It wasn't just the North Western that had undergone change: so too had the Mid Sodor. With the war now over, passenger trains could take priority again, a fact Falcon was all too happy to take advantage of. The Picnic had also resumed running, and everything seemed to have returned to normal. Sadly, this wasn't entirely the case: in 1916, the Railway Operating Division began requesting engines to help with their operations on the Front Line. Many were chosen, and three Mid Sodor engines volunteered: Albert, Atlas, and Alfred. All three would never come back though: they were destroyed by artillery. Carys was devastated by the loss of Albert and began to steam poorly, resulting in her trains running late. It was like God was trying to ruin her life. John was the first of the standard gauge engines to notice when he arrived at the Interchange with a passenger train one morning.

"Morning, Carys!" he whistled.

"Eh? Oh, good morning," she said slowly.

"Everything ok, Carys?" asked John. "You don't look too happy."

"Why should I? My beloved Albert is gone, lost to the war. He promised he'd return, but he didn't. Why has God betrayed me?"

"You loved him? I'm sorry for your loss," said John. "Perhaps it's time to stop looking to others for answers and look for them yourself."

"Been trying to tell her that all these years I've known her," scoffed Falcon as he backed down onto the Boat Train she brought.

"Mute it! You really seem not to care that your brother died," Carys scolded.

"Oh I care, but he wouldn't want me to grieve: he'd want me to carry on. That's what he told me before he left, I remember it well."

"He told me he'd come back, but he didn't! Our Lord betrayed me when I needed him most!"

"Like I said all along, there is no god," said Falcon. The guard blew his whistle at that moment, and Falcon steamed off.

"John. Do you think there is no God?" asked Carys. The Metropolitan Tank thought about this.

"Well, I can't really say for sure," he said at last. "On one hand, I want to think God had a way in making sure I escaped the scrap heap. But on the other hand, I fail to see why He'd have me owned by a man who wanted to use me and my brothers to kill another engine, goes against everything He stands for."

Carys began to think. Maybe she'd been mistaken? Maybe there was no God?

"Maybe God doesn't care about small matters, such as your Albert," said a truck.

"ALBERT'S NOT SMALL!" And she bumped the truck hard, too hard: it flew onto a siding and smashed through the buffers!

"Oh shit."

The Manager was not pleased with Carys, and scolded her severely.

"You are a very naughty engine," he said. "You've no business going around derailing trucks and causing delay."

"For God's sake, it was only one truck!" protested Carys. "Surely that won't cause too many delays! There are others!"

"That's not the point: the point is, you shouldn't have been careless. OK, I'll admit, that truck shouldn't have been so rude, but how is derailing him any better?"

"I… I…I don't know!"

"Then don't act without thinking. Understood, number 2? If this happens again, I'll have you stay in the sheds."

"Yes sir," said Carys.

"Good."

At that moment, Duke puffed into the station, looking concerned.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"Not at all, Duke. I still can't get my head around it."

"Around what?"

"Atlas was right. This war changed Europe. Millions dead. Even my Albert, gone."

"I know, Carys, and I'm sorry it happened," said Duke mournfully.

"I don't understand. This island always seemed so peaceful. But then, it changed, starting with the killer noble, then Albert gets sent to war and…and…" She began crying. Duke spent the rest of the day trying all he could to comfort her.

The death of Albert still had an effect on poor Carys, even 3 years later.

Next day, Carys was to take a hiker's special up to the mountains, led by Sir Charles Henry Norramby. Duke volunteered her, hoping carrying a train hosted by His Grace would cheer her up. However, she was refusing to steam properly, still upset about Albert's death. The hikers were not pleased about this.

"How are we supposed to go hiking if your engine refuses to move?!" Sir Charles snapped. "It's far too long to walk all the way from here to the Mountain Road!"

"Be quiet! I'm in mourning."

Her outburst, however, was enough for her fire to light properly, and soon, the hikers were inside the coaches. The journey was still rather slow, for Carys wasn't focusing on the job. At Arlesdale, she ended up running out and came to a stop in the platform.

"This simply won't do," groaned Sir Charles. "I've had enough of these delays. Boys, we'll walk from here: we're close to Ulfstead Road anyway."

"Wait! I just need to build up more steam!"

But the hikers didn't care: they departed the train and began walking. To avoid her fouling other trains, the Mine Engine was called to move her and her train into a siding. This meant his shunting was behind schedule, something he didn't appreciate.

"Imbecile. You really have to get your act together," he scolded. Carys glared at the Mine Engine.

"What right have you to tell me what to do when you haven't lost anybody?!" she snapped.

"I have lost others," said the Mine Engine. "Many of my crews…"

"I was referring to romantic partners, you cabless bachelor! Shoo, and take your coal with you!"

Taken aback by Carys' uncharacteristic rudeness, the Mine Engine scurried away!

"Calm down, Carys! You didn't need to be rude!" scolded her driver. Carys rolled her eyes and said nothing.

Hours passed, but the hikers didn't return. By sundown, some were getting worried.

"It's not like His Grace to be out this late," said Duke worriedly. "I suspect something went wrong."

Carys was mourning way too much to know about this. That is, until her driver approached.

"We'll go look for them," he said. Carys was confused.

"Look for who?" she asked.

"You mean you haven't heard? Sir Charles Norramby hasn't returned from his hiking expedition. "Since we were supposed to look after them, I think it's best we go look for them." Carys gave a sigh.

"And what good will that do?" she asked. "There's no hope for them."

"Yes there is, there's always hope."

"And what hope is there when there's no God to watch over us?"

Her driver facepalmed.

"Listen, Albert would be very disappointed in you. He wouldn't want you to be sulking in the sheds 3 years after his death, he'd want you to get out and do work."

"And how do you know?! You never worked with him!"

"But I did."

Falcon entered the station, with some coaches.

"My brother loved you, Carys. More than you realised. He fought on the front line so you two could have a future together. And I don't know if there is a God or not, but if His Grace isn't found, people will lose faith in us. And that could lead to closure. Do you want that to happen?"

Carys thought about it and realised Falcon was right: Albert had volunteered to ensure she'd have a peaceful future without the fear of wartime, and if she kept sulking in the sheds, she would be ruining it. Putting on a brave face, she said to Falcon, "God or no God, I'll help: I'm not going to lose my railway. Now come on, let's get going!"

Once they reached the mountain road, Carys felt the rails grow unstable.

"I don't like this. It feels like the rails are going to collapse any minute."

"We can't stop now!" Falcon shouted. "If we don't keep going, Sir Charles could die!"

Eventually, they heard footsteps. They came to a stop at Falcon's Leap. Falcon shuddered, still remembering his near-miss here.

"Over here! My wife's trapped!"

The crew got out their lanterns and looked around. The ground had opened up, trapping anyone unfortunate enough to have their leg caught.

"How will we get them out of this sinkhole? We don't have ropes!"

"Nor time to get those."

Carys began looking around, until she spotted the platelayers' cottage.

"Driver, head up to that cottage! The platelayer may have something we can use!"

"Brilliant thinking, Carys!"

The driver walked up to the cottage, rang the bell, and explained the situation. Luckily, the platelayer happened to have a large metal chain, one long enough to allow the driver to repel into the gap. He attached one end of the chain to her coupler and the other to a belt the platelayer gave him.

"I'm going down in there to help," he said. "When I blow the guard's whistle, that's the signal for you to reverse and pull me up."

"Right!"

The driver stepped over to the sinkhole, and began to rappel down to everyone inside. The fireman held the chain as he rappelled down. Once he got to the bottom, he unhooked the chain and began walking around with his lantern. At last, he found the man whose wife was stuck, along with Sir Charles and the other hikers.

"Sweet Jesus! What happened to you guys?!"

"I don't know: everything was going fine, then suddenly, the ground gave way," Sir Charles replied. "We feel down here, and this lady broke her leg. In fact, we're all injured to some degree, I've actually twisted my ankle."

"Don't worry: we'll get all of you out."

One by one, everyone was lifted out. Sir Charles insisted on being saved for last, making sure everybody else got out first. It was hard and tiring work, Carys and Falcon both used a lot of water throughout the effort. Tim was called from King Orry's Bridge to provide a water tank. And it nearly was not enough. Once all the other hikers had been rescued, the driver began helping Sir Charles. He blew the whistle and the two engines began reversing. Suddenly, without warning, one of Carys' siderods snapped and punctured her running board!

"Ouch!" she exclaimed.

"Well that's torn it," said the fireman. "We can't help now. We'll have to…"

"No!" pleaded Carys. "We can't stop now! His Grace is in danger! I'll help him out if it's the last thing I ever do!"

Removing the broken siderod, the fireman put her up to full steam. It was hard work, especially with one cylinder, but she struggled on.

"I'll do it…or die trying! I'll do it…or die trying!" she groaned. Falcon, amazed at the effort she was putting in, found himself amazed as he helped pull. At last, her driver and Sir Charles were safely back on the surface!

"Well Carys," said Sir Robert, "I have no choice: I'm sorry for ditching you at Arlesdale. You aren't a useless engine after all: you're a very brave engine willing to risk your own life to help others." He then noticed her damage. "My god! You look like you've been on the Front Line!"

"Burst…cylin…der…help..ing…you!" panted Carys. The Duke didn't say anything to this: he went into thought. After a while, he spoke.

"It seems an apology isn't enough for how I treated you," he said. "Therefore, to make up for it, I have a proposition: I've been in discussion with the Sodor Council and they agree a museum would be wonderful, there's a perfect place for one in Crovans Gate. I've been providing the funding, and Carys, I'd like to ask you this: how'd you like to be the Museum's star attraction?"

"Star…attraction?" Carys asked.

"Means you'll be the main exhibit in this museum," Sir Charles explained. "Now I suggest you think about this carefully: if you agree to this, it means you'll most likely never run in service again. However, it also means there will be guarantee you won't ever be scrapped. It also means we can repair the damage: can't have you displayed in that damaged state."

Carys began to think. On one buffer, she didn't really feel ready to retire just yet: with repairs, she could still keep going. But on the other buffer, the fact that being stuck inside this museum meant she'd never be scrapped. At that moment, she was about to think of Albert, but then she realised she shouldn't care what he would want: he wanted her to be happy. And if she wanted to retire, he'd respect her decision. Thus, she made her decision.

"Your Grace, I'd be honoured to accept your offer."

Falcon was speechless!

"Then I shall speak to your Manager and make the arrangements," said Sir Charles. "Now then, take us home, Falcon. But make a stop at Arlesdale first: Carys needs repairs and I need to speak to the Manager."

Falcon recovered from his shock.

"Uh, yes sir, of course sir," he said. The hikers boarded the coach and Falcon dragged Carys back to Arlesdale.

"Why would you agree to go into retirement?" he asked her on the way home. "Engines should be out and working, not stuck inside a museum doing nothing!"

"Well…maybe you're right, Falcon: maybe engines should be out working instead of being on display. But I am getting old, my siderod is proof of that. And this railway can't keep me running forever. It's best to retire when I'm ahead rather than wait until it may be too late."

"Nonsense!" scoffed Falcon. "When were you built?"

"1902, two years before you and Albert came ironically."

"That just proves my point!" Falcon snapped. "You're young, compared to Duke. You still got plenty of life left in you, especially if your broken siderods get repaired!"

"It's not just my siderod you know," said Carys. "You saw it: my running board got punctured. Not easy to repair, is it? They may need to rebuild my entire frame to fix that."

"I…I still don't agree!" snapped Falcon. "What would Albert…"

"Look man, it doesn't matter what Albert would think: yes, I'm sad he's gone, but it's time for me to move on! It no longer matters what he would want, I'm doing this for myself! So please, respect my decision even if you don't agree with it."

Falcon said nothing more, it was a lot for him to take in.

Upon arrival at Arlesdale, he pushed Carys into the Workshop, then went back to the train. His Grace stayed behind.

"What brings you here, Your Grace?" asked the Manager.

"It's in regards to your engine here," Sir Charles answered. "I was rather cruel to her, so I'd like to discuss a proposition for you. Granted, she already agreed to this, but I figured I should talk to you about it too."

As the two talked, Carys sat where she was while the workmen examined her. After a while, they had all gone home.

"So I see you've decided to retire, dear," said a familiar voice.

"Albert? I… Is… Is that…Really y…"

"No need to stutter dear," said Albert, as his ghost manifested next to her. "And don't worry about others freaking out: nobody else can see or hear me, just you. And there's nobody else here. Now then, why did you decide to retire?"

"Well, Albert," said Carys, "I can't really explain why, I just felt…wait, how did you know?"

"Oh I've been watching you," said Albert. "And to be honest, I really shouldn't be asking: your decision is your decision, and I respect that."

"I've missed you. I…"

At that moment, Duke entered the workshop.

"Hello Carys, hello Albert."

Both engines stared in shock.

"You can see me?! But how?! I clearly made things so that only Carys could see and hear me!"

"Clearly, you didn't spend enough time in Ghost College," chortled Duke. "You might want to take a few more classes before haunting somebody."

"As much of a joker as ever, Granpuff," smiled Albert. "Would you mind giving me and Carys some time? I want to say my goodbyes."

"Of course, I only came here to check on Carys. Seems you're doing that for me. I wish you both well."

With that, Duke left, leaving Albert and Carys alone.

"What do you mean your goodbyes? I'll see you again, right?"

"Who knows? Maybe you will, maybe you won't," said Albert. "I wish you luck with your retirement, good luck my dear."

"Wait, before you go: is there a God?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say," Albert answered. "I asked Hades the same question, he told me that would be getting Metaphysical. Anyway, I must go now. Goodbye, dear."

And with that, Albert disappeared.

Some days later, Carys had her repairs finished and she was loaded onto a lorry: the museum was still in the planning stages, so His Grace had arranged for her to stay at his mansion in Ulfstead until the Museum was built. Everyone gathered to bid her farewell. The Manager stood on a podium to give a speech.

"For nearly twenty years, our number 2, Carys, has provided us with excellent service. She did her work without fuss or complaint, and always gave great care when it came to our passengers. I am proud to announce that is not leaving us in disgrace, but on her own terms, as the first member of His Grace's collection of Steam Locomotives. Let us then not be saddened at her departure, but instead remember her service fondly, and wait for our next number two with our arms open. Farewell, Carys of the Mid Sodor!"

Once the loading was completed, the lorry drove away to a chorus of whistles. The engines kept whistling until she was out of sight.

To the surprise of everyone, Falcon began to loudly cry.

"You ok, Falcon?" Duke asked.

"Just let me have this!" wailed Falcon. "I actually didn't hate her!"

"She knew, Falcon, she always knew," said Duke. Falcon gave a smile as he continued to cry.

"Thank you, Granpuff," he said.