After the incident where he accidentally left his guard behind, Thomas was relieved to find Annie and Clarabel were no longer fighting with each other. Now they got along and did their work without fuss.

However, Thomas was deeply troubled, even though he tried to hide it. His class wasn't the best out there, and people usually complained about soreness. While Conan was away, crews noticed the E2's performance had plummeted: he was simply too sad. None of the crews were able to figure this out, however, and kept trying to force him to full potential. That eventually led to a breaking point on June 25th.

"Come on, Thomas, we'll be late if you don't get steam up quicker!" said the fireman. Thomas sighed.

"It's my blast pipe. Damn thing won't…I think it's clogged," he said.

"I swore you were given a good cleaning this morning," said the driver, before giving a sigh. "Alright, we'll check it again. I just hope the extra hours won't come out of my paycheck."

The crew began to inspect the E2. However, nothing seemed to be wrong.

"You look fine to me," said the driver. "Maybe you're just a lazy sissy?"

"Lazy indeed!" scoffed Thomas. "I work the hardest here! It's my branch line after all!"

"Then act like you work the hardest," snorted the driver. "We don't have all day."

Thomas was very slow as he pushed Annie and Clarabel into the platform. His crew didn't help: they were rather impatient with the E2.

Thomas had lots of trouble during his first 10 years or so in service. His class wasn't the most…He shuddered, remembering how his siblings had treated him. They all had the same problems, so why did they single him out? Was it because of his extended tanks? He didn't have time to ponder this as the guard blew his whistle. Thomas set off, at a rather sluggish pace.

As he slowly picked up speed, the passengers inside Annie and Clarabel felt rather…uncomfortable. And they made their discomfort known as soon as they arrived at Elsbridge.

"We've been bounced around like peas in a frying pan!" they grumbled. The Stationmaster didn't help matters, for Thomas had arrived a bit late.

"You should've been here four minutes sooner," he said sternly.

"Oh, shut up, Jeffries!" snorted Thomas.

"Jeffries? Who's Jeffries?" asked the stationmaster.

"Uh…nevermind!"

The stationmaster shrugged at this.

"Just remember to be on time next time," he said.

Things were no better as he continued on to Toryreck. Thomas found himself low on coal.

"Low already?! We filled up this morning!" snorted the fireman. "Great, now we'll be stuck for a long while here, and now I'll be late for my date!"

"Your date can wait," said the driver. "Besides, you're still on working hours, so shut up!"

"I can't shut up: we'll need more coal," the fireman pointed out.

"We'll stop in the loop and see if there's any in the coal staithe," said the driver. "Honestly, Thomas, why are you consuming so much today?"

Thomas didn't answer.

They stopped in the loop and the crew went over to the coal staithe. It had coal, but not enough to fill Thomas.

As the Coffee Pots were deemed too weak to handle Annie and Clarabel, John had to be called from Arlesburgh to take the train.

"Everything ok, Thomas?" the A Class asked. "You aren't usually this slow."

"I'm sick. Not enough coal. New crew don't seem to be concerned that much," Thomas answered. John said nothing as he took the train on, but decided to inform the Fat Director.

As Thomas filled up on coal, the Fat Director brought his crew aside.

"Crews are meant to work with their engines, not against them," he said firmly.

"It's not our fault," scoffed the driver. "He's been behaving rather odd: refusing to steam, complains about feeling sick, and uses up way too much coal and water."

The Fat Director thought about it.

"Clearly something is upsetting him," he said at last. "Talk to him, find out what's causing it. Be gentle."

"We don't have time to be gentle!" snapped the fireman. "Like you said, crews work with engines, not against them!"

"And right now, you're doing the opposite," the Fat Director pointed out.

"Well, bugger off! They're machines, they aren't alive!"

Both received a hard punch to the face by the Fat Director, knocking them out.

"Considering the fact they just claimed they were only machines," said Lord Harwick, stepping alongside, "it's clear these two deserved that. Firing them won't make them change their opinions."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" asked the Fat Director.

"For now, speak to Thomas," said Lord Harwick. "I'll have these two taken to my office, where I'll be having a VERY stern word with them."

The Fat Director walked up to Thomas.

"Is everything alright, Thomas?" he asked kindly.

"No, sir. I'm feeling horrible," he said sadly.

"No doubt not helped by how your crews have been treating you. Tell me: is it because you miss Conan?" Thomas didn't reply, he just looked down at his buffers. This was all the Fat Director needed to see. "Don't worry, Thomas, he'll be back soon. He and his family will return on the 10th of July."

"It's not only that, sir…do you know my class had trouble?"

"I thought we managed to take care of your brakes," said the Fat Director.

"Not just my brakes," admitted Thomas. "My blastpipe, and my boiler…I consume too much fuel. Me and Conan did our best to work with that, but…these other crews…they don't seem to care."

Thomas began crying.

"I—I…"

The Fat Director patted his buffer.

"Don't worry. I'll see how I can fix that without disrespecting the design of your original maker."

He had Thomas steamed to the sheds at Knapford. The E2 was still feeling depressed. The Fat Director had a feeling this wouldn't go away until Conan returned.

That night, the Fat Director received a phone call from the very man himself.

"How's Thomas getting on?" he asked.

"Not very good," admitted the Fat Director. "Seems his other crews don't treat him with as much respect as you do."

"In which way? Have they been bullying him?"

"Well, yes. They seem to think he's just a machine. At least one of them did. I'm not sure about the others: A. W. Dry & Co. has agreed to try and give Thomas modifications to try and improve the problems his class has. As the arrangements were made this morning, after his first run of the day, I didn't get a chance to evaluate the other crews."

"Why A. W. Dry & Co. instead of Vickers?" Conan asked.

"I had a feeling it would be cheaper," the Fat Director replied sheepishly. Conan rolled his eyes at this.

Deep down, however, Conan was worried. What if his friend was no longer his friend? What if the modifications changed him?

Nothing could be done but wait.