"Charlie, I KNOW about what you did to Lady," Sir Topham Hatt glowered. "Your behavior has grown horrendous over these years, and even though I tried to get you to become a better engine, you weren't completely willing to meet me halfway. I have no choice but to send you away, like my father and grandfather before me have sent away troublesome engines like Alfred and Crovan."

"But sir!" Charlie protested. "I didn't do anything wrong! She was taking my work! Billy, back me up on this!"

"Sorry Charlie," Billy shrugged. "But you brought this on yourself." And he left without a word.

Well, almost without a word.

"Hypocrite," he muttered under his breath.

A few days later, the NWR was almost completely electrified, only a small bit of branchline to Brendam and Kirk Ronan still bare. Just in time for Gordon's 100th birthday. "So this is what Knapford looks like!" Nikola marveled as the Peel Godred fleet rolled up to the big station, eight engines of the many in attendance.

"I know! It's beautiful!" Lucy agreed.

"Man, this takes me back," Wattson sighed. "I came through this way back when I was first ordered. It was smaller then."

"And you were a lot angrier," Jouleia giggled. "We've grown so much since those years."

"And I am proud that my younger brother and sister have gotten along so well," Faraday said proudly. He frowned. "Though I do wish it didn't necessitate my derailment..."

"Everyone, PLEASE quiet down!" the stationmaster said. Everyone hushed. "Today is a very special day. On this day one hundred years ago, Sir Nigel Gresley brought the first of his A1 Pacifics to life, the first of twenty-four members of the class to become Lifers. That locomotive will be addressing us today. Gordon?"

"Yes, yes, thank you," Gordon said. He coughed. "Well, I never did believe in not getting to the point quickly, plus many of you hate it when I drone on and on."

"Finally he notices," Thomas chuckled off to the side.

"So I'll sum up my history. I came to Sodor after the end of the Second World War, embittered and cold. I saw so many atrocities then that I forgot how to find joy in life, a demeanor I still carry on today. Sure, I can still be a bit of a jerk, but at least I'm right some of the time. And you know it.

"But enough of my shameless self-promotion. The last few years have been some of the most tumultuous in my life. From accidents to new friends, from meeting the queen to getting streamlined, these recent events have served to challenge my age-old views.

"I once feared diesel traction, for to make room for them my entire class save Flying Scotsman and myself were exterminated. And I know that that's true for many other locomotives too. Dear friends, beloved lovers, entire classes have gone extinct. And we wrongly feared that the diesels wanted this to happen.

"But now I know one thing: the diesels didn't ask for this, and they have suffered the same fate as us steamers. The Class 55s which replaced my brothers and sisters were in turn replaced by the High Speed Trains, and they in turn by the Class 800 and Class 801 electrodiesels. And even before me, new steamers displaced their elders frequently.

"So why the fuss? Because diesels were a new technology we didn't understand, and we were never given an explanation as to why we were suddenly being withdrawn by the hundreds. But I know now that we were only replaced because of money. People didn't want to spend the money to keep an old kettle alive and running. Beeching was never in high esteem in my eyes, but he at least had the grace to declare Lifers an asset to the world worthy of preservation.

"I once feared diesels. But after Diesel Ten, or Nick as he should be known, performed an admirable job pulling my express, I had to rethink everything I thought I knew. And that led me to an unavoidable conclusion: I have been nothing short of a hypocritical jerk. Why, my own designer Sir Nigel Gresley designed the Class 76 electrics! I am now proud to welcome my distant cousins into my family, wherever they are.

"I turn a hundred years old today. A hundred years old. I can't do as much now as I once could. After thinking it over, I think it's time I handle the reins to another engine. Not entirely, but I would like to cut down my daily express runs from thrice daily to twice daily. Though Nick has expressed his preferences as a goods engine, I formally give him permission to be a reserve engine in case I am broken. But who should I give one of my daily express runs to? I believe that I may know the answer.

"After a recent run I met two Class 43 HST's who are in need of a new home now that they're being retired. I believe Pip and Emma would make for fine workers and friends on this railway, and Sir Bertram Topham Hatt, I hope, will take this suggestion under advisement.

"Before I end this speech, there's something I would like to say. For those who've read Seuss, you may understand what I mean:

"I now fully acknowledge that I've been a fool. For a Lifer's a Lifer, no matter their fuel. Thank you, everyone."

As the humans clapped and engines whistled and honked, Diesel Ten, standing on a platform near the big engine, looked on proudly. "Guess not all steamers are bad after all," he chuckled. "Heh, even Gordon managed to grow up." He watched as Gordon's driver got out and embraced his wife.

"He did smashing," his wife said.

"He sure did, Cressida."

Hearing that name made Diesel Ten's oil run cold. His face paled, his pupils shrank, his claw went slack.

"Wow! What an honor!" Percy said as he puffed up to Diesel Ten. "You're gonna be so important now! Uh...you okay?"

Diesel Ten panted, his breathing forced and rapid as the tears welled up. Then he shrieked "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" and raced out of Knapford.

"...whatever did I do this time?" Percy asked in a small voice.

"What's up with him?" Thomas asked as everyone looked on in shock.

"I don't know, but we're finding out," Lady said.

"Wha– we?!"

"Yes, we! Because he needs to know that even you are capable of being nice to him!" She whistled. "Follow me, everyone! I think I might know where he's going."

As they chuffed along, Thomas decided to ask something. "Y'know, I never did find out why those stories about you got written."

Lady groaned. "Because the writer had a grudge against me!"

"Oh? What for?"

"She came to my old railway a while back toting her books. They were really popular among the humans there. Me, I didn't care for them."

"Why not?"

"Because the main characters were a bunch of Mary Sues who always got their way and never had to work for anything! And the books were way too long, the pacing was slow as heck. I said so when she interviewed us. None of the Lifers really cared for them, heh, it was the only thing we all agreed on, but she held a grudge against me because I was able to defend my position eloquently."

"So she wrote you as a magical being to get you unwanted attention and make you uncomfortable?"

"Yep, total petty revenge. Turn left."

They found Diesel Ten near the shed where Lady hid herself in weeks earlier. He was crying and violently trembling, his driver trying to comfort him to no avail.

"Uh, you okay?" Thomas asked.

"NO! And why would you care?!" Diesel Ten growled.

"Because...because I do. I care if engines aren't feeling okay. I know, I've been rude to you, and I'm sorry. Please, tell us what's wrong so we can help you."

Lady appeared on the track next to him and looked at the diesel. It broke her seeing him so sad.

"If I may," Jamie volunteered, "he seemed to be triggered when Gordon's driver hugged his wife."

"Yeah, that is what happened," Gordon agreed. "Whatever would the reason be?"

"I heard her name," Diesel Ten shuddered.

"What? Cressida? What objection do you have to it?"

"It wasn't just the name of your driver's wife," Diesel Ten gulped. He breathed in and dropped the bombshell:

"It was also the name of mine."

Oh say can you say wham episode?

How did Diesel Ten marry Cressida? What happened to her? Are we finally getting the reason for his depression?

All this and more in the next chapter – Cressida's Lament!