'd ever known. And here he was, at it again. They'd no sooner pulled into their berth at the Knapford roundhouse than Lammergeier had requested a private moment with his driver alone and could they converse in French, please—his French was still much, much better than his English and the engine wished to express himself clearly. Whatever language it would have been in, what he wanted this time was so bizarre that Christophe was sure he'd misheard at first.

"You want what? Want me to do what?" the man asked helplessly.

"I want you to get a bouquet of flowers and give them to Denise for me."

"Flowers…"

"Yes. A dozen roses. Eleven white ones and one red one."

Christophe just stared at his engine. Denise again…one half of the Doyons, the couple he lived with in the town of Knapford proper. He knew that his fellow driver and the German loco had always had a contentious relationship, but this was ridiculous.

"You want me…to give roses to Denise…on your behalf." The man's lip twitched. He was starting to find the humour in the situation. "Why? Did you two have another fight?"

A touch of doubt tugged at Lammergeier's own mouth. He was a handsome engine, with a very expressive, quite realistic face, and Christophe could easily see that he was already starting to waver. Yet he was also a stubborn engine and very determined, and once he got an idea in his mind there was typically no dissuading him.

"We haven't fought, no. She barely talks to me anymore," Lammergeier said. "I just need her to know I want to be friends again."

"Maybe you should make it a dozen red roses then," Christophe quipped.

"I need to make peace with her first. White roses say that, yes? That I surrender and apologize?"

Again Christophe regarded his engine. He knew now that Lammergeier was as intelligent as any human, yet the degree of sophistication he exhibited at times still threw him for a loop.

"How do you even know that, what they symbolize?" he finally mused aloud, torn between continued amusement and admiration. "Your usual snooping and eavesdropping, I suppose. Watching and spying on us as we go about our business?"

"It's the only way we can learn," Lammergeier responded indignantly. "It's not as if you send us to school, after all, the way you do your brats, and you won't teach us anything beyond what we need to know to do our jobs either."

"True…" Christophe admitted. He sighed a little. "I'm sorry, Lammergeier. I still forget the limitations you engines have to deal with sometimes. At least your stations over in Europe tend to have a lot of shops and such right down by the platforms, don't they? I imagine there was a lot to overhear and observe when you lived there."

"There was. We have flower shops, tobacco shops, kiosks for newspapers and magazines and sundries…all sorts of outlets. I always liked reading what I could see of the newspaper headlines best. Usually, we could also hear radios playing, sometimes the news and sometimes just music."

"I imagine you heard your share of interesting conversations, too…conversations people wouldn't have in front of certain other people."

Lammergeier laughed. "Oh yes! Many, many conversations and many that were meant to be kept secret, I am sure. But most of you humans don't even consider such things when speaking near a locomotive. You think we are like a…a cricket on the wall."

"Fly. Fly on the wall. Crickets are more likely to be in a wall," Christophe corrected, grinning. "But I understand your meaning. Of course, on the other hand, you do know that most engines aren't able to comprehend a fair amount of what's said around them, right? It's like kids listening in on adult talk. A lot goes right past them."

"I know that now, yes. I used to think that it was just that they weren't interested, even my brothers. But now…" Lammergeier sighed in turn. "I wish they were smarter. That some of them were smarter."

His driver regarded him with sympathy. "I sometimes wish that too. But I think there would also be more unhappy engines if it were so. You didn't have an easy time of it, adjusting, after all. Do you really want to wish that on them, what you went through?"

Lammergeier lowered his gaze.

"No…"

Once again, Christophe found himself just staring at his locomotive. Well, that got serious in a hurry, he thought. He felt a twinge of guilt, a tiny twinge, yet guilt nonetheless for he knew that his words were the cause of the engine's sudden discomfort. Impulsively, he reached up and patted the edge of Lammergeier's foremost running board.

"Cheer up. I'll go get those roses right now. I'm not even going to get into any discussion of how you could possibly even pay me back because it'll be worth it just to see Denise's face when I first hand her the bouquet and tell her it came from you. I bet she'll forgive you too. Whatever it is you did."

And with that said, he turned and left the yard. Lammergeier, his expression brightening again by the second, watched his driver walk off for as long as he could. He knew he could count on Christophe to keep his word.

The last of the other residents of the roundhouse began to return. The three Canadian engines had already been present when Lammergeier had pulled in, but they still occupied the berths at the other end of the shed and were therefore easy to ignore. Lammergeier made a point of saying good evening to them now nonetheless, just to keep the peace. He said good evening to Henry too, the big green Stanier who was crewed by the Doyons and who invariably came in early, and then joined in exchanging greetings with Hurricane, the A55 loco who was in the very midst of getting onto the turntable preparatory to backing into his own berth. In truth, Lammergeier didn't care for the two UK engines any more than he cared for the Canadians, but he'd been trying hard to be friendlier as of late and inane small talk and acknowledgements seemed to be what the others liked. He was really only interested in the last engine awaiting his turn behind Hurricane…his own brother, Adler, the remaining half of the only two German class 48 steam locomotives left alive in the whole wide world.

Adler was in a good mood and flashed Lammergeier a smile as soon as the two 48s made eye contact. He'd just finished up with an easy local passenger job and needed no tidying up or settling in beyond the bare minimum, so the pair of them quickly found themselves left alone together to chat as much as they wanted to without any prying human ears around. Adler knew that his brother had been out working that day as well and asked him how things had gone.

"Fine, I suppose. On the way back, Christophe made me chuff past the Arlesdale line. We even stopped at one of their stations so the tourists could gawk at me—there were tons of them up there today."

"Oo, sounds brutal," Adler said. "Tourists looking at a tourist engine. However did you manage?"

"Don't get smart," Lammergeier retorted, his own smile negating any insult inherent in his words. "I just meant that there seemed to be an awful lot of tourists around already. Isn't it kind of early yet?"

"It is, and it's a good thing, if true. Did you see Wikus?"

"No, thank goodness."

He frowned. Wikus was the Arlesdale Railway's newest miniature acquisition just as Lammergeier himself was the North Western's newest standard gauge loco. Adler frowned too, but at Lammergeier.

"Now what have you got against that poor little engine?" he chastised, although without much heat. "He's perfectly sweet and where else are you going to have a chance to chat with a fellow steamer in German?"

"Oh, he's just so hyper and worse than Philip when he gets going," Lammergeier groaned. "He reminds me of one of those yippy little hairball dogs some humans like to carry around. Just yak yak yak yak the whole time and those beady little eyes staring up at you. And I hate his livery. His colours just about blind me."

Adler laughed. He couldn't help himself. "You're pathetic. You know that? You're pathetic! One of the nicest, friendliest little engines on the whole island and all you can do is criticize him. I would think you'd have a little compassion for another Euro—"

He snapped his mouth shut, cut short by the very surprising sight of one Christophe Pelletier suddenly cutting across his track right in front of him. The man stopped on the track before Lammergeier instead and lifted up what looked like a bouquet of flowers.

"Lammergeier, check it out!" Christophe exclaimed in French. "I told the florist what you said, about how it had to be mostly white and a little red, and she said back that she had something even better, these new picotee roses she'd just gotten in, and so…well…what d'you think?"

Again, he displayed his bouquet, a dozen stems of beautiful white roses with a ruby red edge on each petal. The big 48 in front of him beamed.

"Even better. Perfect!" the engine pronounced. "Thank you for coming back and showing them to me."

"Alrighty then. Wish me luck!" And with that said, Christophe turned and marched off as swiftly as he'd unexpectedly appeared. As soon as Lammergeier's driver was out of earshot, Adler queried his brother about the puzzling exchange he'd just witnessed.

"What's up with the flowers? Are you giving floral advice to the humans now?"

"No. I asked Christophe to get them. To give to Denise for me."

"Denise!"

Adler almost laughed again at the sheer outrageousness of such a notion, but then saw the dead-serious look on Lammergeier's face. His incipient amusement gave way to confusion.

"Why do you want to give flowers to Denise?" he asked, baffled.

"Because I need her—" Lammergeier sensed his brother starting to bristle and hastened to correct himself. "I would like her to be my friend again. That's why I asked for roses. They mean something, you know, just in the way they're coloured. I wanted mostly white ones to show that I apologize and one red one to say that I do like her, but then Christophe found these picotee roses that express it even better and that's why I—why I…" He looked at Adler again and trailed off. "You have no idea of what I'm talking about, do you?" he sighed.

"Course I do. Don't be so rude," said Adler, annoyed. "I know human females like flowers and I know they especially like roses. What I don't understand is why you feel the need to apologize to Denise. Did you two have a fight?"

Lammergeier licked his lips, nervously. "Not exactly…"

In the end, he broke down and told Adler all about the last time he and the woman had spoken at length, or rather, how she'd come up to the steamworks while he'd still been out of commission after his accident and had climbed up on him and chewed him out while he'd just sat there, silent and unable to move and taking it.

"It wasn't pleasant, but everything she said was true. I know that now," he related sadly. "But…she also said she could still love me, the way she loves you, if only I weren't such a—a jackass."

Adler smirked. "She actually said that. Called you a jackass."

"A hopeless jackass, if you want to be precise." He paused, starting to feel a little better for having unburdened himself. "I need to make up for that, for deserving that. Do you think she could forgive me? Do you think she'll understand?"

The other 48 went silent himself for a while to consider Lammergeier's earnest plea. He wasn't sure now which was more surprising…his brother resorting to such a human tradition or the simple fact that he'd just shared an incident which reflected so poorly on him. Lammergeier was not normally given to volunteering anything that made him look bad. "Miz Denise is the nicest human I've ever known," Adler finally replied. "And she understands us, all of us. I'm sure she'll forgive you if you're honest with her and stop behaving in—" He smirked again. "—such asinine ways."

"Oh, funny! Ha ha."

"You asked…"

Their conversation trailed off again after that and Adler turned his attention over to his other shed-mates. Lammergeier sank back into silence as he listened to his brother chat on, everyone now speaking in English to accommodate Henry and Hurricane. None of them really understood the depth of the attitudinal change Lammergeier had recently undergone when it came to engine/human relationships. They still thought that the only reason he was being favoured as of late was because he'd almost sacrificed his life by charging in to place himself between a bunch of schoolchildren and a speeding, out-of-control lorry. Luckily, the vehicle had smashed into him far back and only destroyed his tender, and both he and the errant, lifeless truck had been unmanned at the time, leaving him the only casualty and a hero. Lammergeier narrowed his eyes as he continued to listen in on the other engines' idle conversation. Although he now accepted the humans' mastery, he still saw nothing wrong with trying to cash in on his current status…hence the request he'd just made of his driver, Christophe.

There was one other special thing which Christophe had already done for him for which Lammergeier was genuinely, almost humbly grateful. His driver had gathered up the only other three humans who knew the truth about his contentious self and gone to Sir Topham Hatt and finally spilled the beans. It had resulted in a long, long talk the following evening between the 48 and his much sobered owner during which Lammergeier had confessed at last to all his past transgressions and thrown himself on the man's mercy. Even as transparent admissions went, his was still a little calculated. He knew full well that the Fat Controller was soft-hearted when it came to steam engines, and although he expected some punishment, he was not particularly fearful. But much to his surprise, Sir Topham had proven far more shrewd and understanding and kind than the loco could have hoped for. He'd granted Lammergeier permission to use the rails during his time off and function with a degree of autonomy whenever he did so, as long as at least one member of his two crews, either his permanent one or his relief crew, agreed to accompany him.

The simple acknowledgement that he was unique enough to deserve recreational outings and drive himself had touched the ultra-intelligent machine in a deep way. Christophe had been right. There were people in the world who really did care about him. And at that moment, Lammergeier was hoping to coax one Denise Doyon back into their ranks.

Adler started laughing at something Hurricane had just said and Lammergeier glanced over at him, then sighed inwardly. His brother was so easy to please. He hadn't offered up a word of criticism when they'd reconciled after a long winter's worth of quarrelling even though Lammergeier's vindictive bitterness had been the sole cause of their falling-out. Adler didn't even seem to recognize the inherent irony in having just offered advice to his brother about making up with Denise, the very same human who'd sparked Lammergeier's ire and all the fighting in the first place. All he'd ever expressed was how happy he was to have Lammergeier back again and how he'd never stopped loving him and never would, no matter what. It had all been enough to embarrass Lammergeier and make him feel guilty. He still felt guilty.

And if Adler's instant forgiveness and overflowing affections weren't enough, there was also the fact that he'd been badly overworked and had suffered for years post-War whereas Lammergeier knew darn well he'd merely been neglected at worst by comparison…that discrepancy ate at him too. He glanced again at the other 48. Despite everything, Adler was the engine who'd found and trod his path to recovery and his own measure of success and happiness without any insurmountable setbacks, his progress always sure and steady. Lammergeier was the one who'd stubbornly fought the currents and gotten caught in the eddies…repeatedly.

Adler was also the one, Denise had said, who was smart enough to ask for help…

"Are you all right?"

Lammergeier had sunk so deep into his black pool of endless reflection that it took him a few seconds to realize that his better half had just spoken to him. He shook himself free.

"Of course I'm all right," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"You looked funny just now."

"I was just thinking."

"You think too much sometimes," Adler countered. "I know I've said this before, several times, but you do know you can talk to me, yes? About anything?"

"Sure I know. Didn't I just confess to you how your favourite human humiliated me up at the steamworks last month?" He added an apathetic half-grin to show how much the admission had cost him, but Adler wasn't fooled.

"She humbled you, you mean. And I daresay you deserved it. I still can't believe how you snubbed her all last winter, and poor Mister Pierre, too. I thought you liked Denise, maybe not as much as I do, but for sure more than I've ever seen you care about any other human."

Lammergeier's half-grin dissolved into a faint grimace.

"I…wasn't myself back then," he muttered.

He fell again into a pensive silence and this time Adler let him be, although he continued to regard his brother with mild concern. The other engines also let them be. They'd gotten used to the two German engines switching over into their own first language whenever they wanted to speak privately with one another and sensed that there'd been a lot going on as of late which needed talking-over. Neither they nor Adler could have guessed what was really going on in Lammergeier's mind at that moment, however…could guess that the real reason for his suddenly subdued air was that he was trying hard not to show how annoyed he was with Adler for once again standing up for the wellbeing of the humans even though he'd accepted all the personal grief Lammergeier had heaped upon him without a peep. Old habits and attitudes died hard when it came to number four eight zero one three…

And then—speak of the devil!—a slight human figure strode into their yard, walking fast from the direction of the crews' common room and patio area and then across the engines' individual tracks, one by one. Unusually for the woman, she made no attempt to greet any of the locos she passed and wouldn't even look at them. The only one of them which she did have eyes for was the red and black foreign engine at the far end of the roundhouse.

"You. Get ready to move out," Denise snapped brusquely to Lammergeier. "You can drive yourself." And then she edged out onto the turntable and cranked it furiously around until it was angled for his berth before coming back to cut in between the two 48s, her every movement animated and a little angry.

Lammergeier didn't seem to care that his sometime relief driver was annoyed with him. He merely started forward as fast as his dwindling steam permitted the instant he felt her climb aboard. Adler watched them leave, still too taken aback by the woman's sudden appearance to have had time to formulate a single word, and the other engines appeared no less surprised. When Lammergeier turned onto the main line leading out of the yard, he could see Denise through the cab windows, shoveling coal, getting him fired back up. She still looked mad. His brother, on the other hand, was clearly gloating.

That darn Lammergeier! Adler thought. He'd gotten his way again!

to be continued…