Chapter 3: Take Charge, Percy!

Done with her shunting, Emily took a load of empty trucks, and rushed over to the flour mill, now treating them with care. They snickered and pulled and pushed, and tried to get on her nerves, but Emily worked up her patience and pressed on.

She absolutely needed to catch Sir Topham Hatt before he left Maithwaite.

Finally, luck seemed to be on her side. Pulling up to the station, she caught him standing at the platform, and skidded to a halt, bumping her trucks in the process. A fine cloud of flour burst into the air, but nothing significant. "Sir!"

"Emily, what's the matter?" asked the Fat controller. He politely ended a conversation with the station master, who nodded and went inside.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I just wanted to catch you." She panted. "I had an… a suggestion for you, that you might like to hear."

The Fat Controller looked at his watch, glinting in a brief moment when the sun broke from behind the clouds. "I'm still waiting for Percy to arrive." He replaced his sleeve and folded his hands. "Go on. I'm all ears."

"Well, it's about Edward, sir. I just spoke to him in the goods yard. It just seems to me that he hasn't been able to pull a special in a long time. He's always stuck with the goods trains."

Sir Topham thought this over, straightening his aching back. "Hm… it has been a long time since I set aside anything festive for him." He looked at Emily studiously. "But the last I spoke with Edward, he was fine with it. He doesn't want the attention."

"Yes, but knowing Edward, do you believe that he's being honest?"

The gentleman raised a brow, but he knew exactly what Emily meant. Edward never complains about anything because Edward never complains, period. "Well, I'm not about to ask Thomas, Percy or Toby to lend a few of their branch line trips to Edward. And Gordon would explode if I consider asking him to let someone else take the express. Hm... Tell you what," he said at last. "The next time I get a call for a special—a coach special, that is—I'll be sure to call on Edward first. And we'll see how he likes it." And he winked at Emily.

The Stirling let off an excited gust of steam. "Thank you, sir! You won't regret it!"

"Hush, hush," he told her. "Now, don't you have a delivery of flour to drop off?"

Emily gasped. She nearly forgot that there were trucks behind her, and the bakery was waiting. "Oh! Sorry, I'd better be going!" And she hurried off, nearly jerking her driver onto his knees in the process.

You may not think you're worthy of all the attention in the world, Edward, but I think you are.

Not having seen it, Sir Topham Hatt shook his head with a chuckle as he watched her tender disappear over the horizon. It warmed his heart the way the engines looked out for each other.

Just then, Percy rushed into the busy station on the neighboring track. His cheeks were bright pink and he wheezed. "S-s-sorry sir! I rushed here as fast as I could!"

"You're just fine, Percy. Right on time, in fact. I have a slight change of plans for you for this afternoon. You'll be having another tank engine to help you, Bill and Ben out in the quarry, and I need you to show them what to do."

Percy was surprised. "I haven't gotten to work with Duck in forever!" It brought back memories of the harbor. It was a very long, complicated project, and they'd both been as overworked as they'd ever been. But he liked Duck, and now looked back on those times nostalgically.

"It's not Duck I'm afraid," said the fat controller. "He's much too busy. But I believe you'll find her just as capable."

"Oh. Well… " A bubble of hope in his boiler popped. "But I'm sure they'll be just…" he trailed off. "… did you say… 'her'?"

"This place is a lot louder than I expected!" shouted Rosie.

"You'll get used to it!"

"What?"

"I SAID, 'YOU'LL GET USED TO IT!'" Percy shouted back at her.

"OH! OKAY!"

At the quarry, the deafening sounds of construction were as consistent as sunrise and sunset. The workmen were laying down new lines of track, and repairing some of the older ones. They'd been the same tracks first laid down when the quarry was first established, and it was much to the comfort of the engines that they weren't going anywhere. Once again, their future was secured.

Today, however, Rosie looked a little out of her element. Percy couldn't blame her. Since she'd moved to Vicarstown, her days were mostly filled with uptight coaches and upright engines and upright people. Not troublesome trucks and almost equally troublesome engines. She hadn't spent a great deal of time working outside in a long time.

And Percy had never got to work one on one with Rosie before. He was sort of nervous. He'd been left in charge of Bill and Ben before, but he'd never had to train anyone who was new to the area.

Soon enough, the machinery creating the racket ceased, and the engines could finally speak at a normal volume again.

"So, uh, Rosie… what brings you down here, exactly?"

"Meh. I know it's going to be slow in the yards after the holidays, and they found another engine to act as pilot. I guess I just wanted a change of scenery." Rosie's tone denoted a shrug. "I asked Sir Topham if there was anywhere else that I could help out, and he put me here. So, other than the noise," she grinned awkwardly, "is there… anything else to know about?"

Percy worked up his best supervisor voice, and began. "Well, the quarry is a little different," he told her, as they rolled along the middle section of track, up to a line of trucks. "Firstly, there's the twins to be aware of. Bill and Ben. They're very nice, but eh, if you leave them alone for too long, they tend to find their way into trouble—especially if you let them try and make a decision on their own. One brother tends to always pick the opposite just to annoy the other. But they've got better over the years. Then there's Mavis." Percy grimaced a bit. "She's opinionated, but she gets a lot of work done. Uh, just try not to talk to her unless you have to."

"I'm not deaf just because I'm on the other side of the yard, Percy!"

Rosie watched as Percy winced. He hadn't realized the diesel was so close by.

Mavis was resting by her shed, with a terrible ache in her fuel filters—hence the call for more help at the quarry—and she reacted to Percy's backdoor introduction about as well as expected. "I hope if you have a compliment about me, you'll say it to my face!"

"Ah. Yeah," Percy gulped. He looked at Rosie and whispered. "Don't make my mistake. Get on her good side right away, and life will be much better."

"Noted." Rosie dropped the whisper. "Well, this place doesn't look that scary. I could see getting used to it around here."
Percy smiled. Rosie's optimism was refreshing. "I have a feeling it's gonna be fun to work with you. Especially after weeks of being stuck with—"

"The most superior engine to grace the rails," came a new voice.

The tank engines looked to their left, surprised they hadn't recognized who it belonged to immediately. Percy narrowed his eyes. "Diesel. What are you doing here?"

The square diesel powered engine slithered up to the steamies, his eyes full of mischief. "The Fat Ham was quite pleased with the work on my last job. And thus, he inquired if I may lend a hand here. After all, I'm sure you need it."
Percy's funnel billowed with annoyance. Of course it wasn't just Rosie who was added to the team…

But how could Sir Topham do this? He knew Diesel liked to gang up on the steamies. He was never any good when he had to work with them. And on a project where Percy was the lead, no less!?

Based on his reaction, Percy took it that Diesel knew he would be here. But the lines of his wicked smile only deepened upon sight of the engine, and her distinct fuschia coat. "Well, well, well! Rosie! What a surprise seeing you here! Shouldn't you be out west slaving away to the coaches or something?"

"I asked for a change," Rosie told him firmly. "And I got it. What's it to you?"

"I see his worthy fatness is still giving the steamies special treatment. Oh well. These days shall pass, in due time."

"Maybe if you actually did your work, and stayed out of trouble, and called him by his name," Percy told him, "Sir Topham Hatt would put you where you wanna be, too."

Diesel ignored Percy, like a fruit fly buzzing around his cheek, and fixed his gaze on Rosie. "I'm surprised you haven't gone off to help Thomas," Diesel remarked, giving her the up down. "I seem to remember a time when you used to shadow him, like a puppy following a man home."

"That. Was years ago."

"Has it?" Diesel seemed almost impressed by the quickness of her response. "My my, where has the time gone?"

Percy was impressed, too. He couldn't remember having ever seen Rosie angry. But Diesel had a remarkable way of getting under every engine's paint, eventually.

"And it's none of your business, anyway!" Rosie went on.

"It isn't, really, no," Diesel said, attempting to sound bored. "I'm just casually observing. Keeping a tally. Making sure I'm not in the dark of all that's going on. After all, I wouldn't want to cause a... social faux pas." His eyes widened excitedly with the last word.

But even Percy knew better than to believe that by now. And he didn't want Diesel to start prying at Rosie for her insecurities. He'd only use them against her. "Hey. Diesel. Why don't you go shunt some trucks over onto that siding. You know, the one way over there."

And all three of the engine's eyes followed to the siding that Percy was talking about: a line of track way on the right edge of the yard.

Diesel snorted. "Why should I do that?"

"Because Sir Topham Hatt put me as head engine on this project," said Percy, displaying a confidence that took decades to build up. "And so, uh, you have to listen to me! Now, go!"

Reluctantly, the diesel obeyed, his eyes never leaving Percy until his back was facing him.

But as he slithered down the track, he dropped another comment. "Take care with those trucks, Rosie, my dear! They're not as light as they look! Don't want to see your pretty paint chip!"

The tank engines glared right back at him and didn't let out a breath until Diesel was far out of earshot. Now they could talk privately. "Sorry about Diesel," said Percy.

"What's his problem? Sticking his big, ugly nose into other engines' business? Some nerve..."

"He just likes making trouble." That summed up the situation, if being a little bit of an understatement. "All you need is to show 'em who's boss, and he shuts up nice and good."

"After he gets in the last word, anyway," Rosie muttered. But then smiled a bit. "It was impressive how you shunted him away like that. Like he was one of the trucks."

Such a compliment! Percy beamed. "Aw, it was nothin'. You get used to it." And for the first time in a long time, he was beginning to feel good about himself. "That's why Sir Topham puts me in charge of a lot of other engines these days—"

"He's a mad engine, I tell ya! MAD!"

"SOMEBODY SAVE US!"

Percy and Rosie jumped. After looking at each other questioningly to confirm they hadn't imagined that, the green engine growled behind tight lips. "Rrr… I told him to shunt the trucks, not scare the willikers out of them! C'mon, Rosie!"

Still wilted from Diesel's remarks, Rosie followed silently.

The tank engines traveled to the other end of the yards, expecting to find Devious D. having made the disturbance. So they were quite surprised to find that the engine who the trucks were complaining about wasn't him at all. In the corner of the yards, the charcoal black painted engine was grumbling, but was otherwise quiet, as he shunted. Just as Percy had told him to.

He and Rosie quickly discovered that the engine the trucks were crying out about was yet a tank engine. Green like Percy, but with a narrower boiler, like Thomas. And he snorted his wide, distinguished nose as he biffed the trucks around the middle of the yard. "Keep your ugly snozzes out of this, it's none of your business!"

Percy and Rosie were surprised. No wonder the trucks were upset. They were still intimidated by this particular engine, who once pulled apart Scruffy when the named truck was being a nuisance. Said truck learned a lesson. At least it lasted for a few years, even though it had totally been an accident. Either way, Oliver, though a gentle engine as everybody knew, had garnered a reputation among the trucks.

They cried and shrieked as he slammed them around. "Talk about my friend again, I'm gonna make you an offer you cannot refuse! Capiche?"

"Oliver!" Percy called out with surprise. "I didn't know you were going to be with us today!"
Even from a distance, Rosie could tell there was something different about Oliver today, but she couldn't decide on what.

Either way, he looked upset. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he grunted. "Just these lousy trucks bein' a thorn in my buffers—"

"Come on! You can tell us!" Rosie said, in her calm and gentle voice. "You're clearly upset about something. We just want to help."

"I'd rather not talk about it in front of the trucks," Oliver said firmly.

"Well, whatever it is, they already know about it," Percy noted, thinking over Oliver's previous statements. And his eyes shifted to Diesel, who was watching in between working. He'd venture to guess the serpent of the NWR would find out one way or another, too.

At last, the old, great western fixed his eyes on the cliffs to his left, and sighed. "Toad went missing last week, and nobody can find him. I just haven't been the same since. He usually keeps me in line. In more ways than one, I guess ya could say."

Percy's eyes widened. "He's gone?" He gave Oliver a second look over, and only then seemed to realize what looked so different about him: His faithful break van was not trailing behind.

"Gone! He's missing! Lost! AWOL!" Oliver burst out frustratedly. "Left him alone for one night near the docks 'cuz the points were bust! Come back the next day, trucks are there, and he ain't nowhere to be found!"

"We've searched for him high and low!" explained his driver, leaning out of the cab. "Put in a dozen inquiries in stations across the island. Nobody's seen the hide nor tail of 'em since we did."

Rosie was boggled. "I didn't know engines could keep pets."

"Funny gal." Oliver sighed. "Toad would've laughed at that."

Percy took it upon himself to explain. "He's Oliver's break van. Toad's just his name."

"Oh! Him!" Rosie gasped, her cheeks going red. "I'm so sorry! It's been so long, I forgot his name!"

"Don't worry about it," Oliver told her. "Enough time passes, and I'll probably forget, too."

"Tough, old Mr. Oliver's gone all weepy weepy without his cherished, little caboose!" called out one of the trucks.

And as they began to snicker, Oliver growled.

But Percy could see the embarrassment beneath the anger. Most of Sir Topham's engines knew of the epic behind Oliver and Toad's comradery, and respected it in turn. While running away to Sodor to escape scrap, the two had become inseparable. For so many years, the great western and break van never went anywhere without each other. Like an engine to their tender, or even Mighty and Mac. It was easy to see why Toad's disappearance had Oliver so on edge.

Still, the great western shouldn't have been annoyed at the trucks for mocking him about it. But the trucks wouldn't have had reason to mock him except for the fact that he was ashamed for being as worked up as he was to begin with. Having such an attachment to anyone, or anything, was a weakness. From abandonment to near scrapping, to the series of humbling episodes every engine on the railway had to endure while learning the ropes. After having been through everything Oliver had been through in life, having a weakness was unacceptable.

Percy rolled up closer to the old, great western on the left. "Listen, I don't have a lot of free time these days." And he lowered his voice, just low enough so the trucks couldn't hear. "But I know what Toad means to you. And if my crew is alright with it, I'll do everything I can to find him, okay?"

Oliver tried to look unmoved. But the generous offer worked its way into his hard-shelled heart, and he couldn't help but grin. "You're an alright fella, Percy. I thank you."

"I'll help too!" peeped Rosie, who'd overheard. She looked at both confused male engines, and became very shy. "I have… good hearing. Hehe…"

And as the trucks began snickering again, Oliver groaned. "Alright, alright! We'll all go looking for him. A team effort, or somethin'. Maybe three funnels are better than one. Who knows?"

"Yeah!" Rosie said, beaming. "That's the spirit!"

"In the meantime," Oliver turned his gaze back to the trucks, "Percy, which one of these trucks has been the most obnoxious? I still got an itch that only a little delicate shunting will scratch."

And the trucks abruptly and collectively stopped laughing, the color draining from their faces.

"I forgot how heavy snow could be… Phheew!"

"Will a race get you going a little faster? Last one to Ffarquhar grabs Gordon's coaches for a month!" And he teasingly hissed steam from under his wheels, as if preparing to speed ahead.

"Very funny, Thomas," Edward puffed hotly.

Late that afternoon, he and Edward were asked to clear snow from the tracks. The weather report had come in, and there would be no more falls until after Christmas. The two were then given the go-ahead to clean the piles that had built up over the past week from wind drifts, before it had the chance to freeze over and make the tracks icy. The drier the lines stayed, the less likely there would be any accidents once work resumed.

But by mid-afternoon, the sun that'd shone so brightly this morning had taken a reprieve. The sky was now overcast, and white, puffy clouds loomed over their heads as the blue engines chuffed over hills, and through station after station. The temperature dropped back below freezing. The change from chilly to frigid gave today a different feel than yesterday. It made something feel ominous.

Most of the time, Thomas cleared the lines by himself. But Sir Topham thought Edward would appreciate being asked to help, and the two engines would enjoy each other's company.

For the tank engine, it was easy work. At least compared to other jobs, like hauling coal or steel. But there was a lot of ground to cover. With their plows, No. 1 and 2 worked shoulder to shoulder on neighboring tracks as they made a clear path from Knapford station, to the bay, with plans to go over Thomas' branch line on the way back.

Edward was appreciative, but his axles were aching. And audibly, too, despite his efforts to quiet them. Even at his age, he was used to the weight of freight trucks, but pushing snow proved to be a different sort of strain on his body. He hadn't plowed like this in a long, long time. But being Edward, he laughed off the struggle, and Thomas acknowledged his efforts by chugging along ever slower, so that they stayed together.

Thomas smiled with brotherly admiration. Edward had carved a special place in his heart long ago. He had been the one engine who believed Thomas was fit for greater things than shunting coaches. He remembered that fateful day all those years ago, when he offered to let Thomas pull his freight train. If it wasn't for that small act of generosity, Thomas might've never had the chance to go on to pull the breakdown train, and prove himself to be a really useful engine.

Because of Edward, Thomas believed, his life had changed drastically. And the tank engine was forever loyal because of it. Endlessly talking up Edward's usefulness, despite his age and increasing mechanical problems.

Edward once heard that love was blind, and if so, Thomas definitely was. At least when it came to Edward himself. Even though Sir Topham was adamant about keeping his steam engines, Edward still felt as though he might have been scrapped years ago, if not for Thomas. Time after time, he passionately argued that Edward should be repaired, no matter the cost. And the truth was, Edward might have not cared so much if he wasn't repaired.

Except that Thomas cared.

This is why, today, he pushed through the snow with burning hot cheeks, and valves threatening to burst. "You make it look easy." Edward chuckled. "I can barely catch my breath. After that train this morning, I thought I'd be getting a rest."

"After an afternoon of working with James, I don't blame you for being all puffed out," Thomas told him.
Edward neither confirmed nor denied this. When James was coupled with another engine, it wasn't unheard of that he let them do most of the heavy lifting. Even when it was Edward. James used up most of his puff talking. While he was good for a laugh, working with him was outright tiring, especially for Edward.

Unfortunately, Edward was also the last engine who would ever directly confront James about this. And this was starting to annoy Thomas. Especially as Edward didn't reply to his last remark. "You know, you really ought to tell James off one of these days," he said, speaking a little louder. "You're only hurting the both of you by acting like he's not taking advantage of you."

"He's not taking advantage of me," Edward finally responded. "Thomas, I'm over ten years older than him. I've seen every trick in the book, from the trucks to the other engines. Nobody is getting one over me."

"I didn't mean he was getting over on you. I think he knows you know what he's doing, but he knows you won't go off on him, so he keeps doing it!"

Edward thought for a moment, and then turned his eyes back to the plow with shame. He knew where Thomas was getting at now. "Maybe you're onto something. I don't know."

"Listen. You're great at a lot of things," Thomas told Edward frankly. "Confrontation? Not one of them."

Edward laughed. "Fair enough. You know, sometimes I kind of wish I had some of... your nerve in that department."

"What?" Thomas asked with a snort.

"Well, you managed to tell Gordon off when he would bully you, remember? You even made a habit of waking him up right after runs. He tried to act like it didn't bother him. But after a while, it got under his paint."

Thomas gazed at the snowy hills in the distance, remembering. "Oh, yeah... back when I was still station pilot. I don't know what caused me to do that. I just remember thinking one day, 'Hey! He may have this huge boiler, and this deep, loud voice, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be his little servant boy!'"

"It makes enough sense to me. And maybe that's why you gained such a fast reputation. I wouldn't mind having some of that nerve myself."

Thomas considered that a compliment, and smiled.

But Edward began to feel guilty. Thomas apparently hadn't noticed, but he felt the tinge of envy in his voice. Even though Edward had had more years of experience, he didn't have that edge that Thomas did. Maybe it was because the little tank engine had started off so low on the ladder and had something to prove. In hindsight, Edward never really expected

Thomas to come this far when he helped work him towards a promotion. But Edward had had his own problems to deal with.

Thankfully, Thomas switched the conversation back to Young Ego. "I don't think the Christmas Trains hullabaloo is going to do anything to humble James. Is doing your job correctly really even reward-worthy?"

"Not… really." Edward said. He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt defensive about it. "But if he's rattling with anticipation about it, James can have his treat. It has been a while since he got to pull passengers."

"Well, same for you!" Thomas told him. "As a matter of fact, I think it should've been you who was chosen. You're always helping other engines out. You're due for a little treat yourself, Edward."

"Oh. Well, I'm not much for fancy dress and photos," Edward said, flushed. "That's more up James' alley." And he saw the perfect opportunity to segue. "But uh, speaking of the Christmas trains, has… Emily had a chance to speak to you, yet?"

Thomas frowned. "Emily? About what?"

Edward realized his mistake, and cursed himself silently. Oops. "I just… wanted to know if she said anything about Christmas Eve."

Thomas exhaled through his nose, steam billowing out, like a bull. "No, she hasn't said anything to me. Not since she sat there at the shed looking like a deer in front of a lamp iron." He pressed on quietly through the snow for a minute before looking at Edward. "Why do you ask?"

Edward was cornered. Now he had to confess to having spoken to Emily about it first. "Well, she… told me you were pretty vexed when she agreed to pull one of the Christmas trains."

"Wouldn't you be irked if you were biffed aside?"

"Well, sure. But are you positive that she just didn't forget she had something to do with you that night?"

"Oh, that's convenient!"

"Still, there's a possibility, isn't there? Come on, Thomas, it's Christmas. Can't we put this behind us?"
Thomas tried to maintain his glare, but it was hard to do so, looking at the unimpeachable creature that was Edward.

"Alright. Maybe I can talk to her. Next time we meet."

"Thank you," Edward sighed. "That truly makes me feel better. See, I didn't realize when I asked to help you out that I might've rolled into a situation."

"Oh, Edward, I'd never pull you into drama," Thomas said reassuringly. "And if there's any sense left in Emily, she knows you wouldn't take sides, either." He looked away, as a smirk started to form on his face. "Heh. Even more reason it should've been you pulling the Father Christmas train."

Edward cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I just think it makes more sense. The two of you. Best friends, pulling the most prestigious trains all year." And when Edward said nothing, he verbally nudged him. "Oh, come on, Edward! Be honest. You can tell me, man to man. That's why you're so eager for me to make up with her, right? Because you don't want it to be awkward in any way when… well… certain truths come out?"

"Hehehe," Edward snickered. But he wouldn't look Thomas in the eyes anymore. "Right."

Thomas raised a brow. "Well, that was a forced laugh, if ever I heard one. What's the matter?"

"Huh? Nothing. Nothing's the matter. I'm just not… comfortable with talking about this."

Thomas studied him carefully. "Edward, sometimes you are so mysterious. In all the years I've known you, I can't help but feel like there's layers inside I've still yet to see. I suppose it's no wonder you sweep girls off their wheels."

"We're… talking about trucks, aren't we?"

They pulled to a brief stop at a water tower so that Edward could take in a drink. Already, he could feel his cheeks cooling as he rested.

"Alright. The cat is out of the bag. No use dragging it out any longer. Please understand: I'm not making fun of you, Edward. I think it's great," Thomas yapped on, waiting patiently at Edward's side. "I'm happy for you. You deserve to have a nice match. I mean, there are few engines on Sodor who have that sort of elegance she does."
When his thirst was almost satisfied, Edward began hearing Thomas' words more clearly, and stared at him impressively.

"Elegance?"

"Well, yeah," Thomas told him. "And you know that thing that happens when the sun hits her dark paint from just the right angle, and it really looks its greenest? I'm not sure, but I think I've seen it sparkle a bit, too. There's that personality she's got. Heh, if she won't let anybody push her around, you know she won't let anybody push you around, either. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Edward gaped at him. "Thomas… do you even hear yourself talking?"

"What?"

"You're talking as if…" he trailed off, and exhaled loudly. "Nothing. Nevermind."

For being so utterly peeved with Emily right now, Edward thought it was odd that Thomas was overselling her. Why try and give her what she wanted when she was driving him crazy? But now might not have been the best time to point this out.

Thankfully for Edward, Thomas continued to be clueless.

At last, they reached the end of the Ffarquhar line. Edward's driver patted the inside of his cab proudly. "Alright, boy, you did well. But you're worn out. Time for a rest." And he leaned out of the cab and called towards Thomas' crew. "Hey, Matt, you think you, David and Thomas can handle the rest of the lines?"

"I know Thomas will try either way," Matthew answered. "He doesn't care what I want."

Thomas frowned at this remark, but he couldn't let it bother him right now.

As Edward backed up onto a siding behind the station for a rest, Thomas turned around and came back down the same line again, so that the two were now facing each other. Thomas saw Edward bite his lip and became worried. "Edward, you mean the world to me. Whatever's troubling you, I wish you'd tell me."

"Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But with all do respect, I'm asking you again to please drop this. All of it, I mean."

Thomas heard the irritation in Edward's voice. Such a rare phenomenon, it meant he was truly annoyed. And Thomas was hurt. "Alright, I was just trying to help. Keep on being so secretive then."

"Aw, Thomas, don't be like that."

"Whatever. I'll see you later." And before Edward could think of something to say to make him stay, he was leaving. "Have a nice rest."

Edward watched him go, guilt washing over him all over again. Why? Why did he have to bring up Emily? He'd have to try and make this up to Thomas the next time they met.

Still, his last comment had him puzzled. "Secretive? Me?"

"You are careful to keep your thoughts to yourself," his driver told him. "Even when you're annoyed, you never show it."

"I'd rather like to think I'm just reserved," Edward said. "I was under the impression that was the proper way for an engine to behave. I don't understand what I did to offend him."

"I think he wants to get to know you a little better, Edward," his fireman chimed in. "Be your wingman. You've known each other for decades. Maybe he feels he owes you something."

"I guess. But there's nothing I need. I just need… space."

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Thomas was one of the oldest engines here, after himself. Even after all this time, even having acquired a deeper voice, thinner cheeks, and less of a tendency to cry, he still didn't always act his age.

Still, he was insightful, as well he should be. And even though Edward often kept to himself, Thomas was able to extrapolate some things about him that nobody else did. Including his habit of letting James do as he pleased when they worked together, at the risk of his own health.

There were two things Edward decided upon that day, as he set off for home: The next time he dealt with James, he didn't care how anxious it made him. He was going to put the breaks on.

And two: Never. Ever. Was he going to plow an entire line again. Not without a serious rebuild, at least.

I just HAD. To make them mad.

As it turned out, the troublesome trucks decided to get their revenge on Emily sooner rather than later. They biffed and bumped her and made her journey after Maithwaite utter misery. They hadn't given her such a hard time since she'd first been given the flour run years ago.

By the time she left the bakery, Emily was covered from funnel to wheels in a cloud of flour dust. Even the good mood from her conversation with Edward was long gone. She was furious to the point of defeat.

On her way back, her water tank was running low, so her driver took her to the nearest water tower.

And who would be there already but Thomas, looking smart and triumphant with his snow-cleaned plow. Around the water tower were bunches of empty, stray trucks that needed to be collected by someone later. He saw her coming on the next line over, and Thomas remembered their fight from yesterday.

The good news from last night, combined with his promise to Edward, gave him the strength to start fresh with her. He was prepared to greet her with a warm smile, and his kindest hello.

But he was stupefied when he saw her current state. She was filthy, crawling along the line, looking left and right, as if she was pleading with the powers that be to not be seen.

"Well, boys, look at that!" It was one of the rowdy trucks. "It's the Ghost of Christmas Past!"

"Hey Emily!" another called. "I didn't know engines were lending a hand in the bakery, now!"

Emily's cheeks burned beneath the flour. She hated how so many of the trucks knew so many of the engines by name, just by looking at them.

Thomas became worried. Emily's eyes were heavy, and her axles were complaining as she inched closer. On top of it all, she looked miserable. "Emily, what happened? Did the flour trucks get the better of you?"

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but the cackling trucks did it for her. She narrowed her eyes. "Thank you for speculating that out loud."

The tank engine heard their giggling, and realized that that wasn't wise to say right in front of them. He wanted to talk about Christmas Eve, but he couldn't get over her condition. "Well, you might wanna ask your driver for a bath soon," he said, giving her the up-down. "You can't count on the snow drifts to clean you up."

And there it was. Emily was indignant. She sputtered. "F-First, you stick your nose into my personal business! Now you're making fun of me? In front of those trucks, no less? You have a lot of nerve, Thomas!"

"Hey, hey, I'm just playing with you!" Thomas shot back. "I'm trying to cheer you up! You don't have to be so sensitive!"

"Well, some of us don't have time for playing! We have work to do!"

"Emily, come on—!" Thomas started. "Wait—!"

But Emily wouldn't listen. "Don't talk to me anymore!"

And defying her driver's will, Emily knocked him off the footplate, and began rolling away. A cloud of flour lifted from her paint and trailed behind with steam in her wake. To hell with the water. She didn't care if she came to a stop in the middle of the line down the road and needed rescuing. She couldn't look at Thomas for a moment longer.

The tank engine watched her leave, feeling bitter. "So much for making up."

His fireman shook his head. "That was on you, pal."

"What did I do?" yelled Thomas.

"You have absolutely no couth when it comes to dealing with women," David scolded. "You never point out the flaws in their appearance!"

"But I was worried! I was… curious! And I was just being honest!"

David rolled his eyes, and looked to Matthew for help. "You wanna tell 'em?"

Matthew showed the fireman the palm of his hand. "Oh, no! I'm staying out of it. You're responsible for this beast. Now you take care of him."

David sighed. He leaned out of the cab. "Just… give Emily some space. She'll get over it."

Thomas silently agreed, but was pretty annoyed. He didn't think he did anything wrong. Why should he be sorry?

Still, part of him felt bad. Emily's self-consciousness right there wasn't an act. That much he knew for sure.

Barring James, who's entire life seemed to revolve around his looks, the guys might've laughed off Thomas' comments about their dirt. But Emily wasn't one of the guys. She wasn't one of the blokes. And Thomas sometimes forgot that. Maybe it was due to how long they'd known each other.

He shuddered at the thought of making this mistake with Mira.

Maybe I should apologize after all, he thought sadly, before trudging off from the water tower, and off to find his coaches. I wonder if Annie and Clarabel could teach me how not to make an ass of myself in front of girls…

Had a lot of fun diving into this chapter. Especially felt Edward and Thomas's stuff here. I wrote it coming fresh off of the episode Saving Edward from season 9. I was tearing up, Thomas thinking Edward is gonna be scrapped, and busted his tail to save him. Edward was the only engine who believed Thomas was good enough to do more than shunt coaches in the yard way back in season 1. There's real development there. The mentor teaches the student, the student rises and saves the mentor. These dynamics, dude… You don't see this in every show intended for children. And it's so captivating.

And now we get some development for Percy, too. I really like when they write him as showing his maturity and experience and even having a backbone and telling others to. I was so excited when he got a momentary promotion in the episode The Green Controller. It makes him feel complex, like he's actually developing as a character. And it felt deserved for Percy! He freaking earned that!

There are times in cartoons when they take a guy who's sorta not always keen on everything and make him kind of an idiot. They even do this with Percy when they make him everybody's yes-man. He's supposed to have a dimwitted moment here or there or misunderstand things, especially expressions and metaphors. But he's not supposed to be a gullible idiot (See Emily Knows Best). He mostly does what the others tell him to because he's outnumbered and bullied (See Duck Takes Charge). He works as hard as Thomas and he doesn't backtalk, that's all. I really liked to think that he only puts up with Thomas's occasional bull* to a point too, but he's not even gonna let his best friend make him a doormat. That's kinda where season 2 doesn't exactly do Percy justice. I really wanted Thomas to get smacked across the face in Wooly Bear. I don't care that that was supposed to be payback for the previous episode, HOW COULD YOU CALL PERCY UGLY YOU C*T?! And that's saying something considering Thomas is otherwise mah babye in every other episode.

Anyway, that note out of the way, Happy Holidays, guys! Hope you enjoy!

2/24/25: Edits in this chapter were mostly inconsistencies with calling Oliver a tender engine (I have no idea why I kept using that phrasing instead of 'bunker' and it only happened with Oliver), replacing 'cars' for 'trucks' for consistent verbiage, and Oliver's actual tone of voice.

As nonsensical as it is for the Great Western to sound like a New York mobster, I admit I… kinda have a weakness for Oliver sounding like that, thanks solely to George Carlin's narration. It gives his speech a distinctive flair among many other characters whose voices crave some sort of defining. Kinda like Emily sounding Scottish despite not being Scottish, although that could be explained away in a number of ways. That said, I'll try and dial his and Gordon's meathead gruffness back, as that aspect is arguably a little OOC, I realize.

"HE'S MAD I TELL YA MAD" APPARENTLY one of the of the trucks is Johnny from Ed Edd n' Eddy lol.