"What dirty objects! YEECH!"

Barbera rolled her eyes: James had an open disdain towards fish trains, one she had learned to ignore. It could be because she was a fish engine, which meant she was built for that. It wasn't just James who was giving her grief, however: Gordon, too, would constantly belittle her.

"Are you saying you are an express goods engine?" he'd said the first time they'd met.

"Yes, I am," answered Barbara, "and I'm proud of my position."

This didn't stop Gordon constantly belittling her, and James would back him up.

"Express engines aren't meant to smell," Gordon would say. "They're meant to be clean and representable: a smelly fish train ruins our image."

"Maybe you're just too weak and slow?" Ian said on the 3rd of March, a day after the Wyatt incident. Gordon was so angry, he reversed into the back of the sheds. Luckily, only the buffers were destroyed.

"How dare you call me weak and slow! Do I LOOK weak and slow to you?!"

"Yes," Ian put in.

"Well clearly you've been blinded by the reality: express engines are no longer atlantics. Pacifics like me are the future."

"Yes, and so are moguls," James put in.

"Don't be absurd, little James!" Gordon laughed.

"Screw you, fatface! My red paint makes me stand out more than yours ever will!" James snapped. "Besides, my kind is tried and true, you are nothing more than an experiment that got lucky. You hear this? You're nothing! NOTHING!"

That last bit did affect Gordon. It affected him so much he refused to steam up.

"Come on, you fat fuck!" the firelighter snapped. "You can't stay here all day!"

Gordon didn't say anything, he didn't even try to build up steam. It ended up going down to Barbara to take the Wild Nor Wester, as she was the only engine in steam on such short notice. She didn't like passenger trains, and was very rough with the coaches, made worse by the fact she was in a bad mood.

"Be careful, Barbara!" called the coaches.

"Don't…tell me what to do!" snapped Barbara. "I don't care about you! Coaches are nothing but nuisances!"

The coaches were furious, but Barbara shut them up by smashing them against the buffers…as the passengers were about to board. The Fat Director walked out of his office when he heard the noise.

"What is going on?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Barbara said.

The Fat Director wasn't entirely convinced, especially when the passengers began complaining about getting tripped. One was even bleeding from her forehead.

"Barbara, I order you to explain what is going on here."

"What's going on is Gordon refuses to steam, which means I'm on this train, which I goddamn hate!"

"Well, you do as you're told! I will not stand for passengers getting injured on my railway!"

Barbara gave a harrumph and looked away. Deciding he probably wouldn't get anywhere with Barbara at this moment, the Fat Director went to the sheds instead.

He found Gordon alone, cold, and miserable.

"What is going on, Gordon?" he asked, kindly.

Gordon sighed, before explaining everything. The Fat Director wasn't too pleased with James, but dealing with him could wait: right now, his focus was on trying to cheer Gordon up.

"Gordon, you're more than just an experiment," he said. "You're a tried and true express engine. Now, where is James?"

Jewelie walked on over.

"With Barbara on the Wild Nor Wester," she said, "I put James on the next fish train going to the mainland."

Baby Stuart giggled: the Fat Director had allowed her to bring him so long as he didn't disturb work too much. When Gordon saw the baby, he couldn't help but feel curious.

"So that's how a baby human looks," he said. While still upset, Gordon couldn't help but give a little smile. "It's actually cute."

"Aw, thank you!" smiled Jewelie.

"As for James," said the Fat Director, trying not to laugh, "it looks like he's already been punished."

And indeed, James was not enjoying himself as he travelled along the main line.

"Fish train! Fish train!" he grumbled. "I'll need twenty-five washdowns to get rid of this smell!"

The trucks were having fun at his expense.

"Watch out for vultures: they love rotten things, and engines are no exception!"

"SHUT UP!" James snapped, bumping them hard. The trucks didn't stop giggling, and the crew were finding him hard to handle.

"Settle down, James!" called his driver.

"I'll settle down when this smelly job is done!" James snapped.

It was hard to say which engine was having it worse: Barbara or James. Neither would stop complaining about their respective jobs.

Both would meet up at Wellsworth, when Barbara stopped there for Hurricane to bank her up Gordon's Hill. They glared, blaming each other at first.

"If YOU hadn't insulted Gordon, I could take my beloved boys!"

"If he hadn't said moguls taking the express was absurd, I wouldn't have said that!" James snapped.

"You still shouldn't have said that!" snapped Barbara.

"Screw you, bitch!" growled James. "You're not the one stuck on smelly fish trains!"

"Fish trains aren't smelly, and people need fish!"

"They ARE smelly, and so are you!" James shouted.

"You're the one who smells…of BLOOD!"

Now it was James who was furious.

"Take that back!"

"No way!"

"ENOUGH!" shouted the stationmaster. "Your attitude is causing the passengers to get upset. Now quit quarrelling and carry on with your jobs."

James and Barbara huffed as the former set off, Hurricane pushing behind.

Lily took the chance to try to sympathise with James as she entered the station.

"Look, I know how you feel," she said. "I myself don't like fish trains either."

"Thanks, yes, they're smelly, dirty, and make an engine feel like they're being torn apart!" James said.

"Hey!" a van complained. "We aren't all bad!"

"Don't you try to start!" James shouted. "I AM aware of that!"

"Then why do you have a thing against us?" asked the van.

"I'll tell you why: you ruin my image!" James snapped. "A shiny red engine like me must only smell sweet, anything worse and things will go bad!"

"Take a fruit train, then," snorted the van. "Then wait until that fruit rots."

"Haha. You know Shedmaster Owens put me on this train," scoffed James.

"Tell her, then. Maybe she'll turn you into a babysitter for her son."

James and Lily were furious! The van just laughed as Hurricane made his return.

"Alright, that's enough," he said. "Lily, do you need me to bank you up the hill as well?"

Further up the line, Barbara's driver was feeling unwell, mainly because as a result of her bad mood, Barbara was riding roughly.

"Settle down, Barbara! No need to be so rough!"

The coaches agreed, as did the passengers. The snack trolley had actually toppled, covering the snack lady in hot coffee.

"OW! My arms!"

Things were just as bad up in the cab. All the rough-riding had caused dust to fly everywhere as the fireman tried to shovel.

"A…a…ACHOO!"

Suddenly, the driver sneezed. In the process, the heads of both driver and fireman collided, knocking them out. At first, Barbara was relieved.

"Finally! No more nagging!" she exclaimed happily. But as she approached the Viaduct, she found it odd that her driver wasn't slowing her down.

"Driver, I think we should slow down," she said. There came no reply. "Driver? DRIVER?!"

Suddenly, she realised she had lost her crew! She began to panic as she approached Cronk. The high speeds as she passed meant one of the coaches derailed. Barbara herself overran signals and kept going until she neared Killdane. There, she herself finally derailed.

Some passengers had been injured. A few gravely. James ended up learning about the situation when he was flagged down at Cronk. He didn't feel triumphant, instead, he was worried.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked slowly.

"Edward's already bringing the Breakdown Train," said the stationmaster. "Unload some of your empty vans, then take them and the brake van over to the accident: there are injured people there and the vans can be used to carry them until ambulances arrive."

The situation was dire indeed. Most accidents in Sodor had no injuries, but this was an exception. James was horrified to see how many people lay injured on the ground. He could only stare on while workmen began picking up injured people and loading them into the empty vans. He took his anger on Barbara.

"Look what you've done! You just couldn't control yourself! You disgust me!"

Barbara didn't say anything, and James soon found out why: the impact had knocked her unconscious. Edward soon arrived, the Fat Director on board.

Barbara began to recover, and saw the latter in front of her.

"Sir…?"

"Yes, Barbara. What happened?"

"I…I don't know! Something happened before the viaduct when my crew stopped talking."

Miraculously, both were unharmed, though when they woke up and explained what had led to the accident, the Fat Director wasn't sure what to think.

"Well, Barbara, while this accident wasn't your fault," he said, "you should take into consideration the fact that this could've been avoided if you hadn't been riding so roughly. I get it: you hate pulling coaches. But on my railway, engines do whatever job they're given no matter what. Perhaps," he finished, "some time at Wellsworth will allow you to learn how to handle coaches under Edward's instructions. As for you," he said, turning to James, "once Barbara is repaired, you shall keep pulling fish trains until I decide so. I hope now you see just how valuable any rolling stock can be."

"Yes sir," said James slowly.

"Another screw up, I'll take away your red coat and paint you blue."

James didn't like that at all, and the next morning, he was even rougher with the coaches than Barbara had been as he brought them to the platform.

"Come along, come along," he puffed rudely. The Lancashire coaches were already angry from the previous day, and made it clear.

"We won't! Treat us nicely!"

"Don't talk, come on!" barked James, and with the coaches squealing and grumbling after him, he snorted into the station.

James was very cross that morning: Not only was he still angry from being threatened to be painted blue, he also had to fetch his own coaches.

"Gordon never does," huffed James, "and he's only painted blue. A splendid red engine like me should never have to fetch his own coaches." And he puffed and snorted round to the front of the train, backing onto it with a rude bump.

"OOOOH!" groaned the coaches. "That was too hard!"

"SHUT UP! NO NONSENSE!" barked James.

The stationmaster was furious for a reason. He ran towards James, waving a red flag.

"These coaches are in the wrong platform," he said. "You'll have to move them to platform 3."

"But sir, I'll be delayed!" complained James.

"Schedule says platform 1 is for the Wild Nor Wester," said the stationmaster firmly. "Move your coaches where you were told, and don't argue."

James grew more cross as he obeyed. Nobody crowded around him at the third platform: the Fat Director was in his office, the stationmaster had gone to the other end to talk to the guard, and even the little boys stayed away. This made him sad, as he remembered how he was treated by the Dreadnoughts on his old railway. He began to feel lonely, then this was replaced by anger.

"I see what the problem is: they think GORDON is the only one that can pull coaches. Well," he said, "I'll show them otherwise!"

As soon as the guard's whistle blew, he started off with a tremendous jerk.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he puffed, and the coaches, squeaking and groaning in protest, clattered over the points on to the open line.

"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" he puffed.

The first signal was red, which led to him screaming profanity at Ian as he passed with the return express. When the signal dropped, James started off again. The coaches started to complain.

"You're going too fast! You're going too fast!" they squealed, and indeed they were going so fast they swayed side-to-side. James just laughed and began to attempt to go faster.

He stopped at Knapford quite rudely, bumping the coaches as he did so.

"I'm not travelling behind that engine," Annie muttered..

"On that, I can agree," snorted Clarabel. The guard blew his whistle once more and James started with yet another jerk. He attempted to go faster once more, but as they passed through Crosby Tunnel, the coaches decided enough was enough.

"That's it!" they shouted. "We're going to stop! We're going to stop!"

Sure enough, James found himself going slower and slower, until they came to a stop, just as the last coach left the tunnel.

"What's the matter?" James asked his driver.

"The brakes are hard on-leak in the pipe most likely. You've banged the coaches enough to make a leak in anything."

The guard and driver got down and began looking at all the brake pipes. At last, in the middle of the train, they found a hole where the rough treatment had made a joint loose.

"We're not going anywhere, it seems," said the driver. "Not unless we mend it."

"Yes, but how?" asked the guard. The driver thought for a moment.

"I got it: with newspapers and a leather bootlace."

"No, NO, NO, NO!" wailed James.

"I got some newspaper in my compartment," said the guard, ignoring James, "but where do we get the bootlace from?"

"Ask the passengers," answered the driver.

"NO!" interrupted James, getting attention. "We're staying here until someone can push us! I'm not humiliating myself! AND THAT IS FINAL!"

"James, shut up!" snapped the fireman. "You need the bootlace anyway: no engine can push us with a broken pipe!"

As the fireman said this, the guard was already getting everybody out.

"Has anybody got a leather bootlace?" he asked when they were all out. They all shook their heads or said they didn't. Then the guard noticed a man named Jeremiah Jobling: he wasn't shaking his head or saying no, he was hiding his feet, or trying to.

"Ahah! I see YOU have a leather bootlace!" said the guard. "Please, give it to me."

"I won't," said Jeremiah Jobling.

"Then," said the guard sternly, "I'm afraid this train will stay where it is."

The passengers began to insult James, and complain about how bad the railway was. But the guard went into his compartment and the crew went back into the cab, where they made James let off steam. Then, they began trying to wrestle the bootlaces away from Jeremiah Jobling, to the point where several people pushed him onto the ground.

"Alright, alright!" he shouted, just as one of the passengers was about to sit on him. It would probably be best not to think about what this passenger had in mind.

Once the guard got all the people away from Jeremiah Jobling, he took the laces out of his shoes and handed them over. While it wasn't sure if both pairs were needed, they decided a spare would be nice. The driver came back and tied a pad of newspapers tightly round the hole. At last, James was able to once again pull the train.

But he was a sadder and wiser James and took care never to bump coaches ever again.

That night at Tidmouth, James received stern words from the Fat Director.

"I made myself very clear James: one more screwup and…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" interrupted James. "IF you think I'll let you paint me blue, you have another thing coming!"

"Very well," said the Fat Director. "If that's what you feel, then you can stay in this shed until I can trust you again. Henry will be returning tomorrow, so there shouldn't be any trouble with your trains. As for Barbara's trains, Luci can handle those with no trouble."

Gordon, Emily, Dante, Ian, Lily, and Olive returned later that night. Nobody spoke to James, they were too busy talking about their own work of the day. Poor James sat there, feeling sad and lonely.

(Author's Note: Barbara's accident is based on a real-life derailment. On 2 February 1908, the driver of a freight train sneezed, his head collided with that of his fireman, knocking both of them out. Due to excessive speed, a van in the train derailed approaching Notton and Royston station, Yorkshire and the train overran signals there. It derailed completely at Ryhill. Of course, as she was pulling a passenger train, the consequences here are more dire.)