Chapter 3: Take Charge Percy, and Talking to Women

Done with her shunting, Emily took a load of empty cars, and rushed over to the flour mill, now treating them with care. They snickered and pulled and pushed, and tried to get on her nerves, but Emily worked up her patience and calmly pressed on. She wasn't about to let them keep her from being on time today.

She absolutely needed to catch Sir Topham Hatt before his next meeting.

Finally, luck seemed to be on her side. Pulling passed Maithewaite, she caught him standing at the platform, and skidded to a halt, bumping her cars in the process. A fine cloud of flour burst into the air, but nothing significant. "Sir!"

"Emily, what's the matter?" asked the fatt controller. He politely ended a conversation with the station master, who nodded and went into the waiting room.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I just wanted to catch you," she panted. "I had… a suggestion for you, that you might like to hear."

The Fatt Controller looked at his watch, glinting in a brief moment when the sun broke from behind the clouds. "I'm still waiting for Percy to arrive." He replaced his sleeve and folded his hands. "Go on, I'm all ears."

"Well, it's about Edward, sir. I just spoke to him in the freight yard. It just seems to me that he hasn't been able to pull a passenger train in a long time. He's always stuck with the goods trains."

Sir Topham thought this over, straightening his aching back. "Hm… it has been a long time since he's been needed on the branch lines." He looked at Emily studiously. "But the last I spoke with Edward, he was fine with it."

"Yes, but knowing Edward, do you trust that he is being honest?"

The gentleman raised a brow, but he knew exactly what Emily was talking about. "Well, I'm not about to ask Thomas, Percy or Toby to lend a few of their branch line trips to Edward. And Gordon would explode if I consider asking him to let someone else take the express for a day or two. Hm... Tell you what," he said at last. "The next time I get a call for a special—a coach special, that is—I'll be sure to call on Edward first. And we'll see how he likes it." And he winked at Emily.

The lady engine let off an excited gust of steam. "Thank you, sir! You won't regret it!"

"Hush, hush," he told her. "Now, don't you have a delivery of flour to drop off?"

Emily gasped. She nearly forgot that there were cars behind her, and the bakery was waiting. "Oh! Sorry, I'd better be going!" And she hurried off, nearly jerking her driver onto his knees in the process.

When he could no longer see her face, Emily sneered. You may not think you're worthy of a branch line of your own, Edward, but I think you are.

Not having seen it, Sir Topham Hatt shook his head with a chuckle as he watched her tender disappear over the horizon. It warmed his heart the way the engines looked out for each other.

Just then, Percy pulled into the station. His face was red. "S-s-sorry sir, I rushed here as fast as I could!"

"You're just fine, Percy," he told him. "Right on time, in fact. I have a slight change of plans for you for this afternoon. You'll be having an extra engine help you out in the quarry, and I need you to show them around."

Percy was surprised. "Sure thing, sir, but… who is it?"

"This place is a lot louder than I expected!" shouted Rosie.

"You'll get used to it!" Percy shouted back at her.

"What?"

"I SAID, 'YOU'LL GET USED TO IT!"

"OH! OKAY!"

At the quarry, the deafening sounds of construction were everywhere. The workmen were laying down new lines of track, and repairing some of the older ones. They'd been the same tracks first laid down when the quarry was first established, and it was much to the comfort of the engines that they weren't going anywhere. Once again, their future was secured.

Today, however, Rosie looked a little out of her element. Percy couldn't blame her. She normally stayed up in the country, or up by the mountains. Places where things were relatively quiet. She wasn't used to working down here.

And Percy had never got to work one on one with Rosie before. He was sort of nervous. He'd been left in charge of Bill and Ben before, but he'd never had to train anyone who was new to the area.

Soon enough, the racket ceased, and Percy and Rosie could finally speak at a normal volume again. "So, uh, Rosie… what brings you down here, exactly?"

"Well, they have enough engines up on the hills, and I wanted a change of scenery, I guess," Rosie told him, in a voice denoting a shrug. "I asked Sir Topham if there was anywhere else that I could help out, and he put me here. So, other than the noise," she chuckled awkwardly, looking away from him. "Is there… anything else to know about?"

Percy worked up his best supervisor voice, and began. "Well, the quarry is a little different," he told her, as they rolled along the middle section of track, up to a line of cars. "Firstly, there's the twins to be aware of. Bill and Ben. They're very nice, but eh, if you leave them alone for too long, they tend to find their way into trouble—especially if you let them try and make a decision on their own. One brother tends to always pick the opposite just to annoy the other. But they've got better over the years. Then there's Mavis," Percy said, grimacing a bit. "She's opinionated, but she gets a lot of work done."

"I hear you over there, Percy!" Mavis called. She was resting by her shed, and she didn't look happy.

Rosie watched as Percy winced. He hadn't realized the lady diesel was so close by.

"I hope if you have a compliment about me, you'll say it to my face!"

"Ahem," Percy gulped. He looked at Rosie and whispered. "Don't make my mistake. Get on her good side right away, and life will be much better."

"Okay," Rosie said back, dropping the whisper. "Well, this place doesn't look that scary. I could see getting used to it around here."

Percy smiled. Rosie's optimism was refreshing. "I have a feeling it's gonna be fun to work with you. Especially after weeks of being stuck with—"

"The most superior engine to grace the rails," came a new voice.

Percy and Rosie looked to their left, surprised they hadn't recognized who it belonged to immediately. The green tank engine narrowed his eyes. "Diesel. What are you doing here?"

The square diesel powered engine slithered up to the steamies, his eyes full of mischief. "The Fat Ham was quite pleased with the work on my last job. And thus, he inquired if I may lend a hand here. After all, I'm sure you need it."

Percy's funnel billowed with annoyance. Of course it wasn't just Rosie who was added to the team…

But how could Sir Topham do this? He knew Diesel liked to gang up on the steamies—he was never any good when he had to work with them. And on a project where Percy was the lead. no less!

Based on his reaction, Percy took it that Diesel knew he would be here. But the lines of his wicked smile only deepened upon sight of the pink engine. "Well, well, well! Rosie! What a surprise seeing you here! Shouldn't you be up near Mr. Percival's railway, encouraging a cow back onto a farm or something?"

"I asked for a change," Rosie told him firmly. "And I got it. What's it to you?"

"I see his worthy fatness is still giving the steamies special treatment," he said. "Oh well. These days shall pass, in due time."

"Maybe if you actually did your work and stayed out of trouble, and called him by his name, Sir Topham Hatt would put you where you wanna be, too," Percy told him.

Diesel ignored Percy, like a fruit fly buzzing around his cheek, and fixed his gaze on Rosie. "I'm surprised you haven't gone off to help Thomas," Diesel remarked, giving her the up down. "I seem to remember a time when you used to shadow him, like a puppy following a man home."

"That. Was years ago." Rosie said indignantly.

Diesel looked impressed by her tone. "Has it? My my, where has the time gone?"

Percy was impressed, too. He couldn't remember having ever seen Rosie angry. But Diesel had a remarkable way of getting under every engine's paint, eventually.

"And it's none of your business, anyway!" Rosie went on.

"It isn't, really, no," Diesel said, attempting to sound bored. "I'm just casually observing. Keeping a tally. Making sure I'm not in the dark of all that's going on. After all, I wouldn't want to cause a... social fopaux." His eyes widened excitedly with the last word.

But even Percy knew better then to believe that by now. And he didn't want Diesel to start prying at Rosie for her insecurities. He'd only use them against her. "Hey. Diesel. Why don't you go shunt some trucks over onto that siding. You know, the one way over there."

And all three of the engine's eyes followed to the siding that Percy was talking about: a line of track way on the right edge of the yard.

Diesel snorted. "Why should I do that?"

"Because Sir Topham Hatt put me as head engine on this project," said Percy, displaying a confidence that took decades to build up. "And so, uh, you have to listen to me! Now, go!"

Reluctantly, the diesel obeyed, his eyes never leaving Percy until his back was facing him.

But as he slithered down the track, he dropped another comment, this one for Rosie. "Take care with those cars, Rosie, my dear! They're not as light as they look! Don't want to see your pretty paint chip!"

The tank engines glared right back at him and didn't let out a breath until Diesel was far out of earshot. Now they could talk privately. "Sorry about Diesel," Percy whispered to Rosie.

"What's his problem? Sticking his big, ugly nose into other engines' business? Some nerve..."

"He just likes making trouble," Percy said, summing up the situation, if being a little bit of an understatement. "All you need is to show 'em who's boss, and he shuts up nice and good."

"After he gets in the last word, anyway," Rosie muttered. But then smiled a bit. "It was impressive how you shunted him away like that. Like he was one of the cars."

Such a compliment. Percy almost blushed. "Aw, it was nothin'. You get used to it." And for the first time in a long time, he was beginning to feel good about himself. "That's why Sir Topham puts me in charge of a lot of other engines these days—"

"He's a mad engine, I tell ya! MAD!"

"SOMEBODY SAVE US!"

Percy and Rosie jumped. After looking at each other questioningly to confirm they hadn't imagined that, the green engine growled. "Rrrr, I told him to shunt the cars, not scare the willikers out of them!" He turned to the other tank engine. "C'mon, Rosie!"

And still dazed from the humiliating conversation, Rosie silently followed.

The tank engines traveled to the other end of the yards, expecting to find Diesel having made the disturbance.

So they were quite surprised to find that the engine who the cars were complaining about wasn't Diesel at all. In the corner of the yards, the charcoal black painted engine was grumbling, but was otherwise quiet, as he shunted. Just as Percy had told him to.

Percy and Rosie quickly discovered that the engine the cars were crying out about was yet a tank engine. Green like Percy, but with a narrower boiler, like Thomas. And he snorted his wide, distinguished nose as he biffed the cars around the middle of the yard. "Keep your little noses out of this, it ain't none of your business!"

Percy and Rosie were surprised. No wonder the cars were upset. They were still intimidated by this particular engine, who once pulled apart Scruffy when the named car was being a nuisance. Said car learned a lesson. At least it lasted for a few years, even though it had totally been an accident. Either way, Oliver, though a gentle engine as everybody knew, had garnered a reputation among the cars.

They cried and shrieked as he slammed them around. "Talk about my friend again, I'm gonna make you an offer you cannot refuse," said Oliver. "Capiche?"

"Oliver!" Percy called out with surprise. "I didn't know you were going to be with us today!"

Even from a distance, Rosie could tell there was something different about Oliver today, but she couldn't decide on what. Either way, he looked upset. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he grunted. "Just these lousy cars bein' a thorn in my tender—"

"Come on! You can tell us!" Rosie said, in her calm and gentle voice. "You're clearly upset about something. We just want to help."

"I'd rather not talk about it in front of the cars," Oliver said firmly.

"Well, whatever it is, they already know about it," Percy noted, thinking over Oliver's previous statements. And his eyes shifted to Diesel, who was watching in between working. He'd venture to guess the proverbial black serpent of the NWR would find out one way or another, too.

At last, the old, great western fixed his eyes on the cliffs to his left, and sighed. "Toad went missing last week, and nobody can find him. I just haven't been the same since. He usually keeps me in line. In more ways than one, I suppose."

Percy's eyes widened. "He's gone?" He gave Oliver a second look over, and only then seemed to realize what looked so different about him: His faithful brakevan was not trailing behind. Ever since engine and breakvan had become fast friends, the two were inseparable.

"Gone! He's missing! Lost! AWOL!" Oliver burst out frustratedly. "Left him alone for one night near the docks! Come back the next day, and he ain't nowhere to be found!"

"We've searched for him high and low!" explained his driver, leaning out of the cab. "Put in a dozen inquiries in stations across the island. Nobody's seen the hide nor tail of 'em since we did."

Rosie was boggled. "I didn't know engines could keep pets."

"Funny gal," Oliver said, sighing. "Toad would've laughed at that."

Percy took it upon himself to explain. "He's Oliver's breakvan. Toad's just his name."

"Oh! Him!" Rosie gasped, her cheeks going red. "I'm so sorry! It's been so long, I forgot his name!"

"Don't worry about it," Oliver told her. "Enough time passes, and I'll probably forget, too."

"Tough, old Mr. Oliver's gone all weepy weepy without his cherished, little caboose!" called out one of the cars.

And as they began to snicker, Oliver growled.

But Percy could see the embarrassment beneath the anger. Most of Sir Topham's engines knew of Oliver and Toad's unique friendship, and had a respect for it. Working together for so many years, the great western and breakvan had become inseparable, as if they were connected. Like an engine to their tender, or even Mighty and Mac. It was easy to see why Toad's absence had Oliver at such a loss.

Still, Oliver's annoyance at the cars for mocking him about it was complicated. Having such a tender attachment to anyone was a weakness, and having been through everything Oliver had been through in life, from abandonment to near scrapping, to the series of humbling episodes every engine on the railway had to endure while learning the ropes. To Oliver, having a weakness was unacceptable.

Percy rolled up closer to the old, great western on the left. "Look. I don't have a lot of free time these days." And he lowered his voice, just low enough so the cars couldn't hear. "But I know what Toad means to you. And if my crew is alright with it, I'll do everything I can to find him, okay?"

Oliver tried to look unmoved. But the generous offer worked its way into his hard-shelled heart, and he couldn't help but grin. "You're an alright fella, Percy. I thank you."

"I'll help too!" peeped Rosie, who'd overheard. She looked at both confused male engines, and became very shy. "I have… good hearing. Hehe…"

And as the cars began snickering again, Oliver groaned. "Alright, alright! We'll all go looking for him. A team effort, or somethin'. Maybe three funnels are better than one. Who knows?"

"Yeah!" Rosie said, beaming. "That's the spirit!"

"In the meantime," Oliver turned his gaze back to the cars, "Percy, which one of these cars has been the most obnoxious? I still got an itch that only a little delicate shunting will scratch."

And the cars abruptly and collectively stopped laughing, the color draining from their faces.

"I forgot how heavy snow could be," Edward grunted. "Phheew!"

"Will a race get you going a little faster? Last one to Ffarquhar grabs Gordon's coaches for a month!" And he teasingly hissed steam from under his wheels, as if preparing to speed ahead.

"Very funny, Thomas."

Late that afternoon, he and Edward were asked to clear snow from the tracks. The weather report had come in, and there would be no more falls until the day after Christmas. The two were then given the go-ahead to clean the piles that had built up over the past week from wind drifts, before it had the chance to freeze over and make the tracks icy. The drier the lines stayed, the less likely there would be any accidents once work resumed after Christmas.

Luckily for them, unlike the days prior, today the sky was overcast, and white puffy clouds loomed over their heads as the blue engines chuffed over hills, and through station after station. The temperature had only continued to drop to below freezing. There was no sun to ice the tracks, but the change from chilly to frigid gave today a different feel than yesterday. It made something feel ominous.

Most of the time, Thomas cleared the lines by himself. But Sir Topham thought Edward would appreciate being asked to help, and the two engines would enjoy each other's company.

For the tank engine, it was easy work, at least in the grand scheme of things. But there was a lot of ground to cover. With their plows, the two small blue engines worked side by side on neighboring tracks as they made a clear path from Knappford station, to the bay, with plans to go over Thomas' branch line on the way back.

Edward was appreciative, but his axles were aching. And audibly, too, despite his efforts to quiet them. Even at his age, he was used to the weight of freight cars, but pushing snow proved to be a different sort of strain on his body. He hadn't plowed like this in a long, long time. But being Edward, he laughed off the struggle, and Thomas acknowledged his efforts by chugging along ever slower, so that they stayed together.

Thomas smiled at the older engine as he pressed onward with brotherly admiration. Edward had carved a special place in his heart long ago. He had been the one engine who believed Thomas was fit for greater things than shunting coaches around at Knapford. He remembered that fateful day all those years ago, when he offered to let Thomas pull his freight train. If it wasn't for that small act of generosity, Thomas might've never had the chance to go on to pull the breakdown train, and prove himself to be a really useful engine.

Because of Edward, his life had changed forever. And Thomas was forever loyal to the other engine for it, endlessly talking up Edward's usefulness, despite his age and declining health.

Edward once heard that love was blind, and if so, Thomas definitely was. At least when it came to Edward himself. Even though Sir Topham was adamant about keeping his steam engines, Edward still felt as though he might have been scrapped years ago, if not for Thomas. Time after time, he passionately argued that Edward should be repaired, no matter the cost. And the truth was, Edward might have not cared so much if he wasn't repaired.

Except that Thomas cared.

This is why, today, he pushed through the snow with burning hot cheeks, and valves threatening to burst. "You make it look easy," Edward chuckled. "I can barely catch my breath. After that train this morning, I thought I'd be getting a rest."

"After an afternoon of working with James, I don't blame you for being all puffed out," Thomas told him.

Edward neither confirmed nor denied this. When James was coupled with another engine, it wasn't unheard of that he let them do most of the heavy lifting. Even when it was Edward. James used up most of his puff and breath talking. While he was good for a laugh, working with him was outright tiring, especially for Edward.

Unfortunately, Edward was also the last engine who would ever directly confront James about this. And this was starting to annoy Thomas. Especially when Edward didn't reply to his last remark. "You know, you really ought to tell James off one of these days," he said, speaking a little louder. "You're only hurting the both of you by acting like he's not taking advantage of you."

"He's not taking advantage of me," Edward finally responded. "Thomas, I'm over two decades older than him. I've seen every trick in the book, from the cars to the other engines," he reassured. "Nobody is getting over on me at this age."

"I didn't say he was getting over on you," the concerned tank engine told him firmly. "Rather I feel like he knows you know what he's doing, but you won't go off on him, so he keeps doing it."

Edward thought for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the plow with shame. He knew where Thomas was getting at now. "Maybe you're onto something. I don't know."

"Listen. You're great at a lot of things," Thomas told Edward frankly. "Confrontation? Not one of 'em."

Edward laughed. "Fair enough. I tend to avoid altercations if I can. Sometimes I kind of wish I had some of... your nerve in that department, Thomas."

"What?" Thomas asked with a snort.

"Well, you managed to tell Gordon off when he would bully you, remember? You even made a habit of waking him up right after runs. He tried to act like it didn't bother him. But after a while, clearly, it got under his paint."

Thomas looked towards the snowy hills in the distance, remembering. "Oh, yeah... back when I worked in the coach yard. I don't know what caused me to do that. I just remember thinking one day, 'Hey! He may have this huge boiler, and this booming voice, and he thunders around the tracks, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be his quiet little servant!'"

"It makes enough sense to me," Edward said reflectively. "And maybe that's why you gained such a fast reputation. I wouldn't mind having some of that nerve myself."

Thomas considered that a compliment, and smiled.

But Edward began to feel guilty. Thomas apparently hadn't noticed, but he felt the tinge of envy in his voice. Even though Edward had had more years of experience, he didn't have that edge that Thomas did. Maybe it was because the little tank engine had started off so low on the ladder and had something to prove. In hindsight, Edward never really expected Thomas to come this far when he helped work him towards a promotion. But Edward had had his own problems to deal with.

Thankfully, Thomas switched the conversation back to the red egomaniac. "As it is, I don't think the Christmas Trains job is going to do anything to humble James. Shouldn't you do a good thing before you get rewarded?"

"Maybe. But ah, well," Edward said. "If he's rattling with anticipation about it, James can have the treat. It has been a while since he got to pull passengers."

"Well, same for you!" Thomas told him. "As a matter of fact, I think it should've been you who was chosen. You're always helping other engines out. You're due for a little treat yourself, Edward."

"Oh. Well, I'm not much for fancy dress and photos," Edward said, flushed. "That's more up James' alley." And he saw the perfect opportunity to segue. "But uh, speaking of the Christmas trains, has… Emily had a chance to speak to you, yet?"

Thomas frowned. "Emily? About what?"

Edward realized his mistake, and cursed himself silently. Oops. "I just… wanted to know if she said anything about Christmas Eve."

Thomas exhaled through his nose, steam billowing out, like a bull. "No, she hasn't said anything to me, not since she stormed away from me at the water tower yesterday, like a child." He pressed on quietly through the snow for a minute before looking at Edward. "Why do you ask?"

Edward was cornered. Now he had to confess to having spoken to Emily about it first. "Well, she… told me you were pretty vexed when she agreed to pull one of the Christmas trains."

"Wouldn't you be irked if you were blown off?"

"Well, sure. But are you positive that she just didn't forget she had something to do with you that night?"

"Oh, that's convenient!"

"Still, there's a possibility, isn't there? Come on, Thomas, it's Christmas. Can't we put this behind us?"

Thomas tried to maintain his glare, but it was hard to do so, looking at the unimpeachable creature that was Edward. "Alright. Maybe I can talk to her. Next time we meet."

"Thank you," Edward sighed. "That truly makes me feel better. See, I didn't realize when I asked to help you out that I might've rolled into a situation."

"Oh, Edward, I'd never pull you into drama," Thomas said reassuringly. "And if there's any sense left in Emily, she knows you wouldn't take sides, either." He looked away, as a smirk started to form on his face. "Heh. Even more reason it should've been you pulling the Father Christmas train."

Edward cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I just think it makes more sense. The two of you. Pulling the most prestigious trains all year." And when Edward said nothing, he verbally nudged him. "Oh, come on, Edward! Be honest. You can tell me, man to man. That's why you want me to make up with her, right? Because you like her?"

"Hehehe," Edward snickered. But he wouldn't look Thomas in the eyes anymore. "Right."

Thomas raised a brow. "Well, that was a forced laugh, if ever I heard one. What's the matter?"

"Huh? Nothing. Nothing's the matter. I'm just not… comfortable with talking about this."

Thomas studied him carefully. "Sometimes you are so mysterious, Edward. It's no wonder you sweep cars and engines off their wheels."

They pulled to a brief stop at a water tower so that Edward could take in a drink. Already, Edward could feel his cheeks cooling as he rested, and his tank began to fill.

"I mean, I'm not making fun of you, Edward. I think it's great," Thomas yapped on, waiting patiently at Edward's side. "I'm happy for you. You deserve to have a nice match. I mean, there are few engines on Sodor who have that strange sort of elegance she does."

When his thirst was almost satisfied, Edward began hearing Thomas' words more clearly, and stared at him impressively. "Elegance?"

"Well, yeah," Thomas told him. "And you know that thing that happens when the sun hits her dark paint from just the right angle, and it really looks its greenest? I'm not sure, but I think I've seen it sparkle a bit, too. And of course, there's that personality she's got. Heh, if she won't let anybody push her around, you know she won't let anybody push you around, either."

Edward gaped at him. "Thomas… do you even hear yourself talking?"

"What?" asked Thomas, blinking. He looked puzzled.

"You're talking as if…" he trailed off, and exhaled loudly. "Nothing. Nevermind."

For supposedly being so annoyed with Emily right now, Edward thought it was odd that Thomas was overselling her. But now might not have been the best time to point this out.

Thankfully for Edward, Thomas continued to be clueless.

At last, they reached the end of the Ffarquhar line. Edward's driver patted the inside of his cab proudly. "Alright, boy, you did well. But you're worn out. Time for a rest." And he leaned out of the cab and called towards Thomas' crew. "Hey, Matt, you think you, David and Thomas can handle the rest of the lines?"

"I know Thomas will try either way," Matthew answered, sighing. "He doesn't care what I want."

Thomas frowned at this remark, but he couldn't let it bother him right now.

As Edward backed up onto a siding behind the station for a rest, Thomas turned around and came back down the same line again, so that the two were now facing each other. Thomas saw Edward bite his lip and became worried. "Edward, you mean the world to me. Whatever's troubling you, I wish you'd tell me."

"Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But with all do respect, I'm asking you again to please drop this. All of it, I mean."

Thomas heard the irritation in Edward's voice. Such a rare phenomenon, it meant he was truly annoyed. And Thomas was hurt. "Alright, I was just trying to help. Keep on being so secretive then."

"Aw, Thomas, don't be like that—"

"Whatever. I'll see you later." And before Edward could think of something to say to make him stay, he was leaving. "Have a nice rest."

Edward watched him go, guilt washing over him all over again. Why? Why did he have to bring up Emily? He'd have to try and make this up to him the next time they met.

Still, Thomas' last comment had him surprised. "Secretive? Me?"

"You are careful to keep your thoughts to yourself," his driver told him. "Even when you're annoyed, you never show it."

"I'd rather like to think I'm just reserved," Edward said. "I was under the impression that was the proper way for an engine to behave. I don't understand what I did to offend him."

"I think he wants to get to know you a little better, Edward," his fireman chimed in. "You've known each other for decades."

"I guess... "

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Thomas was one of the oldest engines here, after himself. Even after all this time, even having acquired a deeper voice, thinner cheeks, and less of a tendency to cry, he still didn't always act his age.

Still, he was insightful, as well he should be. And even though Edward often kept to himself, Thomas was able to extrapolate some things about him that nobody else did. Including his habit of letting James do as he pleased when they worked together, at the risk of his own health.

There were two things Edward decided upon that day, as he set off for home: The next time he dealt with James, he didn't care how anxious it made him. He was going to put the breaks on.

And two: Never. Ever. Was he going to plow an entire line again. Not without a serious rebuild, at least.

I just HAD. To make them mad.

As it turned out, the troublesome cars decided to get their revenge on Emily sooner rather than later. They biffed and bumped her and made her journey after Maithewaite utter misery. They hadn't given her such a hard time since she'd first been given the flour run years ago.

By the time she left the bakery, Emily was covered from funnel to wheels in a cloud of flour dust. Even the good mood from her conversation with Edward was long gone. She was furious to the point of defeat.

On her way back, her water tank was running low, so her driver took her to the nearest water tower.

And who would be there already but Thomas, looking smart and triumphant with his snow-cleaned plow. Around the water tower were bunches of empty, stray cars that needed to be collected by someone later. He saw her coming on the next line over, and Thomas remembered their fight from yesterday.

The good news from last night, combined with his promise to Edward, gave him the strength to start fresh with her. He was prepared to greet her with a warm smile, and his kindest hello.

But he was stupefied when he saw her current state. She was filthy, crawling along the line, looking left and right, as if she was pleading with the powers that be to not be seen.

"Well, boys, look at that!" called one of the rowdy cars. "It's the Ghost of Christmas Past!"

"Hey Emily!" another car said. "I didn't know engines were lending a hand in the bakery, now!"

Emily's cheeks burned beneath the flour. She hated how so many of the cars knew so many of the engines by name, just by looking at them.

Thomas became worried. Emily's eyes were heavy, and her axles were complaining as she inched closer. On top of it all, she looked miserable. "Emily, what happened? Did the flour cars get the better of you?"

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but the cackling cars did it for her. She narrowed her eyes. "Thank you for speculating that out loud."

The tank engine heard their giggling, and realized that that wasn't wise to say right in front of them. He wanted to talk about Christmas Eve, but he couldn't get over her condition. "Well, you might wanna ask your driver for a bath soon," he said, giving her the up-down. "You can't count on the snow drifts to clean you up."

And there it was. Emily was indignant. She sputtered. "F-First, you stick your nose into my personal business! Now you're making fun of me? In front of those cars, no less? You have a lot of nerve, Thomas!"

"Hey, hey, I'm just playing with you!" Thomas shot back. "I'm trying to cheer you up! You don't have to be so sensitive!"

"Well, some of us don't have time for playing! We have work to do!"

"Emily, come on—!" Thomas started. "Wait—!"

But Emily wouldn't listen. "Don't talk to me anymore!" she shouted.

And defying her driver's will, Emily knocked him off the footplate, and began rolling away. A cloud of flour lifted from her paint and trailed behind with steam in her wake. To hell with the water, she hissed. She didn't care if she came to a stop in the middle of the line down the road and needed rescuing. She couldn't look at Thomas for a moment longer.

The tank engine watched her leave, feeling bitter. "So much for making up."

His fireman shook his head. "That was on you, pal."

"What did I do?" yelled Thomas.

"You have absolutely no couth when it comes to dealing with women," David scolded. "You never point out the flaws in their appearance!"

"But I was worried! I was… curious! And I was just being honest!"

David rolled his eyes, and looked to Matthew for help. "You wanna tell 'em?"

Matthew showed the fireman the palm of his hand. "Oh, no! I'm staying out of it. You're responsible for this beast. Now you take care of him."

David sighed. He leaned out of the cab. "Just… give Emily some space. She'll get over it."

Thomas silently agreed, but was pretty annoyed. He didn't think he did anything wrong. Why should he be sorry?

Still, part of him felt bad. Emily's self-consciousness right there wasn't an act, that much he knew for sure.

Barring James, who's entire life seemed to revolve around his looks, the guys might've laughed off Thomas' comments about their dirt. But Emily wasn't one of the guys. She wasn't one of the blokes. And Thomas sometimes forgot that. Maybe it was due to how long they'd known each other.

He shuddered at the thought of making this mistake with Mira.

Maybe I should apologize after all, he thought sadly, before trudging off from the water tower, and off to find his coaches. I wonder if Annie and Clarabel could teach me how not to make an ass of myself in front of girls…

Late for Christmas but oh well! Here's another chapter.

Had a lot of fun diving into this chapter. Especially felt Edward and Thomas' stuff here. I wrote it coming fresh off of the episode Saving Edward from season 9. I was tearing up, Thomas thinking Edward is gonna be scrapped, and busted his tail to save him. Edward was the only engine who believed Thomas was good enough to do more than shunt coaches in the yard way back in season 1. There's real development there. The mentor teaches the student, the student rises and saves the mentor. These dynamics, dude… You don't see this in every show intended for children. And it's so captivating.

And now we get some development for Percy, too. I really like when they write him as showing his maturity and experience and even having a backbone and telling others to. I was so excited when he got a momentary promotion in the episode The Green Controller. It makes him feel complex, like he's actually developing as a character. And it felt

deserved for Percy! He freaking earned that!

There are times in cartoons when they take a guy who's sorta not always keen on everything and make him kind of an idiot. They even do this with Percy when they make him everybody's yes-man. He's supposed to have a dimwitted moment here or there or misunderstand things, especially expressions and metaphors. But he's not supposed to be a gullible idiot (See Emily Knows Best). He mostly does what the others tell him to because he's outnumbered and bullied (See Duck Takes Charge). He works as hard as Thomas and he doesn't backtalk, that's all. I really liked to think that he only puts up with Thomas' occasional bull**** to a point too, but he's not even gonna let his best friend make him a doormat. That's kinda where season 2 doesn't exactly do Percy justice. I really wanted Thomas to get smacked across the face in Wooly Bear. I don't care that that was supposed to be payback for the previous episode, HOW COULD YOU CALL PERCY UGLY YOU C**T?! And that's saying something considering Thomas is otherwise mah babye in every other episode.

Anyway, that note out of the way, Happy Holidays, guys! Hope you enjoy!