A/N Janie's work as an engine therapist began in the late '60s, so she was new when Charity came. The one who diagnosed Charity doesn't leave the Mainland, so Janie took over.
Janie, when she completed her education to become a therapist, decided she wanted to be an engine therapist. Due to being Thomas's friend, she wanted to help other engines when they needed someone to help them feel better. Today, she was meeting a new client, an anxious narrow-gauge tank engine. I've heard about the new engine, Charity. She's got dreadful anxiety, which manifests as paranoia and crying. She's being transferred to my clientele, she thought. Today, she tells me her story, so I better be ready to dry her tears. I shall ask her. If she's by herself, that is. But I need hankies because she might have an ocean of pain and if I'm the only one with hands, I shall dry those tears with her consent.
Janie arrived at the narrow-gauge shed. The controller had taken Janie there, telling her to find a female tank engine. Janie found Charity and said, "I'm Janie, your new therapist. If you cry over telling your story, want me to dry your tears? Whatever you feel, it's valid."
Charity said, "You've got my consent, because the choice is that or possibly rusting. I prefer someone to wipe my pain away than have the risk of rust, if possible. I'm dreamy, idealistic, very sensitive and sometimes cheeky. I was that way when I came alive after they built and named me, but I got anxious and due to my dreadful anxiety, I get paranoid. Now, for my story. After I was built and named, so I had life, I got tested and met my first crew. My first fireman was in a rage about getting assigned a tank engine and took it out on me, making me sob. "Driver, how come I've got leaky eyes?" I said, in a sob-filled voice. He explained it to me, as he pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and dried my tears. He comforted me until I felt better, wiping away my tears. Then, he climbed into my cab with the sodden cloth, from me crying into it. My first fireman hated me crying, wishing I could control myself, but said, "At least you won't rust, as long as you cry with someone like Driver around, someone to dry the tears from your eyes.", but other than that he treated me like I wasn't alive. "Stop her leaking," he'd say to Driver when I cried. He was nasty, cruel and had a temper he took out on me, swearing, yelling and beating his shovel on me. Due to his dreadful treatment, I became anxious, which causes paranoia and a great many tears. It got to the point of me wailing when he arrived in mornings, so Driver had to press a cloth to my eyes and do his best to comfort me. My first fireman left to work with a faceless engine, but the damage to my mechanical heart was done. I was weeping non-stop when he was with me and I wasn't working by the time he left me. I was paranoid and anxious about what he might do, so I had a red face and red, puffy eyes more often than not from my crying spells. My severity of crying spells ran the range of mild, moderate or severe. If I was bawling my eyes out, my fireman would say things like "Stop that howling!", but I couldn't until I was ready or had no more tears to cry. My next fireman was a quiet and calm person, a relaxed, yet stubborn at times, introverted yet friendly, logical and rational. He didn't always know how to handle my emotions, but he just let Driver at the time handle it when I needed someone to dry my eyes. I sobbed myself to sleep on my first driver's last night, so the last thing he did as Driver was to wipe my eyes dry of tears as I fell asleep. My crew wanted an engine psychologist to see me after my first fireman left. I was diagnosed with dreadful anxiety, because of my paranoia and all my tears. My anxiety makes me compassionate, sensitive, attentive and hypervigilant. I'm extremely emotional, someone who feels very deeply. When I'm comfortable with someone and overwhelmed with emotion, I'm very expressive. Emotions aren't scary or uncomfortable to me. I'm prone to tears because of my anxiety, frequently crying uncontrollably. But Driver does what he can to try to comfort me when I can't stop crying, so my eyes and cheeks have become quite familiar with the touch of a cloth. I came here because my original railway was dieselizing, leading to me having frequent, severe anxiety crying spells, unable to stop crying until I had no more tears to shed when not working, because I was paranoid about being scrapped and replaced by a diesel. My crew came back from break to find me crying and wailing loudly, my face tearstained and wet. Driver patiently supported me through all my bawling, listening attentively and giving me care and compassion, pressing a cloth to my eyes to catch my waterfall tears. Driver knows when I've got sodden cheeks, more often than not from anxiety crying, it's time to dry my tears. He gently rubs my cheeks and wipes my eyes dry, he told me as an act of practical comfort. I was always a very sensitive engine, which is why I reacted so to my mistreatment. But as long as I've got Driver, I know he's here for me and if I'm not too ill or damaged to live before he retires, I shall get a new one. But I believe that Driver will provide comfort for me, as my first driver told me living engines are to have drivers willing to offer comfort. I've shed a great many tears in my life, so that's very important to me." Charity managed to tell her story before she began to cry severely.
Janie climbed on Charity's buffer beam, pulled a handkerchief and gently dried her tears. As she rubbed the little engine's cheeks and wiped her weeping eyes, she tuned into Charity's feelings and tried to see the situation from multiple perspectives. "Go ahead and cry. Let the floodgates open," she said. She felt empathy and compassion towards the little engine she'd listened to and was there for. If listening's comfort, then she's got comfort. I believe crying's comfort and her uncontrollable sobbing tells me she's deeply hurt. The difference with me being a sentient engine therapist is they need someone to wipe away their tears, she thought, letting Charity sob into the hanky. Janie wiped her own eyes on her sleeve, as Charity's story made her tear up.
Charity continued to sob loudly, unable to speak due to her anxiety crying. She was sniffling hard, coughing, choking on her tears and hiccupping. She gasped and gulped, shaking as huge tears poured from her eyes, not once stopping and let Janie keep wiping those tears she shed.
She said, as she continued to wipe the tears away, "Let it all out.". As she dried Charity's eyes, she thought. I want you to cry, Charity. Crying's a healthy release of emotion, so it's all right. After a while, Janie had to get a second handkerchief, as the first was sodden from Charity's tears. Janie wiped all Charity's tears away as best she could.
Charity went on weeping non-stop, constantly sobbing and sniffling until she could cry no more. Janie then dried her patient's last tears away, wiping her cheeks and eyes dry of tears. Her second hanky was sodden, just drippy wet from Charity's tears. The little engine's face was all red, as were her eyes, sore and swollen from her crying spell. Janie thought, Charity's story must trigger her memories of her past and with that, a waterfall of tears streaming for her eyes. It was a dreadful story, so she's got the right to sob.
"Charity, crying's fine. You're free to sob on my shoulder whenever I see you. I shall wipe the tears from your eyes and face, because I'm not annoyed or frustrated by emotion, even when you let tears fall like rain. I just want to be understanding," Janie said. "I know you feel things very deeply. See you next week." Janie then went to the dock, because her next patient was a Mainland engine whose branch line was closed, triggering a severe depression. She thought, It's quite something to me how these sentient engines cry just like us, except no snot. Just huge water droplets coming out of their eyes, very like when we shed big tears.
A/N As a therapist, Janie doesn't talk much. Compassionate therapists may tear up over their patients. Janie's extremely sensitive to her world, as an empath and an INFJ, the latter according to my FanFiction buddy who types characters. Therapy's a common field for empaths, because they like to nurture others. For new readers, like a regular therapist who keeps tissues near the patient's chair, so they can choose whether or not to use them, Janie, my OC who grew up to be an engine therapist, gives them a choice about having their tears wiped. If the engine's crew are around, the driver dries the engine's tears, if the engine wants. Some engines may not want words or any other touch, but they always let someone dry their tears, in my Thomasverse.