Chapter 12: And Now We Wait

Less than a half hour after Harvey collected his two injured for transport, they reached their destination. The train backed up into a rural siding, ending in a long narrow structure that Thomas, as dazed as he was, identified as a shed. Although not one that he'd remembered ever using before.

The train was stopped with just a tender's length from the doors. Snow was hastily cleared away with a shovel, and then two men thrust the doors open, hinges creaking in protest the whole way. Harvey gently pushed the engines into the structure. Thomas felt the relief of the interruption of the wind as he disappeared beneath the shadow of the lightless building. Emily after him.

Clearly, it hadn't been used in a long time. It had no lights, either because they didn't work, or because nobody attempted to test them. Cobwebs hung thick like curtains in every other corner, and every surface was caked with mold and mildew.

Thomas's lamp iron was history, and Emily's flickery one had finally given out entirely, so even that was no help. With his limited field of vision, the tank engine looked around the unfamiliar place as best he could. "Where are we?"

"Spare shed. We'll have to leave you here for the night," said Harvey. "I'd take you all the way to the Works myself, even if I had to wait for a relief crew. But there'd be no one there until the day after tomorrow anyway. I'm sorry, you two."

"Wait… yer… yer leaving us here ?" Had she any steam, she'd probably sound indignant. Insulted. As she was, Emily barely had the power to ask the question.

"The men at the works have Christmas Day off, just like most everybody else," reminded Harvey's driver. "No one would be in to have a look at you, even if you were there."

Facing the doorway, Thomas watched as Harvey backed away, with no smile of a job well done. Maybe it was just the pain getting to his head, but there was something in Harvey's eyes that the tank engine couldn't make sense of. Yes, Harvey was a good hearted lad who took his job seriously, and didn't like seeing anyone in trouble. Be it steamy, or even a diesel. To leave Thomas and Emily here was following the instruction, but he obviously didn't like it.

Thomas had been in more mundane accidents than he could count on the spokes of his wheels—one of the four remaining ones, anyway. And Harvey had bailed him out of a number of them since he came to Sodor. Yet he'd always come to the rescue with a buck-up attitude, juggling cleanup while assuring his friends that everything would be okay. Few engines could be so very irreplaceable, so grand, and yet unsung.

Tonight, however, that wasn't the case. The crane engine looked perturbed. Troubled. As if something about this situation wasn't right. Was it just that it worried him to leave while Thomas and Emily were still hurt… or did he know something they did not?

Whatever the case, Harvey was silent as his driver and the accident crew closed the doors to the shed before his face. And then the room was pitch black.

"Well," Thomas's voice, eventually, rang out in the darkness. "Isn't this place just merry and bright?"

"A unicorn palace." Emily replied if only so Thomas wouldn't start wigging out again. She couldn't think of anything else to say. She gazed around the room, but even as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she couldn't make out anything once the doors shut. "Thomas… I think we're done. Doomed."

"No, we're not. Look, it's not ideal. Far from it actually —" He took in a sharp breath as pain pulsated where his footplate was missing. "But in times like this, you've got to look at the bright side."

"Bright side?"

"Not literally. But I don't really think it's as bad as it could be."

Emily sounded aghast. "How do ya figure that?"

"Well, we're a ugly mess, sure—"

"Speak for yerself—"

"But the men are alright! We need to be grateful that our blunder didn't end them."

"Yer." She emphasized. Gritting her teeth. "Blunder."

Thomas sighed. "Fine. My blunder. Emily, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. It seems so obvious to me that it was a trap, now. You didn't even know about Diesel 10's snapping way back when, and yet, you knew something was wrong. I guess part of me is still sore about all those times you bossed me around for no reason."

"It wasn't for no reason! It's because yer a bull-headed dafty who can't admit when he might be wrong! And… ah, forget it." She exhaled loudly. It sounded as if every last spark of energy was being used to cope with her pain. "What's done is done, and I… I don't think you ought to be sorry. Actually. You were only trying to help Toad. Be a good friend." It was a long time they sat in the silence and darkness before she meekly added this: "I've never been a fan of looking back in hindsight. It doesn't exactly flatter those of us with big tenders."

Thomas laughed a boiler-deep laugh, chains rattling. And even though the action was painful, he followed it up with this: "You have no idea how much I needed that."

Emily took another thoughtful pause. "We did find Toad."

"We did find Toad," Thomas echoed gently. " Annnnd we delivered the passengers to the bay safely, and on time. A job well done, hm? "

"And we did made Sir Topham Hatt pleased, " said Emily. "Although that won't last."

"Annnd we're not fighting anymore," Thomas said, feeling more confident as he churned the conversation back to the positive. She could verbally beat him up six ways to Sunday. He didn't care, as long as it meant she wasn't crying. " At least I don't… think we are. I think that's something to be grateful for."

"Hm." Emily hissed a bit of remaining steam from her boiler, but with a smile Thomas couldn't see. "It'd be rather heartless to carry on arguing with an engine," she said staunchly, "when he's not even in a position to look me in the eyes while doing so."

"Are you talking about me being knocked off my front wheels, or there not being light?"

"... Goodnight, Thomas."

Both engines had been up since daybreak the previous day, and were beginning to feel the exhaustion of all of their work, between shunting freight, pushing cars, and pulling coaches. Add to that the hysteria from the flight from the diesel, as well as their own quarrel, Thomas barely registered that Emily had fallen asleep.

Soon, his last warm coal went cold, his last puff of steam escaped, and he followed Emily into a heavy, dreamless slumber.

In the storm of all these events, and the lack of a party, the arrival of Christmas was utterly insignificant.

December 25th, 1966. Just passed Killdane Station…

"They forgot us."

"No, they did not," Edward told James softly. How even Edward had extended his patience yet again was anybody's guess. Maybe there had been moments of fruitful sleep in between the nightmares. Maybe Edward was just grateful the night was over, and he didn't have to return to the nightmares until tonight.

Either way, it was only mid-morning of Christmas Day on Sodor, when James startled Edward awake this time. The sun was already up, but that cold, blustery winter weather was still on. The only difference being the brightness, and its effect on their surroundings. The sky was white with plenty of clouds, and a tint of blue on the flat horizon. And it was on that same horizon James could see absolutely nothing. Just trees and tracks. Nobody was coming for them. "We're castoffs!" he cried. "Thrown out with the dried out, needle-dropping Christmas tree!"

"I wish you wouldn't be dramatic." Edward's voice was frail. His face was slack, his cheeks thin. He slept about as long as James, but after that booming crash last night, the nightmares that plagued him had been too ghastly to sleep through. It was only Edward's luck that James was too paranoid about being abandoned all of the sudden to notice his senior's decline. "Given the wind's kicked snow up into the tracks, they'll probably have to plow their way to get to us."

"The entire track system, or just their way to Killdane?"

"They said they'd come back by morning," Edward reminded him, as a vaguely familiar pair of whistles sounded in the distance. "Sir Topham Hatt said he needs you back to work by tomorrow, and he needs you fixed by then. He keeps his word."

Sure enough, chugging down the line were two tender engines, painted as black as the night they'd left behind. As they chugged closer, Edward was relieved to see that their rescuers were a duo he knew well: The Scottish twins, Donald and Douglas. Or rather, Douglas and Donald, in that order. Coupled back to back for strength, they and the old breakdown crane had arrived to set James's flatbed back on the rails. In his cab, Edward felt the pig stir awake at the noise. Poor thing had to be freezing and hungry, but it snorted and sniffed about as if it was doing alright. At least they'd all be getting out of here soon.

"Took you long enough!" James tried to blare his whistle, but the steam required had run out a long time ago.

"Ay! Donald, get a load of these two!" said Douglas.

"I would if yer fat tender weren't in me way!" Although from where Donald sat, he could just about see James's pitiful expression. "Ha! We heard ye two had a rough night, ye did! Are yer pipes frozen shut?"

"Rough night?" asked James. "My everything is frozen shut!"

If only that understanding had reached his mouth, thought Edward. "Glad to see you two. I hate to admit it, but I don't think I have enough strength to push James to The Works anymore. Do you think you could give us a lift once we're back on the rails?"

"Yeah." He couldn't see Douglas's face, but Edward could hear that uncertainty. "Aboot that."
James heard it, too. "What is 'aboot that'? What does that mean?"

"He means 'about—"

"I KNOW WHAT HE SAID!" James's shout cut Edward's explanation like a hot knife through butter. "I'm not that stupid! I meant 'what, you're just here to laugh at us?"

"The instruction was to push ya in a shed nearby," said Donald. It was easier to break the news when he didn't have to look either James or Edward in the face. "At least ya didn't have to be out in the cold."

"Push us into a shed?" For a second, Edward thought he must be hearing wrong. "What about getting James repaired?"

"That'll have to wait," said Douglas. "I guess."

"You could pull us back to Tidmouth!" James shouted. "Even if I am an ugly, pain-stricken, ill man, at least we'd be home for Christmas, instead of in the middle of nowhere!"

"It'd be even faster to shunt us to the mending yards. We're already halfway there!" said Edward. "We've already passed Killdane, I know we're only a few miles off, now!"

"Yeah, we could… " said Donald, thankful he didn't have to look either of the Tidmouth boys in the eyes. "... But we're not supposed to."

"Well… what about him?" said James, referring to Edward. "Why can't you take Edward home! He's not the one who needs mending! This isn't fair to him!"

"James, you don't mean that," said Edward softly. Truth be told, he wasn't certain James was really that upset about him being tangled in James's mess, and exiled along with him to some remote engine shed. Not as angry as Edward felt about it, anyway. If James could convince the twins to take him back to Tidmouth, why not the both of them?

Then again, Eddie had James pretty well figured out by now, and he wasn't that sly…

"Don't ya be settin' fire to the messengers, now," Douglas said. "We'd take ya back home if we could, but we can't . It's not the instruction."

"What instruction?" Edward was doing his best to keep his voice calm, but he was getting agitated, too. "Why would Sir Topham Hatt do something like this to us?"

"It would take too long," added Donald. He pulled up closer to James, and his fireman hopped down from the cab with a train coupling. "And we've got more work to do."

"Like what?" asked James. "Delivering a last minute truck of bagpipes to Lord Callan's castle?"

"I don't understand." Edward was tired, frustrated, and his brows were narrowed. Everybody just pushed and pulled him wherever they needed him to go, and he always just went along with it. But he'd had enough. He wanted out of the cold, but not if he was just going to sit fireless with the biggest migraine on Sodor. "Sir Topham Hatt said he needed James back in order to pull incoming freight by the New Year. Why the change?"

"Bigger problems than getting you lads back up n' running on time, apparently," said Donald. "They'll probably send all of you for repairs at once."

"All of you?" yelled James. "Hold the coal shovel— I'm the only one here who's wrecked! Who are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, boys." This was said by Douglas's driver, peering out of the cab at last to speak to them at last. "You haven't heard the news yet." To James and Edward, he said: "There was an accident that had to be cleaned up."

"Another accident?" Edward's hushed question made a steam cloud in the air, even though his funnel had stopped hours ago. "Where?"

"Arlesburgh," said Douglas's fireman, hands shivering in the cold as he fumbled with the chain. "A head-on collision, one flew clear off the track. No casualties, but it wasn't pretty."

"A head-on?" Edward's eyes were as wide as they could be.

"Well—serves them right!" blurted out James. "I can only wonder who was the chestnut nutty enough to be out on the biggest day-off of the year! Couldn't be steam engines."

"Nobody go remindin' him we're out on our own holiday to rescue his sorry tender," muttered Donald.

"It… was steamies." Douglas's driver tugged on his collar. "Thomas and Emily. They crashed."

"WHAT?"

Edward and James, night and day as they were, could not have synched up their shouts as well as they did in that moment if they had practiced it.

"Where? How?" asked James.

"Another crash…" Edward echoed. He felt it happening to him. A panic attack. Up from the bottoms of his wheels, through his coupling rods, rippling his water. He looked from the ground, back up at Douglas. "Did you know about this?!"

"The whole railway knows, ay," Donald answered for him.

"Then why didn't you START WITH THAT?!" shouted James. Emily took her swings at James from time to time, but in her ways, she was always looking out for him. She'd become like a big sister to him, and it infuriated him to think the other engines withheld that information from him for even a second.

Edward was in a similar boat. But truth be told, he was more worried about Thomas, his own god-brother. "James has a point. Why didn't you tell us that's what's going on when you got here?"

"Ay ay, settle! We didn't want you to panic!" said Douglas. "Yer situation is already bad enough as it is, it didn't feel right to spring on more bad news. It's not like you can do anything aboot it. We can't."

"I want to see them," said James. "I want to talk to Emily."

"You can't!"

"Don't you think we asked? No engines are to see them 'till further notice! Not a one !"

"What's further notice?" asked James.

"Are they… that damaged?" Edward was so stressed out, he wanted to vomit. "Who was in front?"

"We don't know. Don't even know what happened, yet," said Donald. "They're keeping it under lock and key, as the polis got involved. Tom and Emily took a detour and they had to go up the grade near Arlesburgh Station to get back home, and… somethin' went wrong."

"Very wrong," Edward corrected.

"Well, what were they in a crash with?" asked James. "If the roads and rails were dead, what could've hit them?"
The driver looked grim. "Well, each other."

"You've got to be joking." It was noteworthy, if for all the wrong reasons. Never in the history of the NWR and all if its record accidents had two engines collided with each other. Once he started to wrap his funnel around the general image, he looked as nauseous as Edward.

Well, nearly. A head on crash. Edward's mind was overwhelmed. Two engines. No. Two of his best friends.
The noise he heard? The noise he thought had to be a nightmare? One of too many he'd had over the course of his long, long life? The thunderous clap in the quiet, winter's night? It was real. His actual worst nightmare had been realized overnight.

His body was rattling. He wanted to scream. To run away and hide, but he couldn't even move until the crane put him back on the tracks. He was not a mighty engine. He was a handful of marbles held together by two pieces of blue felt cloth, with a single red string. And the only thing keeping him together, the flimsy string that was barely keeping him from falling apart right then and there, was James. He couldn't lose it, not in front of James.

His emotional revelation from last night long forgotten, Edward's face became lined with worry. "Say it wasn't too bad. Please."

"Take me there!" James barked.

Douglas was impressed. "But the fat controller—"

"I don't care what the fat controller said! I need to know if Emily's okay!" James wheezed. Edward couldn't remember ever hearing him so emotional about another engine.

"What's your desperation aboot seeing Emily aboot?" asked Donald.

"Why you think? She's the only engine who believes I can do anything right!"

Edward's jaw fell open. "What? Wha-what am I? Chopped liver? I'm always supporting you! How do you think I ended up here?"

"That doesn't count," James said. "You bend over backwards for everybody! Doesn't mean we have an alliance!"
Edward narrowed his eyes. It took so much to make this kindly engine angry, but the idea that all his help over the years hadn't so much as made an impression on James? That hurt. Personally. "James—" His voice was low. Deep. Angry. "—I'm warning you—"

"'IGHT!" shouted Douglas. Neither he, nor his brother, ever had to use the full volume of their engine voices often. But when he did, it made the ground shake. "Will the both of you just shut up and calm down?!"

"Ya two fight worse than ma driver's ma and granddad after he came home with twenty pounds of brown sugar!" said Donald, apparently agreeing. "Where do ya two even find the energy to argue, when ya haven't had a fire in twelve hours or more?"

"I think we'd better get all of you moving on." The fireman finished attaching James's flatbed to Douglas's buffers. His calm, but authoritative voice managed to silence the engines' quarrel. "The orders are the orders. No use arguing about it."

If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be in this mess. She'd be home, safe and sound.

The day was just as bright up in the little known, remote shed of Arlesburgh south. Morning light revealed a surprise that the night had kept from the injured: A large, divided window in the back of the room. It was dirty, covered with dirt, debris, and mildew in the corners, and one of the four quadrants was missing glass completely. But plenty of light came through the broken frame to illuminate the rest of their shelter at last. And more importantly to Thomas, Emily.

There was no reason they had to face each other. The choice had to have been arbitrary. But Thomas was glad for it. It would've felt lonelier and scarier if he couldn't look at the face of the only engine he had for company. And besides that, it gave him something to do. To look her over as she slept. Her fender was crushed inward, her rich green paint uglied by mud and ice and scratches all over. It was wretched.

But her face. Her cheeks were bruised and cut, but her lip paint was still there, and there was the most subtle transition of her eyelids from gray to brown, to her amplified lashes. But what he found the most interesting was how the tip of her little nose was still pink, recovering from frostbite. How disgraceful would it be to think that, despite her miserable state, that one new little detail was kind of… cute?

Bah. Nothing about this witch was cute. Still… something about this made Emily more identifiable than she had been before. Behind that prideful, hardened front, she wasn't indestructible. She'd wept after their fight when he cursed at her, and had taken damage from the crash. Mad to think this was the same engine that kept himself and Oliver from scrap on her very first day on the island. The same one who's hair-thin brow was arched with unease, even as she slept.

Thomas never felt such a terrible guilt as he did in that moment. This was all his fault. Emily could be argumentative and downright rude with how she went about things, but at the end of the day, she was only looking out for the safety and feelings of everyone except herself. That's why she was here, with him, in this shack of disgrace. That's why she'd come after Thomas last night, overriding her break to chase him down. Never considering she might be rolling over the trap herself, until it was too late. Thomas was her achilles heel.
He would take a thousand explosions himself if it meant he could take last night back.

Just then, Emily's eyelids opened. Thomas forgot to look away. To close his eyes before she opened her own. Because just for a moment, there was nothing more precious to him than the engine that took the blow of his greatest folly, and lived.

And the first thing she saw on Christmas morning was a big nosed, puppy dog-eyed tank engine staring up at her. "What are you gawkin' at?"

Annnnd the moment was gone. "Nothing important."

She snorted, then exhaled calmly through her lips. But it felt wrong. There were no flames in her firebox, no steam in her funnel. The water in her tank really was ice cold, now. She couldn't even work up the energy to rant at him. "My kingdom for a firelighter."

"Same here. Somehow, I don't think we're getting one today, though." Thomas shivered against the chains that held him in place. There was no reason to start their fires. There was no work on Christmas, and Emily was in no condition to work. He was in no condition to live, and yet he was. Somehow.

Emily's eyes darted left of her contemptible company, then right. Behind Thomas's bunker, she found the window, and platinum morning light, reflecting off the piles of outside snow. She couldn't remember a time when she slept this late. Working engines didn't sleep in. Even if it was the biggest holiday of the year, waking up without a fire gave her a sensation of dread. "Where are we?"

"Hm." Thomas gritted his teeth, then worked up just enough willpower to rock back against the flatbed chains. There wasn't much slack in his restraints, but the extra few inches gave himself the clearest view of their surroundings.

Daytime revealed the real state of the shed—and it was even worse than they thought. Tight and untidy. Broken tools and wooden beams lay against the wall to the right. The track they sat hugged the right side wall, where things such as an axe, hammer, and various knives, were propped up, caked in wild spider webs, just inches from their boilers. "This must've originally been an engine housing that was multi-purposed into a hunter's tool shed." He squinted to the floor just left of Emily's side footrest. "I think I even see some fishing rods there on the ground, too!"

For someone who hated fish with such a passion, it was strange to Emily how fascinated he was by the concept of fishing. She couldn't exactly fault him, though for finding something to focus on other than the pain. "Why does it look like nobody's been here in ages?"
"Maybe the men forgot about it. Maybe the owner passed away. Either way, you've got to be a little grateful we've got some sort of shelter."

"I'm not expecting a chamber at Castle Loch. I just find it convenient that they remembered this shack a'twigs when they needed to shut us up for the day." Her brows began to lift, and her voice softened. "Are we… are we going to talk about what happened last night?"

Last night. "You—" Why, of all things, did images of cherry red lips, and comically large Santa hats flying into the air were the very first things that came to mind? Thomas had no idea. He suddenly wished the room was still dark, as he felt his cheeks heat up, despite no fire.

"—You mean the diesel, right?"

"No, I mean the shape of the trees that we passed— Yes, the diesel! The thing that got us int'a this mess to begin with!"

"Ah. Yeah..."

The chase. The crash. The reason it felt like half his body was slowly burning away right now. It was coming back to him in flashes, every blink bringing up a new snapshot from his memory of last night. He never wanted to live through something like that ever again.
Then again… he hadn't really thought about it until now, but it was an impressive feat for a tank engine to push a tender, totally unconscious, at such a speed, for miles. To think he'd been obsessed about Mira noticing how strong he was. Maybe she was never going to be impressed by him anyway.

"Let's get something out in the open. We were in for a world of trouble, no matter the choices we made last night. And if not us, then someone else… Toby…"

"Or the narrow gauge engines. Stepney… Skarloey… they'd have been next." Thomas almost shuddered. They were little engines. The thought of them being chased up the mountain railroad by the mad diesel was unsettling, at best. "I guess it's time to start planning how to best explain it: Diesel 10 chasing us. Sir Topham… I doubt he'd believe us, though. I don't think there's enough words in the English language to convince anybody of what we saw." But it doesn't make sense. Diesel 10 is a creep, but he's sort of turned over a new leaf… sort of. I didn't think he wanted to attack steam engines anymore. It's like he's forgotten all that's happened in the last few years, all that Sir Topham Hatt's done for him. How could that be? What's happened?

"Surely, they have to believe something was chasing us!" Emily argued. "Or else both us and our crews are insane!" She paused. "You don't suppose they'll…"

"I'm less worried that they'll think we're all mental, which… is a possibility, seeing as mass hysteria is a thing. I'm more worried that Sir Topham will be convinced that what was chasing us wasn't actually dangerous. Especially after they find out half the men were drinking. He'd assume it was a… a black bear? A Clydesdale? Maybe even a pickup truck—something that makes sense to be seen out in the country."

"Thomas, I saw an engine, too!" Her eyes were wide, like they had been last night. When she looked behind Thomas and Toad... "I saw that… that claw in the sky! Heard the clatter of liquid ignition! Smelled the reek of dirty diesel fuel! And who else would have a big pincher claw?"

Even if she wasn't barely recovering from syncope, it would be pretty difficult for Emily to have imagined the exact same diesel that once chased Thomas across the island, in that same way he had years before her arrival. And even if it made sense that she could imagine their pursuer was just another engine, how could she have specifically imagined the claw? "But why would he do this?"

"He just… hates steam engines! Or at least… he did." Was his change of heart a lie? A ruse, to get everyone's guard down? If so, why wait many years for him to attack again? "I tried to explain it to you years ago. Back when Tidmouth was destroyed and I slept at your shed at Knapford."

Emily looked guilty. "I vaguely remember that, now."

Thomas's eyes turned down to his flatbed. "Still worried everybody's just going to think we're mad, though."

"Speaking of mad things, If not that… then…" Emily started, very reluctantly, "Thomas, you're not going to believe this, but I think someone tried to warn me before the trap."

"What." Thomas looked at Emily as if she was an alien. "And… you didn't think to tell me before?"

"There-there wasn't a chance! You were already going after Toad! I thought whatever she was trying to warm me about was going to catch you!"

"Who's she?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, I didn't see anybody! We were the only ones out there! What, are you seeing ghosts girls out up in the—?" Thomas trailed off, eyeing the soot-dusted tracks. "... Ghosts girls…"

"No! Listen… right as you were going up to him, someone—a girl, fine! Whatever!—was trying to talk to me. In my head. You couldn't hear her. The men couldn't hear her. It was like her voice was echoing off the walls in my boiler!"

"Waitwaitwait!" Thomas felt like he would slide off the flatbed, chains or not. "She talked to YOU?"

"WHO?" Listening to herself talk, Emily's eyes went wide. "Oh, bother. We're all mental."

"Then that's two of us… oh. Wait. You said—"

"All of us. That includes you."

"Right. Right."

"You don't think she was one of Diesel's victims, do ye?"

"No-no!" He'd tried to tell her about his early run ins with Diesel 10 in the past, including the day he helped save Lady, and Emily wouldn't listen. He did not, however, talk about Lady. None of the Tidmouth engines knew much about her, other than what was told to them. And only Thomas had actually met her. "She almost was. From what I understand, she was the victim of a chase from long ago, not totally unlike what happened to us last night."

"Then who is she? What is she?"

"Lay-ugh." Thomas sighed. "Forget it."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Thomas stared at her for a bit in silence. He considered that they had a long day ahead of them, and nothing better to do. "If I tell you the story, you'll be quiet, and let me tell it in full, before you ask any questions, or lay out your own rationalities. And I imagine by the end of this you'll either understand why I believe in ghosts, or you'll never take a word I say seriously, ever, ever, again."

His smelter's yard partner replied plainly. "The latter is hardly a risk."

"This is all we can do," whispered Douglas, backing away from James. "I'm sorry, I am. I don't want to leave you two."

Once back on the track, the twins had pulled the breakdown crane, Edward and James on his flatbed back up the way they came, towards Killdane station. A large, vacant shed with three tracks laid in a shared room had been warmed, and was ready to receive them, as little as either 2 or 5 wanted to be there.

Edward would've liked the dignity of moving on his own, but without a fresh fire, he was as weak as a feather. The doors were opened, and Edward was uncoupled from the flatbed, and slid in, tender first. Then on his right, James was slid in on the tracks to his left.

"We'll come back for ya as soon as we can," added the voice of Donald. "Until then, keep yer spirits up!"

"Easy for you to say. You two still have your wheels on the ground."

With the doors open, James's eyes followed the twins as they departed. From the doorway, he watched until they turned down the hill, and the only trace of them left was the rapid chug-chug sound of a pair of steamies and the crane they were dragging behind them.

"Look at them off," James moaned. "Laughing, tenders against us, like flapping kilts in our faces."

I'll pass , Edward thought, choosing to look to the left side of the shed instead. And if I were you, I'd put my mental energy to better use. But he wasn't going to tell James that. He was done.

Really done.

"Hello? Edward?" James stared at him, waiting for their eyes to meet. "I'm talking to you!"
Edward locked his jaw. Grinding his teeth behind his lips. Kept his eyes locked on the winter expanse beyond the frame of the doorway.

He was still absolutely furious at James, but deep down, he knew it would be no use staying that way. He was here by his choice, whether or not James appreciated it. Edward had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

As much as he was compelled to cut into James verbally, to make James understand how hurt he was, Edward knew they had a bigger problem. Their being here wasn't just a bummer. It was a red flag.

Why was Tom and Em's crash being kept so mum? If they were alive, why couldn't anyone see them? Why were they, James and Edward, being shunted away?

Why would Sir Topham Hatt do this to us? He knows James is in pain. Regardless of whether or not he needed to be repaired right away, he'd never leave an injured engine to suffer any longer than they had to.

"Well, hello, hello, hello !"

It looked as if James, Edward, and the pig had company. From the back left door the shed, ambled a middle aged man, hunched over with painter's pants and a coal-stained smock. "You must be James and Edward!" He rounded from Edward's tender to his front, eyeing one engine, then another. "They told me you were on the way."

"Right." Edward opened his mouth for the first time since they arrived. "Forgive me, I uh, don't see a name on your uniform."

"Joseph Levy, at your service." He tipped his cap at the engines. "But everybody calls me Joe. And I hope you will, too."

"You're not dressed like any crewman I've ever seen," observed James.

And I've never seen a cleaner so old, thought Edward. At some point in their careers, most cleaners on Sir Topham's railway had either risen to become drivers, promoted in some other way, or completed university and left the railway entirely. Not many cleaners or fire lighters were middle aged. It was back breaking work, better for the young.

"Causal holiday," Joe shrugged. "Even so, the uniform is a bit more relaxed with us cleaner boys and fire lighters." He looked left and right, as if to double check that they were alone: "Kind of the trade off of being low on the ladder. We're not really supposed to be seen by the passengers, anyway."

"What are you doing, working on Christmas?" asked James. "Shouldn't you be home with the others?"

"We don't celebrate Christmas in my family," Joe explained. "But there's still plenty of cleaning to be done. If I agree to work the holiday, I get double my pay, and I have another day off instead."

"What other work?" asked James. "We're the only engines here!"

"Yes, but someone has to wash the plows, the pokers, sweep the station, clean the windows…" He went to the shed entrance and began slowly pulling the sturdy, heavy doors shut. There went the scenic view, but almost immediately, Edward felt warmer. "There will be lots of traffic in the next few days as people return home from the mainland."

"Sounds a trifle lonely," said Edward.

"It can be, but… ah, nevermind. Besides, you two've given me company, now! Listen, I know this wasn't where the two of you were supposed to end up. And I can see number five is in some pain over there." He pointed to James with his fire poker. For a NWR employee, he looked a mess, hobbling about with a hunched back and dirty street clothes. But the way the metal glinted off that random poker so bright in the shed lights spoke volumes of his work ethic. "I don't think I can do anything to remedy your pain, I'm afraid. But I can stoke up your fires! Just long enough to warm you up."

"Better than nothing, I guess," James said.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Levi—ah… Joe," said Edward. "What about the pig?"

Joe turned from the doors, and adjusted his thick-lensed glasses that made his eyes look enormous. "Pig?"

"In my cab."

Frowning for the first time since he'd arrived, Joe and his poker hobbled over, and carefully climbed up and peered into Edward's cab door. It took him a moment, with his limited vision, but after turning on a torch from his pocket, he saw the pink animal curled up in the opposite corner. " Oh! You've got a pet! Ha- ha!"

"A pet?" asked James. "More like a pest. This things is harder to get rid of than molasses on fresh paint!"

"You don't suppose you've got any food for him, do you, sir?" asked Edward. "I don't know much about baby pigs, but he's been without anything to eat or drink for a while, now."

"And he's probably cold, too," James added, carefully watching Edward to see if he'd look his way. He did not.

"Don't worry, I know just the thing!" And Joe hurried down the hall, whistling a tune as he went.

As the pig wouldn't leave Edward's cab without a fight, Joe had no choice but to bring food and warmth to him instead. He fetched a blanket for the pig to use as a bed. It was old and faded, but it was made of real Sudrian sheep wool, and very warm. On his second trip to Edward's cab, he brought with him a plate of leftovers from the workmen's fridge, and a bowl filled with clean water. "I've already had my lunch today, but I'll give you what's left of my pearl olives and cheese, and whatever the men didn't bring home with them, haha! Now, it's not supper from the Ritz," he said as he stepped down from the cab. "But it's the best I can do for you now. I'll be back with proper food tomorrow."

"Aren't you going to call… I don't know… animal control?" asked James. "The police?"

"Why?" Joe turned to James on the neighboring track, gesturing to the cab doorway. "Is the pig a threat to you?

"Only my sanity."

The pig looked up from his plate of food, gazing at the ceiling with cheese crumbs on his chin. " Oink ?"

"Is it really alright to leave him here?" asked Edward. "Won't he be looking for his mother, or at least his owner, at some point?"

Joe rubbed the back of his head. "You got me, there. I'll start placing calls around the village to get the numbers of some farmers, see if anybody lost a piglet that was going to be delivered to them. Until someone claims him, I don't see the reason he has to leave, especially now that he has food and warmth."

The pig reacted by popping his head out from the door of the cab. He sniffed about, but didn't leave.

"He sure likes you two an awful lot! Ha- ha! Maybe he thinks you're his daddy!"

Edward was taken aback. "D-Daddy?"

"Maybe he senses his responsibility," said James, speaking directly to Joe now. "Who wouldn't love him?"

Edward was so used to James's defeated comments that he almost totally missed what made this one jarring. Who doesn't… love me?

Why did this make him feel funny? He knew what James actually meant. Love, like a friend. Love, like a decent engine loves his acquaintance… the one who elected to take him to be repaired when nobody else would.

Only problem with that was, Edward wasn't out to help James when he offered. He wasn't being a saint. He just felt much too uncomfortable around Emily. I've seen how she looks at me. She barely noticed I existed, and then all the sudden everybody's expecting us to come out as a couple or something!

What could I do but refuse the job? I can't tell her the truth, but I can't lead her on, either. I should've never told her she was pretty, that she was fair. I was only trying to make her feel better. I should've known better. Bother, Eddie, what's the matter with you?

And now Edward definitely felt uncomfortable. Around James. Weirder even than he thought he'd feel being Emily's assumed husband for the night.

Blimey.

So, Thomas started from the top. Giving Emily the most believable narrative of the events that lead to the discovery of the magic railroad, and Lily's grandfather's engine. The story was impossible to make sound perfectly realistic, for the very existence of an engine that could speak through telekinesis, and pop in and out of different universes, was just too absurd. And Emily was already skeptical as it was, even with the voice she heard in her head last night. But it was simply too real for her to dismiss as hysteria. "So… where is she?"

"I don't know," admitted Thomas. "Once Sir Topham Hatt came back from holiday and Diesel 10 was punished, she just… disappeared. Faded into the atmosphere, like the face off a dead engine."

Emily winced. "Don't make that analogy. Not now."

"Sorry." Thomas looked down at the flatbed. "After that, I've only seen her in my dreams. If it weren't that the other Tidmouth boys were there when the story was being told to me, I'd wonder if I'd only imagined her existence to start with. I don't know if there's really a word beyond the buffers, but I know she exists. I just don't know where she went."

"Haven't you tried to go back through the buffers?"

"A hundred times. It's exactly where it was when Mr. Conductor was here, but when I try to use it, I just biff the buffers. The last time I tried, I knocked the post out of the ground, but I didn't go anywhere but into the bush. It's like the magic seal was locked up. I don't care that she went home. That's where she belongs. I just don't understand what the point of our worlds bleeding into each other is about, or why the door was sealed behind her. I wish she would've just explained these things to me before she left."

"Maybe, if that was her last night who spoke to me, maybe the worlds are starting to bleed together again," said Emily. "Maybe you'll have your answers sooner rather than later."

"Maybe."

He couldn't believe this. Lady talked to Emily? Tried to warn her about the mine? Why didn't you warn me instead? Thomas turned his thoughts to Lady, speaking to her directly. I know who you are! I know you're on my side! I wouldn't have questioned you!

No response. But he wasn't surprised. Lady was the caller, but could not be called upon. Their communication since Thomas met her all those years ago was rare, and almost entirely a one-way street. And Thomas made no effort to hide his resentment of this. "If I were an all-powerful magical spirit, overlooking the island, able to dive into the hearts and minds of any engine I chose, I'd like to think the last thing I'd do is leave an ally frantically trying to contact me without so much as a 'while you were away' pad."

"What would you do if you were trapped here, all alone, right now?"

Emily had almost dozed down when his question reeled her back up. "You mean if I wasn't trying to get our story straight for Sir Topham Hatt?"

"You shouldn't have to work on that. You're too lawful. If he was going to believe either one of us, he'd believe you. You never have to make things up."

"That's not true!"

"Hm? Name one time you had to lie to get yourself out of a situation. Hey, don't glare at me. I meant that as a compliment!"

"Fine. I don't know what I'd do, if I were here by myself. Figure I'd be too miserable to stand it. Terrified. I can't move, I can't even see the door behind me."

"It's a good thing one of us can, eh?"

"Wipe that smirk off yer face, idiot." Emily closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't have yer gift for storytelling. I don't think I could recount what happened to us in a way that anyone could believe, either," she said, with a shrug in her voice. "Even if I was awake for all of it, which I wasn't. I'd probably be worrying about James."

"Why him?"

"He's hurt, too. We're not the only ones in pain right now. He's going through a lot."

But Thomas wasn't impressed by this revelation. "That's his own fault. We were running from someone chasing us. James was mad that Spencer didn't take the jealousy bait, and then he nearly ran him and Eddie into their graves."

"Thomas, James was upset that he couldn't pull the train! I talked to him before our fight at Tidmouth. He never gets to pull specials anymore because Sir Topham doesn't trust him!"

"Again, whose fault is that?"

Emily stared at him incredulously. "How could you be so heartless? Where would you be right now if nobody gave you a chance to pull passenger cars?"

"Don't compare James to me." The tank engine was vexed by saying this. "I learn from my mistakes. If I was gonna be wasting any mental energy on the two engines off to the Steam Works, I'd care to worry about Edward and how he's held up out there in the cold."

"Well I can guess why he's on your mind. You two are thick as thieves."

"Extra, extra, Emily! Edward's the reason I got out of Knapford, and into a situation that buckled my buffers into yours last night!" He exhaled through his mouth, surprised that he had enough warmth inside to make a vapor cloud. "I'm surprised you're not as worried about him as I am. You're in love with him."

"I am I— wait. Wait a minute. In love? With Edward?"

Thomas replied with a stony, cold stare.

Emily was speechless. "Is that what you really think?"

"I think the whole island does," Thomas whispered annoyedly. "On that note… I'm sorry I blabbed it to everyone. I promise you I'd never have set you two up if I knew he didn't return the feelings. You know now that I know that's a… erm… pretty awful feeling." Thomas looked away. "Worse for you because you still have to see him every day. At least I'll never see the one who shunted me aside again.

"Thomas—"

"You know what? I'm sorry I even brought it up. That's my bad. Let's change the subject."

She thought carefully for a moment. He thinks I'm in love with Edward. He thinks my heart's broken, too. Yes. Eddie's indirect rejection in front of everyone had hurt. It felt awful. It made her feel ugly and unlovable at a time when she was already feeling low. This only weakened her enough so her argument with Thomas ended with her in tears. She never thought she'd let this git see her cry, let alone show him weakness.

But realizing Edward didn't like her back that way… Was that really heartbreak? She couldn't say. She had no frame of reference.

Either way, Thomas believed they were going through a similar pain. And he was going to believe what he wanted to believe.
Emily wasn't sure what she felt anymore. "I guess at some point, if I wanted to get my mind off of the unhappy, I would pass the time here by trying to remember all the words to my story."

"Your story."

"Ye. The, um, the Forest Green Queen…"

"Fancy you'd have a vanity story made about you."

"No no, it's not aboot me! At least the original wasn't." Emily took a deep breath, as a fresh wave of embarrassment crashed over her. But the proud Stirling was already in disgrace. Muddy, mangled, and frostbitten. What did she have to lose? "Before I came to the island, a long, long time ago, my very first driver told me this story."

"What is it? Like, a fairytale?"

"It is. Kind of. It's a…" She was so nervous to explain. Why was she so nervous to explain it? "... more of a… a love story, actually."

"Oh." He wasn't sure why this was a surprise. She was the only engine one who went all starry-eyed over that romantic movie shown on a projector at the sheds last spring, while all the boys took turns fake-retching at it. At least that confirmed that the story wasn't actually about her. "Well, uh, how does it go?"

"That's the thing. I don't really remember how it goes anymore. It's been so many years since it was told to me, I've forgotten almost all of it. I never had the thought to have my driver, or someone else write it down and stick it in my cab so it could be read back to me, later. I wish I had, now. So…" she closed her eyes, shaking out a kink somewhere in her body. "When I'm alone at the goods shed, and I can't sleep, I just sit and think about it. Try to remember."

"That story means that much to you?"

Emily just frowned.

"How come you never told me about it?"

"I never told anyone. Why should I? I'd just get made fun of for it. Just like you did about movie night at the sheds."

Thomas remembered that night with a grimace. "I'm sorry I never stood up for you. It's just sometimes we forget you're not one of the guys, y'know?"

"I mean, I suppose I should be grateful for that… that I'm treated like an equal here, I mean. That's the difference about here, as opposed to where I came from. Sodor gave me a chance to show what I'm made of."

Thomas listened thoughtfully to the sounds of the winds outside their shed, and their breaths, before making his declaration. "Emily, if that story means that much to you, I'll find it for you."

"Don't be making promises you can't keep, now."

"I'm not! Look, if it was truly that great of a story, then there's a chance it's popular. If it's popular, maybe it's in print somewhere! It probably goes by a different title, but there's a chance you weren't the only one who's heard it. I just have a feeling."

Emily was skeptical, but she'd be lying straight up if she claimed she wasn't intrigued. Thomas could see it in her eyes. "How do you plan on finding it? The story's not even based here. This was back in Scotland. That's hundreds of miles away!"

"But word of tongue travels far." He cocked his eyebrows again. "You'd be surprised what I've found in all the miles I've put on these… well, the remaining four wheels, anyway. As soon as I'm back on my six, I am getting that story to you, one way or anoth— Aagh!"

"Thomas! Are you alright?!"

"I'll be… fine…." He panted like he couldn't draw in air fast enough. As the day waned, dark rings had formed under his eyes—no doubt a side effect of being in pain for so long.

"How bad's it hurt, now?"

"It feels like I'm sinking in lava." Thomas winced. "Is it… strange to think I might building a bit of a tolerance to it?"

"Sure looks like it." She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You should get more rest. If the workers can't see you now, the least you can do is try and sleep off the pain."

"I don't want to."

"Bother you, you don't want to. Why not?

"I dunno. I just… don't wanna leave you."

"You're not leaving me, ya dog-eyed boobie! And I'm not goin' anywhere. I mean… obviously. I'll be right here when you wake up. If I end up fallin' asleep and you want to talk to me, just wake me up."

"You know I won't." He smiled, despite the unbearable throbbing. "Last time I checked, queens call on the fools, not the other way around. That said, I hope you don't mind me curling up for a nap under your chin, your majesty."
She clicked her tongue. "Don't patronize me. But as far as I can see, you ought to be kneeling to me, either way! Just because I'm taking half the blame for this disaster does not mean I'm going to forget this! I told ya before if ya want to stay out of trouble to just listen to me! I expect it next time!"

The tank engine inhaled. Exhaled. The fact that Emily had the energy for these comebacks surely meant her life wasn't in the balance. The engine Thomas collided with yesterday was going to be okay, and that was everything to him. He could go back to sleep with some peace of mind. "Believe me, Emily," he muttered, before closing his eyes. "There won't be a next time. You'll never give me a reason to kneel before you, ever, again."

Oh, Thomas. Look what I've done to you.

She almost stopped him from going to sleep. The thought being that if she let him go to sleep, he might never wake up. She might drift off to sleep herself, and by the time she opened her eyes, there'd be nothing left of him. Nothing but a one hundred thousand pound piece of mangled iron he used to embody. No face.

It was lonely with him asleep, but not nearly as lonely as she'd be if he wasn't here. Not as lonely as some of those nights she spent by herself, before there were berths for her and the other newcomers at Tidmouth. There was a sensation of comfort with him here, that anybody or anything that was coming their way, they would face together.

Once Thomas had drifted off, Emily felt like she could finally, really, look him over. From his missing front wheels to his bashed, bruised cheeks.

She knew she was rough on him. Maybe too much. She knew it was the last thing any sane engine would do, to treat a comrade so pitifully when he was already down. But most engines didn't have the relationship she and Thomas had. He'd been worried out of his mind about her , worrying if she'd pull through. And the only way to make him quit it with the big, dopey eyes was to brandish her verbal claws. Prove to him that she was feeling fine.

Maybe Thomas was wrong more often than he'd like to admit, but just this once, Emily knew he was right. They had to stay positive. It was all they had.

At least it was all he had. He was so much worse off. Emily remembered when he first came to sleep with her at the sheds behind Knapford yards, and how his sleep whistle kept her up. Now, the absence of his sleep whistling was concerning.

She spent a little longer looking at his face than she wanted to. His bruised and blackened round nose, the rims of purple under his eyes, those thick eyebrows that finally unarched when he drifted off to sleep. The weight of guilt and pain and worry, visibly lifting as he entered the oblivion of slumber. Hopefully dreamless, anyway.

Though she watched for evidence of nightmares, she became caught up in the contours of his face in the dying light of day. Once prominent cheeks had thinned with age, thin lines between them and his mouth when he smiled. He was getting older, just like herself. Just like all the steamies. But these weren't unflattering changes, just signs of maturity. Even with the mud and scratches his face had taken from being thrown from the rails, it was hard to deny that Thomas was becoming rather handsome. Very handsome, actually.

And she despised that she noticed.

It was treacherous. She ought to feel nothing but kinship towards him. She knew this face too well. Had slept across him on the same track, or next to him in a shed, dozens and dozens of times. Had shared hundreds of jobs with this same engine over the years. But seeing him now felt disconnected from all that. He wasn't merely her friend or her co-worker of sorts. Not anymore.

They had a connection rarely shared between engines. They had survived, not just any kind of crash, but a head-on collision. Engines weren't supposed to leave with their lives after something like that! A brutal, painful brush with death, in which their boilers, the one surefire part that would end them should either of theirs be destroyed, narrowly came out unhurt. And they would share this bond to their deaths. However near they may be.

Reaching the point of normalcy was a nice little dream to cling to, but Emily wondered if it was even possible. Could they ever be the same again? Physically, or mentally, or both? Would they even live to see a life after the crash, or was this the end of the line?

As the sun finally set in the window behind Thomas, everything in the room took on an apocalyptic red tint. The very light that was illuminating his features reminded Emily too much of the foundry at the smelter's yard.

Please… please don't let it be the end, she prayed, to any entity. who or what, might listen. Do what ya want with me. I'll face it. But don't take him.

Please.

In rewriting the old draft of this chapter, I had to dig my feet in the sand and decide how much of Thomas and the Magic Railroad I was going to cherry pick. I went back and watched it again to refresh my memory and decided, well, damn, I'm not creative enough to completely re-write the entire movie so Lady is strictly a spirit/ghost.

*** Although I did get the idea from other fanfic writers, including Rosie Angelina on Fanfic, whose Emily story I stumbled upon first for ideas on how to improve my own interpretation. I know I haven't done a full review, but girl your stories are firreeee. I think I inadvertently borrowed your format of putting quotes from characters at the top of this story's first chapter? I apologize that I hadn't realized I'd done that.

Since the magic in the movie wasn't really explained, I am gonna lean on Lady's powers being more supernatural in nature.

Since the franchise never really explains where Lady went by the end of the movie, apart from a cameo in Calling All Engines, at least as far as I can tell, I figure it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say, "Well she disappeared and the magic buffers just stopped working and Thomas is like 'wellllll okay that happened?' He just doesn't talk about it anymore because he doesn't want to be called the loco-locomotive. He did work way too hard to get that branch line and work his way up the ladder to just be thrown into some sort of engine crazy house."

TL:DR: When you help rescue a magic engine chick and she just disappears, but you're a chill guy, I guess?

Secondly, I could've sworn Diesel 10 and Class 40 were the same engine, just one with a claw, when I wrote the rough draft of this years ago. I guess I misremembered, as checking Fandom Wiki tells me that is not the case. That's not really important, I just thought Diesel 10 was based in the book lore and felt slightly more grounded. Not to mention it would feel more satisfactory if the villain was a recurring threat to the steamies, kind of like George or *just* Diesel. Nope. -_-

But I did only like, two days ago, finally read about this P.T. Boomer villain dude that got cut from the movie. I was like, oh my god that explains so much about why the movie came out so confusing AAAGGHHHHH! If you're reading this and you're like "bruh everybody knew about this already" I've been out of the fandom for years, I'm so sorry, I'm only reading all these articles now. ;.;

As for the characterization here, I hope I'm not making Emily too mean. I try to make it clear in the writing she's verbally beating up Thomas because she doesn't want him to worry about her. She'll make up for this treatment of poor Thomas later, I promise. And I had to make Edward draw the line in the sand at this point. I mean James really crossed the line with that statement. He doesn't know that his opinion is valued by anybody, let alone Edward. But he will figure it out.

Part of the reason this story went on hiatus for so long was waiting for inspiration of how to realistically bridge his and Edward's relationship from not speaking, to admitting feelings for each other. The key is gonna be Edward's bottled up anxieties and James surprising him by being mature enough to talk it out, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Uh, stick around if you have any faith I can do that with any competency. God knows I'm gonna try.

Most of this chapter was edited on my phone while in the backseat of a car driving in and out of the city, lol. I tried to find all the typos but if anything sticks out, feel free to point it out.

To everybody who's left a review so far, scarcepare, Poppet, AaronCottrel97, Anon, cactusepineux.16, and Hauchen, what can I say? I know it's late for a lot of you to thank, but my day has been made, by every single one of you. Tank u tender. Aaron, your stories ARE an inspiration for the romance, if I haven't already said so!

To Mean-Scarlet-Deceiver, I hope you had an incredible Christmas! I wish for you a good amount of time to curl up and relax after all the splendid, if not a wee bit chaotic at times, hullabaloo of the holidays.

Hope everybody had a great Christmas, and happy Holidays to all! Take this belated (very belated, as in years ago, oop) as a gift to… well. anybody who wants it. *drops it like a sack of potatoes* Hope you like it! See ya'll in 2025!

Edit: I fixed some of the dialog after uploading. Note the subtle nod to Anne of Green Gables. Turn of the century dramas like that and Downton Abbey is the weird counter to all my cartoon obsessions, and it influence my writing more than I'd like to admit, lol.