Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The evening rush was just underway when Montague heard. 

He almost didn't. Passengers were crowding the magnificent high-roofed Station in such numbers that, impressively, they drowned the noise of the Engines… Engines steaming in with proud whistles… Engines departing with slow chuffs… and, of course, funny, chunky tank Engines re-arranging trains, bustling back and forth. 

But in the midst of the shouting and hustle Montague's valves stood on edge. “ — great smash-up at Langley.” 

“You mean on the rails?” 

Montague came to a dead stop in the yard. He himself had seen very little of his great railway — but he had a sibling that had been transferred up that way. 

Not that he should have favored Capulet over any of his hundreds of siblings. They were all a team, a proud extended clan.

Yet Cap was special to him. They had been sent out from the workshop as a pair, done their first assignments as partners, learned and laughed together...  He stared up in horror at the two big engines who had been gossiping. 

They were a Hall and a Castle, resting until their next turn of duty, and they were surprised at the interloper. “So they’re saying. Train collision — right at Station.” 

Montague’s fire flickered, erratic. “Was anyengine hurt?” 

“Dunno,” said the Hall carelessly. 

“How fast could they have been going?” The Castle was very proud and visibly vague. “‘S’a branch line, innit? Doubt it was anything too serious.” 

The Hall, seeing Montague’s distress, grew a bit more serious. “King James I has just come down from there. Platform 5. You might ask him.” 

Montague gave a lurch before his Driver checked him. “Whoa, lad! Give a fellow some warning. Are we really hoofing it over there? Now?” 

The Shunter swallowed. It was a very good question. The crowd and commotion was such that it would be tricky to fight through the throng. Most of all, though, he had come to a stop even as the other pilots continued to back down, push, and roll over points around him. 

But it’s easy for them to pretend they don’t hear… A little part of him flared rebellion, but then snuffed out, cold and chastened. 

He could satisfy his curiosity after the day’s work was done. 

“Word will come,” he said aloud. His voice sounded very firm — much firmer than the resolution he felt inside him, which flickered like his disheartened fire. “In the meantime, leaving colleagues in the... in the lurk, isn’t very Great Western.” 

The Castle laughed idly. “Pro’lly just as well. I don’t believe those Kings go ‘round making small talk with waterfowl!” 

Montague frowned, and made a note of the big engine’s nameplate, but rolled on. If he oughtn’t make personal inquiries while on company time, he definitely oughtn’t settle personal scores.

He had performed these exact duties, to this same timetable, hundreds and hundreds of times before.

It was just as well, for if he hadn’t then, with the worry simmering low in his boiler, he might have made quite a hash of things that evening. 

However, he had, and he didn’t. All the trains departed to time, just as they always did, and the team of pilots disassembled the incoming stock in orderly fashion. The night shift rolled in to relieve them just as the skies opened up, and the rain began. There was a bit of shouting and jest among the Engines at that — but not much. The Pannier Tanks who had been out and about were by now rather glum. 

Only after their fires had been dropped did they compare notes. Many of them had heard bits and pieces, especially from their drivers and the coaches. Soon enough they worked out the whole story. Two engines had indeed been badly damaged in the Langley wreck —

— but neither of them were Cap, nor anyone they knew. 

Montague sighed deeply, the relief exhausting him. The rain pattered a steady, hypnotic rhythm on the roof of his Shed. 

Yet, for all that, he slept poorly that night… 

Thirty Years Later... 

It was a watery day on the island of Sodor. The sky was grey, the ground was sodden, and the railway’s Engines got buffeted by rain that always seemed to be pointing towards their faces.

Duck was busy by the harbour when Edward went by, pulling two coaches. The poor conditions reached further than just the land by the sea — the whole Island was some degree of soggy, so there were continual delays until surges of new supplies would all arrive at once. It was a bit more work than Duck was confident in doing, but a Great Western Engine like himself wasn’t going to let that slow him down.

All the same, he was rather glad to hear that help would be coming from the Ffarquhar line. He hoped it would be Percy, as the two were good friends, but to Duck it felt that they hadn’t seen much of each other as of late.

When Percy’s Whistle heralded his arrival, Duck rushed up, grinning broadly. When he then heard another Whistle, this one belonging to Thomas, his smile froze in place. Something resembling annoyance bubbled in his boiler, but he pushed it aside. It was good to have more wheels around to help, after all.

The rain apparently hadn’t dampened the two Tank Engines’ spirits, as they were singing a song as they arrived. Percy was currently having his turn with a verse.

“Once an engine attached to a train, was afraid of a few drops of rain!”

Duck frowned, and was about to discourage that old rag being played again — it was unprofessional for one thing — but was pre-emptively cut off by Thomas.

“He squeaked through his funnel, went into a tunnel, and didn’t come out again!”

It was quite a relief to know that Henry was on the other side of the island today. Duck still wanted to prevent an encore, though.

“Mornin’! With both of you here, it makes me wonder who’s taking care of your branch line!”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Toby and Mavis can handle it. There’s not as much going on up there than there is down here, in weather like this.”

Indeed, the poor weather conditions had a profound effect on several points along the coast. Routes were blocked, and the alternatives were crowded and slow moving. Things only got worse when a van with fish cargo got bumped, spilling the unfortunate creatures along the sleepers, picking up dirt and grit.

Away from this, the three Tank Engines were industriously shunting and sorting what seemed to be a neverending supply of new vans and trucks that were rapidly filled. The equally unending rain was forming deep puddles just off the tracks, but the rails themselves were slick and it was getting more difficult to brake in the right places.

“Oooh-er!” Percy skidded and lightly bumped into a long line of irritable trucks, who immediately started to complain about the rough treatment they were being given on such a rotten day.

Duck suspected they were just cranky over the weather and taking any excuse to start a fuss, but, before he could say this, Thomas drove by.

“Careful, Percy!” he scolded. “You need to go slower when it’s slippery!”

He was departing already as Percy said something in return, but Duck was too busy once more suppressing his annoyance to hear what he said.

“What a bossy boiler!” he remarked. Duck really would have much preferred just Percy to have come. With Thomas around, they had to listen to his self-important huffing and puffing and his unwarranted advice. While Thomas was certainly a productive worker, Duck was even starting to suspect that, if he was absent, the mood would lighten enough for the two of them to do what was currently taking three.

Percy was merrily carrying on, removing the grouchy trucks from the area.

They carried on like this for a while, until a man appeared from out the Signal Box to share some news with the drivers, who were huddled under some shelter with a flask of what Duck presumed was tea.

“Cor! Did you hear? Edward hydroplaned! Came clear off the rails just by the station!”

“You what?!”

“That’s right! Pete just phoned me with the details!”

While the humans were aghast, the Engines were a bit more subdued. Eventually Percy piped up.

“What’s a hydroplane?”

There was more silence.

“I think,” Duck hazarded, “It’s something like Harold. Except, with wings that don’t whirl around in a circle like his. Oh, and they can land on the water.”

“Then, what’s Edward doing with one?”

Thomas hadn’t spoken for a while, but suddenly he seemed to snap.

“Idiots! They said Edward derailed! Whatever a hydroplane is, it’s something that happens, obviously! And we shouldn’t all be sitting here, we don’t know if he’s hurt!”

Indeed, the second his driver returned to Thomas’ cab, he was off, without another word.

Duck watched disdainfully as the little blue engine tore away, towards the station Edward was supposed to stop at. “Huh! Guess he has to be the hero, eh? Silly engine, he isn’t even remotely prepared.”

Percy just drew level with Duck, looking into the distance where only the dull blur of the rain could be seen. “Well, he’s prob’ly done that ‘cause it’s Edward, you know. He’s awful fond of him.”

“Oh, I know. We’re all fond of Edward — ”

“No, I mean, he and Thomas go far back, before the rails we’re standing on here. They likely helped to set them to begin with. You know that, don’t you?”

Not used to being interrupted by Percy, Duck glanced over in surprise. It might have been an illusion from the downpour, but Percy’s face held a maturity that often wasn’t seen. For a split second, he saw the old engine who’d lived through many years in every corner of the land, much of which wasn’t the comparatively sleepy island they both called home.

But then the light changed, Percy’s face returned to how it usually was, and Duck forgot where his thoughts were taking him.

“I... yes, I know.” Duck was only half paying attention. “Still! What on Earth does Thomas expect to do? Feels like there can’t be a scene unless he’s there.”

Percy was getting bored with the conversation, and reversed. “I don’t know, but if he is going to do something silly, we better get back to the shunting.”

Duck now had what he wanted, time to work together — and alone — with Percy. But it didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t just the persistently unpleasant weather. It felt like a particularly dark storm cloud had drifted into his smokebox and got stuck there.

The trucks had noticed that a decline in productivity was leaving them out in the rain longer. “You’re slow, you’re slow! Hurry up, you square-wheeled — OWCH OW OW OW!”

Biffing the Trucks seemed to help just a smidge.

Eventually, a pair of waterlogged men Percy identified as Thomas’ driver and fireman could be seen trudging up to the Signal Box. It was rather apparent that Thomas had indeed got into another scrape.

Percy wanted to go, but Duck insisted that it would be better for he himself to seek Thomas out, as he knew the line better. After a reluctant agreement, the Great Western Engine sped off as fast as the wet rails would allow.

Thomas was utterly miserable.

The hold up from spilled fish (fish! disgusting!) on a line that ran further inland meant he had decided to take the lower coastal route instead. Unfortunately, these rails had been set up without sufficient checks being carried out and had in fact been ordered to be dismantled... only for the planned work there to get delayed and forgotten about in light of other projects.

As it was, the tide had unexpectedly surged inland, covering the section Thomas was crawling through, but also washing away clumps of the ground below him. 

Sunk and with a terrific pain in half of his wheels, he was only second to the Mine Incident in how stuck he was.

The sound of Duck’s whistle gave him a few moments of hope, before it faded upon realizing that he was not only off the rails, but sucked into the water. Duck was stronger than he was, but Thomas was still stranded here for a while, in need of a bigger heave than Duck could supply... He couldn’t see the other engine, but the chuffing got ever closer on a parallel line a few metres more inland.

Duck, meanwhile, was indulging in a bit of vindictive glee. Because honestly, what did Thomas expect, going this way, when he had no real reason to? It would cause more delays as he was rescued, so he ought to feel a little rotten for a while.

“Well Thomas, you know, there are two ways of doing things,” he boasted, “the wrong way, and the Great WestEERRRNNNN—”

His speech was compromised by the land slipping out beneath his own rails. Unlike Thomas, he wasn’t in the water, but he was as good as on an island, with the track ahead completely submerged.

His face went rather red. The grumbling crew hopped out of his cab to wade away for help. Thomas held off from talking, until the two men were out of earshot.

“I don’t think that’s the right way, either,” he snarked.

Only the rain punctuated the resentful silence.

The Pannier Tank had been looking with dismay at the mangled condition of the tracks, and the strip of land they lay on. It had been beautiful before, with wildflowers. Duck knew that erosion from the waves was always on the cards, but to see how much faster it declined from the poor conditions and a certain blue dolt rushing onto the line when it was sodden needled at him.

Thomas was morosely staring at his distorted reflection when Duck spoke next.

“This is your fault, you know. Charging off half cocked, I wouldn’t have come here if not for you. Now everything is going to be held up twice as long cause we’re both stuck.”

“Oh, cram it in your funnel.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

It was almost funny to hear one of Duck’s catchphrases at a time like this, but Thomas wasn’t in the mood. His wheels were aching, he was cold and wet, and he couldn’t get rid of the anxiety that kept nipping at his fire.

“Is Percy going to show up? Fat lot of good your arrival brought, it’d be nice to see him at least try to help out.”

Tediously, Duck being newly incensed didn’t stop him from nattering on, and on.

“You know what you are, Thomas? You’re inconsiderate and reckless. Didn’t think of how anyone else was going to go about their work, no, you just think of yourself. Even when you are properly in place and not stuck on part of a line, or in a snow drift, or whatever, you’ve such a sense of thinking you know everything. Don’t know why so many let you boss them around!”

“Quack, quack, quack, quack,” Thomas murmured. He didn’t have the energy to properly argue.

“You see?! You could at least take this a little bit seriously, but instead you’re selfish and rude and miserable.”

Maybe Thomas could try to get his boiler to explode. That might shut Duck up for a few blessed minutes.

“I think you’re quite the... the uh... a noxious friend to Percy!” he was saying.

Despite himself, Thomas had to turn that over in his mind a bit, he was so nonplussed. Finally the intent behind the words clicked into place.

“Stupid! It’s not noxious, it’s toxic! And I’m not!!”

“You are! You undermine him and take him for granted!”

“S’not true, you’re talking out of your bunker!”

“You only wish I were—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, how dare I disagree with Mr Great Western, Duck?! Duck’s always right, and never wrong, because he’s Great Western! All the engines love Duck, and want to listen to him, and even Diesel pays more attention to him than anyone else.”

“Hey, if you want Diesel so much, you can have him!”

“No fear! And I don’t want you, either, so why don’t you swan off and leave me in peace?”

“Oh, if only I could! Should leave you here as a feature of the coast- ‘Thomas the Submarine Engine’. That’ll get some tourism, for some reason you’re really popular with them. Probably because they don’t know what you’re like when not smiling for pictures.”

It was definitely a good thing that neither of them had hands, because if they were humans they’d be in a bloody heap by now. Instead Thomas just made an effort to pull himself out of the rut, but the horrific screeching of his wheels and jolts through his axels took all his bravado away.

Duck didn’t say anything for a long time after that.

Eventually, though, and in a much calmer voice: “... Are you crying?”

“No! It’s the rain, you simple so-and-so!”

But after that flare up he grimaced again.

Duck peered into the water, but only got the constantly rippling, disturbed silt by Thomas’ wheels. He couldn’t see if they were bent or wedged or even if the siderods had snapped off.

An uneasy feeling of guilt seeped into Duck’s smokebox. He was only enjoying Thomas’ predicament out of spite because he didn’t think he had been harmed in the accident.

“It must be your wheels,” he mused. “Probably bent out of shape.”

Thomas didn’t like showing weakness, but it was all a bit late now. “It’s not so bad.” He paused for a moment. “It wouldn’t bother me nearly so much if I wasn’t worried about Edward.”

It was easier to be brave when there wasn’t a definite reason to be, after all.

Duck looked straight ahead for a while, like he was trying to give the Tank Engine space. After staring into the gloom for a while, though, a light of recognition shone on his face.

Chapter Text

Left on his own, Percy almost shuddered at the sight of the sidings, jam-packed and soaking wet. He didn’t feel optimistic about being able to clear the mess alone, but he went through the motions anyway, even as he was straining to hear some sort of news update.

The downpour made it hard to see things more than a few yards away, so he felt very puzzled when a blue blur gradually drew closer. Surely it wasn’t Thomas?

….It wasn’t! The Whistle greeting him was different!

“Edward?!” he gasped, before rolling up to greet him, a bit unsteady on the slick rails. “What are you doing here? We were told you were a Hydroplane!”

“That’s about half right, I suppose.” But he was smiling. “I’d say it was a long story, but it really wasn’t. Just a lot of delay afterwards, as they had to set up replacement rail services. The whole area by the station is cut off by floods.”

“But then, what happened before that?”

“Well, I did come off the rails. But with Driver keeping his hands on my controls and a fair bit of luck, I landed back on them again.”

“But the way the people were going on, we thought something awful had happened!” Percy sounded cross.

“No need to sound too disappointed,” Edward teased, though his own grin faded as he saw how glum Percy was, and the complete absence of the others. “Oh dear, I hope you lot haven’t been too worried?”

“Thomas went to get to you! Then Duck went after him because his crew came back. Without him!” Percy blurted out. “And now I don’t know what they’re doing!”

As if on cue, Duck’s crew arrived.

“Ah,” said Edward. “I think I’ve got an idea, now.”

He looked over at Percy. “Why don’t you go send them a message, while we get prepared over here? It may take a while with all the rain, and you mustn’t rush yourself. But if you know the way they went, I’m sure they’d like an update and to know help will come… in time.”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He peeped in reply and went off carefully along the same set of tracks that the others had used. When Edward had arrived, it was on an alternative route.

Despite how much his boiler bubbled in anticipation, Percy took care to be slow and cautious. It would be nice to be the least accident-prone engine of the day, after all. As a result, he was also travelling along quietly, or at least the sound he did make was hidden by the pitter-patter whoosh of rain.

Thomas and Duck came into view, facing away from Percy. He was delighted and was just about to Peep Peep in greeting, but then he caught the sound of raised, agitated voices.

Oh no, they’re arguing. His face screwed up in displeasure. Hadn’t they had enough of that already? But it got worse when he heard his own name a couple of times.

Now feeling tremendously awkward, Percy decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and left without their noticing.

When he bashfully reappeared at the yard, Edward had coupled to a breakdown train and looked surprised. “That was fast! I thought you’d want to stay and chat with them?”

“N-no. They didn’t know I was there.”

“What? Are they alright?!”

“I think so! Well, sort of. They were already rather tense when we were working together, and now they were full-blown shouting. I’m not sure what’s rattling their frames, but I think I had something to do with it, somehow.” He trailed off towards the end of the sentence and got very interested in the sleepers beneath him.

Edward didn’t say anything for a while. He even set off without whistling, though slow enough for Percy to notice and catch up without skidding around.

The Blue Engine seemed to be thinking quite hard, and eventually offered something for Percy to go on. “I suspect they were bickering because, well, you’re very good friends with both of them. But, they aren’t as close to each other.”

“Oh no, I’m not one of those Middle Engines, am I?!”

“Middle Engines don’t exist, Percy. It would be a staggering lack of safety. But you might be a bit stuck in the middle of these two, figuratively.”

“I don’t want to be! How do I get them to stop?”

“I suppose you’d need to tell them. As they’re both fond of you, they wouldn’t be doing it on purpose. Make them aware that their rows put you in an awkward spot, and it’s possible they’ll come to some kind of understanding.”

Percy still didn’t like the situation one bit. “But why don’t they like each other?” he asked, one level of agitation below wailing — but it was a near thing.

Edward looked like he would have liked to have closed his eyes for a few moments, but it was too important to watch the rails for that. “My guess is that they’re too similar — like the sides of a coin. It’s a shame, as they could get on like a house on fire — ”

“A what? Fire??”

“ —very very amicably. But something about that pair doesn’t connect, so instead they argue. It’s a shame something’s amiss.”

Percy was thinking hard.

“Is it,” he started haltingly, afraid what was about to say would sound silly. If it was any other engine than Edward, he probably would have given up. “Do you think it’s because Duck thinks things, while Thomas... doesn’t?” 

“What would you say Thomas does in place of thinking?” Edward’s voice was light and almost amused. 

“Thomas, I s’pose he doesn’t think with his buffers, but with his… ooh, isn’t this a Meta-Four? That he does things because of his feelings? Anyway,” he said with a slight huff, “I expect it’s the sort of thing that humans would understand better.”

“You may be on to something there.” Edward gazed back with a slight smile. “Certainly, when he does feel things, he feels them very strongly.”

Percy would have been able to tell Edward about an incident two Thursdays ago that had ended in two days’s worth of a sulking, simmering Thomas, but closed his mouth when, yet again, they were closing the distance to their stranded friends. This time, the route had them facing the stranded pair, and Percy felt a bit better when both their expressions brightened at the sight of their soon-to-be rescue.

Duck was pulled free first, essentially only needing to be pulled clear of the water until his (fairly soggy) crew could re-stoke his fire, and he was then able to move himself and profusely thank them for the help.

That Duck was not dutifully hurrying back to the yard to pick back up on their abandoned shunting struck Percy as a little odd. What was more, Duck wasn’t saying much else, mostly hovering and looking between the other three, and sometimes towards the invisible Isle of Man over in the distance.

Poor Thomas. He had grimy water sloshing around his running board and was listing slightly forward where the rails dipped, and if what he had mentioned about the ache in his axles was accurate, there was probably damage to his wheels too. Yet he looked more tired than pained or angry — though Edward didn’t miss (or bring attention to) the signs that he had been crying earlier.

What was most important now was winching him free with the cranes. Once elevated, the rest of them saw how half his wheels were bent out of shape.

It sounded like the green Tank Engines behind him gasped. Edward would have shot them a glance if he wasn’t too busy moving a flatbed into position for Thomas to be loaded onto.

For his part, Thomas had been very subdued, but it seemed being set down caused a jolt that shook him out of the glumness, back to the indignant fusspot they knew and loved.

“Oi, careful! That’s agonising, it is! Haven’t I had enough pain for today?” 

Edward laughed. “Sorry, old chap, but you know the cranes aren’t quite as delicate as that.”

With the scowling Engine securely loaded, they just had to maneuver back onto the through line, then Edward would take him to the Works. The rain evidently felt no need to stop yet, but Edward liked to think more of the sun was shining now the danger factor had been removed. 

Thomas spoke as they passed the green pair. “I’m sorry about your tracks, Duck.” Thomas did hold Branch Lines as one of the few things sacred to life, after all.

“Oh! It’s alright, wasn’t really your doing, was it? So I’m sorry for blaming you.”

“S’right, just… uhm… good luck with the rest of the work, then.”

Percy and Duck, who hadn’t yet moved, both whistled as Edward continued on his way. They would have quite a task ahead of them but by now Edward was positive the rain was easing into something more like a light mist.

Left alone, Percy eyed Duck. He felt the weight of the accidental eavesdropping heavy on his boiler, but had intended to remain quiet.

The intention did not overcome his self restraint, however.

“Do you really think Thomas is a bad friend to me?!” he blurted.

Duck looked so shocked it would have been funny at another time. But he then looked rather uncomfortable and awkward. “Ah, I said that in the heat of the moment…”

“But still, were you just saying it, or is it something you’ve thought before?”

Duck let off steam and looked unhappy, but he retained eye contact. “It’s something I’ve thought, yes. Past tense, like. But now I’m not sure.”

Percy chuckled slightly.

“He has been known to be a bit of a tosser,” he chirped, “but most of the time he’s decent, or rather fun. You know? It’s not like how you and I are, but it’s a thing we have with each other and honestly, I can’t imagine it another way!”

“Maybe you should?” Duck said, cautiously.

“Well, I have. Imagined it.” Percy’s face straightened out, to show he was being honest and not just waving the question away. “But really, even when he is a bit of a prat, it means I can pay him out, which is always fun. Remember when you gave Henry those tenders? Oh, you should have seen Thomas when I gave him this Brake Van — but I’m rambling a bit, aren’t I? My point is that you needn’t worry, Duck.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe I need to work with him more to tell for myself. I want to be fair. Honestly, the one time I was on Ffarquhar and looked after Annie and Clarabel, ‘cause he was unwell? They only had nice things to say, other than him being cheeky. I hadn’t thought of that much ‘till now. And there’s his thing with Edward, who’s a better judge of character than any of us.”

Percy smiled. “Like BoCo? You said before you only started trusting him ‘cause he was a friend of Edward’s, didn’t you?” It had been something Duck had confessed to Percy in strictest confidence once, but they were alone and it seemed apt.

“Yes, I admit Diesel left a rotten taste in my mouth. Silly, really.” He seemed to laugh slightly at the memory. Percy grinned. Duck hardly ever let on uncertainty, and he always felt proud and comfortable, to be so trusted by the bigger engine.

The two were chatting on the way back to the yard, where the stockpile of Trucks awaited them. They were in high enough spirits to see this as a challenge.

Edward and Thomas had both been quiet. The both of them were (perhaps all-too) familiar with the journey to The Works, after all, and it was rather pointless to bring attention to the wetness of the surroundings by now.

Eventually, the still much lower energy version of Thomas’ voice floated down. “Edward?”

“Yes, Thomas?” 

“I do feel rotten right now.”

“I bet you do. But if it’s just your wheels, they’ll get them fixed in a jiffy! No doubt they have a good stockpile of your type.”

“It’s not just that, though.”

Edward was conscious that he may have slowed down, but he wanted to see what Thomas was going to say next.

A weary sort of sigh (for he had no steam left to release in a big cloud) and a slight shifting on the flatbed. “I am a Silly Engine. This wouldn’t have happened, but I was so worried about you.”

“Ah, Thomas! You know you don’t need to worry so much about me!”

“I do know!” he huffed. “But I fret anyway!”

“Well, being sweet and being silly aren’t mutually exclusive.” In lieu of being able to look back at Thomas, he whistled slightly. “I like knowing you’re watching my tender, but, well, do watch out for yourself, alright.”

“I’ll try.” There was a long pause where Edward thought Thomas may have drifted off to sleep, but then a drowsy, “Glad you’re fine…” could just barely be heard over the last of the day’s rain.

The rain had stopped falling in earnest an hour or two ago, now demoted to a faint drizzle that was easy to tune out. Vast puddles still connected many different lines of track with muddy water, but the yellowish glow from the sun valiantly shining through gaps in the cloud made everything look much safer than it had.

With Thomas in good hands, Edward was heading back to the yard en route to his next assignment. He couldn’t help but to keep turning over thoughts in his head, from the little observations he’d been able to make among the chaos earlier. And in spite of that mess, he found himself smiling.

He stood by what he told Percy before — that Thomas and Duck may be too similar to each other and they didn’t often see that they were indeed on the same side — but maybe this time, there had been that rare moment. They were certainly more considerate to one another that last time than Percy’s reports of the prior argument.

Even with his aversion to conflict, Edward almost wanted to have been able to see the shift with his own eyes. The revolution that had them able to patch things up.

But of course, he was just glad that it had happened, whether or not he could bear witness.

He could see the yard from here, much more organised than just an hour ago. Thomas was still due to return, and may even get back soon, but Edward wouldn’t be able to get approval to hang around, even with the legitimate help he could offer. It was possible he had a slightly selfish motive in wanting to see how things unfolded.

On the upshot, gossip did tend to reach him fairly quickly, so he’d soon be brought up to date, even if it was third hand from a line of trucks.  

They’d made progress that surprised even Duck, so the two green Tank Engines were each having a rest to restock on coal and water. The irony of the latter wasn’t wasted on him, either. Edward came and went, looking serene, but more surprising was Donald’s arrival, the first time Duck saw him since the early hours of the morning. Unlike Edward, Donald looked rather annoyed.

“Och aye!” he exclaimed, unprompted. “Some Engine made a right hash o’ the line! I know it wasn’t ye, Duck, but whose buffers do I have to bump for the extra fuss?”

Duck rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it get your funnel in a twist, it already happened, didn’t it?”

Donald’s eyes moved toward Percy, who was on a siding a ways off. “I see ye’ve got help down here today. Or is help the right word ta use?”

“It wasn’t Percy!” Duck snapped, too quickly. “As I’ve said, it’s in the past now, grousing isn’t going to repair it.”

“Hmm. I did see ol’ Edward pulling a flatbed from yon Works. Could that be related?”

“Maybe. But anyway, are you going to make yourself useful while you’re here?”

“‘Fraid not, wee Pannier! Too much to do, too many commitments. But now I just want ta know why you’re acting so cagey. Whose record are ye trying to stop from being blotted?”

Duck remained resolutely silent. Which made the shrill Whistle of a certain blue Tank Engine all the easier to hear, even as far off in the distance as it was.

Donald looked triumphant. “Aha, it’s all falling inta place now! Why didne just say so?”

“Because it isn’t any of your business — ”

“It is! We’re going to have ta fix that stretch of track, or else lay alternative — ”

“I know, I know. But there’s more to it that you aren’t privy to, thank-you-very-much! I’ll have you know that in circumstances such as that, well, it was perfectly reasonable.”

“... Ye’ve lost me there, lad. I think yer point was in that speech, but I don’t have the time to puzzle it out. I’ll take ye word for it, whatever it was, and be going now.”

And he went off with a bemused, deep toned Whistle.

Duck still felt like he’d said more than he’d meant to. He was just huffing surplus steam away when Thomas, complete with six intact wheels, appeared. Thomas’ face was oddly expressionless. Duck couldn’t think of many times he’d seen Thomas not feeling a mood strongly enough to wear on his face.

They both waited for the other to speak, eventually Duck opened his mouth but got cut off before an explanation could be formed.

“Thanks, Duck.”

He tried to smile in a wry way. “What for?”

Thomas looked skyward for a moment, as if he was summoning something unseen. “You don’t need to be coy. Everything. Today, at least. Putting up with me making a mess of your Branch Line mostly, but I like that you didn’t dob me in to Donald, either. I don’t know if he’ll go tell the others, but you at least didn’t tell him straight up. I think it’s only fair I owe you one… or two, I s’pose.”

“I’m just doing things the Great Western Way, you know!” But he couldn’t help but smirk. “Though I suppose I can think of something you can do for me.” A devilish gleam shone in his eye. “The first thing is that you have to admit my Branch Line is more scenic than yours!”

Predictably, Thomas did seem to flush with anger for a moment, before he calmed enough to blurt out “It is not!” But then, something magical happened, and he caught himself. “ ...on a day like today. The skies need to be clearer and the sea less murky for it to look nicer than... parts of Ffarquhar.”

Duck’s laughter was echoed in a line of Trucks. They seemed to have heard everything. “Kiss! Kiss! Make Up, Make — OWWWOWOW!”

Percy’s angelic face peered up, having just ran into the train fairly forcefully. “Hullo! Are we back to work now?”

Of course, there wasn’t much time left in the day by this point, but the last hour went by without further mishap…. On Duck’s line, at least.