Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’d very much like for everyone to read this before continuing on. I’ll try to keep as concise as possible, but background info is important!

As you’ve read in the summary (and it didn’t deter you, so we’re off to a good start), this is a Thomas and Friends human alternate universe fan fiction; a story that reimagines the steam engine characters as if they were human and attempts to do so as seamlessly as possible with the preexisting world. This is not a human AU fic wherein the characters are popular high school drama tropes or something wildly different like that, but a fic that attempts to change little more than the character’s biological make-up (and the consequences that come as a result of this).

Granted, that’s a big change in and of itself, but we’re still on Sodor. All storylines and characters stem from the pre-established setting of the function of the Northwestern Railway. The engines are still there, they just are no longer the characters. The characters are there, they are just no longer engines.

Why? Why write something like this? Where did the concept come from? If I’m honest, it came from hours and hours of watching Thomas with my son during the day and then catching an hour or two of a BBC workplace drama in the evenings (see: The Paradise and Mr. Selfridge). Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself blessed to get to watch Thomas and Friends that much, as I sincerely enjoy it...but, inevitably, my husband and I were going to end up expanding on the preexisting universe. Asking ourselves the ‘what if they were human?’ question didn’t take long.

I began writing this story about a year ago, using the ideas we had come up with. I felt like it wasn’t enough just to dream up the ‘what if’ and leave it like that, I had to arrange and bring this alternate universe to life as a story- for the sake of my curiosity, if for nothing else.

You may have already guessed this, but I feel like a clear warning ahead of time is necessary. There will be shipping/pairing characters off in this story, as they are human now and there are no longer any of the boundaries that existed when they were engines and the whole concept of them having or wanting romantic relationships seemed a little too farfetched (to me). I say this now because I know shipping can be a sensitive subject, just as much in the TTTE community as it is anywhere else. There are those who are adamantly opposed to and disgusted by the whole thing, then there are those who are already very opinionated about who should be put with whom. I want to say now that the characters I’ve paired off in this story (and there aren’t a TON) are those my husband and I cooked up together. They make sense to us and my hope is to have them make sense to you, too (whether or not you end up shipping them yourself). This is why I don’t list these pairings out in the summary. I don’t want people turning away from a story they might enjoy because the coupling listed didn’t square with their personal bias. I only ask that everyone keep an open mind. In-depth questions are fine, but please no ‘why did you put X and Y together?’ in the comments. The answer is read . Read the story. The answer is there.

The story is already rated, but I feel I should restate this here; this is not a story meant to appeal to children . It’s not an outrageously graphic story one way or the other either, but there are adult elements to this that I don’t think younger children would find entertaining. Again, think of this as Thomas and Friends reimagined for Masterpiece Theater. I would not, personally, recommend this for readers under 13 or so- if only because anyone younger would find it immeasurably boring and just ask for another episode of the original, good stuff. Heck, some of you in your 20’s might share that sentiment as well, I don’t know.

I feel like there’s more I should be saying/warning people of in this note, but I don’t want to spend too long groveling and apologizing for a piece of work that I’m actually very proud of. I still have no idea how this story will be received. My year-long involvement in the community hasn’t really assured me of anything one way or the other but I’m not about to let that stop me. Please feel free to share your thoughts, be they critical or positive. I really do want to know what people make of this concept.

Also, please note that I’ve done my best to employ what I’ve learned of railway function in this story. As I’ve never worked on a railway, nor consider myself an expert of how things are done, I’m bound to get something (if not many things) wrong. Railway function is still a crucial, pivotal part of this story that I don’t feel these characters can exist fully without. Hopefully my attempt will be appreciated, no matter how ham-handed the execution.

Lastly, as part of a new agreement with myself to not start posting multi-chaptered fics until they are finished, this story is already written in full. It is the product of a year’s worth of writing, editing, cutting and pasting. I will try to post a new chapter every week. In essence, if you like this story you don’t need to worry about it being left on a cliffhanger for the rest of your life. Go ahead, indulge. The ending is already written and ready to be published.

I hope everyone can enjoy this story for what it is- or, at the very least, not feel shy about telling me why they don’t. It’s something new for this community and also a bit of a risk, but one I felt was worth taking.

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

The sky was clear and bright the day Thomas Huntington arrived on Sodor- thank goodness for it too, as his boat voyage from the mainland might not have been so pleasant or so safe otherwise. News of good weather had no doubt been seen as a blessing to his mother back home. The ever-present reminder of her love and worry was pressed close to his chest; only a locket, an old family heirloom, a gift upon his reaching adulthood and vowing to go seek his success in the railway industry.  

Thomas knew that for as much as his mother wanted him to stay close there were things she feared worse. The prayer of thanks she said every night to her rosary that time had spared her son from going to war was evidence enough that… yes , this was fine. It was his calling in any case, a passion he could not pursue back home.

With his conscience as clear as the robin’s egg blue sky above him, Thomas disembarked the ship, his one burlap bag of belongings slung over his shoulder, looking not unlike his grandfather must have when he crossed the English Channel. In much the same situation as his grandfather…Thomas hadn’t a clue where he needed to be or how he would procure a ticket into the main rail station. His job would start soon and he would have money then, but for now he was penniless save for what little he had scraped together for room and board.

Resolved to get into the heart of the island one way or another and left with really no other option, Thomas elected to walk. Oh, he would have much preferred to ride a passenger train. It had been so long since he’d been able to actually ride one, as without funds or reason to do so back home it was an activity he could only dream of. This he continued to do as he strolled through the meadows and hillsides along the track, identifying each kind of engine as it rolled and tooted past. Even if his shoes were worn and his body fatigued, Thomas considered himself lucky to be where he was: a beautiful morning, the rolling hills of Sodor, the sight of steam engines thundering by his to enjoy. If not for his lack of time he would have sat down and taken in the moment like a cup of chamomile tea.

But for as wonderful as all of this was, Lady Fortune had only begun bestowing her gifts.  

“I say, you there! Young man!”

A small, but expensive model yellow car drove up and stopped beside him on the neighboring road. The driver inside –an older, dignified man- had stuck his head out and was, very clearly, addressing him.

“Uh-…y-yes, sir?”

“Why are you wandering about with that luggage when there are so many railway lines that can take you where you need to be? We are an island of engines, dear boy! Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“Yes, sir, I noticed,” Thomas adjusted his bag nervously, wondering what could be the meaning of the man’s arbitrary interest in him. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve gotten a job working for the railway, it’s just...well. I couldn’t afford a ticket, is the thing.”

It was a shameful admission, one that Thomas had hoped he wouldn’t have to make to a complete stranger…but something about the way this man dressed and carried himself made Thomas think it wasn’t wise to lie to him.

“Oh dear,” the man sighed, shaking his head. “Well, that simply won’t do at all. I will have to take you in myself. I’m on my way into the main station as it is so it’s no trouble. Please, don’t argue. Come hop in, do.”

Despite the man’s pleas Thomas had made absolutely no attempt to argue and was already of the mind that doing so, even politely, wouldn’t be well received. What’s more, he neede d quick transportation into the main station. As such, he thanked him and decided to make his way into the back seat as per the invitation (no matter that his mother would have never approved of him riding in the car of a stranger). Comforting was the sight of a pretty young woman around his age already there in the passenger seat, well dressed in the same sort of way as the man.

“My daughter, Millie,” the man introduced as put the car back into drive. “You’ll have to forgive her French- the unfortunate side effect of consorting with a Parisian woman in my youth.”

True to the very candid warning, Millie greeted Thomas with a smile and a perfectly pronounced, “Bonjour!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Thomas said. “Your generosity is overwhelming, I don’t know how I can thank you. I’m Thomas Huntington, I just sailed over from the mainland.”

Millie tapped her father on the shoulder and reminded him he hadn’t yet introduced himself.

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, my most sincere apologies. I must’ve left my manners at Ulfstead. Sir Robert Norramby, at your service, Mr. Huntington.”

Thomas balked. That was most certainly a name he recognized. Could he really be in the presence of who it appeared he must have been?

“You-…I’m sorry, I must have misheard. You’re…Sir Norramby, as in-…the Earl of Sodor?” Thomas looked to the so-called ‘Little Millie’. “So you must be…Lady Millicent! Oh my-...! I’m so sorry, your Lordship, I hadn’t any idea-“

“Nonsense, dear boy,” Sir Robert waved off, and Thomas wondered if the Earl hadn’t been hoping to keep his identity a secret all along.  “We’re all friends here. No formalities, if you please, I’ve enough of that on the island proper.”

Again, Thomas didn’t argue…yet, he could not get completely comfortable knowing he was in the presence of nobility.

“You’re looking very posh for a visit to the Steamworks.”

Gordon had a tendency to loom. His tall height had something to do with it, of course, but so did his domineering personality and the fact that he was her big brother. It had always been an aspect of him- big, booming, looming Gordon Hatt. Emily could always sense him from a mile or so away.

Now, however, he was the invasive presence behind her in the hallway mirror as she put on her earrings, side-eyeing her disdainfully as had been his routine for some time now.

“A lady must always look her best,” Emily explained with a bit of a huff, her nose upturned as it was wont to do.

“Yes, well. Let us hope no oil smudges those emerald earrings. Or that sensible dress. I can only imagine how much that ensemble must have cost father.”

He was one to talk, bedecked as he always was in his finely tailor-made suits to oversee a rail station. Emily supposed there was something to be said for the messiness of the Steamworks, but she also knew this impromptu scolding wasn’t about clothing.

“You’ve been acting petulant ever since you returned from London,” she said, driving right to the heart of this behavior. “Stop being silly, Gordon. You can’t honestly expect father to groom you for Controller when you couldn’t even keep your own businesses afloat.”

Gordon’s brow furrowed and he glared down at her, a gesture that would never frighten her no matter how tall he was in comparison.

“And he’s to expect you to be well-suited? You are a child!”

“I am 24 ! That is hardly a child!”

“And you haven’t even an interest in the railway! You haven’t interest in business pursuits at all!”

For a moment, Emily was without an argument. It was the unfortunate truth and also a futile thing. They, all of them, knew their fates were predetermined as per their being members of the nobility and upper class…but perhaps Gordon needed reminding.

“It’s not up to us,” Her voice went lower and more firm now as if sharing a secret, even if this was anything but. “Not you, not me, not James. We’re bound to our family’s will, whether you like it or not. Be angry all you like, but nothing about that will ever change.”

Gordon had already been compelled into a frustrated silence, but it was then that mindful middle brother James came strutting in, helping himself to the hallway mirror that had once been Emily’s post.

“Now, now,” he crooned. “Father won’t find your bickering very becoming at all. I’d recommend putting an end to it as he’ll be down shortly.”

The familiar footfalls could be heard on the stairs- heavy, firm, final. It was a sound they all eagerly anticipated and dreaded, depending on the situation; it was a sound that they would one day miss more than any other in the world. But for now, Sir Topham Hatt’s children went quiet save for greeting him with an amicable, “Good morning, father.”

He bestowed them with a nod of approval as if inspecting a fleet of engines and a simple, “Good morning.”

Sir Hatt received his coat from the butler as he said his usual, “I hope we’re all well and ready to depart. I’m afraid we’re already running behind schedule,” and then called for his accountant, Toby.

James, being the middle child and, in his opinion, lacking in proper attention, was cheeky and loved causing little rifts where possible. As such he couldn’t help but throw out under his breath, “For as much as Gordon can be ready without his railway inheritance.”

Gordon huffed indignantly but it was too late to stop what had already been set in motion. Sir Topham knew his eldest son’s concern well and to say it had been a bone of contention between them in the past would be an understatement.

“Not this again , Gordon. When you returned from your failed ventures you expected me to give you my appointment without hesitation. The very idea is absurd . It’s risk enough for me to designate you stationmaster, I am going above and beyond the limits of a father’s generosity to even grant you that. Enough of this foolishness! If this appointment is not sufficient then you are perfectly entitled to try your hand again in London, but as long as you are working for me you will perform to the standard I expect of every employee.”

Meek accountant Toby entered the room at the tail end of this scolding, soon enough to see his employer’s round face reddened and the much larger, intimidating eldest son cowering like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Ah, Mr. Scholl, there you are.” Sir Topham Hatt then transitioned smoothly from frustration to professionalism. “I’ve some matters that would benefit from your attention at the railway this morning. I would very much like to have you accompany us in.”

Toby, like most everyone, wouldn’t argue with Sir Topham Hatt for anything, no matter how much he hated being at the railway. The loud noises and large crowds he found suffocating, much preferring his quiet office overlooking the countryside at the Hatt estate…but, needs must when the employer bids it. He agreed with a nod and dutiful ‘yes sir’ and the family, plus Toby, moved to the car.

“Last stop, Sodor’s main station! Here she is, my boy, what do you make of her?”

Thomas had been marveling since the station had appeared on the horizon but upon arrival he could better see everything; the big, glass archways, the immaculately clean platforms and benches. He hesitated to liken it to a palace in the presence of the Earl and his daughter, but truly he could compare it to nothing less.

“ Beautiful , Sir Robert…!” Thomas marveled as he stepped onto the platform. “I can’t help but wonder…what if this is just a dream...?”  

“My boy, life is but a dream, and we are all mere chips of tile in the great cosmic mosaic…ah, Bertram! Come, Mr. Huntington, your employer awaits!”

Thomas was soon looking straight ahead at none other than Sir Topham Hatt himself and that was enough to sharpen his focus.

“Robert! Millie! Good morning!” Sir Topham replied, extending his hand for a greeting shake from his brother-in-law and getting –not unexpectedly- a firm hug instead. “I hadn’t expected to see you both so early.”

“Stephen had a change of schedule and will be in with the next train, hence our rushing from Ulfstead,” Sir Robert explained. “Oh, lest I forget! I found something of yours wandering the countryside, a little lost scamp.”

Thomas trusted Sir Robert meant the title in jest, but stepped forward nonetheless as he was bid.

Sir Robert introduced, “This is Mr. Thomas Huntington, your newest employee. I do hope he looks familiar.”

Of course Thomas knew he wouldn’t; Sir Topham Hatt was far too busy to hire employees directly and so this would be the first meeting. Even so, his employer still nodded.

“Yes, I seem to recall that name. Welcome aboard, Mr. Huntington, we’re pleased to have you.”

Sir Topham once again extended his hand for a shake and Thomas thought he might keel over from joy. He knew better than to follow the Earl’s example of answering with an embrace instead…no matter how much he may have wanted to.

“T-Thomas is fine, Sir,” he assured. “That is-, I mean…you can call me whatever you wish, Sir, but I-…the formal title is-“

The young lady beside Topham Hatt, no doubt his daughter, Miss Emily, deliberately coughed to end the poor boy’s verbal staggering.

“Thomas it is then,” she said, decisive.  “I’m sure that’ll be easier for all of us.”

Sir Topham chuckled a bit under his breath and looked to his daughter with a visible pride before continuing his introduction to his new employee.

“Have you been given your first appointment this morning, Thomas?”

“Oh, uh- yes, sir! I was told after I reported to the main office I would be sent to the Steamworks.”

“Fortuitous that Emily and I are headed to the same place. After you’ve seen to the main office you may accompany us.”

Thomas was entirely sure now this was naught but a wonderful dream that would be followed by a jarring wake up. He’d be back at home, rising at dawn to help with the animals as he always had. Things as wonderful as this only happened in the loveliest of fantasies and he felt he shouldn’t indulge for fear of huge disappointment…but ultimately decided he would deal with the fallout when it came and enjoy the fantasy for now.

“Oh, sir, that’s-….yes, yes, thank you! I’ll be brief, I promise!”

“Odd that father would volunteer to transport a boy like that. He’s only just been hired.”

For as much as Gordon agreed with James’ observation as their father, Emily and the pauper boy drove away, he still hadn’t much interest in polite conversation following the stunt that morning.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Quarry, brother dear?” Gordon suggested with no lack of venom. “I can’t imagine that anything gets done without you.”

Gordon’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on James. He scoffed and rolled his eyes as if his older brother was acting completely unreasonable.

“My train’s only just arrived. Emily’s right, by the by. You’ve been such a displeasure ever since you returned home. You needn’t take the frustration of your failures out on your own flesh and blood, brother dear .”

James’ especially cutting words were no doubt inspired by the fact that he could then climb aboard his train and escape from Gordon’s wrath. It was more than tempting to shout some sort of idle threat at James’ car as it chuffed away, but Gordon was an English gentleman and had far more respectability than that.

He instead grumbled and hissed and turned quickly on his heel to stomp back and resume his duties in the main office. So blind by anger was he that he didn’t see someone cross his path until they were both colliding and her bag had fallen to the ground.

“For goodness sakes, watch where you’re going!” Gordon shouted on frustrated impulse before he could see whom he had hit, before he could remember he was station master and couldn’t be addressing passengers that way.   

“That’s no way to address a lady!”

Gordon flinched and gasped when he saw the woman sprawled ungainly on the ground. A young man that looked very much like her (a twin brother, perhaps) was helping her to her feet and giving him the nastiest of looks.

“Oh, I’m-…I’m very sorry, I…suppose I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”

Any apology Gordon made put a very tough strain on his pride, even in such a context as this when the fault clearly lay with him. The struggle for basic courtesy was palpable in the grumble of his voice.

The still quite angry young man made to say something but the woman stopped him with a calming touch of the hand.

“Oh, no harm done, sir, nevermind my brother, Connor. Ever the stalwart chaperone and protector, he is!”

Having never seen them before, Gordon wondered what their business might have been on Sodor. The woman’s riding gloves gave him the answer; they were contenders here for the charity race.

“Come on, Caitlin,” Connor bid her, gathering their bags with one last look of disdain at Gordon. “We’re to be at the stables in an hour.”

For reasons that Gordon didn’t entirely comprehend, Caitlin waved him a polite goodbye as she followed her brother away.  

Emily was grateful her father had more of a focus on his new employee than her during this car ride. She had been preparing herself all morning for the lengthy lecture of the Steamworks; one in the car, and then one in the Steamworks itself as she got her introductory tour. Honestly, how much did she need to know about the basics of steam engine repair? It seemed her father just paraded about all day barking orders at people. She could easily do that without any knowledge of trains whatsoever- indeed, sometimes she felt it was the only part of this predestined position that she could look forward to.

The new employee had kept her father laughing the entire time. In all of 15 minutes or so Emily saw him chuckle more than he had in years. To this moment she sometimes wondered if he was even capable of such a thing for how little he ever did it.

“Thomas, my boy, you are a delight!” he praised as soon as they had arrived at the Sodor Steamworks and left the car. Sir Topham took the opportunity to clap Thomas approvingly on the back.

Emily was sure she never saw her father this happy, save for when Alicia Botti was around.  

“And now that we have had our fun, it’s time to make the proper introductions. Come, both of you.”

Emily and Thomas followed Sir Topham into the cavernous, bee-hive like depot that was the Steamworks. Engines were suspended on platforms, big, oil-smudged men in overalls ran about with tools and engine parts, seemingly preoccupied by their work to the point of un-interruption…until Sir Topham Hatt came forward and made his presence known. The activity slowed to all but a stand-still.

“No need to stop, gentlemen, carry on. Carry on, please . If someone could take a moment to fetch Mr. Castillo for me?”

A younger man driving an unwieldy yellow crane approached them and Emily had a moment where she feared for her life that he would run her over.

“Kevin, you must be more careful,” Sir Topham scolded.

The younger man, Kevin, nodded. “Oh yes, of course, I’m so sorry, sir! I just came to say that if you’re looking for Victor he’s hard at work on that A1 locomotive over there. Blocked valves, I think.”

Emily gathered from recent events and the way her father politely sent him away that Kevin’s helpfulness was a rare occurrence. Why did he even employ these people if they were so incompetent? She couldn’t fathom it. Maybe when she took over she could cut some of the useless ones from the budget.

Sir Topham led them over to the engine in question. It was covered by so many men in overalls it looked almost like a picnic sandwich being consumed by ants.

“Mr. Castillo?” Sir Topham called to no one that Emily could readily see. “I need a moment of your time if you could spare it.”

“One moment, sir! I’ll be right with you!”

That accent was one Emily didn’t often hear. Being that they were on a British island the voices that passed through were usually of some English dialect- sometimes, Irish or Scottish (that said nothing of the Welsh workers in the Quarry). But this…this was much more exotic . Something Spanish, she guessed. But when had father employed a Spaniard ?

The man, Mr. Castillo, came around the side of the locomotive then and Emily was transfixed in a way she didn’t think possible. He was unlike anyone she had seen in person before; tall, skin as rich light brown as burnt sugar. His face was chiseled as though someone had carved it out of marble, his eyebrows dark and narrowed, his forearms (exposed by the sleeves rolled up the elbow) scarred and muscular from his work. She had never known the like in a man before.  

And yet, for all about him that was devastatingly handsome to the point of intimidation, he greeted them with a smile that was the warmest and most sincere she remembered seeing in a long time.

“Good morning, Sir!” Mr. Castillo said with every bit of genuine enthusiasm while Emily would’ve thought him much more stressed for all the manual labor he had to do. “I see you’ve brought some guests today. Welcome, both of you!”

Sir Topham smiled back in a way Emily knew meant that her father approved of him on a personal level. Collecting sons , is how she described it, being that Gordon and James were such disappointments to him.

Emily and Thomas were introduced to Mr. Castillo and, much to Emily’s satisfaction, he expressed the honor of having the daughter of Sir Topham Hatt present in the depot. Even if he was just buttering up to a future employer, Emily didn’t discriminate when it came to praise.

Thomas was then sent away for his preliminary training as Sir Topham received an unexpected phone call from the main office.

“Mr. Castillo, if you could just brief Emily on your duties and the function of the Steamworks, I’d be most grateful.”  

He left then, as if anticipating that Mr. Castillo would react with the exact look of apprehension now clear on his face. Emily wasn’t offended: she didn’t really want to hear about this place any more than he seemed to want to tell her about it.

“It’s okay, Mr. Castillo,” she assured. “You seem quite busy, I’d hate to interrupt the flow of work. Besides, what’s to explain? You fix steam engines. It’s not that complicated.”

He laughed, more heartily than she would’ve thought appropriate to what was said. Offended at the idea that he might be making fun of her ignorance she grimaced and demanded to know, “ What is so funny?”

“You’re right, Miss Hatt, I do fix engines…but it’s not that simple. Sometime when I’m not busy I’d love to explain everything that we do. Your father knows the ins and outs of engine repair and maintenence better than any Controller I’ve ever met. I would think it essential knowledge for someone who plans to take over in his stead.”

Now it was Emily’s turn to laugh, albeit in something of a scoff.

“You’re starting to sound eerily like him, Mr. Castillo.”

He said with a bit of a smirk, “ Please , call me Victor.”

Sir Topham returned about then, reporting that he and Emily needed to head back to the Station on account of a visitor. When asked if all had been covered, Victor helpfully proposed,

“Sir, I was thinking…you know so very much about the Steamworks and how engines function. I truly believe Miss Hatt would benefit from a more comprehensive education. I would like to invite her to come work with us soon, just for a day.”

Emily’s mouth fell open in shock. How could he even suggest such a thing? She knew nothing of steam engines. Besides, it all looked…so dirty and disgusting. She would not be expected to run about like a grease monkey in overalls.

“Father, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean, surely I’d just slow down work, I-“

“Nonsense,” Sir Topham Hatt said, which only gave Emily momentary relief as she thought he meant it for Victor’s suggestion. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Castillo. Emily could certainl y benefit from a day of hard work. Tomorrow, then? I understand things will be a bit slower.”

“Yes Sir, tomorrow is perfect.” Victor then looked to her with what she swore was a smile of smug victory. Having brothers, she knew it well. “I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Hatt.”

If Emily’s glare could kill Victor would already be six feet under. The very nerve of this man. What did he aim to do, scare her away from the position? For as much as she had fought her father on having to inherit this legacy in the first place…now, all of a sudden, she was determined to prove that she was the best, she could take any challenge thrown at her with the grace of a lady.

Sir Topham then bid Emily follow him to the car. This she did, but not without another glare sent over her shoulder at Victor, warning him of what was to come tomorrow.

Victor answered this with a friendly wave and another warm smile before returning to work.

Gordon was stepping out of the main office when he saw the most horrific sight imaginable; two horses standing there on the pristine, green lawn of the Sodor station. Father would’ve surely blown his top at the idea of the grounds being dirtied, what with all the important passengers arriving today. Their handler stood nearby through Gordon could not see who it was.

“I beg your pardon!” he shouted, his voice booming across the field. “These animals must be moved immediately ! This is a railway station, not a farm!”

The handler peeked her head around the steeds, revealing herself to be none other than Caitlin, the woman he had knocked over earlier.

“Oh, you again!” she said with a smile, as if recognizing an old friend. Her lack of concern for what he had asked put him off. “Now I’ve figured it out. You must be the Station Master!”

He huffed in irritation and marched right up to Caitlin and her steeds.

“That I am, Miss, and I’d be much obliged if you moved your thoroughbreds to more suitable territory. They’ll make an absolute mess of things here!”   

“Ah, so you’ve an eye for horses?” She patted the nose of the one to her right and looked to it with the sort of admiration a mother has for her child. “They are indeed thoroughbreds, mine and me brother, Connor.”

“ Of course I know my breeds,” Gordon rolled his eyes. “I can English ride as well as any proper gentleman.”

Caitlin’s eyes lit up.

“I don’t suppose you’d fancy a race, Mister…?”

“Hatt, Gordon Hatt. And I would not fancy a race, I’ve much more important things to do!”

Caitlin’s perpetual smile dropped into a frown. “That’s a shame. I need all the practice I can get before the big race and I haven’t a clue where Connor went…besides, I know all his tricks now…would be much better to practice with a rider I’ve just met!”

It was true Gordon had enjoyed horse riding in school, had even been the best in his class. It was also true that he was incredibly competitive and knew that besting a professional in a race would be just the sort of ego boost he needed right now. His father was off tooling about with Emily and no doubt whoever else he had just hired and otherwise apathetic to what his eldest son was doing.

“Very well,” he agreed. “If only to get these creatures off the lawn.”

Caitlin offered Gordon the horse of her brother and he felt some amount of satisfaction in that. Perhaps it was the way Connor had reprimanded him back at the station, as if he hadn’t any idea who he addressed, as if he saw only some clumsy train station employee. Now Gordon rode his saddle- what of it, Connor?

“Ready?” she asked as soon as they were both seated, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“I’ve been ready for as long as it’s taken you to mount your saddle.”

“Then we’re off!”

And just like that, before Gordon had any real idea what was going on, Caitlin and her horse shot away like an arrow from a bow. He gasped and quickly moved his into action, galloping after her. They rode for a time down a forest trail, Caitlin keeping the lead and weaving in front so that her opponent hadn’t any chance to pass. He had to admit –albeit privately, to himself- her moves were expert and unlike anything he had been taught at school.

“Gordon, we’re in luck!” Caitlin called over her shoulder.

“Oh?” he shouted back. “Why’s that?”

“There’s a gate ahead! Yours is good with jumping, just let him lead!”

He could barely hear what she had said to him over the galloping of hooves and rush of air but it came clear the moment Caitlin and her horse lifted up and over the gate to a pasture with perfect ease. Gordon panicked, unprepared and out of practice, but Connor’s horse saw him through. The jump was smooth, still, Gordon was visibly shaken by the time he landed and joined up alongside his competition.

“A beautiful jump!” Caitlin commended. “Perhaps you’d have been better served as a rider than a station master.”

Gordon’s cheeks flushed, both from the adrenaline of the race and the sincere compliment. For as much of an ego as he had, it was rare that anyone offered him praise other than himself.

“Well…the race has yet to be won. I’ll reevaluate my career choices should I succeed.”

It was an uncharacteristically humble admission, made only because Caitlin didn’t know him as well for his pride as did everyone else.

“Wise, indeed. Perhaps I’ll stop going easy on you then.”

With a giggle she sped forward again, once more taking the lead. Gordon couldn’t help but laugh along, no longer caring that much who won or lost in the end.

Sir Topham Hatt hummed a cheerful tune as he entered his partially darkened office and hung up his hat. He’d only have a short while to prepare before Miss Botti arrived, afforded to him only because Emily was keeping the Duke and Duchess of Boxford entertained (he’d have Gordon do it on any other occasion but he couldn’t find the boy anywhere and sincerely hoped that was caused by his being busy).

When he sidled over to the mirror to check his appearance the small orange light of a match flickered into view just behind him at his desk. Startled, he nearly jumped out of his skin turning around to see what ghostly apparition was responsible.

He found himself wishing it was a ghost when the figure became clear.

“Hello, Bertram,” crooned Diesel 10, his thin lips curving into a sly smile as he exhaled the smoke from his cigar. He looked not unlike a dragon with the furls of cigar smoke curling about his serpentine head.  

Diesel 10 had a real name, of course, or so Sir Topham supposed. It had been long ago forgotten in favor of his more inhuman moniker, a name that conveyed the source of his empire; he was the head controller of his own booming railway and a fleet of entirely diesel engines, a business that was slowly starting to creep into Sodor like a plague of rats.

It wasn’t that Sir Topham minded diesel engines entirely (he had a few of his own), his apprehension sat more with the man responsible for them, the man who now sat at his desk with every bit of entitlement in the world. Diesel 10 was not merciful, he was not trustworthy or kind. He could be charming, but it was naught but a thin disguise over the ruthlessness that lay beneath. Diesel 10 was not the sort of man one wanted as an enemy. Sir Topham knew this...but he was not one to be cowed by intimidation.

Holding said cigar was Diesel 10’s metal claw, a kind of prosthetic arm to replace the one he had lost in a mysterious railway accident. It was often covered by the fabric of a sleeve, but the sharp fingers always poked through and Diesel 10 always made a point of making its presence known. It was only apropos to wonder how often that prosthetic was used as a weapon.

“You’ve picked a very poor time to engage me,” Sir Topham said, turning on the office lamps so that his enemy could no longer lurk in the darkness. Doing so revealed the two big henchmen that never left Diesel 10’s side, Danny Diesel and Paxton. They stood on either side of him like Easter Island statues, muscular arms crossed over their chests. They were more of a testament to Diesel 10’s cowardice than anything else.

Diesel 10 shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend, particularly one that has to come to check on you in your old age. I’m sure I’ve done far more for you in these past few moments of conversation than your children have in their entire lives.”

“We are not friends,” Sir Topham Hatt corrected. “What have you truly come for, sir? Let us be done with it, as I have a great many things to tend to before the day is out.”

“You’d be wise to be my friend, Bertram,” Diesel 10 exhaled another long plume of cigar smoke, smirked, and then tapped the excess ashes on to the papers stacked on the desk. “The alternative can be dangerous. Besides, there’s a great many things I can do for you. I hope you’ve done some deeper introspection as concerns my offer.”

“I have not. My answer remains the same. You shall not have the Northwest Railway, not today or any other, no matter the sum offered.”

Sir Topham stood firm with an unflinching expression, even as Diesel 10 rose from the desk chair and came to stand much closer to him than was anywhere near comfortable. He blew a puff of smoke into the smaller man’s face.

“You know I always get what I want, Bertie.” His tone of voice was much darker now as he stared down the smaller man. “By hook or by crook . I’ve tried to be patient, I’ve tried to be kind and generous…alas, you are far too headstrong for your own good. For whatever comes next, please do remember you had chance enough to avoid it.”

“I am not swayed in the least by your idle threats!” Sir Topham all but shouted back, to which Danny laughed.

“Idle? You know the boss means every word he says. I don’t envy you, chum.”

Diesel 10 ignored them both as he lifted a couple of the blinds on the office window to see that Alicia Botti’s train had just arrived. A knowing grin stretched out once more on his snake-like face.

“Oh, Bertie . You’re not quite the paragon of virtue everyone fancies you to be, are you? Honorable Sir Topham…the unfaithful husband of the poor Lady Jane Norramby.”

Danny and Paxton chuckled at that, knowing enough about the private correspondence of Sir Topham and Miss Botti to get what Diesel 10 suggested. Diesel 10, on the other hand, just stared down his foe with a terrifying amount of delight at how deep this dug, for even stalwart Sir Topham Hatt could not hide his shame.

“You see?” Diesel 10 continued. “We’re not that different you and I. At the very least, I do not parade about pretending to be a hero. Some might say you are the true villain in this equation for that very reason.”

Satisfied with the result of this meeting, Diesel 10 turned away and bid his men to follow him out.

“We’re off, Bertie,” he said over his shoulder. “Time is not completely spent yet. If you do indeed come to your senses, you will let me know, yes? Give Alicia my regards.”  

Caitlin and Gordon tied the horses to the nearby fence to let them rest and feed on the coastal long grass before walking down to the beach. If either of them had actually won the race it was no longer a matter of importance. Gordon couldn’t remember a time he’d had more fun, felt freer of the burdens he constantly carried. As the member of a noble family and the rightful heir of a railway inheritance spanning generations, there had always been a lot for him in terms of expectation. Every hour of every day was spent pulling an invisible weight.

Not as such now. He could only guess that had something to do with Caitlin being a stranger. It was an easier thing to rationalize than to imagine he might actually be…making himself vulnerable to someone.

“You’ve been riding horses all your life then, have you?” he asked as they strolled.

“I have, Connor and I. And me mother rode long before that. She was Dublin’s reigning champion rider for six years in a row!”

“Impressive. It…must be difficult to live in such a shadow,” Gordon did his best to pretend to be farther removed from such an idea than he truly was. “Even for as much as you are talented.”

Caitlin shrugged. “No, not really. I don’t ride to prove anything, I ride because I am only truly myself on the back of a horse. You might say it’s something of a spiritual connection.”

Gordon chuckled, though there was a twinge of nervous surprise that she would admit something so personal. It wasn’t like anyone he had known to say such things without reservation (or at all).

“I’ve never known such a passion,” he admitted. “Mine has always been the path of those before me. I’m the grandson of an Earl, you see...and the Hatt men have been ruling the railways for on near a century. I’m to succeed and bring more of the same honor, though…I’ve been less than successful. Father would sooner have my younger sister take over the railway than I. I suppose…in light of everything, he’s wise to choose anyone over me.”

Caitlin didn’t ask as to what Gordon was referring, though it would seem from the way she refrained and looked to him with knowing sympathy that she could just as easily guess.

“All the more opportunity for you then. Without that expectation over your head, perhaps you can better find out what your passion is. We musn’t apply ourselves to anything we don’t love, that’s what mother always said.”

Gordon stood straighter and puffed out his chest, for with this comfort came a returned sense of Hatt confidence.   

“She seems a wise woman, your mother. I must thank her then. And you, Miss O’Leary.”

Caitlin looked to him with amused confusion. “For what then, Mr. Hatt?”

“For allowing me to unburden myself.”

They shared a smile then that was different from the ones that had come before, one that spoke of a potential they were nowhere close to exploring just yet . It was to be short lived in any case, for it was then that Caitlin took a peek at her watch.

“Oh dear, we’ve been out and about much longer than I realized. Six o’clock already, Connor will be wringing his wrists!”

“Six-...did you say, six o’clock ? Oh good god, it can’t be.”

“Is there something-”

But Caitlin hadn’t time to find out what, exactly, was wrong, as Gordon was already hurrying back to his steed.

“Fancy another race?” he called out over his shoulder, panicked. “I’ll be racing regardless. Must get back to Knapford, as soon as possible!”