32 - Legacy

"Look at you being the hero."

The Peppercorn sighed, irritated as the voice of Green Arrow spoke from the side of his smokebox.

"Go away," Blue Peter snapped at the annoying green engine but Arrow just wheeshed and smirked.

"Shan't," he retorted childishly and Blue Peter grunted in response.

"Irritant," the Peppercorn grumbled and Arrow just hummed to himself happily, content to ignore the A2 Peppercorn's rumblings.

"Not many would have the bearings to take on a 9F, let alone Evening Star," Arrow continued. "I'd say that you've got more to you than that grumpy facade of yours."

"Just- leave me alone," Blue Peter requested again but the Gresley V2 did no such thing.

Green Arrow humphed and wheeshed steam.

"I'm trying my best to be supportive, it's not something I'm good at or used to doing," Arrow clicked annoyed. "I apologise if I seem to be mocking or condescending. It's not my intention."

Blue Peter just humphed and looked anywhere but Arrow's stupid smug face.

"One would think that you're trying to change or something," Blue Peter sarcastically intoned.

"Aren't you?" Arrow asked with a raised eyebrow, missing or dismissing the sarcasm Peter couldn't tell.

Either way, the retort rankled Blue Peter's rivets uncomfortably and he wheeshed a blast of steam at Arrow's face.

"OI! Stop that!" Arrow huffed, annoyed. "Rude asshole! No wonder Tornado hates you!"

"She does not!" Blue Peter snapped back without thinking and Arrow's expression turned into one of anger.

"How would you know? You don't know anything about her!" Arrow argued angrily. "You thought she was nothing but an obstacle to get your cousin back!"

"SHUT UP!" Blue Peter shouted at Arrow. "What the hell would you know about what Tornado thinks of me!"

"I know that Tornado constantly cried herself to sleep when I first met her! I know that she constantly asked when you would come back to see her! She loved you and you abandoned her! She looked up to you! You were her idol!" Arrow chastised him furiously. "She was only a new build and you abandoned her! Why should she ever forgive you?"

There was a tense silence that gathered over the two engines, Blue Peter staring at Arrow, a look of pain in his eyes.

Blue Peter did not break eye contact as he levelled with Arrow.

"She shouldn't."

Arrow's eyes widened in surprise at his words.

"Blue Peter-" Arrow began but the Peppercorn just hissed steam at him again, though this time it was weak and lacklustre.

"I said leave me alone!" Blue Peter shouted frustrated at Arrow, his voice cracking with tears.

Green Arrow looked guilty now but Blue Peter didn't care for it.

"I'm sorry," Arrow quickly apologised, realising that Blue Peter was truly upset. "I truly did not mean to upset you-"

"Just fuck off alright!" The Peppercorn suddenly cursed at the smaller V2 and Arrow's eyes widened in shock.

Blue Peter knew why.

He never swore, he never acted with such indignity.

Green Arrow mumbled something that Peter did not hear clearly but it sounded remorseful. The V2 quickly departed without so much as another look to him, disappearing a moment later leaving Blue Peter to his solitude.

Blue Peter sniffed, trying to make his tears go away before focusing back on the tracks before him.

He could sense Saint Mungo watching him at the back of his mind.

He was most probably disappointed and Blue Peter could not blame him in the slightest.

'If it is alright with you, I shall check on Tornado. To reassure you that she is alright.' Was all Saint Mungo said.

Blue Peter sniffed again, his mind numb before he shifted on his frames slightly.

As upset as he was, he was more anxious about Tornado, if only a little bit.

"Please, old friend."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Go to your sister, Mungo."

Saint Mungo gave a soft, mysterious hum and the warm, comforting presence in the back of his mind left, leaving him feeling cold again.

Sadly, Blue Peter was all too used to it by now.

Why had Great Northern shown him his days with Olivia? Mallard wondered to himself as he found himself walking in an endless grey void.

He hadn't chosen to come here, the second Gadwall's 'ghost' had appeared; it was almost like he had been thrown or forced into this dull grey world.

A place in between. A world between worlds.

Maybe he was finally dead.

Maybe he could get some peace.

"Mallard."

Alas, it seemed, he would not.

"Why can't you leave me alone!" Mallard snarled, rounding on Flying Scotsman who raised his hands up defensively, edging away from Mallard as he stroped towards him. "Leave me in peace you attention-seeking-"

Mallard stopped. There was someone standing next to the famous engine's human construct.

"...S- sir?" Mallard stammered and lowered his head in respect.

"Greetings my old friend!" Came the chipper voice of Sir Nigel Gresley. "It's been a long while and might I add, your human construct looks particularly smart. Very nice."

"Thank-you sir," Mallard responded, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"I am however less impressed with your behaviour as of late," Sir Gresley frowned and Mallard felt tears burn in his eyes. "I understand your Gold Dust was taken from you and replaced with Black Smoke, but it does not excuse your actions."

"I know sir, I'm sorry sir," Mallard weakly admitted on the verge of tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Scotsman. He didn't want to look weak in front of him and so he refused to set them loose.

"That being said, you've been through a lot Mallard and I do empathise with you," Sir Gresley stepped forward closing the gap between them.

Mallard quickly stepped away from the man approaching him and a scowl appeared on his face.

"How do I know that you're him?" Mallard frowned. "What if you're some entity that is just trying to trick me! What if you're some- some Black Smoke construct?"

Sir Gresley paused and looked thoughtful. He then nodded to Mallard.

"You're right not to trust me," the man gave Mallard a half smile. "What can I do to prove myself to you my friend?"

"Tell me something only my designer would know, something that Scotsman wouldn't know," Mallard asked with a glance at Scotsman who was watching with an unreadable expression on his face. Mallard glared at him and Scotsman only gave him a sad, pathetic look in return.

Mallard's lip curled.

He'd had enough of his idiot cousin.

"Very well Mallard," Sir Nigel Gresley nodded to him. "Do you remember when Gadwall was almost derailed while trying to imitate your record?"

Mallard felt a lump in his throat and he nodded, unwanted feelings bubbling to the surface.

"Merlin could not console you, it was one of the rare cases where he could not, you blamed yourself so deeply," The man retold. "You were so upset that you activated your Gold Dust, drove yourself with no crew to my workshop and found me. I was speechless at how you had done it. You were confused at how you could move yourself with no crew and so I decided to tell you."

"You told me about Gold Dust," Mallard murmured.

"Yes, because I knew that an engine with your thirst for knowledge would not stop until he found the truth," Sir Nigel Gresley nodded to him, then smiled like a father proud of his son. "You're like Green Arrow in that sense. Always at the workshop asking the engineers what things did."

Mallard looked away from Sir Gresley, his heart heavy. Green Arrow's reaction to barely seeing him hurt him in ways he didn't understand.

He had always told himself that Green Arrow was beneath him, that their friendship was nothing more than a service, a stepping stone to getting what he needed. Green Arrow was just a tool, a thing to get what he needed.

So why was he hurt by the V2s rejection?

"Mallard," Sir Nigel Gresley's voice pulled him out of his anxious thoughts. The A4 Pacific looked up at his designer.

"I've done terrible things, sir," Mallard admitted quietly. "Things I will never be forgiven for. I do not deserve to be your best engine."

"Perhaps," Sir Nigel stroked his chin thoughtfully. "But I know you will do your best to be better from now on, yes?"

Mallard shuddered slightly and looked away from him. He did not like being wrong. He did not like being criticised.

But this was Sir Nigel Gresley himself. The man he held above all others. A man who had trusted him and put all his faith in him.

Mallard looked back up at the man who was watching him expectantly and he felt his anxiety fall again. He nodded to him and gave him a slight smile.

"I'll do my best sir, it won't be easy though," Mallard admitted. "I did some heinous things."

"The only thing that matters is that you now act with grace and humility. In time perhaps you will gain back your friendships."

"I doubt it," Mallard muttered with a glance at Scotsman. "I doubt Green Arrow would want to even be within a mile of me."

Sir Gresley hummed thoughtfully to himself before replying.

"You hurt Green Arrow, you vandalised him," the man reminded him coldly and Mallard shamefully looked at his feet. "I do not expect him to ever forgive you Mallard."

His words hurt. Mallard felt tears burn behind his eyes. He did want Arrow's forgiveness but he had no idea why.

"There's no one who wants anything to do with me anymore," Mallard whimpered in a soft, pained voice. "Not even Sir Nigel. He was the only one who gave me the time of day when the Black Smoke had its grip on me and now he won't even look at me without disgust."

"Olivia will help you," Sir Gresley pointed out. "I saw you protect her over the years and I must ask, why did you? You had no idea who she was when she was Olivia Spence, yet you still protected her."

Mallard frowned and looked away. He had met Olivia as a young child, her parents going about, parading around the Gresley name. She had been so small and yet… her soul…

Even then, when Olivia had gone by Olivia Spence, her soul had stood out to him. She wasn't like the other humans made of flesh and powered by neurons. She had Gold Dust infused into her being. Like she was a Gold Dust Construct, but not quite.

That familiar sparkle of his cousin, Pretty Polly called out to him and he had been mystified.

"She had Pretty Polly's soul, sir," Mallard explained. "I thought, I thought it was her, I thought it was Polly. I was protecting Polly. Even when I realised what was going on… I wanted to protect her because I knew you would want me to."

"You recognised Polly?" Scotsman spoke up and Mallard momentarily glared at him for interruption before he immediately dropped the expression after Sir Gresley's pointed glare.

"Why wouldn't I recognise Polly? She was one of the few engines that consistently cared about me, even when my soul was taken," Mallard inferred. "She treated me like a person. She cheered me on when the entire country wanted me off the rails!"

Sir Gresley hummed and tutted in response.

"As I recall and tried numerous times to tell you, Scotsman also tried to do the same for you Mallard," he rebuked and Mallard frowned and looked away from him.

"I have no interest in receiving help from a fake," Mallard disapproved coldly and Scotsman glared back at him. "Scotsman is not honest or genuine when he appears in front of those crowds. His self-esteem is greatly lacking, same with that of Truro."

"Mallard!" Sir Gresley scolded him and Mallard looked away from his designer.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't force me to like someone," Mallard argued. "It always angered me off when the directors or investors wanted me to pretend to be happy and play games with Scotsman for publicity. I hate it, I've always hated it and I'm sorry but I will not be forced to like someone I have no respect for."

Sir Nigel Gresley was about to respond when Scotsman spoke up.

"Your self-esteem isn't exactly great either, Mallard," Scotsman accused and Mallard glared at him.

"Why don't you back off?" the A4 snapped at him and Sir Gresley immediately stepped between the two.

"That's enough," the man scolded both of them. "You are not new builds and I expect better from the both of you."

"Yes sir," the engines immediately backed down and avoided each other's gaze.

"I am sorry for forcing the both of you to pretend to be friends and putting you in uncomfortable positions, that was my mistake and I take responsibility," the designer nodded to the both of them. "That being said, I do not wish for this hateful and nasty relationship between the both of you to continue. You either nip it in the bud or I will ask Olivia to deal with the both of you accordingly."

Both engines murmured their agreement but then Mallard's expression turned to one of confusion.

"Olivia?" He asked, confused. Sir Gresley had been watching his granddaughter. But then that meant he had seen all his interactions with her he suddenly realised with horror.

Including when he had threatened her life.

Mallard felt extremely shameful upon realising what Sir Gresley might feel about that. He looked up and found the man's eyes staring deep into his soul.

Sir Gresley nodded as if reading his thoughts. "You heard me correctly. I expect you to do what is right by her and more importantly yourself."

"Myself?" Mallard asked, confused.

"Despite being soulless and consumed by hatred and anger you still protected Olivia, you knew to protect her, you adored her. Even when lashing out at Scotsman and threatening her, I know you feel deep shame at that," Sir Gresley acknowledged and Mallard stared at him. "I know that you would not let her, her baby or Polly die."

"I adored her because she reminded me of you, of Polly," Mallard admitted. "She treated me with respect even after I threatened her. It's something you would do sir. But then I had no idea what was truly going on. I'm truly sorry for threatening your great granddaughter, Sir, in my right mind I would never."

"This apology should be for Olivia, not myself, Mallard,," Sir Gresley nodded to him. His expression turned to one of the stoic and commanding man he had once known. "I am disturbed by what I just saw from the both of you. Scotsman had no right to assault you and you had no right to knock him unconscious. If it happens again I will ask Olivia to drag your souls to this place and have you both punished, am I clear?"

Both engine's souls glanced at each other, now terrified of the implications of what their designer was now telling him.

"Yes sir!" Both engines immediately bowed slightly, showing the man the utmost respect.

Sir Gresley nodded at both of them.

"Very well, we shall see," the designer answered. "I expect great things from the both of you, as always."

The man turned away from them, his visage slowly fading from their vision.

"I bid the both of you farewell," Sir Gresley smiled. "I hope to meet the both of you again on better terms."

"Yes sir, farewell sir," the engines acknowledged him in unison.

There was a flutter of Gold Dust and the man disappeared, the gold dust taken away on a slight breeze leaving Scotsman and Mallard staring at each other.

"Mallard-" Scotsman began but Mallard simply turned his back on him.

"Leave it," Mallard snapped back at him. "I don't want to talk to you."

Scotsman fell silent.

Mallard willed that strange lamp into his hand and found it pulsing brightly, a familiar warmth travelling from the hand that held it to his heart.

He knew he needed to save Olivia. He had always known that.

But Gadwall… he could have had Gadwall back.

No.

He remembered Gadwall's reaction to him knocking out Scotsman. How Gadwall had felt comfortable and at ease with Olivia. How mournful he had been when he had seen Olivia unconscious in her bed, her soul flickering like a dying candle.

How Gadwall had called him selfish and disowned him.

The message was clear to him now.

He needed to do good not only by himself, but Gadwall too. He would make his little brother proud.

Maybe earn his respect once more.

Be his idol even.

He clenched his fist around the lamp's handle tightly as he contemplated his 'wish'. He could feel Scotsman's gaze boring into the back of his head.

Mallard ignored him.

He wasn't important right now.

The golden light of Proteus's lamp consumed him and Mallard was gone leaving Scotsman to stare at the place he had once been.

There was a pause as Scotsman frowned at himself. He needed to return to that forest, something was calling him back.

But he needed to find Great Northern.

He needed closure.

He reached out, trying to find his brother.

In return he was greeted by a brilliant glowing soul that wasn't North… this one felt new, luminous and powerful.

Scotsman stared at it confused.

'What are you trying to show me, North?'

"You bring shame to our class, Osprey!" Sir Nigel thundered at his sister who pouted at him like a sulking child. Behind him, she saw the Duchess of Hamilton watching the interaction with a wry smirk plastered across her face.

Union sneered at her to which the LMS engine just gave a snort of laughter.

"Osprey, explain yourself," Sir Nigel demanded angrily, ignoring the nosy LMS engine.

"That- That foreign engine started it!" Union snapped angrily. "That uncouth ugly-"

"Enough!" Sir Gresley snapped at Union. "I have seen the platform footage of what you have done and you goaded the visiting engine and Tornado into taking your train! You knowingly put them in danger!"

"I did not!" Union screeched but her brother was not having it.

"Your owner has heard about this and is taking steps to make sure that it does not happen again," Sir Nigel dismissively snapped. "Do not expect me to defend you on this matter. Especially not when Tornado was so severely damaged."

"Oh you and your precious little new build," Union sneered venomously. "She's nothing but a replica, a stupid little toy that pretends to be one of us."

"And yet she runs on the mainline while you do not," Sir Nigel retorted coldly and Union looked completely incensed.

"How dare-"

"Flying Scotsman will not appreciate your words about her-" Sir Nigel began but Union immediately jumped on his words at the mention of the famous engine.

"The Flying Scotsman said he was going to usurp you!" Union quickly accused and Sir Nigel frowned at her.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"He declared that he was going to take over as the preservation leader of the LNER engines!" She shrilly informed Sir Nigel.

Sir Nigel frowned at his sister. He then looked to Hamilton who was still watching them as if Christmas had come early for her. Hamilton looked back at him and smiled, unashamed that she found their drama so amusing.

Sir Nigel rolled his eyes then turned back to Union.

"It's about time Scotsman stepped up into the role Sir Gresley demanded of him," he gave Union a smug smirk and she looked completely shocked.

"But Scotsman will tarnish the LNER's values! He consorts with the lesser engines like those Thompsons!" Union shrieked and Sir Nigel gave a soft sigh.

"While I do admit, I have my concerns," Sir Nigel admitted. "I am hoping that I can steer him in appropriate directions. I am his friend after all, he will listen to me."

It was then that the Duchess of Hamilton scoffed at Sir Nigel.

"Oh, listen to you! Sounding like one of those backward Great Westerns! Still trying desperately to abide by outdated values and ridiculous traditions!" Hamilton laughed at him. "Next you'll be saying that Olivia Gresley should be relegated to being a mere server for passengers on the trains!"

Sir Nigel immediately went red and looked ashamed.

"No that's not what I'm insinuating-"

"Then let go of the past, those traditions are outdated and backwards! Scotsman has been all over the world! He's seen cultures far beyond our shores and met engines from all over the world! And yet you try to trap him in the tiny box that is the values of a railway and values that no longer exists!" Hamilton ranted. "You are ridiculous and close-minded if you even entertain the idea that Scotsman will continue to subscribe to the values of a dead railway!"

Sir Nigel stared with a stern expression at Hamilton for a very long time before he relinquished his hard expression.

"Perhaps, you have a point Ham," he finally conceded.

"Of course I do," Hamilton puffed up on her frame. "Got more 'brain cells' than all of you Gresley's combined as the humans say."

Union huffed, deeply offended by the Coronation Classes quip but Sir Nigel took it light heartedly and chuckled at her.

"Quicksilver will not approve of this," Sir Nigel frowned and Hamilton snorted in response.

"Always had a stick up her axles, that one," Hamilton teased, ignoring Union's very confused expression of the mention of their 'dead' sister. "She can deal with it."

"I suppose she'll have to," Sir Nigel agreed.

"Hello, Ms Evening Star," Edward greeted the larger engine as he found her shut up in Brendam Sheds. "I heard about everything that happened. Are you alright?"

Evening Star looked away from the elder Sudrian engine shamefully.

"I don't know," was all she said in a depressed and faraway voice. Edward's expression creased into one of concern. "Am I?"

"Well," Edward gave her an encouraging smile. "I can't answer that for you. But I can help you talk you through your feelings if that will help?"

Evening Star took a nervous glance and found Edward's smile comforting, kind even. She could see why Green Arrow liked Edward so much, why he had told her to speak to him in times of trouble.

"I- I did a bad thing," Evening Star admitted.

"Yes, you did," Edward acknowledged. "But at the very least you can acknowledge that you did, and that's the first step to making things right."

Evening Star looked up- or rather- down and Edward curiously.

"I did it to protect my friend," She quickly interjected and Edward frowned.

"That may be so, but the track to the smelter is paved with good intentions, Evening Star," he warned her and Evening Star looked despondent again. Edward felt pity towards the larger engine. "Whatever you have done in the past is irrelevant to now, you can push forward and better yourself everyday. I believe that you are capable of wonderful and delightful things."

The 9f looked unsure at Edward's words but she felt no malice or dishonesty behind them.

"I- I hope you are right," Evening Star gave him a weak smile to which he returned.

"It's up to you whether I am or not, dear," Edward assured her and her smile widened.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

"Been a long time since an A1 graced the rails of the UK," came the voice of Sir Nigel as they approached the silent and empty engine of the one who would be named Tornado. "Yourself included, old chap."

Great Northern did not respond to that, he was not particularly fond of his rebuild at the hands of Thompson.

"The Peppercorns earned their shape from you," Sir Nigel pointed out, sensing the hostility from North as the man stared at the silent and soulless engine. "It's not often that one engine becomes a prototype for several classes."

North just grunted in response and jumped down from Sir Nigel's cab, approaching the silent A1 Peppercorn, its lifeless but complete figure looming over him, imposing but silent.

"The A1 Trust did a bang-up job," Sir Nigel praised as he surveyed the engine carefully. "What gender do you think they'll be?"

"It doesn't matter," North finally spoke after a while. "What matters is that every single attempt to tether a soul to this engine has failed. We have no Gold Dust Well and no major sources. So this engine will just be an expensive life-sized model if nothing is done."

Sir Nigel's expression turned grim and gazed at the engine with a serious expression.

"Do you think it's because of Scotsman's condition?" Sir Nigel asked in a hushed tone. "With the LNER's Golden Warden being so near death… It would make it hard for new engines to bond with Gold Dust."

North seemed to freeze and glare at Sir Nigel, his expression angered.

"Don't bring that up here," North snapped angrily at the A4 Pacific. "I told the Trust to bond Gold Dust into Tornado's frames when they were forged but they refused to listen to me."

"Why should they? When you refuse to even allow them the smallest insights into Gold Dust," Sir Nigel scoffed. "Of course they're not going to listen to you when you won't even tell them the basics. And now here we are, Tornado is finished and can steam, yet they have no soul, no life. What did you expect would happen?"

North just turned away from Sir Nigel and ran his fingers along the brand new engine, trying to feel for any sign, any take it would have for Gold Dust.

"Marvellous," North heard Sir Nigel muttering as the A4 admired the newly forged engine. "Even in Primer Grey, Tornado is a fine engine."

North ignored the A4 and climbed into the cab of the new engine. It was spotless and it was clean. It unnerved him to see an engine in such a pristine state.

Engines should be worked and covered in the fruits of their labour. Smears of coal and greased levers, abundant.

"What are you doing old man? You wanted to see the new engine and we have. We should get back to the museum," Sir Nigel asked of his companion but North ignored him and reached up, curling a hand around the Golden Whistle of his designer.

The world seemed to stand still as he considered his next action.

They needed a new engine, North told himself. It didn't matter the design, the works it came from but the LNER needed a boost. They had been shattered since dieselstation.

Maybe it would wake Scotsman from her stupor, from her paralysing depression that had slowly destroyed her over the decades. Made her reckless and made her give up on herself. Made her close to death as she was now.

She was not getting better and as the days went by more and more they feared losing her altogether.

North cursed himself for not speaking up, for allowing Scotsman to get into such a state. Pegler had made it incredibly clear just how angry he was with how Scotsman had been treated and looked after.

North looked around the silent engine's cab. It felt cold and it was silent. There was no soul in this engine despite his best efforts and it unnerved him.

If only he had been more open and shared his knowledge with the Trust when they had asked. Their lead engineer was furious and their chosen driver was… well it was her, he was sure of it.

Upon being shown the photo of the members, the one called 'Olivia Spence' immediately took his attention.

It was her.

Olivia Gresley, grown-up and one of the leading experts in a dying profession. A Steam Engine driver in an age where most were long extinct.

Perhaps he was only doing this for her. Olivia was anxious to drive Tornado. To be the first to drive a new engine yet with no soul, driving Tornado felt empty and hollow.

North felt his heart sink. Olivia needed, no, she deserved to be the first to drive Tornado. An opportunity that was once commonplace, is now a rarity.

North clenched the hand that was around Sir Nigel Gresley's whistle tighter and felt the old warmth of the elder man.

Tornado was not a Gresley yes, but he was certain that Sir Nigel Gresley would have approved. Besides, if it meant bringing joy to his granddaughter, then there was no way he would have refused North's plan.

"I hope you use my Gold Dust well, young Tornado," North whispered to the whistle before he gently placed it on the firebox door carefully. He carefully managed to pull the Gold Dust from his own soul and he immediately felt weaker, his Gold Construct shuddering, cracking like he had removed a fundamental part of it.

"What are you doing?! Stop!" Sir Nigel's shout came from somewhere beside the inert engine but North ignored the A4, instead focusing on the engine before him.

The silent engine before him began to creak and groan, as if something was inside of it, surging through its tubes and heating its cold lifeless frame.

North fell to his knee as his legs began to give way and his Gold Dust was sapped from him and into the new engine.

He was faintly aware of the new engine's cold aura slowly beginning to burn and glow, a new soul starting to burn in its firebox as his vision began to fade and the world began to sway.

He was barely conscious when he suddenly felt someone grab him and sever the connection between him and the new Peppercorn.

"Great Northern!" Thundered a familiar voice as North felt his senses return to him.

He looked up and found a familiar man kneeling over him.

"Sir- Sir Gresley?" North asked confused, unsure if he was seeing things. "Wait no, is this your human construct?"

The man who held him gave him a slight smile.

"A bit of both, but that is not important right now," the man nodded to North. "You have given yourself a death sentence by doing this, old friend."

North groaned, his head feeling heavy and his entire body lethargic and drained. The man who had come to his side must be Sir Nigel's Human construct.

"I- I am aware," North coughed, sitting up and looking up at the man who had come to his assistance. He froze as he got a better look at him. "You- you look exactly like Sir Gresley."

The Man frowned at him. "Stop avoiding the situation at hand, Great Northern. You split your soul and infused it into the Peppercorn. You weakened your soul."

"Yes," North finally acknowledged. "At least this way, I can do something right in my pathetic existence."

Sir Nigel ignored the sad tone in North's voice, his voice serious.

"North, your construct will begin to fail without significant Gold Dust. You won't last another 10 years, you've given yourself a death sentence," Sir Nigel lammented and North nodded to him.

"I know," North muttered weakly. "But it's not like I was doing much with the extra time I had been given."

"North, enough! This is not how I wanted my friend to die!" Sir Nigel suddenly snapped at him and North stared at him.

"I'm just- tired- Sir Nigel," North muttered quietly. "Besides, Tornado has been able to steam for almost a year now and they still haven't become sentient. The situation is dire!"

Sir Nigel frowned but he relaxed his face and nodded to him quietly.

"Perhaps, but there is no reason to throw your life away regardless," Sir Nigel sternly told him and North hung his head conceding his point.

"I know, I will still have time though," he admitted quietly. He was about to speak again when the new Peppercorn began to creak and its frames began to shift. North perked up immediately. "Did it work?"

Sir Nigel helped North climb out of the cab of the new engine with a little difficulty but there was still an excitable spring in North's step as he made his way to the front of Tornado.

"Oh how glorious! It worked!" North exclaimed, sounding over the moon. "It worked!"

Upon the Smokebox door, a face had appeared. It was perfect, wonderful. The most glorious thing that North had seen in decades.

Despite himself, Sir Nigel gave a wide grin at the sight as North quickly walked over to the young engine, grasping the Peppercorn's buffer in a sort of hug.

"Happy Birthday, Young Iron!" North called up to her excitedly, delighted.

She did not respond, still silent and asleep but there was a warmth to her that had not been there before. Still, Great Northern buzzed about the engine with an energy and a strength that Sir Nigel had never seen before.

Sir Nigel watched North. His heart was heavy knowing that North had just condemned himself but seeing how elated and happy he was at the new engine finally being bonded with a new soul.

Maybe it was worth it.

"Tornado…" The soft voice of Flying Scotsman suddenly spoke beside him and Sir Nigel turned to look over, finding the visage of a tall man standing next to him, watching.

"Scotsman?" He asked, confused and Scotsman turned to look at him, surprised.

"Sir- Sir Nigel?" Scotsman asked, shock in his voice. "You can see me?"

"I can," he nodded to Scotsman. "This is not- this is not how you currently are- where are you-"

"I'm from the future," Scotsman realised as he looked back to Tornado. Sir Nigel was probably confused because at the time Tornado had been finished, he had been female. "I'm currently-" He stopped and shuddered, an expression of pain on his face. "It doesn't matter."

Sir Nigel gave him a smile and a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That gives us hope. It means that despite your appalling condition, you pulled through."

"I pulled through because of Tornado," Scotsman revealed. "Hearing that new engines were being built… It gave me hope."

Sir Nigel gave a chuckle as they both turned to look at Tornado and North, the latter still celebrating.

"I've never seen him so happy," Sir Nigel smirked. "Perhaps giving his soul an expiration date was worth it."

Scotsman looked unconvinced and despondent.

"I never- I was never able to forgive Great Northern, had I known about this… I- I- would have-" Scotsman felt tears welling up in his eyes and burning down his face.

"North asked me not to tell you," Sir Nigel regretfully informed him. "Besides the fact you were not aware of the Gold Dust constructs."

Scotsman looked away and cast his eyes towards Tornado, her face calm but still silent and still.

"At least North was able to bring Tornado to life," he remarked as he saw the memory play out before him. He had never seen North so happy, so full of life.

"That's true. To be perfectly honest, this is probably the first big win for North in a very long while," Sir Nigel acknowledged. "He's not had the best luck even in the LNER days."

Tornado had given people much more than she realised.

There was a moment of silence as Scotsman and Sir Nigel watched North excitedly rave about Tornado, excitedly bounding around the engine as if he had not just lost a large amount of his soul.

Scotsman glanced at Sir Nigel's Human Construct. It looked like the spitting image of the man said engine was named after.

"You're wondering why I look so similar to our designer, aren't you?" Sir Nigel remarked, surprising Scotsman.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind," Scotsman humorously retorted. "Enlighten me."

"He had a connection to Great Northern," Sir Nigel began to explain. "For years and years Sir Gresley worked with Gold Dust, eventually he was able to use this connection to imprint his will onto myself."

Scotsman nodded in understanding.

"I did wonder why his spirit still wandered the world in between," he nodded. "One day you changed, instead of constantly worrying about living up to the man's legacy, it was like you embodied him completely."

Sir Nigel chuckled. "The toughest part for my younger self was trying to understand our designer's ambitions and act appropriately. When he imprinted his will onto me it was as if my eyes had been opened. Like I knew my true purpose."

Sir Nigel paused, reflecting on their designer.

"I suppose I acted like a tether, an anchor for his spirit to remain in the physical realm. Much like Alan Pegler has done to you," Sir Nigel nodded. "Ah, my memories of the future are bleeding into my current being. How curious. I'm glad to see you've awakened your Golden Soul. You look most impressive, Scotsman."

Scotsman gave a slow and meditative breath as his thoughts drifted to Pegler. The man who had given him purpose when steam had died.

When all but one of his siblings perished.

When he had been so lost and alone.

His spirit had appeared to him in his hour of need. Spoke to him, awakened his Golden Soul in that dusty, abandoned mine all those years ago.

He looked at Sir Nigel, his expression heavy but hope remained in his eyes.

"Is there a way to bring Great Northern back, do you think? Even as a bird like Gadwall or a ghost like Saint Mungo?" Scotsman asked desperately. "Or is he gone forever?"

The A4's expression turned grim and looked back to the memory of Great Northern, who had calmed and was now examining Tornado in a more professional manner.

"There is so little of his soul left," the A4 explained grimly. "If he was to succumb to the Cold Iron Sleep or be infected with Black Smoke… it would kill him permanently."

Tears leaked from Scotsman's eyes.

He knew that. He knew that North was gone for good the second he had laid eyes on his body.

He had reached out to North's soul in desperation and it hadn't led to a raven like Gadwall or a wandering ghost.

It had instead led him to Tornado.

The last remnant of North left in the world, his soul now having given her a chance at life.

Tornado was all that was left of him now.

A hand gently gripped his shoulder and Scotsman looked up to find Sir Nigel, his face full of compassion and his eyes filled with sorrow.

"I'm truly sorry, Flying Scotsman," the A4 mournful consoled him. "There might be a slight chance North did something to remedy his fractured soul but it's very unlikely. Great Northern isn't coming back."

The Flying Scotsman hung his head in despair and wept. He felt Sir Nigel draw him into a comforting embrace, all the while hearing the distant babbling of his elder brother.

"You should go and spend time with your brother, I think," Sir Nigel suggested after a while. "Perhaps even that City of Truro. He seems to have taken a shine to you these days. It's very strange."

Scotsman drew away from his cousin and nodded absent-mindedly.

Oh if only past Sir Nigel knew.

"This has… not been the best birthday," Scotsman tried to say humorously but the joke fell flat, only making Sir Nigel pity him more. He looked back at North and Tornado.

"At the very least, I shall look upon Tornado with a new light," Scotsman admitted and Sir Nigel nodded to him.

"Even without North's intervention, she was always going to be a special engine,"he chuckled and Scotsman gave him a brave smile before his focus seemed to wander off somewhere else.

He returned to the memory with a sad look in his eye.

"I need to go back, people are worried about me," he excused himself and Sir Nigel gave him a parting smile.

"As you were, Flying Scotsman," he acknowledged then smirked before adding. "We always worry about you. You have a tendency to be very ridiculous."

"I know," Scotsman chuckled and there was a glow of Gold Dust and Scotsman faded from the memory.