31 - Quoth the Raven

He knew that he was being ridiculous. It had been nearly 100 years and he and Flying Scotsman were very different to those impulsive, brash and naivë engines that ranted at each other, desperate to better the other.

Their insults and attitudes were the result of being young irons, childish and often cruel yet their words were hollow and pointless.

Why had Truro brought that up?

He knew that Scotsman had long moved past such things and so why was he bringing up the childish insults of 100 years ago?

He was in the wrong, Truro knew that. But it didn't change the way he felt.

It must have looked so strange to the Scotsman, to be so worried about his human construct's appearance when he hated how the volunteers fussed and bustled about him, making sure he wasn't dusty.

He should go back, and try and talk it out with his partner but he felt that Scotsman needed some space right now. It was rare that Scotsman looked quite that hurt. After all, Truro mused as he tried to see it from Scotsman's perspective, it wasn't often that the bigger engine was rankled or hurt by something.

Scotsman had spent the majority of his time as a human construct with Truro and he always asked what Truro would look like as a human.

He'd give vague answers or he'd say, "as handsome as you are."

It must have felt like a betrayal, learning that Truro already had a human construct yet refused to show him.

To use his true name meant that the City Class had deeply hurt Scotsman.

The City of Truro sighed and glanced up at the rare sunset that was unimpeded by clouds. His mind flickered to something Pendennis had said about Scotsman adoring sunsets, a sight not often seen in the UK as they were often hidden behind clouds.

He wished Scotsman were here to see it with him.

Truro sighed.

Mumbled voices caught the solemn Great Western Golden Warden's attention and he found himself frowning.

He pulled forward and found 2 large engines sitting at the end of the line overlooking the harbour at Tidmouth Hault.

It was Green Arrow and Tornado, the two in high spirits and laughing with each other, enjoying the sunset and more importantly, each other's company.

City of Truro envied them, wanting to spend this time with Scotsman.

"Is that a Great Western I hear upon my tender?" Came Green Arrow's pointed call and Truro couldn't help but chuckle. Arrow was a humorous engine sometimes.

"Indeed," Truro greeted them. "Perceptive as always, my old friend."

"Truro!" Green Arrow called out in surprise. "I thought that you might have been Tydfil sneaking about."

"No, no, the lovely girl is asleep," Truro told him. "I hope the evening is going well for you both."

"Arrow keeps trying to convince me that the humans eat seaweed," Tornado pouted at Truro. "I don't believe him in the slightest."

"But they do! Gabriel told me they put it in dishes, especially in the East!" Arrow defended himself. "He had some when he went to Japan!"

"Why would they eat something that resembles boiler sludge!" Tornado shouted, annoyed. "It doesn't make sense!"

"I'm telling the truth! Truro, help me out here!" The Gresley begged of the City Class and Truro chuckled.

"It is true Tornado," Truro smiled at her and Tornado shuddered her frames in response.

"That's disgusting! Humans are weird!" She shouted loudly, scaring a few gulls, perched nearby.

Despite himself, Truro laughed.

"Humans do things we couldn't possibly understand," he advised Tornado. "Because we are not human, we do not have their perspective and thus it is unknowable to us."

"But Scotsman has that-" Tornado began but Truro cleared his throat loudly and she stopped.

"Oh right," she mumbled, her face flushing red. "No one's supposed to know about that."

"I do," Arrow huffed. "Skinny, ridiculous beanpole man. Snap in half if the wind blows on him."

Arrow's comment struck a nerve in Truro. He knew exactly who Arrow was referring to and it annoyed him greatly.

"I'm tired of you insulting Scotsman, Arrow," Truro sternly chastised the V2 whose eyes widened and gazed at him in shock. "I've had to listen to you being consistently nasty to my partner for years and I will have it no longer!"

"I- Truro I," Green Arrow was flustered now, his eyes wide in surprise. He had obviously not been expecting Truro to snap at him. "I'm sorry, Truro."

Truro humphed and looked at his buffers, aware that the two engines were staring at him. He hadn't meant to snap at Arrow so harshly but his point still stood.

"Is everything okay Truro?" Tornado asked concerned. "You seem upset about something and not just Arrow."

Truro continued to stare at his buffers, his thoughts turning to Flying Scotsman and their argument. He rocked on his frames, agitated, aware that the two other engines were staring at him expectantly.

What was he to say? He couldn't mention the gold dust nor could he divulge all that much about their argument.

"Do you think that I'm worthy of Flying Scotsman's attention?" He finally asked and the other two engines glanced at each other.

"Of course Truro, why would you think otherwise? Has Scotsman said something to you?" Arrow immediately jumped to his defence.

"No, no, nothing like that," Truro quickly corrected. "I just… I've always felt that I was never good enough for him I guess."

"That's bullshit!" Tornado loudly exclaimed.

"Tornado! Language!" Green Arrow hissed at her but she took no notice of him.

"If you weren't good enough for Scotsman he would have dumped you years ago!" Tornado crowed and Truro wanted to believe her, but he couldn't.

"I appreciate your- enthusiasm- Tornado but I doubt that's the case," Truro disagreed but the young iron was not having it.

"You know how many engines flirt with him? You know how many engines offer him things like being a part of the royal entourage or offering up their places on railways to him to try and get him in their shed, forgive the turn of phrase," Tornado advised.

A frown appeared on Truro's face at her words. He was aware of the huge number of engines that tried to win favour with Scotsman. Sometimes right in front of his smokebox.

The amount of sneering and the subtle jabs other engines made at him, snidely remarking that Scotsman was too good for him. He ignored it most of the time, Scotsman would always brush them off and angrily rant about how his wishes were constantly being ignored.

But still it bothered Truro, not that he would admit it to himself.

"Yes but-" Truro tried to argue but Tornado humphed and shook herself indignantly.

"I wasn't finished!" She huffed and Truro suppressed a chuckle.

She was quite the feisty engine nowadays, a far cry from when he had first met her, crying on a siding afraid of anyone who would even look in her direction.

"I apologise Tornado, go on," Truro encouraged.

"Scotsman's been with you for almost a decade now, if he didn't think you were good enough for him, why would he stay with you when he has so much choice at his disposal?"

Truro stopped, he was taken aback by Tornado's reasoning. It was true. Why would Scotsman spend so long with him when he could have his pick of pretty much every engine in the UK.

Still, the Great Western was unsure. It didn't change how he felt.

"I appreciate your words Tornado, I do," Truro smiled at her. "But it doesn't change how I feel."

Tornado looked dejected.

"Well, I think that you're great!" She declared. "You and Scotsman are the cutest couple!"

Green Arrow wheeshed a bit of steam and rolled his eyes.

"That's not what Taw Valley says," he snorted. "She was at Vicarstown the other day, proclaiming how she 'stole' Pendennis from the famous Flying Scotsman."

Tornado gave a dramatic gasp.

"Pendennis and Scotsman dated?!" She shrieked. "I never knew that! Since when?"

"It was long ago, decades before you were even conceived of," Arrow explained then glanced at Truro nervously. "Ah, maybe it's best we not talk about all that."

"No it's fine," Truro smiled at Arrow as an idea floated into his funnel. "It was a long time ago and the three of us have moved past it. But Pendennis and Scotsman were an item for many decades."

Hmmm, there was a thought.

Pendennis.

"Huh, I always got this weird tension between the two, guess I was right," Tornado piped up an Green Arrow raised an eyebrow at her.

"Tension?" Arrow asked.

"Like there was something I was missing, like I didn't have context," Tornado explained. She then looked at Truro and blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay Tornado," Truro smiled at the Peppercorn. "Pendennis and I are very good friends. Maybe we will share with you what happened, but not right now and not without Pendennis or Scotsman's consent."

"Yes City of Truro," Tornado acknowledged.

"I appreciate talking with the both of you, you've given me an idea," Truro told them. He looked out at the sunset, the vivid oranges and reds turning to purples and pinks as the sun slipped deeper behind the horizon.

The Great Western bid the two engines farewell as he slipped into the shadows of the twilight.

"Something is wrong!" Truro piped up, suddenly catching the attention of Lady and Winston.

There was a dread in his boiler he couldn't quite explain but he felt it whenever Scotsman was in danger or in trouble.

"Indeed," Winston agreed. "If what Lady says is true then we have lost our most important Gold Dust scholar. Great Northern's loss will set us back decades."

"No, no, something is wrong with Flying Scotsman!" Truro corrected his friend.

"What isn't wrong with Flying Scotsman?" Came the mirthful voice of DP1 as he and Gold entered. "Don't mind us, we just want to hang out with the cool kids."

"He's in danger!" Truro insisted, his voice full of panic. "I need to go to him!"

"I thought you were embarrassed about Scotsman seeing your human construct," Winston pointed out and Truro hesitated.

"I- am…" He admitted quietly and looked away from Winston. "It's, it's too- Scotsman is wonderfully handsome and I- I'm just… not."

"Ridiculous!" Winston huffed and Lady looked at Truro deeply concerned. "Scotsman has never once cared about how other engines look!"

Truro clicked his tongue.

"You didn't know him back in the day," Truro hesitantly admitted. "Back when the Four Railway's rivalries were at their peak. He was very different when it came to those things."

"Perhaps," The Deltic noted with a glance at Gold, the Australian diesel watching on curiously. "But Scotsman is a very different person now. So are you."

"Besides, he's your fiance! He loves you unconditionally from everything I've seen!" Winston reassured the famous Great Western.

"Yes Truro, Horatio is right," Lady agreed. "I will lend you the Gold Dust you need to get to him. So please, go to him, he needs you."

Truro frowned and then motioned to Lady, sinking his frames down as a bow of respect.

"Thank you, my friends," his gratitude almost glowing as his engine began to glow in sync with Lady's. "I will be back."

There was a flash as the City of Truro's smokebox door began to glow with golden light and then disappear into gold dust flakes.

"Smooth rails, City of Truro," Lady blessed him as the engines gathered and watched on the entrance.

Gold however was just bewildered.

"Does this happen a lot around here?" They asked confused and the Deltic Prototype gave a soft hum in response.

"Not usually, no," Winston commented, then looked Gold up and down. "An EMD, how delightful!"

"Nah, I ain't nothing special," Gold dismissed. "Just a reliable old EMD."

"Well, I think you're remarkable," Lady smiled up at them and Gold blushed deeply.

"Thanks!"

King Edward II felt the rails return beneath his wheels and the kaleidoscope of colours and sounds began to solidify and clear. There was a deep twisting in his boiler as it felt like he might lose all his water. He felt cold and he felt feverish. Whatever had happened to him it made his boiler groan as if it were filled with boiler sludge and his frames trembled in fear.

Ms Parson was cackling in his cab and he gave a weak, half-hearted shake to try and get her off of him.

"What did you do to me?" He weakly asked, his speech slurred and confused as he tried to regain his bearings.

He was ignored however and he was distinctly aware of the woman climbing down from his cab. As she did so, it was almost like a fog that had been floating around in his smokebox was now gone the second Ms Parsons stopped touching him.

He blinked, confused as he heard Ms Parsons swear but then suddenly noticed that there was a motley crew of engines before him, staring at him. He immediately sat upright on his frames when he saw who one of them was.

"King- King George?" King Edward II asked, staring at his brother. He ignored the large A4 Pacific and 9F beside him. He recognised the 9F as Sir Nigel's partner, he couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

He didn't care for them right now, he only cared about going back to Didcot. Going home. After all his brother was the new Leader of the GWR engines and if he found out he had chased Tydfil towards his brother.

"It wasn't my fault! I was trying to stop Tydfil but she got scared and ran from me-" King Edward II blurted out desperately.

"You are not in trouble, Rhion," King George assured his brother before glancing at Ms Parsons. "Your passenger, however, is."

"Don't you talk down to me," Ms Parsons snarled up at King George, waving a condescending finger. "I am not one of these soft-headed morons who treat engines as equals!"

"An appalling thing to call Olivia Gresley when she is your better," came the voice of Henry Stanier as he stepped down from Sir Nigel's cab. "We had a feeling that you would be so heinous as to go after Olivia. Such a shame that you prove us right in your depravity."

Ms Parsons glared at the short man, a sneer upon her face.

"Here you are defending the great-granddaughter of your family's greatest rival, what would Sir Stanier say?" She accused Stanier but the man just smiled and shrugged.

"Sir Nigel Gresley and Sir William Stanier were friends," the A4 suddenly put in. "They went on trips together and worked together to create the national testing plant. If Stanier was to meet Olivia, I think he would greatly appreciate her hard work and intelligence. I cannot say the same for you."

Sir Nigel leered over Ms Parsons threateningly when she threw Henry Stanier a glare. It softened, the A4 intimidating her but still she remained hard-headed.

"Now," Stanier continued. "I must ask that you stand down and return Olivia Gresley's Golden Whistle."

"Olivia isn't even human! She should have died as a child!" Ms Parsons snarled. "Don't think I don't know what you did, using Gold Dust to resurrect that stupid little girl! Gold Dust is wasted on her! She's nothing more than a talentless hack-"

The vile woman was interrupted by Stanier walking towards her menacingly.

"You are a selfish, narcissistic woman who has only ever cared for herself," he thundered at her, his ego towering over the woman despite him being significantly shorter than her. "You sold your kids out for fame and you leech off your late husband's name! Your actions have caused harm to several people and caused the death of a very nobleman! This stops here!"

"It will not! When my son gets out of prison-"

"Cain is not getting out of prison," Stanier warned her. "One doesn't exactly shrug off multiple attempted homicide charges in a very public case."

Ms Parson fell silent, the only thing she could do now was glare at the smaller man.

"Now, I am kindly asking you to return Olivia's Golden Whistle, or we will get Gresley's security to do it for us," Stanier warned and Ms Parsons frowned at him, her body quivering and her eyes darting around, looking for an escape.

It was too little too late when Stanier realised what the woman was going to do and she bolted to the cab of King Edward II. He tried to grab her to stop but it was too late and Ms Parsons had drawn out a vial of Black Smoke.

"What are you doing? STOP!" Stanier bellowed as she opened the Fire Door to King Edward II's, threw the vial and Olivia's Golden Whistle into the King Class's firebox and slammed the door shut.

Almost immediately, the Black Smoke gripped King Edward II in a tight vice and squeezed him, as if it was crushing him.

King Edward II gave a blood-curdling scream that shook the engines present to their core.

"RHION! NO!" King George screamed as he saw his brother's face crack and an ice-cold presence that radiated from King Edward.

"Brother help!" King Edward II screamed in terror, Ms Parsons cackling like a witch in his cab.

What felt like an eternity of cold tendrils writhing in his boiler, King Edward II howled and shrieked.

'Is this what Mallard felt when his soul was taken from him?' Rhion thought to himself as waves of despair and anger crashed over him.

Was he going to become soulless like Mallard?

That was a fate worse than scrapping and Rhion howled, desperately calling to his elder brother.

The waves of utter hopelessness abruptly stopped when King Edward II's firebox door burst open and flames spewed from within, engulfing his cab and the vile woman whose cackling turned into a scream. Olivia's Golden Whistle was fighting back against the Black Smoke, trying to rescue the poor King Class who cowered in terror at the merciless void.

Rhion shook his frames violently, a desperate attempt to get rid of the parasite in his smokebox all the while the cracks spreading across his face. Rhion snarled and hissed in anger as his brother's eyes began to glow gold and gold dust began to reach out and grasp the shuddering engine.

The loud splintering sound of the cracks ceased as the tendrils of King George's gold dust plunged deep into his brother's boiler and snaked their way to his firebox and attacked the offending source of black smoke, crushing it like a bug.

"I will not have my brother turned into another Mallard!" King George thundered as his own Gold Dust poured into King Edward's shrieking engine.

Slowly, his shrieks had turned to whimpers as his firebox door opened once more and quickly ejected the offending vial of black smoke, casting it away so that the viscous horrid substance could be expelled.

"Rhion, my dear brother," King George called to his brother as he felt the last of the black smoke be expelled from his frightened quivering brother.

"It's still there," the Blue King Class whimpered. "Make it leave, please. It's still hurting me."

"I've done the best I can little brother," King George called to his brother in distress. "But I am afraid that I do not have a Golden Soul. I can only do so much."

The Blue King Class shuddered and said nothing more, making a nervous expression appear on his brother's face.

Sir Nigel frowned.

"The cracks have stopped on his face," the A4 commented. "A good sign perhaps."

"There's still black smoke," King Edward II mumbled weakly. "I'm still cold."

King George was about to respond but there was a shout as Henry Stanier suddenly lunged forward to grab Ms Parsons as she tried to escape the Gresley sheds.

"Get your hands off of me!" She shrieked but Stanier refused to listen as he restrained her with zip ties.

"Enough," Stanier snapped coldly. "You will pay dearly for what you have done and the damage you have caused."

"You can't do anything to me!" She shrieked but she was ignored as Stanier turned his attention to the engines guarding the exit of the sheds.

"I thank you all for the assistance," he smiled. "I know it was very last minute. I'll inform Corbyn that his gambit worked and he predicted exactly what this witch would do. King George…"

Stanier frowned as he looked at the quaking King Edward II, who was staring at the ground before him in complete shock. His eyes were vacant and he seemed almost dead.

Not unlike a soulless Mallard, Stanier nervously recalled that occasional 'look' that Mallard sometimes had during closing hours at the museum.

Like the weight of the world was upon him.

"Do what you can for King Edward II," the LMS Golden Warden nodded to King George. "We'll do our best to restore him with what knowledge of Gold Dust we have. And whatever we can find of Great Northern's research."

"I will do my best, Mr Stanier," King George vowed before looking back at his brother. "Rhion hasn't made the best choices in his life, but I do believe he has a kind soul within that thick smoke box of his."

Stanier nodded to him.

"Everything will all be settled soon," he declared and he hoped beyond hope that he was right.

Truro was aware that he was in a wild and unkempt forest as he regained his bearings. It was almost dawn, the light of the pink-purple morning sky peeping through the forest canopy.

Such a peaceful and quiet place.

There was the distinct smell of pine and oak in the air, it was surprisingly warm for the crack of dawn and there was a spark of electricity in the air.

To Truro, it brought to mind Lady only a bit different. Like he was drawn into her realm only this was the domain of a different yet similar spirit to her.

The name of the entity was on the tip of his tongue. He knew he had heard the name from Lady but it escaped him.

The peace of the forest was interrupted by the scream of a raven making Truro jump. It sounded as if the bird had screamed directly in his ear.

Truro immediately spun on his heel and frowned though it immediately turned into a look of concern and shock as he saw Flying Scotsman's limp body sprawled upon the ground, a gash with dried blood on the left side of his head.

There was a raven perched on his chest, screaming and shrieking at something in the corner of his vision. He did not have to turn or look directly at the person to know who it was.

"Mallard."

Truro spat out the name with such hatred that surprised him. He was not aware he was capable of such venom.

"City of Truro," the man replied, with no emotion in his voice.

"What. Have. You. Done?" Truro asked, his voice quavering with anger as he knelt beside Scotsman's limp body, his hands desperately searching for a pulse all the while the raven not leaving Scotsman's body continuing to scream at Mallard for some reason.

Mallard said nothing, only staring at them confused.

Truro found a pulse, it was slow and faint but it was there. He was alive. Still, Truro gently cradled Scotsman in his arms, holding him tenderly, as if he were made of glass.

The raven seemed to finally notice him and turned its attention to Truro, pecking at him aggressively as if trying to protect Scotsman.

"Worry not, small friend, I mean Scotsman no harm," he assured the raven. The raven stopped, stared at him a while then gave an approving caw before responding in a human-like voice.

"Friend…" it croaked and Truro nodded to it before glaring at Mallard.

"Unlike him," Truro snapped in Mallard's direction to which Mallard glared in response.

"Enough of this," Mallard hissed, annoyed. "Gadwall, come!"

The raven seemed to take offence and puffed up its feathers in intimidation.

Gadwall? Truro was puzzled. He had heard that name before but wasn't sure where.

"Selfish!" The raven squawked at him and Mallard looked stunned.

"Gadwall-" Mallard began to argue with the raven but the raven suddenly took to the air and began to swoop and try to bite at Mallard's face.

"Selfish! Selfish! Selfish! Selfish!" The raven screamed as Mallard shrieked and tried to shield his face from the bird.

"Gadwall stop!" Mallard shouted at the bird trying to swat it away but the bird kept repeating the word at him. "Gadwall please!"

"Selfish! Go away!" The bird, Gadwall, Truro assumed, screamed at Mallard as the A4 stumbled back and fell on his back. "Go away monster! Leave me alone!"

Still, Mallard didn't listen to the bird.

"I won't leave without you Gadwall!" Mallard shouted at the bird. "You're my brother!"

Ah. So that was where Truro had heard the name before.

Gadwall.

An A4 that had fallen victim to an air raid during WWII. His wandering, lost soul taking the form of a bird. He was surprised that it wasn't a Gadwall duck but gold dust was a funny thing.

"Selfish brother! Bad brother! No brother of mine!" The raven snarled and the look on Mallard's face was one of hurt. Genuine hurt.

"Gadwall!" Mallard pleaded but the raven instead flew back Scotsman's unconscious body and turned its back on Mallard. Mallard approached them but Truro laid Scotsman back down and stood between Scotsman and the raven that was once Gadwall.

Mallard scoffed at him as he did so.

"Stay out of this Great Western," he warned but Truro did not budge, still placing himself between Mallard and the both of them.

"I think Gadwall has made his position quite clear," Truro replied smoothly and calmly but on the inside he was quaking.

Mallard was significantly bigger than him, a lot stronger too. Strong enough to knock Scotsman unconscious and Scotsman was not small, nor was he a weak man in the slightest. Mallard towered over him, a nasty sneer over his face and Truro felt his insides tremble in fear but refused to show it.

"What is a short, fat, four-eyed little thing like you going to do to me if I were to take Scotsman, hm?" Mallard sneered at Truro, the latter felt deeply hurt at the comment.

Mallard smirked, knowing that he had hit a nerve. Then again Mallard probably knew exactly how to, having invaded his mind and soul so brutally at Ulfstead.

He looked away from Mallard, but his attention returned almost instantly as Gadwall flew up and perched on Truro's shoulder, snapping its beak and shrieking at Mallard.

"Leave! Leave and never come back!" Gadwall screeched and Mallard was flummoxed.

"Gadwall-"

"You're not my brother! You're a monster! Selfish asshole! Not welcome! Not welcome here!" Gadwall screamed, a sudden surge of Gold Dust appearing around the bird.

The visage of an A4 Pacific appeared around them, gold dust sparkling as the raven's eyes glowed and emanated from the large bird. Mallard stared wide-eyed at it, in awe or fright, Truro did not know.

"Leave! And don't come back until you've atoned for your mistakes!" The Raven spat out, the ghost of the A4 booming its words as an echo.

Mallard looked terrified of the ghost, something finally clicking in his head.

"I- I'm sorry Gadwall," he apologised quietly.

Mallard began to fade, the lamp he was holding glowing like the sun, its glow, blinding.

Truro winched as the light emitting from Mallard's lamp became unbearable and he had to look away.

There was a pause and the rustle of leaves and when Truro looked back, Mallard was gone.

He stared, but then became aware of the raven, Gadwall, making soft cawing noises in his ear and rubbing up against his face affectionately.

"Thank you," the raven spoke in a soft voice to him and Truro smiled and nodded.

"It was only right, my friend," Truro smiled, reaching up to stroke the bird's feathers, finding comfort in it, before turning back to Scotsman. "Did you know Scotsman when you were an engine, dear Gadwall?"

"Of him, never met him," Gadwall spoke as he flew down and perched on Scotsman. "Scotsman hurt Mallard. I was angry."

Truro was surprised.

"Hurt Mallard? Scotsman saved Mallard not long ago, why would he-"

"North dead," Gadwall croaked sadly. "Scotsman blamed Mallard."

"Ah, I see."

Truro's worst fears were confirmed. Great Northern was dead. Of course Scotsman would assume Mallard. Truro himself would have assumed Mallard responsible for killing North.

"Do you know what happened to North?" Truro asked, brushing off the absurdity that he was asking a bird. But Gadwall was no mere bird. He could feel the Gold Dust radiating from him.

"Bad woman, old woman injected North with Black Smoke!" Gadwall hissed, fluffing his feathers angrily. "Mallard tried to purge Gold Dust, too late!"

"Mallard tried to purge the Black Smoke? But he doesn't-wait- that lamp…"

"Proteus's lamp!" Gadwall giddily claimed, raising his wings as if he was excited.

"Proteus…"

As if it was summoned by Truro's words, the air began to warp and the visage of a narrow gauge engine began to appear before Truro, Gadwall and Scotsman's still prone body.

Pendennis Castle found himself falling asleep.

Yes, Trojan was still yapping his smokebox off but he always did that. There was no point telling him to shut up, the little engine would ignore him and continue.

Pendennis had gotten used to it by now; besides, it was far better than those irritating King Class's blustering around like they owned the place. Such an irritating pair.

Pendennis gave a sleepy snort and closed his eyes ready to fall asleep for the night when Trojan suddenly shouted in his smokebox.

"What in the blazes?!" The little tank engine thundered and Pendennis almost jumped off the rails in fright; he was so startled.

"Don't do that!" Pendennis shouted at the small engine, flustered and shaken. He glared at the little engine before realising there was a very familiar engine directly in front of him.

"Truro?" He asked, confused and the older engine smiled at him.

"Hello old friend," Truro greeted him before glancing at Trojan. "If you could Trojan, I'd like to speak to Pendennis in private."

"Right you are bossman," the little engine acknowledged gruffly with a glance at Pendennis before trundling off, grumbling to himself. Trojan did have a tendency to talk back to the 'high class' Great Westerns, but he knew better than to talk back to such an esteemed engine as Truro.

Pendennis turned his attention to Truro as the doors shut behind Trojan, leaving the both of them alone.

"What seems to be the problem? Nothing serious I hope?" The Castle Class asked worriedly but Truro just gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"No, nothing of the sort," Truro reassured him with a sad smile. "I just wanted to talk."

"Oh," Pendennis was taken aback. City of Truro never really just 'talked' to him these days. Not like the old days. "What about?"

Truro appeared to shift himself uncomfortably on his frames now. He looked away from Pendennis and he seemed very agitated and nervous.

"Did you ever feel that you weren't good enough for… well," Truro began nervously. "Back in the day… when you and Scotsman were together?"

Pendennis stared at Truro confused.

"I'm not sure what you mean," the Castle admitted quietly. "Is something wrong? Has something happened between you and Scotsman?"

"I-" Truro paused but then looked away from Pendennis. The City class hesitated and appeared nervous.

"Truro, you know you can confide in me," Pendennis gently reassured his oldest friend. "Nothing leaves this shed."

"I appreciate that, Beynon," Truro smiled at him. "It's just, did you ever feel that you weren't good enough for Flying Scotsman?"

Pendennis paused. He most certainly wasn't expecting Truro to ask him that.

"Well, it's been a long time since I was with Scotsman but, any feelings that I wasn't good enough were actually me not being completely comfortable with myself, if you know what I mean?" Pendennis answered and Truro gave a soft hum.

"I apologise," Truro replied. "I was very 'unkind' back in the day."

"That you were, but you were far from the worst of what I received and I suspect that it was never about me but your feelings towards Scotsman that caused the rift between us," Pendennis considered. He then gave Truro a sympathetic look. "But that's not the issue at present. Why don't you feel good enough for Scotsman?"

Truro gave a depressed sigh and looked down at the tracks between Pendennis and himself. Pendennis waited patiently for him to speak again.

"Why does Flying Scotsman even like me?" Truro asked, his voice barely audible.

Ah, Pendennis realised, Truro was having self-esteem problems and his gold dust went out to him. He knew exactly what that felt like.

"I can't speak for Scotsman," Pendennis addressed quietly. "But I do know that he loves you and that he would do anything to protect you. Would you do the same?"

"Of course!" Truro declared. "I did not almost lose my soul to Mallard for no reason."

Pendennis smiled at him gently.

"Then I think that your devotion to him is more than enough reason for Scotsman to love you," Pendennis asserted. "Don't you?"

Truro gazed at Pendennis, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, they sat there in complete silence.

"I suppose you are right," the City Class conceded. "But it is hard to convince myself of my worth."

"If Scotsman didn't think you were worthy he would have told you long ago," Pendennis assured him. "And Scotsman lets people know when someone impedes upon him."

A warm smile spread across Truro's face. Oh, he knew full well when Flying Scotsman was infuriated with someone encroaching upon his personal space.

"You're correct Beynon," Truro smiled. "But I still don't think I'm worthy of being Scotsman's partner."

"Ah, you've been listening to my sister haven't you?" Pendennis suddenly realised. Clun Castle had been more bold in her insults and objections towards Truro's relationship and Truro's face betrayed the true issue.

"I know I shouldn't let it affect me, but it does get to me and I hate it," Truro admitted and Pendennis gave a sad chuckle.

"Oh Truro," he smiled at him. "My sister will get what's coming to her one day. You need to learn to love yourself. If anything, Flying Scotsman will help you through that, just as he helped me find who I truly was."

Truro gazed at him, a spark of hope in his eyes now.

"Thank-you Beynon, your words truly are insightful," Truro affirmed. "I just hope that I did not hurt the Scotsman's feelings too much."

"He can take things hard," Pendennis mused. "But he's also very forgiving to those he trusts. I sense that the both of you need to talk to one another."

"We do," Truro smiled. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Before Pendennis could even respond, there was a flutter, like golden sparks being thrown up into the air. City of Truro began to glow with golden light and vanished, only a warm breeze in the air.

Pendennis stared at the space where Truro had once been, completely and utterly bewildered.

"What the shit?"