8 - 3801

Great Northern carefully perched himself on Truro's running board as he carefully tried to wake the sleeping City Class. He gave a few knocks to the side of his smokebox and the Great Western seemed to jump, startled as he looked at him.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you so abruptly, Truro," North apologised and Truro gave him a sad smile, his face holding a look of pure exhaustion. "But it's nearly time for you to depart."

"No apology necessary Great Northern," Truro croaked out, his voice raspy and full of sleep. "I was not asleep."

Instead of being assured North grew even more concerned for the Great Western.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," he observed shocked.

"That's because I haven't," Truro explained matter of factly and North frowned deeply at him.

"City of Truro-"

"Great Northern, I assure you I am fine and I am anxious to return to York," he proclaimed dismissively as he saw the waiting crew standing by to take him back to the museum. Said crew exchanged glances with one another.

"With all due respect City of Truro," his driver, Callum, cautioned. "You are in no state to travel anywhere."

"We should call a lorry to transport you back to York," the Fireman Edward and Truro looked appalled at the suggestion.

"A lorry? A lorry!" The City of Truro scoffed. "I will NOT be carted around on a lorry, no matter how dishevelled I am! I will not demean myself by agreeing to such indignity!"

Great Northern nodded sympathetically. Had he still been an engine, he too would not have wanted to be transported by lorry, but the fact still stood. Truro was not in any condition.

"While a agree with you, City of Truro, being shunted around on a lorry is highly demeaning for an engine, you look in no position to argue," North advised and the City of Truro gazed at him curiously.

"Very bold of you to speak frankly to me, Great Northern," Truro chided the man, narrowing his eyes at him and Great Northern feared that he may have overstepped his bounds. Where once he might have criticised the Great Western, he was in no position to order about one of the most prestigious leaders of the Great Western.

He relaxed however when he saw a playful glint in Truro's tired eyes. "I do however accept your reasoning but might I request other avenues of transporting me be explored?"

His driver hummed, "I'm sure we could ask Lady Gresley or Mr Stanier if there are any other options," he relented and Truro gave the smallest smile in gratitude.

"Off you go then young man," Truro conceded as the elder engine's crew quickly shuffled off to find Lady Olivia.

Truro turned his attention to Great Northern who was still perched upon his running board.

"Are you sure you should be up here on my running board when your leg is still quite weak my dear fellow?" the Great Western asked and North shook his head.

"It's fine," North said dismissively. "It's not important."

"I insist that it is," Truro encouraged. "You must take care of that human body of yours. It's quite fragile, unlike our engines."

"Didn't Flying Scotsman ever tell you what a horrible person I am?" North exclaimed bitterly and Truro stared at him surprised.

"Yes, he told me everything," Truro replied. "And he always spoke of you with such pity."

Great Northern was expecting the Scotsman had always been so hateful or furious with him. He hadn't been expecting the pity. It infuriated him in many ways.

"Pity?!" North snapped, seemingly outraged. "He pities me?! I do not want him to pity me!"

Truro narrowed his eyes and frowned at North.

"That's just who Flying Scotsman is," Truro insisted. "He's a kind soul. He's sympathetic. He and Sir Nigel both feel very sorry for what happened to you, you know."

North glared at Truro but the Great Western looked unintimidated despite his dreadful appearance.

"Kepp your nose out of our business, Great Western," he sneered but Truro simply remained unfazed.

"Scotsman is my partner, I have a personal interest in his business especially when his welfare is concerned," Truro disagreed. "I suppose you have an issue with our relationship?"

Great Northern was taken aback by Truro's comment. He had been very vocal about certain things when he had been younger, to say the least.

"It may surprise you to find that I do not," North replied. "I think being around you has driven some sense into my idiot brother."

"Well he is 100 now and to give him credit, he can be surprisingly perceptive and clever," Truro expressed with great humour in his voice. "Not often but it's nice to know that he has the ability in there somewhere. I do wish that he'd use it more often though."

North just frowned at Truro. He was about to speak when Truro's crew returned with Olivia Gresley in tow.

A look of concern immediately washed over her face the second she laid eyes on the famous Great Western.

"Oh goodness, Truro!" She exclaimed as she saw him. "I can see why your crew want to put you on a lorry you poor thing!"

Truro looked down at Lady Gresley with a tired expression.

"I do not want to be put on a lorry Lady Gresley, it is demeaning," Truro protested.

"Regardless, you are in no condition to travel under your own steam," Olivia frowned. "Are the nightmares about Mallard that bad that you're sleep-depriving yourself now?"

Truro looked away from the Museum director and North who were now watching carefully.

"I don't know if it's Mallard," he admitted. "It's a human man with long brown hair and a long blue coat. He looks like he's in fox hunting gear but… I just don't know…"

Olivia looked thoughtfully at him.

"I can arrange some services for you," she offered. "Maybe talking to a counsellor engine or a medic engine would help you?"

Truro just sighed and closed his eyes.

"I just want Scott," he wearily quavered, his voice barely over that of a whisper. He sounded defeated. "Being in his company makes everything right in the world."

Olivia walked up and placed a hand on Truro, tiny flecks of Gold Dust washing over the Great Western and calming the exhausted engine. He seemed to lean into the Gold Dust and hungrily devour it.

Olivia was surprised at how much gold dust Truro wanted to draw from her and stepped back. She frowned.

"I think we need to get you to Flying Scotsman right away," she decided. "I think you've been infected with Black Smoke."

"No…" Truro gave a mournful wail and cast his eyes to the ground sadly. "I thought it was gone."

"Regardless, being will Scott will do you the world of good. The black smoke would not dare try to go anywhere near you in his presence," Olivia smiled at him encouragingly. "Besides the two of you are perfect for one another."

Truro smiled at that.

"But how will we get Truro back to York?" Callum asked. "He won't go on a lorry and he's not fit to run himself."

Olivia turned to smile at him.

"With a little bit of magic," she grinned at the very confused-looking crew who just looked at her like she was insane.

At York, Flying Scotsman was sitting alone in his berth away from the other engines. It had been so long since he had been here, having spent the past few years on Sodor with his brother and his friends.

Although he thoroughly enjoyed his years on Sodor, he had been anxious to return to the East Coast. It was his home after all, where he had been built, raised and perfected his craft of being an express engine. As he looked around his old shed, he didn't feel the comfort or warmth he was used to. The shed felt cold and empty, devoid of life.

Scotsman sighed to himself and looked around listlessly. He knew exactly why it felt so empty.

The City of Truro wasn't here, still on loan to Sodor.

Mr Henry Stanier had informed him that Truro would be back very soon but he just didn't know when soon was.

As Scotsman closed his eyes to rest, a warm draft suddenly rushed into the room disturbing him and making him alert. He blinked the tiredness out of his eyes as the mysterious wind blew through the sheds, a flurry of Gold Dust turning and twisting in a gentle vortex forming in the engine berth next to him while a ghostly whistle echoed through the shed and bounced off of the walls.

Slowly but surely, the facade of an engine appeared and began to solidify into a grand machine. He immediately recognised Lady Olivia standing atop the running board a grand smile across her face.

An elated expression appeared on Scotsman's face as he recognised it and he immediately felt whole again.

"City of Truro!" He proclaimed loudly and the Great Western looked overjoyed to see him.

Green Arrow was worried for the Australian Engine after the Steamworks shut down for the evening. He had been woken by the engine loudly fidgeting to herself, evidently very agitated and distressed.

"Ms Grey?" He asked before yawning very loudly, trying to get the sleep out of his brain. "Is everything alright?"

The Australian engine looked over at Green Arrow startled. She looked incredibly anxious the poor soul but she gave him a brave smile when she caught his gaze.

"I'm sorry, did my quaking wake you?" She asked.

"Yes, but you seem distressed, what's wrong?"

"Nah don't worry about it," Grey protested. "Nothing a handsome engine like yourself should worry about."

Green Arrow blushed. He'd never been called handsome before.

"I uh, I'm just concerned," he stammered incredibly flustered after the compliment. Grey noticed his embarrassment and laughed heartily.

"Oh, you British Isles engines are all so proper!" She chortled. "Funny things aren't ya?"

"Why are you so upbeat when people talk to you?" Green Arrow asked pointedly. "When someone talks to you, you just suddenly light up."

"Does that bother you mate?" Grey asked, raising a brow.

"Not really, I just don't get," Arrow admitted. "I've never been that comfortable around people I don't know."

"Oh I see, you're an introvert!" Grey realised. "That's cool, being able to spend time alone with yourself. I wish I could do that. Being along with my thoughts just makes me anxious, you know?"

"Well, It's not that great, I barely have any friends, I struggle to make them," Arrow muttered. "I don't like approaching people or talking to strangers."

"I'm a stranger, you're talking to me aren't ya?" Grey pointed out and Arrow stopped and stared at her.

"I suppose I am!" He exclaimed brightly as he realised. "How about that? It helps that you're so friendly I guess."

Arrow smiled to himself. Despite his aversion to talking to strangers, he was speaking to Grey with no trouble at all.

"Are all Australian engines as friendly as you are?" He asked the bright Green Engine.

"I mean we're all different. This one mate of mine, Hunter, can be a bit much," she reflected. "He'll tell you every single way an animal can kill someone and how painful it would be."

"Oh."

"But myself and Gold are pretty good mates, happy to go places and make friends."

"Gold? Who's Gold?"

"Oh, ya haven't met him? He's my emotional support diesel," Grey explained proudly. "He's such a good mate of mine, been through thick and thin together. He's pulled me out of the worst times in my life, you know? Everything feels like it's going to be alright with him around."

Green Arrow said nothing. He wished he could have someone like that in his life. There was one he could consider that person but they hadn't seen each other in ages. He did miss her dearly.

He could feel that there was more behind Grey's words but it felt rude to ask. Instead, he looked out at the evening sky as the air was still and a comfortable silence echoed through the sheds.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask. So many things he desired to know bubbled in his boiler as he sat contemplating the foreign engine next to him.

"Is the United Kingdom very different to where you come from Ms Grey?" He asked and the bright green engine smiled at him.

"Well for one it's not as bloody cold!" She complained loudly. "Or snowy. How do you deal with the rails being so bloody cold?"

"Oh the past few days have been warm," Green Arrow objected. "It's usually much colder this time of year."

"Colder? Colder!" Grey exclaimed, perplexed. "It's barely above freezing and it's warmer than usual?!"

Arrow just laughed. "Well, I guess when you come from a desert it must seem like that!"

"Oi, Australia's not all a desert mate, that's just the middle part. It's like an engine's boiler. Hot inside and not as hot on the outside," Grey corrected. "Like a really hot egg full of sand."

Arrow snorted in mirth.

"That's a terrible analogy," he scoffed and Grey glowered at him.

"Alright, then Mr fancy dome, no more Aussie stories for you."

"I'll behave," Arrow chuckled. "More stories, please. Tell me about your hot sandy egg of a country."

Grey looked thoughtful for a second. She was aware that Arrow was trying to distract her from her anxious thoughts but she didn't mind. The other engine seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

"Well, what do ya wanna know?" She humoured him with a pleasant smile.

"Well, Pendennis Castle kept telling stories about Australia when he came back to the UK, I was wondering if you could confirm or deny some things," Arrow questioned and Grey gave a barely noticeable sly smile.

"You know what sure, what do you wanna know?"

"What on Earth is a Dropbear?"

To his surprise, his question was met with raucous laughter from the large streamlined Pacific.

Tornado made sure that Flying Scotsman had turned in for the night before she went for a little midnight wander around the museum. In the case of Scotsman catching wind of her going out to find Evening Star and apologising to her, she had convinced the Chinese KF Class to distract him.

As prestigious and famous as Scotsman was, the KF Class was an engine that intimidated all in their path. Quietly spoken and incredibly intelligent, Yaozu was very much the opposite of his imposing stature but wasn't afraid to dress down an engine if it annoyed him.

Lady Hamilton had introduced to two and Tornado was regaled with stories of China and his journey across the globe. The young engine was so impressed by Yaozu, not even believing that he was a standard gauge engine at all.

Yaozu had offered to help Tornado, to which she was very pleased. She doubted that Scotsman would try to tangle with Yaozu so late at night if at all. The two weren't friends but they did respect each other very highly.

Thankfully, as Yaozu kept watch on the roundhouse there was no sign of the famous A3 stirring and so Tornado was quickly able to make her way around the quiet museum yard, most of the engines having gone to sleep for the night.

The sound of her chuffing bounced and echoed from the buildings no matter how quiet she was trying to be. She huffed as every single chuff or creak seemed impossibly loud.

She only drew the ire of a couple of shunters but apart from that her sneaking around drew no attention. Finally, she came upon Evening Star and her cousin Blue Peter who were sitting side by side in the yard, the harsh lights casting them in menacing pitch-black shadows, highlights reflecting off their boilers.

Blue Peter noticed her first and turned his nose up at her, looking away from his cousin with disdain. Tornado just glared at him and ignored his attitude. She didn't want to start another fight with Blue Peter, especially with Evening Star in their presence.

The 9f in question had now also noticed Tornado and had begun scowling at her, her expression deeply annoyed.

This time, Tornado made sure to keep her distance and respect Evening Star's space.

"I know that Flying Scotsman told me not to see you but I feel like I should apologise for what I did earlier today," Tornado implored the larger engine and Evening Stars' gaze softened.

The Peppercorn looked genuinely apologetic.

"I'm sorry that I was so aggressive and made you feel uncomfortable," Tornado continued. "I'll do my best to be more aware and respectful next time."

Evening Star studied the Peppercorn for a long while as Tornado nervously waited for her response, Merrick carefully watching the interaction in case it turned sour.

His worries were unfounded however as Evening Star gave Tornado a slight smile of acceptance, accepting the apology, sensing nothing but Tornado's genuine intent.

"Oh! Thank you!" Tornado exclaimed brightly. "Um, can you keep it a secret from Scotsman that I saw you? He'll be very mad if he finds out."

Evening Star just stared at her.

"Ah it was worth a try," Tornado muttered to herself. She gave Evening Star a friendly grin. "Best of luck on Sodor! I hope you enjoy your time working there!"

Tornado waited for a moment, Evening Star giving a slight tilt of her frames indicating a thank-you.

"I'll be off then, goodnight, safe travels!" She called to Evening Star, pointedly ignoring Blue Peter who hadn't stopped glaring at her and moving off back into the yards to find Yaozu and tell him that everything was fine.

"What a delightful engine!" Harley complimented the retreating Peppercorn. "You see Venus? Tornado is a sweetheart, that previous little meeting was her being too enthusiastic to help you I think."

'Perhaps.'

Blue Peter just tutted, annoyed and looked away. He said nothing, but his disagreement over Tornado was obvious.

"Just what is your problem with Tornado?" His driver, William, asked confounded. "She's a nice young engine who's doing her best. You don't need to be so dismissive of her."

"I don't want to talk about it," was all Blue Peter said gruffly. William just gave an exasperated sigh.

"Lady Olivia just called and asked us to get going to Sodor with Coppernob. She wants us on the Island before sunlight," Harley called to Merrick and Blue Peter's crew.

"Right you are, let's get that flatbed coupled up and away shall we?" William agreed.

Blue Peter just humphed in reply while Evening Star glanced at him. She had no idea what was going on between the two Peppercorns but it reminded her of how some of her other siblings had been dismissive of her when she had been selected to be a part of the collection.

Blue Peter noticed Evening Star eyeing him annoyed and he immediately dropped the scowled and avoided the 9f's scrutinising gaze.

Evening Star wasn't phased by his actions and ignored him.

Peppercorns.

Always such a strange and curious lot.

Great Northern was rummaging around Olivia's office, pulling old framed posters of the LNER off of the walls and wrapping up her railway models and carefully placing them in boxes to move to the old family home.

It was only right for Olivia to take over the family home and kick out her abusive father who had thought that he could leech off the family name. It made up for the fact she had spent a lot of her formal years struggling to make rent and couch surfing while becoming a most prestigious engineer.

It made her happy to see her become respected and influential in the railway scene although it made sense. Gresley did have a certain dominating and authoritative personality that demanded respect from those around them.

He looked up as there was a knock on the office door. An elderly lady with a sour face and sultry eyes was standing in the doorway. She wore enough jewellery and precious stones to send a jeweller into bankruptcy by the look of her.

He knew that it was Jocasta Parsons, a woman who cared more for her reputation and controlling those under her. Not that any of the other people gave her mind or attention. She was generally known as a nuisance.

"Lady Gresley is not here ma'am," North told the woman curtly. "She has gone to York to attend the museum."

"Well that's strange, I saw her wandering the halls of Ulfstead castle only hours before," the woman exclaimed in a mocking tone, North narrowing his eyes.

"Regardless of what you saw, Lady Gresley is not here, please leave," North demanded curtly. He did not want to waste time with this aggravating woman.

The women inquisition ignored him and glanced up at one of the framed pieces on the wall.

"How unladylike, owning a gun," she mused and North frowned at her annoyed.

He glanced at the large fox hunting gun mounted in the frame to the side of the room. It was antique and it probably didn't work but it had been in the family for a long while. It had been the weapon of one of past Gresleys.

"Lady Olivia isn't bound by such outdated rules as most people are these days," North defended. "I suggest you leave now before I call security."

Mrs Parsons frowned and narrowed her eyes North. She stared at him for a long while before suddenly clapping her hands and two large bodyguards stepped into the room towering over her and North.

North frowned at them before turning back to Mrs Parsons.

"If you think you're going to intimidate me into revealing secrets about Lady Gresley then you are sorely mistaken," he growled out angrily.

He would rather die than allow any harm to come to little Olivia. He had failed to protect Flying Scotsman, but he wouldn't fail to protect young Olivia.

Despite the bodyguards towering over him, he squared up to Mrs Parsons.

"You in any way threatened Olivia and I'll make sure that you won't live to see another day," he swore, his face set in an intense stare.

"Take him," was all Mrs Parsons said, her voice a cold and sadistic cackle to it.

There was nowhere to run, the woman had purposely cornered him in a room and closed off his one exit. He scowled at her, making sure not to give her any pleasure in watching him struggle as the two bodyguards grabbed him and zip-tied his hands behind his back.

"This will not go unnoticed," he pointed out to her and Jocasta Parsons just smiled at him knowingly.

"Hello 3801," the clipped and proper voice of the coroner greeted the green and gold engine. "How have you been?"

The normal vibrant and happy streamlined express engine said nothing. She only stared at him with a harrowing expression in her eyes. The uncharacteristic silence worried her crew. She had been like this for months while she had been pulled off of service. They couldn't blame her though. Not after the accident that she had been involved in.

An accident had gotten the other engine and its driver, Gordon Hill, killed along with many of her passengers.

The agonising days and weeks afterwards while the clean-up went underway and the investigation continued had not been easy on her as she remained locked in her shed away from others.

Dark thoughts often crossed her mind, in a constant cycle of blame, blame and depression as she desperately tried to make sense of what had happened. There was no one else to distract her, no one except her crew who comforted and assured her occasionally.

Had it been her fault?

She should have been able to get over Cowan bank. She had before, she was more than strong enough. Why on this day had she failed so miserably? Was she getting too old, too weak? Was her time up? Was this it? Was she about to be scrapped for her role in the disaster?

The coroner gave 3801 a sad smile.

"I have the final report of what happened," He addressed her and 3801 felt fear rise in her boiler. She was responsible for what happened she just knew it. Her driver was giving her reassuring pats on the side of her smokebox but she couldn't feel them. Her entire frame felt too numb from the fear of the report.

"Our investigation concluded that several factors were the result of the accident," the coroner continued. "The handbrake brake in on the 3rd carriage was applied to prevent you from climbing the bank as usual. We believe it was one of the rail enthusiasts who did this in order to watch you struggle."

Grey looked livid. Someone had wanted to watch her struggle. How dare they! Did they not realise how dangerous that was? Did they not realise that their little stunt had killed people?!

"I can see that you're rightful furious 3801," the coroner observed the express engine. "However there is more that contributed to the crash."

Oh.

Dread filled 3801's boiler as she knew that she would not like what was about to be said next.

"The signals were found to have faulted, letting 8060 onto your track. We found that the cause of the fault was sand on the tracks causing the AC track circuits to not pick up your presence," the man explained mournfully and 3801 looked completely crestfallen.

It had been her fault. Her sand had caused the signals to malfunction. She had no way of cleaning the sand off the track afterwards.

She looked at the ground, her expression completely and utterly hopeless.

It had been her fault.

This confirmed it in her mind, she'd killed these poor innocent people.

It was her fault.

She was a murderer. She should be tried and hung like the criminal she was.

If the coroner or her crew had more to say, she didn't hear them as tears burnt her eyes and slipped down her face as she silently cried, the world around her turned into a whirlpool of colours and muffled sounds.

She didn't know how long she had sat there crying to herself but when she regained her composure the coroner had gone and her crew were sitting around her, gently trying to comfort her.

She blinked and sniffed, gazing at the worried faces around her.

"When am I being scrapped?" she croaked, her voice garbled from crying.

"You're not being scrapped Grey," her driver insisted.

"But I'm a murderer!" Grey suddenly shouted at him. "I'm a horrible monster!"

"Grey," one of the young bloods approached her. "It wasn't your fault. The signals were faulty and a handbrake was applied. That's not your fault."

"How can you say that?!" She shouted at him. "Of course, it was my fault! My sand caused the signal to fault!"

"Grey-"

"Shut up! I don't want to fucking hear it!" She raged her emotions a maelstrom of anger and guilt.

"But Grey, you've been given the go-ahead to steam again. They would never have let you if they believed it was your fault," the young blood argued but Grey was not having it.

"They're wrong! It was my fault! Shut up, you little twerp!" She shrieked and the driver motioned for the rest of the crew to leave. When the last of the crew left, he turned to Grey.

"Grey," he began but the engine looked away from him.

"Nothing you say is going to change my mind," she argued and her driver nodded at her.

"I know," he agreed. "My wife has tried to tell me it wasn't my fault either but, the guilt still lingers."

Grey paused and looked at him. She didn't say anything but was intrigued.

"Even though the guilt is still there, my wife's assurances over time since the accident have helped. Maybe you need someone like that?"

Grey frowned at him but still retained the thoughtful look in her eye.

"I don't have anyone like that," she eventually lamented. "That sounds nice though."

"Perhaps at the very least, we'll find you a shed mate to keep your mind off of things for now?"

Grey gave a strained smile.

"I'd like that."

Gordon stared silently at Gold as the Australian diesel finished explaining Grey's grievances with him and why she had acted so out of sorts earlier that day.

Had the same thing happened to him he probably wouldn't have been able to handle it. It made sense, Grey's distress at being completely stranded on his hill, said hill being named after someone who she thought she had killed in the accident.

He felt extremely guilt-ridden and knew at once just how wrong he had been to leave him there while she had almost broken down in fright.

"Do you understand now Big Blue?" Gold demanded of the A1 Pacific as Gordon looked into the face of the furious diesel.

"I- do," Gordon confirmed. "I never meant to hurt her, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Apologise to her not me," Gold ordered pointedly.

"I was on my way to do so when you, found, me," Gordon maintained.

"Then I will go with you," Gold explained gruffly, moving out of the engine's way so that he was no longer cornered in the siding that Gold had dragged the both of them to.

Gordon said nothing, only making his way to the Steamworks with more purpose than he had before encountering the Australian diesel.

Mallard's attention was drawn to the window as the large Raven Herbert landed on the open window sill and stared at him. The large raven had finished reuniting with his flock and had returned to check on him.

"I'm fine, go away," Mallard waved his hand at the bird but said bird made no move to fly away, only trying to nip the hand that was in his face before clicking his beak at him.

Mallard just tutted and looked away from the raven to the strange lamp, sitting in the middle of the floor. The one he had taken from that abandoned engine and had transported him back to his abandoned signal box by the lake.

He felt compelled by it. Like it held some kind of strange power or the answers to the universe or something.

Maybe this lamp could give him answers, like who he was or where he had come from. No matter how hard he tried, it was like his own past was a mystery to him. Every time he tried desperately to remember who he was it was like a thick black fog obscured the details.

He knew that his name was Mallard, given to him by a kind and generous man. He knew there was something about railways and engines. Was he an engine driver perhaps? Maybe he worked at the sheds as a crewman but that couldn't be it. Those jobs didn't feel right to him. He felt like he was far more important than that.

The one thing he did remember was the lake with the ducks. When he had first awoken here in this peaceful little place in the woods, the ducks had come up to him as if they knew him. It was strange.

He reached out to touch the lamp but Herbert suddenly made a growling noise. Mallard glared at the bird he had flown to the floor next to the lamp and nipped at his hand as it went to touch the lamp.

"Stop!" Mallard snapped at him annoyed but the raven just cawed back at him, staring intently at him.

He went to touch it again but the raven nipped at him again, moving to stand between himself and the lamp. Mallard frowned and tried to shove the stubborn bird out of the way but he was rewarded with a solid bite of his thumb.

Mallard jerked back and pulled his hand away and glared at the bird now standing off with him

"I know you're worried but I need to know who I am!" Mallard insisted. Herbert just cawed at him loudly, making his displeasure unknown.

"I don't care if it hurts me or what I find is terrible I just… need to know!" Mallard appealed to the fluffed-up bird.

Herbert tilted his head to the side and looked at him curiously, almost as if he was weighing up his choices.

There were times when Mallard was convinced that Herbert wasn't even a true raven. He was some kind of intelligence somehow masquerading as a simple raven.

Finally, the raven seemed to accept his reasoning, removing himself from between Mallard and the lamp and perching on his arm.

"Thank you," Mallard gratefully addressed the bird before returning his attention to the lamp. He stared at it for the longest while, unsure if he should use it or not.

Eventually, he reached out and a strange gold dust seemed to emanate from the engine's lamp before enveloping Mallard's human form.

Herbert surprisingly did not react to the gold dust, only watching Mallard silently, a deep concern in his gaze.

Mallard felt relaxed and in a half-waking state, his mind drifting into a state of pure calm. The world seemed to melt away and Mallard felt weightless.

'I want to know who I am…'

There was a flash of blinding light and Mallard felt himself falling. Unlike last time, however, he was expecting it and braced himself for the landing.

He was able to keep his footing and remain upright this time, Herbert remaining perched on his shoulder, loyal as ever.

"Oh," a soft female voice suddenly gasped and Mallard opened his eyes to find himself in a dark warehouse, locomotives placed around the place, only illuminated by the security lights casting harsh frightening shadows over the place. He looked over and saw an enormous red and gold locomotive staring at him as he straightened himself and dusted the gold dust from his clothes.

He ignored her however as he felt his attention pulled to the blue steam locomotive standing right in front of him, its smokebox door completely blank as it stood over him and cast him in shadow.

He didn't know how but somehow he knew that the engine before him was indeed him.

He didn't even flinch when the security alarms started blaring, his entire focus on the large blue streamlined engine before him.

For updates, extra lore or to ask questions or discuss the fic, you can find me on tornadoyoungiron tumblr

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