Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arriving on Sodor had not been an easy task for Oliver, but after a year of being on the run, he was finally at his destination. His new home. Hopefully, it was the only home he would know from that point on. It was an almost impossible wish, but one he hoped would come true. Douglas had been so kind to Oliver, from the moment they were coupled up, to the moment the Caledonian left for his shed. Douglas had been a breath of fresh air, an engine that did not speak down to him, taunt him with the scrapyard or reduce him to a number. Oliver struggled to remember when an engine had last spoken to him that way, but he was extremely grateful to the big engine.

Sir Topham Hatt had briefly spoken to Oliver and welcomed him to the island before moving to speak with his driver and the engineers fixing him. Oliver gazed over at the engine that had brought the controller to him. An old mid-sized blue engine who seemed to be very happy upon Oliver's arrival. Quickly enough the engine had introduced himself and enquired about Oliver's health. Edward had seemed genuinely happy that Oliver was on their railway, something Oliver was unsure about. When he was first brought to his old branch line, the engine that came before him was unhappy about being replaced. Oliver himself now understood why the engine had been so cold and distant to him, he had done that to the diesels who had removed him from his line. To see an engine excited to see him arrive was certainly unusual to him. Oliver felt his nerves slowly dissipate the more he talked to the older engine, Oliver hoped he could be friends with Edward.

“Do you know which paintwork you will have yet?” Edward had asked from the track across from Oliver. Oliver paused for a moment and examined Edward. Oliver had noted that Douglas was a black engine and that Edward was blue; would those be his choice of colour? Oliver had never had a choice before in his paint. He had originally been Great Western green, before a brief stint in BR black; It seemed an odd thing for him to choose.

“Isn't it down to the controller to decide?” Oliver enquired curiously.

“Not recently,” Edward chuckled understanding the confusion. He had this conversation with the last few arrivals on Sodor and had much the same reaction. “Pretty much everyone has chosen their colours since their arrival. Sir Topham Hatt likes his engines to be happy and getting to choose paint is something we all enjoy.”

“So is it only black and blue?” Oliver enquired, there was no way there could be more colours, could there be? That wouldn't make them uniform. They were supposed to work together as one, but having more than one colour already put that unity into question for Oliver.

“Oh no,” Edward explained softly, “there are many colours on our rails. Myself, Thomas and Gordon are North Western blue, James wears red and the twins wear black.” Oliver had wondered what colour Donald was, Douglas had spoken so much about them on their long trip back. As Edward listed the colours off, the older engine could see a tiny spark of joy growing in Oliver, he hoped the engine was enjoying the little choice he had after so long without it. “We also have Henry, Percy and Duck who wear green.” Edward chuckled, “Although, Duck would argue that his green is very different from the others.”

“How so?” Asked Oliver, seeming to beam at the mention of green.

Great Western Engines, thought Edward cheerfully.

“Well, like yourself, Duck is a Great Western engine and when given the choice he chose his old lines colours,” Edward continued. “I'm sure he would be thrilled to have you in green like him if you wanted.”

Douglas had explained to him that there was another GWR engine on their line. A pannier tank that had his own branch line, Oliver had not had much chance to ask about the other engine due to arriving at their destination. It was exciting to think he would be meeting another survivor of their railway. Maybe survivor wasn't the word, Douglas had mentioned that Duck had been purchased long before he and his brother had arrived on the island. Perhaps he had arrived before the movement to diesel. Oliver was sure it wouldn't be long before he was meeting the other Great Western engine and he was certainly excited to do so.

That night Oliver had thought long and hard about which paint he would like; The idea of being green again had intrigued him greatly. Oliver had always loved the colour and had been devastated when he was told that he would painted black to fit in with the rest of the British Railway fleet. However, Oliver was also interested in potentially perusing a different colour, having a choice was something he had never been given before. His driver, Euan held up different swatches of the colour to help the decision. It had helped him a little, but even with consideration of the different colours, his eyes kept reverting back to the two greens they had.

"I don't think you will want anything but green, old boy," Euan sighed as he lowered the blue and red paint swatches. He slowly walked over to the the two greens and picked them up, he examined them closely before turning back to his engine. "You may like to be adventurous, but I think you are set on green paint."

Oliver gave a sigh, he had to agree with his driver. He had wanted to be exciting and different, but the truth was he needed some comfort and green was that comfort. Which green would be a consideration for later, but for now he could at least say he was green. Euan raised the two paints towards his engine when a large diesel horn echoed around the works. Oliver had instantly jumped on his wheels forcing him back into the small cover provided by the works shed; his whole body stood silently as he held on to his breath, his eyes darting to see where the diesel horn had come from. Euan for his part had darted under Oliver's buffer, his hand resting softly against the underside as he too looked around for the source of the noise. The rumbling of wheels on the track came from the left of the works; small glimpses of a green CO-BO engine as it ran behind a row of trees and into the distance.

The two gave a few minutes of silence to confirm the departure of the engine before moving and daring to make a noise. Euan looked over at Oliver for a moment, his heart shattered by the vision before him. It reminded Euan of his child brother who would cower from a nightmare. Throughout the entire escape, Oliver had been brave and strong, never letting anything concern him. His determination had been something to admire, and Euan hoped that when people heard Oliver's story, it would be the main thing to take away from it. But before him was a scene that would shake that belief. Oliver was shaking on his wheels, something Euan had only seen once, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, with small whimpers coming from the little engine; even his remaining steam seemed to cower close to his body as if flew into the night air. Oliver looked small at that moment, the strong engine that had led them to safety was not to be seen, in his place Euan saw nothing but a cowering child needing comfort. Oliver had always seemed mature to Euan, he had understood the situation they had been in and even spoke deeply about the prospect of being caught and scrapped. Oliver had taken it in his stride and had seemed older in those moments. However, what Euan had failed to remember was that Oliver was young, especially in engine years. Euan had seen the K2 that had arrived earlier, how mature and wise it had acted; Oliver was young and inexperienced with the world compared to it, yet Oliver had been thrust into the difficult position of meeting his demise. Euan had hated it, the moment the thought of scrap had been uttered to him, especially knowing Oliver was one of the very few in his class left, it had made his blood boil. He had raged on Oliver's behalf, he had accused, berated and betrayed the man who had given him a job to defend his engine. He had never once stopped to consider that the situation might have been too much for the little engine, but now the result was staring him in the face.

"It's alright," Euan whispered as he rubbed Oliver's buffer beam. "It's going to be okay. We are safe." Oliver sniffled a little before slowly opening his eyes. Euan could see the shame behind his tired eyes. "You've been strong for so long, it's okay. We made it." Euan moved to sit on Oliver's buffer beam and leaned against his engine. Euan knew that Oliver enjoyed touch from others, even if it was a small tap. It gave him the confidence he needed.

"I'm here," Euan whispered once more. "Rest. I'll keep watch." Oliver hesitantly muttered a weak okay before he slowly closed his eyes. Occasional whimpers escaped the engines and the small shakes were less visible as he slowly fell asleep. Euan knew that it would be a restless sleep. Oliver had vivid dreams while they had been on the run and on the rare occasions when he had been able to take a long rest he had awoken with a cry of terror. Euan had been there to comfort him every time and he would continue to be there.

Oliver didn't have to wait long to meet Duck. Two days and sleepless nights later, Sir Topham Hatt and Duck arrived at the steam works to check that Oliver was ready for work.

“Oliver,” Sir Topham Hatt stated, “this is Duck. You two will be working close together until you learn the ins and outs of the line. I have put you on the coastal line to Arlsburgh. It seems only fitting that the two of you should work on this line together.”

“Yes sir,” Oliver smiled looking over at the new engine. Oliver's smile brightened as he noticed the pannier tank in Great Western green and a golden 5741 on his side. He had decided to be green after the Fat Controller assured him it would not be a problem and it was indeed a very good choice in his opinion. Duck looked as wonderful as any of the pannier tanks that Oliver had seen. Although Oliver did not personally know Duck, it was common knowledge on GWR that panniers were the hardest-working engine of all meaning he would be in for a busy day.

“It's nice to meet a Great Western engine again,” Duck greeted with a happy wheesh of steam. “Welcome to Sodor, Oliver.”

“It's good to finally be here,” Oliver replied.

“First, we will take you on your final test run down the line,” Sir Topham Hatt explained with a pat of Oliver's buffers. “Providing that everything is well, you will continue down the line with Duck towards his branch line. There you will be shadowing Duck today.”

“Yes sir,” Oliver wheeshed happily. “Thank you, sir.”

As Oliver ran down the line with Duck trailing not far behind him he couldn't stop the grin on his face. A few times Duck had to remind Oliver to slow down as they reached curves or points, he was not running away anymore, and Oliver couldn't have been happier. It had been such a long time since he had run in the sun, just enjoying the wind rushing past his frame and feeling the warm sun on his boiler. It almost felt like the old days. He wanted to prove he was ready to work, that he wanted to be useful and could be. As they ran, Oliver was thrilled with the colours of the world around him, Sodor seemed brighter and more colourful than the mainland. There were lush green fields all around, tall trees bracketing small roads and houses they passed. In the distance, Oliver could even see mountains that he wondered if he could run up. Everything was so new and exciting to him.

The two were moved into a siding while Euan went to make a call in the signal man's box; His driver had been happy with his performance. Duck's driver Stefan, even commented on how well Oliver had looked running along the track. Duck and Oliver quietly spoke to themselves about the line they would be working on as they waited for the Controller's confirmation for Oliver to work. A whistle startled the two from their conversation.

“Well, dinny you two look a fine pair,” called a Scottish twin. Oliver couldn't see the tender to know which twin it was. He wanted to guess it was Douglas, but he was unsure and did not want to be rude.

“Good morning Donald,” called Duck with a whistle.

“Is this the wee lad Douggie has taken tae?” Donald smiled at Oliver with a cheeky grin. Donald checked over Oliver for a moment, no doubt impressed with the condition Oliver was now in compared to how Douglas had described him.

“Oliver this is Donald, Douglas' twin, if you haven't worked it out,” Duck introduced.

“Aye, am the handsome one o' us,” he chuckled gaining a roll of the eyes from Duck.

“Hello Donald, Douglas told me all about you.” Oliver smiled as he noticed his driver returning. Douglas had spent their time running together talking about Donald and some of the adventures they had gone on. Oliver had appreciated it, as it made the long journey entertaining.

“Good things, a hope.”

“You heading to the other line?” Duck asked a bit sourly.

“Arch, no.” Donald answered, “Just tae works. Am to pick up some coaches and a brake van. And a have ta be quick. Driver's bairn could be here soon. I'll see ya at the sheds.” He whistled and headed on his way. Oliver was slightly confused at the accent, Donald's seeming far thicker than Douglas' own.

“Did he say the driver's bear?” Oliver enquired as he felt the pressure begin to build in his boiler.

“No,” Duck laughed and rolled back onto the main line for Oliver to join him. “Bairn is a Scottish word which means child. You will hear all sorts from those two.” Oliver rolled back to join him on the line. “Don't worry, you will get used to it after a while.”

Oliver and Duck continued down the line until they pulled into a large station, Tiddmouth. Oliver gawked at the high glass ceiling above him as they pulled into the station. The air around them buzzed with excitement as passengers moved around the different platforms. A few boys chased Oliver and Duck down the platform waving and cheering till they came to a stop. Oliver and Duck's drivers stepped out to talk to the curious boys. A few workers on the platform waved and tipped their hats towards the engines. Oliver noticed on the other side of the station were two blue engines. Edward and a small blue tank engine.

“Nice to see you out Oliver,” Edward greeted, his coaches chattering behind him in awe of the Great Western engines. “Your paintwork is looking splendid. Sir Topham Hatt has approved you to work then?”

For the most part, Oliver's paintwork had been complete, however, Sir Topham Hatt had been unsure what number to give Oliver. Oliver had given his GWR number to the controller when they had first been introduced, along with his name. Not once had the old man referred to him by number which had confused Oliver a little. Sir Topham Hatt had never brought up his GWR number again apart from mentioning to his driver that he would consider giving Oliver number 11 instead. Not much had been decided on that front and so Oliver had been left without his number.

“Yes, he has,” smiled Oliver brightly at the older engine. “I'm to shadow Duck today, hopefully, I will be able to work on my own soon.”

“Duck is a great teacher, you will learn lots from him,” Edward smiled before a guard's whistle called. He whistled himself before pulling out of the station.

Oliver now had the chance to see the other engine on the platform. He was a stubby blue tank engine, no bigger than Oliver himself with number 1 painted on his side. The engine smiled over at him.

“Hello Oliver,” he began. “I'm Thomas, I run the Ffarquhar branch line. Douglas told me about your journey to Sodor. You will have to tell us the whole story in the sheds tonight.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” Oliver answered. “I'm sure you have some stories to tell yourself too.”

“Far too many,” Duck muttered quietly to himself.

Oliver had missed the comment due to the exciting boys jumping in front of him asking many questions, Thomas gave the pannier tank a disapproving look before puffing off himself. Oliver laughed as the boys jumped with excitement at his answers to their questions.

“We should stock up on coal and water before heading to get the coaches,” Duck whistled, announcing their departure. Both whistled to the boys before heading down the line towards the yard.

“Duck, do you think I will get my own coaches?” Oliver asked as they pulled up to the water tower first.

“I should hope so,” Duck smiled at him. “You can't go around using my coaches when I use them. Besides, you'll need special coaches, won't you? Driver tried to explain to me how you use coaches differently, but I didn't understand it really.”

“It's not that different,” Oliver began to explain. He was used to people finding him different to other engines. It made him feel special. “Basically with levers and pullies, my driver can operate me from a coach as long as I am attached to an auto coach. It just means I spend less time turning like you have to.”

“Sounds very useful,” Duck hummed.

“It is,” Oliver smiled.

Soon Oliver was coupled behind Duck before they collected their coaches. Oliver was very quiet during the experience in the yard, watching all the workmen, firemen and drivers examine them to ensure they were safe. Although Oliver knew he was safe, especially with Duck in front of him, he still felt a little fear when any of the men went out of his vision. It was a remnant of being on the run, he always needed to know where humans were around him and if he was being seen. Oliver had quivered slightly and Duck had given him a reassuring tap of their buffers.

“I'm here,” Duck wheeshed steam gently towards Oliver, giving him some warmth and comfort. Oliver took a slow breath before pushing into Ducks buffers to acknowledge him. With a few deep breaths, Oliver kept his sights on Duck.

If he can do it then I can too, thought Oliver.

The two slowly made their way into Tidmouth station, more people seemed to be in the station than previously. It held more people than Oliver had seen in a long time. Tidmouth had been busy when they first arrived, but now it was impossible for them to track all the people around them. The passengers swarmed to look at the two Great Western engines coupled together. Many commented on the matching paintwork, how wonderful they looked and about having a new engine. Soon the passengers made their way to the coaches, leaving them to wait for their guard to whistle.

“Take it slow,” Duck reminded him. “You have passengers now, we have to be gentle.”

“Yes, I know,” Oliver answered with a growing smile. The chatting of people filled his boiler, making him feel warmer than he had been in a long time. It had been such a long time since he had felt this way. The guard whistle blew and slowly they pulled out of the station and north to Tidmouth tunnel. The coaches complimented them on their smooth departure. The run was simple, to begin with, it curved around a small lake on their left that was being enjoyed by people on a warm day.

“Have you ever run down by the seaside before?” Asked Duck as they puffed towards a tunnel. Oliver looked as a large tunnel with a castle-like aesthetic came into view.

“Only while I was escaping,” Oliver answered honestly as he watched the tunnel edge closer. “It was mostly nighttime, so I can't say I much enjoyed them. We did stop at a siding near the sea once. The waves sounded nice.”

“Then you will like my little line,” Duck chuckled and whistled before going into the tunnel.

Oliver held a breath as they thundered through the tunnel and out the other side. The darkness only lasted a few seconds before Oliver was greeted with a strong smell of the sea. A sunshine coast appeared on his left, and the sound of gulls and waves echoed in the distance. Green mash land lay on both sides of the tracks with little streams snaking their way around. Oliver was in awe of it, he had never seen such a beautiful place before. Up ahead a station came into view with a large group of passengers on it. They came slowly to a stop, a wheesh of steam emitted from the two engines as people moved to allow other people to disembark first.

The station master walked along the platform dodging in and out of passengers. He was an older man with a kind smile. Oliver had assumed that the station master was going to speak to them before veering off to one of the benches where a duck sat. Oliver blinked in confusion at the white duck sitting happily on the station bench. She quacked loudly as the station master walked towards her. Oliver noted the small bowl in the station master's hand which he placed gently in front of the duck. The duck quacked loudly again with a flap of their wings before beginning to feed on what was in the bowl.

“Good morning Noah,” Called Duck sounding happy as the station master turned to regard the two engines.

“Good morning Duck,” he smiled with a tip of his hat.

“How is Dilly doing?” Duck enquired.

“She is just grand,” Noah responded with a bright smile. “Gave us quite a scare she did. But she is almost back to her old self again.” He turned his attention to Oliver and examined him for a moment. “You must be Oliver. Welcome to our little line.”

“Thank you, sir,” Oliver answered politely, however, his attention was still drawn to the duck sitting on the platform. Multiple questions ran through Oliver's head as he pondered the small creature. How was it tamed? Was this common for all the stations on the coastal run? Were there other animals that belonged to the stations? Before Oliver could voice a single question the guard whistle blew and Duck responded as they began on their way.

“Enjoy the run,” Noah called to them before leaving the platform.

“Here comes the best bit,” Duck laughed as they slowly made their way up the line towards another tunnel, this one seeming to be carved from a cliff itself. A tunnel? Oliver pondered, what was so special about a tunnel. Looking at the carved cave Oliver could not see much to be impressed by. The tunnel they had previously passed had been more impressive in his own opinion with its carved stone themed after a castle. Oliver was wrong, however, for it was not the tunnel, but what lay beyond it.

They emerged out of the tunnel to be greeted with sheer red cliffs on their right with flowery fields sitting atop them. A small family waved to them from up high and Duck whistled to them which seemed to bring cheers their way from the children. To their left, however, was the most beautiful thing Oliver had ever seen. Miles of sand followed their track as it curved around the rock face, parting it from the sea. The warm golden sand looked inviting, as many people walked along its warm path. Beyond that lay the sea, the shimmering blue seemed to dance as the sun reflected its rays on the inviting waves. With a clear day like it was, it was hard to see where the sky started and the sea ended. It was a breathtaking sight. They curved and another cliff hung above them creating a small bridge of rock to the sandy shore only to reveal more sea side. Oliver must have made an impressed sound for Duck laughed once more and said,

“I told you.”

They passed over a small bridge that slopped to see a small waterfall below them before it turned into a river, where a boat lay on its sandy bank waiting for its owner. The grassy noles swayed in the small breeze around them. Birds rested in the grass and on the front of the boat seeming unbothered by the two engines that passed by.

“This is incredible,” Oliver whistled happily as he continued to take in the sights of the line. They continued happily along the line, passing multiple stations until they stopped at their final station at Callan. As they pulled into the station two engines awaited them. An old brown tram engine with the number 7 on his side, and the unmistakable black engine with 10 that denoted Douglas. The two were greeted by a loud whistle from Douglas as they stopped at the station.

“Looking grand,” Douglas laughed as passengers began to disembark from the two Great Western engine coaches.

“Indeed,” added the tram engine, “you two are a fine pair to see running down the line.”

“Oliver this is Toby. This is the station for transfers up to his line.” Duck introduced happily. “And I think you know Douglas by now.”

“Nice to meet you,” Oliver whistled back happily. Oliver smiled brightly as he saw his friend once again. He was ever so grateful to Douglas, he hadn't gotten a chance to speak to him since their arrival on Sodor and Douglas' departure for the sheds.

“Nice ta see ya in green laddie,” Douglas smiled happily. “Much better than tha red they had you in.”

“I much prefer green,” Oliver laughed.

“Green is by far better than red,” Duck joked from the front of their train.

“Don't let James hear you say that,” said Toby with a playful note in his voice.

“Are ya enjoyin' the run so far?” Douglas asked brightly.

“It's a beautiful run,” Oliver cheerfully answered, “It's been so long since I've had a good run in the sun.” A sad smile was placed on all the engine's lips, but Oliver was blissfully unaware, too fascinated by the sights around him.

“I should think you did a lot of running along the tracks at night from what Douglas has told us,” Toby assumed honestly with a little worry on his face. No doubt everyone had heard something about Oliver's journey by now.

“It was a lot of running. I never got to enjoy what I was going past,” Oliver admitted honestly, sadness pulling at his boiler. He had done the right thing by running away but had missed a lot of things on the way which he should have taken pleasure in. He hoped to make up the sights he had missed by working on Sodor on such a beautiful line.

“You will make it up,” Duck spoke up, a cheerful note in his voice. “The coastal run is by far the prettiest line, but there are other lines that are also nice to run along.”

“Aye, ta fishing run is a nice long one,” Douglas wheeshed cheerfully. “It takes ya down ta west coast of Sodor and straight tae Knappford Harbour if you're lucky.”

“Is that a passenger line?” Oliver enquired. When he had spoken to Sir Topham Hatt originally, he had been informed that Oliver would mainly work with passengers, something Oliver had been created for. Oliver had limited work with trucks, not that he was incapable of dealing with them.

“No,” Duck answered. “This is the last station for passengers. Anything past here is a goods line up to the fishing village. Sir Topham Hatt is hoping to expand the passenger line further after the tourist season.”

“There is Callan Castle too,” Toby added. A guard's whistle called and Toby wrang his bell. “Nice to meet you, Oliver. I hope to see you again soon.” Oliver whistled goodbye to the old tram engine.

Oliver and Duck continued their journey up and down the line two more times before Oliver found himself starting to become tired. Oliver was not an unhealthy engine by any means, but having been on the run with only a brake van, making random and inconsistent stops had lowered his pulling tolerance. After their second run, Duck suggested Oliver rest in the sheds at Tidmouth Hault, he could enjoy the scenery and still get to see engines going past. Oliver had been reluctant to listen to the pannier, due to him wanting to be useful, but Duck had won him over in the end; with a little help from Douglas who coincidentally was also taking a short rest at the same time. Duck promised that he would come to get Oliver on his last run of the day up to Callan before they called it for the day. That had cheered Oliver up, making him feel not so useless.

As he rested in the siding, Douglas dozing in the sun beside him, Oliver couldn't help but think how lucky he was to have made it all the way to Sodor. Multiple times he had sat in sidings praying and hoping that no one would find him. He had been too exhausted to run but had no option but to continue. On multiple occasions, something had gone wrong or broken leaving him feeling that it was the end, but his crew and Toad had depended on him in that time. He might have been the driving force, but he could not have made it without his crew and Toad giving him a real reason to run. True he had wanted to be free and not be scrapped like all the other steam engines he knew, but somehow having Toad and his crew there had made him fight harder and run longer for the escape. Oliver wondered how Toad was doing. He had been left in the steam works for more repairs while Oliver had been left to run down the line. Oliver had hoped, even discussed with Toad about the two of them running around Sodor together on cold dark nights when there was little else for them to do. It had become a bonding exercise for them, they could gauge how the other was doing. If Oliver was going to work with coaches again, then it would be unlikely for him to need a brake van. Oliver wondered if there was a way he could keep Toad close. He may be cheeky in thinking it, but he wondered if he could ask Sir Topham Hatt to allow Toad to be used on the coastal run. Douglas had mentioned how he was mainly a heavy goods engine. Perhaps Oliver could ask for Toad to be Douglas' brake van. It was certainly a long shot, and Oliver wasn't entirely sure if the brake van rules on Sodor were the same as they had been on the GWR. He would have to ask Duck about the difference, no doubt there had to have been some.

Oliver wondered about the other engines on the island. He had met a few of them so far and all had been nice. He had especially enjoyed speaking to Edward and Toby, both older and wiser engines that Oliver was sure he could learn something from. Oliver had caught a glimpse of a large blue engine pulling out of Tidmouth earlier and a mid-sized red engine running a goods train through one of the junctions. He wondered how many engines there actually were on the island. He knew that Douglas was number 10 but he was unsure if there were any more, especially after hearing that diesel engine the other night. Oliver wanted to glance at his side where his GWR number had once rested. To keep Oliver safe his crew had scrubbed his number and any GWR branding from his body before they ran away, it had been to ensure their safety. Many times Oliver had wished to look back and see it, but it was almost painful to remember. He had adored living on the Great Western Railway, he had loved working alongside his brothers and all the other steam engines he had come to know as friends. But at the same time, his number had been a bitter reminder of the fact that his railway had not wanted him anymore. The old line manager had wanted to scrap Oliver, he needed the money and Oliver had been his to do as he wished with. It had been a difficult thing to remember, months of trying to prove that he was more than scrap, never resting and taking on every single job he could find, only to be told the cutting saw was his future.

Oliver felt guilt build up inside him, he shouldn't have been resting. He should have been out there showing how useful he was. He knew some trucks needed to be taken up to Callan to be filled, or that he should speed up the line and catch up to Duck to continue working with the coaches. He needed to show that he deserved his second chance. Show that he deserved to be there. Maybe to earn a number again. He wheeshed loudly and shook on his wheels, Oliver shut his eyes as the dark thoughts entered his head. He had been teased by the other engines on his railway;

A waste of steam! Piece of scrap! He can't do anything right! No use at all. What a dumb thing!

Tears wanted to fall but he wouldn't allow them. He needed to be strong, he needed to be useful. Useful engines didn't cry.

A yawn pulled Oliver from his thoughts.

“Ye alright laddie?” Douglas asked in a soft tone. Oliver blinked his eyes open and smiled as best he could at Douglas, he had become good at smiling on command.

“Of course,” he lied, “enjoying the rest.”

“You deserve it,” yawned Douglas and let off a little steam. “It's not easy tae run away, but ta run for a full year. A couldne imagine.”

“It didn't feel like a year at the time,” Oliver answered with a small chuckle. It was true, he had not felt like he was on the run for long at the time. Arriving at that scrap yard had confirmed how long he had been on the run for, he would have been in awe of his achievement if it had not been overshadowed by being caught.

“A know what ye mean,” Douglas affirmed. Oliver frowned a little.

“You do?”

“Aye,” Douglas' frame shook a little as if to remove the sleep from his body. “Donnie and a ran from Scotland to Sodor. It only took us a couple o weeks, but it felt like forever. Sir Topham Hatt asked fer one o' us, but we both came. He tried tae send one o us home, but it didnae work.”

“How come?” Oliver asked in awe.

“We didnae want one o us tae be scrapped. Tha's what would happen if we were tae go back. Ta other engines asked for us tae stay,” Douglas explained softly, “and we did.”

“Is that why you helped me?” Oliver had wondered why a random engine like Douglas would have helped him with no reason too. It now made a little sense to Oliver why he had been so willing to risk himself to do so. Some humans and engines had pretended not to see Oliver while they ran, but non had offered to hide him, or even give him any support. All coal and water Oliver recieved had been stolen when possible. But Douglas had actually pulled him from the mouth of the scrapper and risked his own life to do so.

Douglas glanced at him as if to size up for a moment. There was a jitteriness to Oliver that Douglas had noticed every time he had seen Oliver resting at a station. Oliver had never been one to sit still for a long time, especially after trying to provide himself for so long. It felt strange resting on a siding while others were working around him.

“A helped ye cause it was the right thing tae do,” Douglas answered after a while of thought. “Donnie is tha reason a'm alive. A wouldne be brave tae have ran maself. You didnae have a brother like me.”

“I had Toad,” Oliver puffed wanting to defend his friend.

“Aye, but Toad wasnea gonna push ya when your coal ran out,” Douglas mused for a moment. “We had a place tae run too. Ye had nothing. When we ran we knew where we would be going. Ye had nae way o knowing where ye would end op."

Oliver didn't know how to respond. At the time he just longed to run away, he hadn't thought about what would happen in the end. He had joked with Toad about running down a line free one day, but it was only an idea to them, a way to pass the time. Just keep running. If it had been possible he would have continued running till he could run no more if he had not decided to head for Sodor. Hearing about Sodor had happened on accident. He had been hiding in the back of a yard on a disused siding when he overheard two engines talking about a steam engines paradise called Sodor. Oliver had never even heard of it before. Euan had jumped for joy at finding Sodor on a stolen map and working a way to get there. Yet even after hearing about Sodor, it still just felt like he was running. It was more like an idea than an actual place.

"Do you usually have rests in the middle of the day?" Oliver asked as he looked out at the small yard.

"In ta off season, aye." Douglas answered, another yawn escaping his lips. "Everyone is different. Edward never stops until nighttime, nay matter ta time o year. Donnie and a are busiest in the winter."

"How come?" Oliver asked intrigued as to what could create more work for the two Caledonians.

"Ta snow," Douglas laughed. "Donnie and a are ta only ones used tae clearing snow. Poor Henry got stuck hard on our first winter here. It's our job to clear the line for people."

"Every line?" Oliver was surprised. Clearing snow was a pain, he had only done it once and hated it. To clear the main line alone would take forever, let alone doing the others.

"We try tae," Douglas smiled. "Duck likes tae clear his line as does Edward, but they are happy if we give them a hand. We usually do ta main line and then ta branch lines."

"That's a lot of work," Oliver smiled. Oliver didn't like snow, but he hoped that he would be getting a lot more work as the days and weeks went on. He was itching to move and do more. Knowing that they were in a quiet time relaxed Oliver a little.

Later that night Oliver rolled into the Tidmouth yard with Duck alongside him. There were already a few engines sitting in the berths talking quietly amongst themselves. Douglas had mentioned how he and Donald would be staying at the Arlsburgh shed so they could be up for their goods train in the morning. Oliver had felt a spike of panic in his boiler at the thought, but Duck had reassured him that he would be with him in Tidmouth sheds for the night. Duck was becoming a fast friend and someone Oliver wanted to rely on, even if part of him just wanted to get on with his work on his own and be independent. Oliver recognised one of the engines currently in the shed, Thomas, who rested in one of the far berths. On the far left was the large blue engine he had seen earlier and a similar-sized engine in green that he had yet to witness. None of the engines seemed scary or unkind to look at but Oliver could feel a shake in his boiler. Duck nudged his buffers from behind with a whisper of go on, which prompted Oliver onto the turn table. Thomas whistled and greeted Oliver as he backed down into the berth next to Thomas, leaving a gap between himself and the bigger engines. Duck soon rolled in behind him and greeted the other engines in the shed. Greetings and words of awe flew around the shed as the firemen and drivers set about their nightly routines. A mid-sized red engine and a little green saddle tank engine rolled in before the questions began. Multiple questions flew around the shed as everyone wanted to know Oliver's story. Oliver felt all the attention go to his funnel. He couldn't remember the last time he had this much attention, it was a good feeling to have.

He slowly took a breath before starting his story, much to the enjoyment of the other engines.

Chapter Text

After spending a couple of days shadowing Duck along the coastal run, Sir Topham Hatt had granted Oliver the chance to run a passenger service on his own.

“Now Oliver,” said Sir Topham Hatt. “You will be running one of the quieter passenger trains today to see how you fair. If you do well then I will allow you to do more. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Oliver peeped with excitement.

“I would also like to try the auto coach feature on the new auto coaches we have,” Sir Topham Hatt explained. “So on the trip back from Callan, I would like you to be at the back of the train. Then we will do a second run with you in between the coaches, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Oliver smiled happily. It had been a long time since Oliver had been able to operate as an auto tank.

“Very good,” Sir Topham Hatt nodded before walking back to his car.

“What's an autocoach?” Asked Percy with curiosity. Oliver had taken a like to Percy. The little saddle tank was a hard worker who liked to have some fun from time to time. Oliver had enjoyed some late night conversations with Percy discussing old stories and pranks he had pulled on the other engines. Oliver had been excited to hear all the stories, if he had tried to prank someone back on his own line, he would have been scolded for it. Imagine his surprise when Percy had told them about Dilly's origin.

“It's a special coach designed to work with an auto tank,” Oliver explained happily. So he was finally getting his own coaches. He had enjoyed using Duck's coaches, they had been very polite to him, but he was excited to see and work with his own.

“Oh,” Percy answered then pondered for a moment. “What's an auto tank?”

Thomas laughed from the other side of Percy recieving a glare from the saddle tank. Oliver had learned quickly not to tease Percy, but it seemed Thomas would not learn that lesson.

“Oliver is an auto tank, silly.” Thomas answered, not really answering the question. Oliver wondered if the blue engine actually knew what an auto tank was, or if he was just trying to seem smart. It was certainly not a common engine type, even before the change to diesel, it was only seen on the Great Western Railway.

“But what is an auto tank Thomas?” Percy pressed again wanting an answer. It would have been easier for Percy to ask Oliver himself, but Percy liked to hit back anything that was given to him, and it appeared Thomas was the perfect target for today.

“Well uh…” Thomas began to stutter. “It's like a tank engine only…”

“I can be controlled from the auto coaches,” Oliver explained wanting to put Thomas out of his misery. No doubt Percy would get back at him multiple times in that day. “it means I don't have to run around on sidings or find a turn table to go back down a line. I can pull from the front or push from the back. A few times I've been in between my coaches for runs. My coach sees for me when I can't. It's very safe."

“It can't be that much safer than another tank doing it,” Thomas rolled his eyes in mild annoyance.

“I'd like to see you do it,” smirked Percy ready for a bit of fun. "And I don't think Annie or Clarabelle would like you being in-between them on a run." Thomas wheeshed with annoyance and left the two sitting in their berths. They watched as the annoyed tank engine rolled out of the yard and out of sight.

“You think he will do it?” Percy asked with a cheeky grin.

“I hope not,” Oliver muttered half heartedly. He would love to see Thomas attempt to prove him wrong and fail, but at the same time he knew the risk it could be to the passengers. “I don't want anyone to get hurt by him doing something silly.”

“The only one who will get hurt from him being silly is himself,” Percy yawned. “Anyway, I'm going to get a nap, the mail train was long today and I'm up again tonight.”

“Good night then Percy,” Oliver whistle gently. “I'll see you later.”

Well? Did you do it?"

Oliver looked over at the small saddle tank engine with a smile. She was so excited as she pushed the trucks into the siding happily before puffing backwards to reside next to him.

"Do what Lucy?" Oliver asked cheekily as his fire got warmer. The little 1300 class saddle tank rolled her eyes before moving to the rails next to Oliver. Her smile shone brighter than the sun as her steam rose above them.

"Did you beat your record?"

Oliver laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Sadly no," Oliver answered honestly. "But there is always tomorrow." Oliver had been trying to break his record of running across his branch line for the past few weeks, but to no avail. There was always delay or something would last minute get in the way of success. Not that it ever dampened Oliver's spirit. There was always another day, and every day he would edge closer and closer to breaking his record.

"I'm sure you will manage it soon," Lucy smiled softly at him.

The two talked quietly in their sidings as they waited for the express to come through. Once the express was through Oliver would run behind it with his local train for a few miles before diverting on to the branch line, that's where his next attempt would happen. The two enjoyed the shining sun, especially after the long season of rain that had drowned their tracks in the previous month. A whistle peeped nearby them as a tired looking 4500 class engine rolled on to the opposite platform from Oliver and Lucy. He puffed exhaustedly as he finally rested facing the two tank engines.

"You alright there Bryn?" Lucy asked with concern. Both tanks looked at the bigger engine with concern. It was unusual for him to be so out of breath when arriving at their yard, especially with the size of his train.

"I thought you were a big strong engine," Oliver chuckled at his friend. "Not getting old already are we?"

Bryn looked over at the two tank engines giving a forced smile through his exhaustion. His driver and fireman stood outside his cab looking much the same as their engine.

"Got stuck at some points and had to make up time," Bryn explained before taking a long deep breath. "Some new engine they are testing decided that he could run without rails, he did." Bryn chuckled to himself, "one of those new fangled engines. Talking about being better than the others, he was."

"Oh dear," Lucy whispered sadly, "I hope he was alright."

"Don't worry about him Lucy," Bryn smiled seeming to regain some of his steam. "He's heading back to Swindon for some work. The longer he stays there the better I say."

Oliver smiled over at his friend as the last of his passengers began to board his coaches ahead of him. He wasn't too worried about those diesel engines, they hadn't shown any reliable use that would make him question his place. A few of the bigger engines who pulled the express would come through talking about the changes in Paddington, but he wasn't worried. There was no reason for his branch line to be concerned, they had no need for a new engine. They all worked perfectly well.

A loud horn startled the three engines from their conversation before a fast train ran through the station. Oliver blinked as he noticed that neither Ellen or Jacob were at the front of the train. Instead a strange boxy engine that seemed far too big to be practical was pulling its way past. Oliver watched the speed that it went past, not bad. Oliver noted the concerned look on Lucy and Bryns face, but he was not worried in the slightest.

"I wonder where those two are?" Bryn murmured to himself. Oliver wanted to talk more, but he saw his coaches being closed and his driver calling him backwards. It was time to chase the express. Oliver gave the two a quick peep peep before he set off to work.

"Don't worry," he smiled brightly, "I'm sure we will see them tomorrow. I'll catch you both in the sheds later."

Oliver ran quietly along the tracks to the designated siding with his coaches at Tidmouth Hault. Donald had shunted them into place the day before and they had waited for Oliver to arrive. Oliver paused on the track as he noticed the two shining autocoaches sitting on the siding.

“Isabell? Dulcie?”

The two coaches turned their attention to Oliver before screams of joy and ringing of bells echoed from the coaches. Excitement flew between the three that it was hard to tell who was asking the questions. The coaches demanded answers from the auto tank as he rolled closer to them. Where had he been? Why didn't they tell him he had left? Why didn't he come and see them sooner?

"There's more of you?" Oliver enquired with surprise.

"Oh yes," Dulcie cheered happily. "There is Mirabell and Alice. Sir Topham Hatt said another engine called Duck would have them."

As if on cue, Duck rolled passed them and into the station. He whistled a greeting and wheeshed as he came to rest. Oliver watched the two coaches behind him, different from the ones they had used the other day. The two coaches, Alice and Mirabell rang their bells to him as passengers found their places. Oliver smiled, the two seemed happy with Duck.

“Oliver…” Isabell trialled his name again.

“I know,” he smiled softly at her. “It's a lot and I promise I will explain everything, but Sir has a job for me and I want to do it well. Will you help me?”

“Oh. How could we resist you Oliver?” Isabell smiled brightly as she swayed under Oliver's smile. “You best not cause any trouble.”

“I promise I won't,” he answered honestly. “We need to try out the auto coach feature. Can I trust you to lead us down the line on the way back Dulcie?”

“You know I can,” Duclie smiled brightly, her confidence shining bright in the sun.

“Good, we best head off then.”

They arrived in to the station smoothly as Oliver whistled his greeting to Edward. Edward whistled back as passengers disembarked from his train. Edward had become a regular sight for Oliver in the mornings. Oliver had grown fond of the older engine, especially with all the stories that he told.

"Good morning Oliver," Edward smiled kindly at the smaller engine. His coaches greeted Oliver warmly as well. "I see you have your coaches."

"Indeed I do," Oliver beamed proudly. "This is Isabell and Duclie." Both coaches rang their bell in greeting to the bigger engine.

"I heard you will be running backwards later," Edward said with a worried look. "I know you don't need it but do be careful on the track."

"I will Edward," Oliver smiled politely. Edward had been the most nurturing of the engines on the island, always making sure everyone was okay and doing the correct thing. James had compared him to a worried parent, and Oliver agreed it fit the older engine. "Dulcie and Isabell need to learn the line too, we will be good."

"Indeed you had better," Edward smiled warmly at him. "I shan't see you later. I'll be banking for Gordon's hill. I look forward to hearing all about it." With a whistle he left the station on his way.

Not long after Oliver saw the green flag allowing him to leave, with a loud whistle he slowly pulled away from the station. Isbaell and Dulcie rang their bells happily as they turned up the line on to coastal run. As they stopped at Tidmouth Hault, the two coaches got a terrible fright as Dilly the duck flapped her wings and inspected the two. Oliver couldn't help but laugh. Dilly had done the same thing to him when Oliver had headed his first passenger train with Duck. The two coaches remained silent as Dilly waddled her way up to Oliver and quacked furiously at him.

"Hello Dilly," he called to her. She quacked and fussily flapped her wings before moving to his footplate. She quacked again at his driver and fireman. "Seems she is hungry." Oliver laughed.

"Indeed she is old boy," Euan chuckled and stepped out onto the platform. He lowered himself to the floor and placed a few crumbs for her. She quacked happily at him before beginning to eat.

"She is certainly getting bigger," Chris his fireman spoke with a laugh. "Might have to set up a feeding schedule. Don't want all of us feeding her every day."

"We can let Donald know up at Callan," Oliver reminded as the coaches doors shut tightly behind him.

The coaches demanded answers from Oliver as they continued on the coastal run. They wished to know everything about the little duck and why she had flapped so furiously at them.

"She was just looking," Oliver explained. "She is harmless. Donald is her favourite. He sometimes gives her rides if he is going up to Callan. It is a funny sight."

With good timing they made their way up the track, passing Duck with a greeting whistle and bell on the way. Donald was in the siding at Callan shunting his trucks into place. Oliver whistled from the platform to the twin, who whistled in return.

"Good morning," Donald called to him. "A fine day."

"Good morning," Oliver answered back. "Has Douglas come passed yet?"

"Nae," Donald answered as he martialled two trucks at a time. "He's late. Nae doubt tha boat was late again. He'll be sprinting passed tae make up time."

"I'm sure he will manage," Oliver reassured. He was Douglas' biggest supporter (even if Donald thought otherwise), he was always there for a supporting whistle for his friend. As if on cue, a loud whistle rang further up the line. Douglas' whistle blew strong and proud as he curved around the bend and slowed to pass through the station. All three engines whistle to each other as they passed. Oliver heard a voice from the back of the train.

"Hello, Mr Oliver," Toad called out.

"Hello Toad," Oliver laughed back as his dear friend passed by. Sir Topham Hatt had liked Oliver's suggestion of giving Toad to Douglas. On the GWR, every engine had a dedicated brake van for working with trucks. Oliver had been lucky to receive Toad, some other vans had been difficult and made life harder for the engines who worked with them. Oliver learned that Sodor was not as fortunate when it came to brake vans, and so engines often collected any van they could before working with trucks. Oliver had been so happy when Toad had been given to Douglas, it would be a great match.

Oliver looked back over at Donald who appeared to be sizing up his coaches. A furrow in his brow was subtle, Oliver had learned that the twins were very expressive engines who didn't hide their feelings. Donald eventually snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at Oliver.

"Sorry laddie," he started, "I'll get tha turn table cleared for ye."

"No need," Oliver smiled remembering what Sir Topham Hatt had asked of him that morning.

"Ay?" Donald enquired with a raised brow.

"I'm going to be running backwards back to Tidmouth," Oliver explained calmly as he felt Euan pull a level in his cab. A lever in his undercarriage snapped into place with an ache. Oliver winced but soon felt the ache disipate. Oliver's driver and fireman looked over him before moving down the carriages to inspect them as well.

"Is tha safe?" Donald wondered aloud. Oliver wanted to laugh, all the engines on Sodor seemed to be worried about him. But Oliver knew that tourist season was almost upon them, and Duck had mentioned that it was almost too busy for them to handle alone. Getting Oliver to pull passenger trains would mean they could split their trains easier, causing less exhaustion for the engines.

"I'm built to do it," Oliver explained. He wondered how many times he would have to explain himself that day. Hopefully not too much as he would certainly find it repetative.

Oliver's fireman jumped back into his cab and began to stok up his fire. His driver jumped into the cab at the front of Dulcie. She rang her bell happily to inform Oliver that she was ready. Oliver whistled himself.

"I'll be seeing you later," Oliver called as he slowly pushed out of the station. "By the way," Oliver called out. "We fed Dilly earlier so don't give her anything else." He watched with joy as Donald watched on in confusion. He shouted something to Oliver but Oliver could not hear.

Oliver enjoyed pushing the coaches for a change. It was nice to be at the front of the train, but it was also enjoyable to be at the back just watching everything go by. To do this he had to trust his coaches and driver whole heartedly. If something were to go wrong then he would not be able to do anything to stop. He trusted Dulcie, she had never let him down when they worked on his old railway. A part of Oliver had felt sad that he couldn't have brought his coaches with him, but they had already been sold off by the time he had planned to escape. He had been lucky to grab Toad when he could.

"So," Isbaell started with a slightly annoyed tone to her voice. "Why Oliver?"

"Why not?" He answered. His driver had mentioned giving him a new name when they went on the run, he feared that his name or number might attract unwanted attention.

"You don't have a number," she continued. "That is not regulation. You are not on the run Oliver."

"I know Isabell," Oliver sighed. Sir Topham Hatt hadn't brought up the conversation of his number in a few days and he hoped it stayed that way. Oliver was still unsure what he wanted to do about his number. He could be like Duck and just have his GWR number on the side, or he could be like the rest of the fleet and get his NWR number. Oliver wasn't entirely sure which he would prefer. Both had their benefits.

"I think you should get 11," said Dulcie from the front.

"You do?" Smiled Oliver with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Yes," Dulcie continued, "you want to fit in don't you. All the other engines have their numbers."

"Duck has his Great Western number," Isabell retorted. "It would look nice to have both with their rightful numbers."

Oliver rolled his eyes as the two compared the pros and cons for having which number on his side. Oliver felt his break being applied as they stopped at Tidmouth Hault once more. Duck was on the other line waiting for the signal to leave. He smiled brightly and gave a whistle as Oliver came into view.

"Well, I can't say I have ever seen this before," he laughed at Oliver. "You are braver than me Oliver."

"It's not that scary," Oliver laughed back.

"Some of us don't like being at the wrong end of a train," Duck wheeshed a little uneasily.

"Is there a story to tell there?" Oliver enquired. Oliver was very good at finding out stories about people, he just knew when to ask the right questions for it to happen. He had spent the last few nights at Tidmouth sheds listening to Thomas and Edward tell stories. He himself had told a few tales from his old railway.

"Maybe," Duck smiled cheekily at him. There was a quiver in the smile that suggested it was not necessarily a good story, but Oliver liked to hear them none the less.

"Will you tell me tonight?" Oliver enquired happily. Duck laughed at him, on multiple occasions Duck had commented on how young Oliver could act, seeming like the school children who asked the engines for stories. Oliver would only roll his eyes reminding Duck that there was not much of a difference in their ages.

"I'll be staying up at Callan tonight I'm afraid," Duck answered with a sad smile. Oliver felt his fire fizzle a little, this would be the first night Oliver would be without Duck. Duck felt sorry for Oliver, they had taken a quick and strong liking to each other. Although Oliver had made good friends with the other engines, it was not difficult to see that Oliver was more comfortable with the twins and Duck near. He hoped that in time that would change.

"The twins are staying at Arlsburgh tonight," Duck offered. "Maybe driver could bring you there instead."

"That would be good," Oliver smiled.

Duck and Oliver sat quietly at the platform enjoying the sunshine that rained down on them. It was nearing the start of the summer season on the Island of Sodor and the crowds were enjoying the newest addition to the line.

"Well, well Charles," said a visitor who had just disembarked with Sir Topham Hatt onto the platform of Oliver's train. "You certainly have an excellent engine." Sir Topham Hatt shook hands with the stranger with a smile. Oliver felt his cheeks reden at the comment.

"Welcome Solomon," Sir Topham Hatt greeted his friend before moving him to the front of the train. Oliver sat on the platform taking his small break. He had made great time and had arrived earlier than expected, even with the crowds starting to grow. "This is Oliver, our newest engine to the island."

"Hello Oliver," Solomon greeted with a nod.

"Hello Sir," Oliver responded politely.

"You have two Great Western engines now I see," Solomon chuckled as he noted Duck on the other line. "Both looking grand at that. Your father didn't influence you at all." The man joked with a nudge at Hatt's arm. Hatt laughed at the joke before admiring his two engines.

"Duck and Oliver work well together," Hatt acknowledged taking great pride in his two engines before him causing their fires to burn bright. "They both run this little line together quite nicely."

"So you have your own Little Western," Solomon laughed.

"Maybe that is what we should call the line instead," Oliver had chuckled over to Duck as the two men continued their conversation.

"It would suit us perfectly," Duck smiled brightly in response. Oliver was starting to see the pride filling Duck as he thought more about it.

"Let's hope the twins don't want to add their name to it as well," Oliver said teasingly. "The Little Western Caledonian, is a bit much." Duck only laughed at the comment, making Oliver smile brighter.

"Best not let them hear that," Duck chuckled.

Oliver returned his attention back to the two gentlemen who started to inspect Oliver in more detail. Oliver held himself as still as possible while attempting to keep both in his sight. He could feel Euan patting his cab reassuringly, no doubt seeing the spike in pressure from his anxiety. Oliver had settled for the most part into Sodor life, but he still found it difficult to keep still when workers would get close to him and move out of his sight. For the most part, passengers had been no problem for the little engine, most of the time he loved talking to the passengers, especially the school children who would tell them about their day at school; however, the works still made Oliver uneasy, even when he saw them out of uniform. Most of the Little Western workers knew how to work with Oliver so that nothing bad would happen, but the ones in Tidmouth had to be reminded on occasion. Oliver watched Duck from the corner of his eye and noted the concerned look on the pannier. Duck had tried speaking to him about it before, but Oliver would never volunteer any information up himself. Oliver couldn't focus on it for as long as Solomon returned back to the front of the engine with a look of confusion.

"Where is your number Oliver?" Solomon asked with genuine curiosity. "I would have expected you to have at least one number by now." Solomon folded his arms and cocked his head to the side as if to ponder the problem itself.

"Ah yes," Hatt began with a cough. "Oliver has been given the choice to choose which number we will display on him. However, there has been a bit of confusion with the records department back on Great Western."

"Could you not give him his North Western number?" Solomon asked with a frown. "If it is becoming an issue, I am more than happy to look into the issue when I return home in a few weeks?" Oliver wondered what the man's job was that he could look into Oliver's number. Oliver began to shake on the tracks at the thought of the truth coming out. Duck said something quietly to Oliver, but the engine did not hear it, his mind going into over drive at the thought of discovery.

"I'm afraid regardless we will not be giving him his number until the matter is resolved," Sir Topham Hatt answered with a pat to Oliver's side, the controller stepping inbetween Oliver and his friend. "With how useful he is with his passenger runs, I can't afford to loose him, even for a few hours to get some paint work done."

Solomon simply laughed at Sir Topham Hatt and patted his shoulder, commenting on how the old man was simply putting off the paper work to get Oliver sorted. The two men swiftly moved away from the station and out into the world. Duck watched Oliver patiently from his track, both sets of coaches also looking over to the auto tank with concern.

"Oliver…"

A loud whistle blew seeming to snap all attention away from the concerning engine. When they returned to look, Oliver seemed more composed as he quickly pulled out of the station, Dulcie behind him complaining about him going too fast. Duck watched them for a moment, thoughts of his own racing through his head. He would need to have a talk with Oliver.

Well, well. Isn't this a queer sight?"

Oliver yawned as he awoke from his midday nap to the sight of another tank engine on the line next to him. The engine wheeshed gently at him, her paint shone brightly in the autumn sun as the wind pulled her steam high into the sky. She giggled as other engines rolled closer to gawk at her and… him? Oliver blinked the sleep from his eyes to see that the engine standing besides him was another autotank. Oliver was indeed surprised, he hadn't seen another auto tank since his creation.

"Sorry if I woke you," she giggled sweetly to Oliver. "My intention was to be quiet, but your friends reactions brought out my giggles I'm afraid."

Oliver glanced her over once again, she was not an autotank he remembered from the works, she must have been an older one. Behind her were two shining coaches, each boarding important looking passengers as well as the manager of their branch line.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," she smiled softly at the other engines in the yard. "I'm 1436, I'm bringing important people to Swindon Works. I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

Lucy rolled closer to Oliver her eyes staring at him intesnly before shifting her gaze to 1436, She seemed hypnotised by the two. After a moment she seemed to regain her thinking capacity and blushed with an apology.

"I'm so sorry for that," she began. "I've never seen two autotank side by side. You don't exactly work hand in hand."

"Indeeed they don't," Bryn added with a chuckle.

"Haha," 1436 giggled once more, "well we are very good at running our passenger trains. It would be a terror for branch lines to have more than one of us, we would constantly be fighting for the run." Oliver smiled brightly at her and she returned it. He liked her.

"1400s are all the same," Jacob the big express engine rolled his eyes from the far platform. "All full of ego and self importance."

"Like you are any better," Lucy smirked as Jacob spluttered.

"It's nice to meet a brother out in the wild," 1436 winked at Oliver as her steam began to rise. The sound of coach doors closing and the hush of the platform drew their attention. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I hear there is a record that needs to be broken from here to Swindon works. We will have to talk more on my return." She whistled loudly, "enjoy your day."

Oliver, have you given any more thought to your number?" Sir Topham Hatt enquired as he inspected the two GWR engines in the shed. Oliver froze in place, he had almost wished that the man had forgotten the question altogether. Oliver was not too happy with his GWR number in general.

"N-not really sir," Oliver answered, recieving a curious side glance from Duck. "Sorry sir."

"Sir," Oliver's driver interrupted. "Has the issue with the scrap yard been sorted? I know there were issues with them stating that you could not keep Oliver." Oliver gulped and rolled himself a little further into the sheds. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that, but sitting in the open made him feel more vulnerable.

"Indeed," Sir Topham Hatt answered, "they are causing me much confusion. They seem to think that Oliver has been scrapped already, but he is very much in front of me. He has worked on this island for almost a month now. I would think I know the engine in front of me."

"We have had issues the last few years with Oliver's number," Euan remarked with an annoyed tone. "Ever since British rail shifted the numbers it has caused us nothing but trouble."

"Indeed, I remember having trouble with Thomas, Edward and Henry during the change," Hatt commented softly with a shake of his head. "It cannot be helped for now." He turned on his heel and seemed to ponder Oliver for a moment. He then smiled and placed his hands together in front of him. "Oliver in the morning we will be placing a temporary number on you, I'm afraid the inspector will not allow you to run without one. Once this mess is sorted, we can discuss the matter again."

"Y-yes sir," Oliver answered softly.

"Good," Hatt answered calmly before moving his attention to Duck. He spoke quietly with Ducks driver before bidding everyone a good night. The sheds remained quiet until the crunching of his footsteps were absent, both engines and crews halted all work until then. The crews looked to each other before congregating in front of the two engines to have their own discussion.

Duck glanced down at the crews before rolling back slightly to be inline with the younger engine. Oliver was very much on edge, and Duck was almost certain that it was to do with his number.

"Want to talk about it?" Duck enquired softly as he watched Oliver. Oliver did not respond to him other than a feeble wheesh of steam, his fire rapidly going out by his own accord. Duck watched in awkward silence as the two crews began to clean their respected engines. Duck's driver whispered gently to him from inside his cab about potential overhauls that Sir Topham Hatt wished for but it was no use. Duck wanted to help Oliver, above all else.

Slowly Ducks fire began to dim and his crew continued their end of shift work, Oliver's crew a mirror of his own.

"How did you choose?" Oliver's voice asked quietly. Duck glanced over to Oliver seeing a concerned look looking back at him. "Your number?"

Duck blushed and looked away for a moment. In his early days of residency on the island the other engines commenting on his number, the previous Sir Topham Hatt had too. Duck had never told anyone about his GWR number and why he was so proud of it, not even Percy or Donald knew the reason.

"It's a long story," Duck smiled softly towards his friend.

"We've got time," Oliver half heartedly responded.

"Go on old boy," his driver whispered to him from the cab.

"I had a lot of problems when I first came to the island," Duck began his story. "The previous Sir Topham Hatt very munch liked that I was a Great Western Engine and that I still had my number. He allowed me to keep it for a few weeks before he would have it changed. Gordon, James and Thomas were not too happy that I didn't get my new number straight away. I didn't care. I was proud of my number. By the time I got settled, I was asked if I wanted to keep my number or not. I didn't have to be number 8, and Sir Topham Hatt seemed fine with that…" Duck paused as he remembered the day he had been found out. The day he had to be confronted by his new controller about his number. Duck didn't want to tell Oliver the story, it was not something he had ever wanted to tell. No one knew apart from his crew and the Hatt family. Oliver looked down on the rails in front of him as Duck told his story, his head swarmed with the arguments for and against being number 11.

"I originally lied about my number," Duck admitted.

Oliver seemed to jump off the tracks as his gaze turned to Duck. He looked on in disbelief as his jaw dropped. Honestly Duck thought it was an appropriate response.

"You…" Oliver gulped as his driver ran a hand over his buffer beam. "You lied about it? How?"

"It's not my real number," Duck explained only recieving shocked expressions from Oliver and his crew who had abandoned their tasks in favour of listening to the pannier. "It belonged to one of my siblings. Before I came here I worked on a small passenger line, it was very lonely compared to how busy Paddington had been. There was only one other engine that I knew. He was a pannier like me, he brought coal from the Welsh valleys and would drop it off at different points. He was so fun to talk to, and id never met another of my class; not since I was created. I had seen a few of them in yards, but never got to talk to them." Ducks smile was beaming, it was infectious in a way, but it suddenly turned melancholy. "Not long before I was bought for Sodor, I was brought a gift from his driver. His driver explained to me that he had been in an accident, he had been deemed too broken to fix. His driver had given me his number plate and asked me to keep it to remember him by… I never saw his driver again…"

"Duck…" Oliver whispered softly, wishing he had any steam to comfort his friend with.

"When I was travelling to Sodor, I asked my driver if I could wear the number for the journey. He agreed and so we ran with my number being 5741. It made me feel like I was running with my brother. We loved the long run so much that we forgot all about the number plate until we were about to meet Sir Topham Hatt. My driver scrambled to get my original number back on, only to find out that we had lost it somewhere on the journey. We were worried about Sir being angry at me for wearing the wrong number, so we pretended that it was my actual number. He called me out on it a few weeks later, but when I explained myself, he understood where I was coming from. He was upset that I hadn't trusted him with the truth, but let me keep the number regardless."

Oliver seemed in awe of him in that moment. There was such adoration in his eyes and the small smile on his lips made him look significantly happier than he had been previously. Duck had to admit he still held shame with regards to lying to his previous controller, especially after the disturbance he had made with Percy going against the big engines. When the previous controller had retired, Duck had once again asked him for forgiveness for lying, but the old man simply laughed and patted his buffers, explaining that he would tell not a soul of their little talk.

"It's not my number," Oliver whispered quietly. His crew were now comforting him as his face turned scared. Oliver shook slightly on his rails, had he been in steam, Duck was sure it would have been small whisps keeping close to his frame. "To save me, we swapped my number. We found another auto tank who was already being scrapped. She asked for my number to be swapped and begged me to run with it. It is one of the reasons why we got so far before people caught on to our tricks."

"It saved your life," Duck affirmed.

"I hated how I was treated the last year on Great Western," Oliver admitted with a sniff. "I did everything to prove myself, but in the end they were willing to scrap me for money. They had done it to the other engines on my line, they had done it to my coaches. They almost did it to me. I don't think I can forgive them for that…" Oliver whimpered as his whole frame shook. Duck wished he could do something to help the poor engine. "But… I don't want her to be forgotten… I don't want her to loose her number forever…"

"And they shouldn't…" Duck agreed. They remained silent for a moment, their crews comforting them with small pats.

Oliver wanted so badly to keep his original number, to remember the sister who had inadvertently saved him from scrap. To wear her number would bring him nothing but pride. However there was the other side to the argument. British rail would always have a claim to him as long as he wore that number. Wearing number 11 would officially make him a North Western engine, no one could take him away. He would be safe in his new home with the number on his side. Yet, he could not bring himself to think of any other number than 1436.

Oliver suddenly laughed.

"Not very Great Western of us."

Duck chuckled and let out a defeated sigh. Oliver was right about that for sure.

"I'm still here," Duck smiled over at him. "No matter what you decide."

Hello Sun flower."

Oliver yawned awake from his nap once more to see 1436 on the tracks besides him. Every other week she would appear and disturb his nap; the first few times she seemed apologetic, now it just seemed to be habit.

"Why do you call me that?" Oliver asked quietly as he blinked tieredly.

"Sun flower?" 1436 asked with a bright smile, "because you are always sleeping in the sun. Like a big sun flower." She erupted into her giggles as usual.

"Oh yeah?" Oliver smiled with a quirk of his brow. "Maybe I should call you giggles from now on. That's all you seem to do." That only made her giggle more forcing a brighter smile on himself.

"I'll take it," she agreed. Oliver looked back at her line of coaches again and noticed them filled with important passengers. He wondered what she had done to be given such a special job.

"Why do they always go to the works?" Oliver asked curiously as he began to wonder about the works. He hadn't been there in a long while, not since his breaks needed fixing. What was so important there? No one had mentioned anything special coming from Swindon, even the express train which ran close by didn't know anything.

"I'm not sure exactly," she answered softly before glancing at the platform. Something seemed to gather her attention before she turned back to look at Oliver. "I never go in to the works. I just drop them off outside and then wait till they need to be taken home."

"Oh," Oliver affirmed. "Not the most exciting job."

"No, but it is a good long run so I enjoy it."

Edward hummed softly to himself as he rolled through the station and towards the yard. The sun was shining high in the sky and the people around him seemed in high spirits. A soft wind blew along the track making pretty patterns of his steam. Edward was in a good mood, however that all changed when he reached the yard. Edward rolled into the yard concerned about the noise. He stopped on a track parallel to Percy and Henry. Henry looked like he was trying to take a well deserved nap, but the two voices that echoed over the yard were making him scrunch his face. Percy looked annoyed and constantly muttered under his breath as he waited for his trucks to be connected properly.

"What's going on?" Edward asked softly, not wanting to disturb Henry anymore than the other already were.

"James saw Oliver with number 11 on his side," Percy explained with a frown. "He decided to tease Duck about it. You can see how it went."

"He will not!" Ducks voice carried clearly to the three engines before more anger spewed from the two.

Duck and James had never quiet gotten on, too stubborn and proud to enjoy what similarities they both shared. Many had tried to get the two to see eye to eye, but unless it was a job, the two never agreed.

"So Oliver has chosen his number then?" Edward asked as he tried to catch sight of the two engines in question. He could see steam rising high above trucks parked on the far side of the yard but not the actual two.

"No he hasn't," Henry chimed in, appearing to have given up on his nap. "The Inspecor insists that he needed a temporary number to run. It's a silly little stick on sign and they are both arguing over it."

"Great Western engines take pride in their numbers," Edward reminded. "City of Truro was no different and neither was Windsor Castle when we met her in London."

"Not like Duck though," Henry muttered under his breath. That was true, Duck was far prouder of his number than even the big famous engines on Great Western were. No one was too sure the reason for it, but there had to be something there that was not preverlant on their original lines.

"They will be at it all day," Percy huffed annoyidly. "It's Oliver's decision, no matter what they think." The three listened as James threw the argument of them all being the same with regards to their numbers.

"I best go and collect my trucks," Edward sighed not wanting to listen to the useless argument. He smiled at his friends before puffing along to get his trucks. Henry gave a long sigh and a hiss of steam.

"So much for a nap," Henry huffed before rolling backwards leaving Percy to wait for his trucks alone.

"Percy what do you think?!"

Oliver rolled softly into Tidmouth Station earlier than he was expect. He looked up at the clock and noticed he was five minutes earlier that day. The station was busy that day, all engines were puffing with their trains as tourists rolled in to see the island at the height of summer. Oliver had puffed past Gordon while he waited at the points, he commented on how nice it was to see an engine puff in early for a change. Oliver had to admit it had made his fire burn brightly, he enjoyed getting praise from the other engines.

Oliver waited quietly as his passengers disembarked from Isabell and Dulcie before more replaced them. Being early, Oliver hoped he would have time to chat to another engine. His coaches had heard whispers of something special happening on the island, and he wanted to see if he could find out who it was. However, Sir Topham Hatt soon walked up the platform smiling at him.

"Good morning Oliver," he said cheerily.

"Good morning Sir," Oliver answered politely.

"I believe that is the quickest I have seen an engine run along the Little Western before." The man looked to his pocket watch before looking at the station clock that hung high above them.

"That's a good thing right, sir?" Oliver asked cautiously, remembering the one time when he was much younger and had pulled a train in too fast for the managers liking. He had been scolded severely for it.

"Indeed it is Oliver," chuckled the old man. "You are proving yourself to be quite capable with coaches. I'm proud of your work so far."

"Thank you sir," Oliver beamed brightly, however there was part of him nervous. He felt a quiver in his wheels as he thought about the conversation he needed to have with his new manager. Oliver thought to the new number on his side before glancing at the old man.

"Is there something wrong Oliver?" He asked gently.

"Yes sir," Oliver agreed and took a deep breath. His steam quickly disappearing as he raised his courage to speak to the man. "I would like to talk about my number please sir."

Chapter Text

Percy sat happily at the station awaiting the manifest for his next job to be delivered. Tourist season was slowly coming to an end, and he was ready to have a break. His fire simmered happily inside him as the sound of passengers spiralled into the air. In honesty, Percy was hoping he could catch a glimpse of Oliver before he left for his next job. It had been a while since he got to speak to the auto tank, since he had become the new main attraction of Little Western, he had spent little time at Tidmouth sheds and more time on the branch line. Percy didn't mind that all too much; he had been happy that Duck now got help on his line in the same way Percy helped Thomas on his.

Percy watched curiously as a stuffy-looking gentleman walked up to him, flanked by two tougher-looking gentlemen. The stuffy man did not look friendly in his opinion; his clothes were too elaborate, and his face was far too tight for his liking. There was a sharpness to the man that Percy disliked in humans; none of them ever seemed to be kind in his opinion.

"You there, number 6?" He called out to Percy rudely. There was an air of pompousness and self-importance that Percy did not like in people. However, he was a Fat Controller's engine and as such, he had to be happy to help.

"Yes, sir," he answered politely with a smile.

"Tell me, are there any British Rail engines on your line?" What an odd question to ask. Technically, they were all British Rail engines, even though many just referred to their North Western line most of the time. He had noticed recently that many outsiders pulled away from calling their railways by their big names and just used the umbrella name instead.

"What do you mean, sir?" Percy asked to know more about this man and his strange questioning.

"You know, British Railway livery. British railway numbers. That sort of thing." He stuffily asked, seeming a little annoyed at having to elaborate.

"We have two tender engines in British Rail, Black sir," Percy explained softly. "Are you looking for the twins, sir? If so, I'm afraid they are currently doing a long goods train to the mainland."

"What about tank engines?" The man folded his arms, seeming unhappy with Percy's answer.

"There are a few of us, sir," Percy smiled as he noted his fireman walking back to him, looking very curious about the whole situation. "But we are mainly green and blue, sir." The man seemed to shift, looking over his shoulder with agitation before putting his hands on his hips.

"You seem like a very useful engine." Percy didn't like the way the man said that; it sent a chill down his frame. "You haven't seen a class 1400 engine come through, have you?"

Percy wanted to frown and wheesh steam at that moment. Percy wasn't good with class numbers, but he was sure that was Oliver's class. Either way, Percy was unhappy with the feeling he was getting from the man to give any information relating to any engines on the island. Percy had seen the trouble giving out information to humans about what engines could do, especially ones that did not appear local. 

"I'm afraid not, sir," Percy said softly with a glum look. "We don't see many small engines from the mainland anymore."

"I see," the man said, looking disappointed. He pulled at his beard before giving a fake smile to Percy. "If you do happen to see one, be a good engine and report it to your controller at once; you must do so."

"Yes, sir," Percy forcefully smiled, intending to do the opposite. "I will, sir." Percy knew how to play dumb; he did it a lot with the engines on Sodor, especially in the older days. It gave him an edge; people underestimated him because of it. That made him all the more impressive when he did something they were not expecting. It worked surprisingly well on humans, too. Humans seemed to like the simplistic nature of engines, assuming they didn't know much. Percy knew that this would allow him to get more information from people without needing to be aggressive or seen as a threat. What could a little simple simple-minded engine like him possibly do?

"Good engine," the man muttered before walking briskly away out of the station. Percy watched the man and hoped that Oliver was somehow late coming into the station so he could avoid having to deal with that man interrogating him. It would not be a good look for him if the Little Western engine strutted into the station after Percy so obviously lied about him. Percy heard Duck's whistle as the pannier rolled into the station with his two coaches, who rang their bells happily at Percy. Percy wondered where Oliver was; it should have been him at the station instead of Duck.

"You alright, Percy?" Duck asked kindly, noting the frown on the saddle tank's face. Percy proceeded to tell Duck about the interaction. As he explained, the strange instance of the man Duck's face turned more sour than the time driver tricked the other crews with sour sweets. Once he finished his story, Duck's frown only grew as he looked at the rails ahead of him. Percy quickly glanced at the clock, noting that it was time for him to leave. Duck looked at the clock too before smiling gently at Percy.

"You better head off and get your train," Duck reassured him like he used to in the olden days when both were station pilots and something unpleasant happened. "Don't tell anyone about the man and don't do what he says."

"I won't," Percy nodded agreeably. "Why was he like that?"

"I'm not sure," answered Duck honestly, his face turning serious. "Let me find out."

Percy hummed in agreement, Duck would keep his word and peeped before leaving the station.

Douglas waited at the platform for the all clear signal, his long train of trucks were calm for the moment. Gordon was sitting on the far platform waiting for the Express coaches to be opened. Oliver was on the small siding looking into the station, and he seemed to be sleeping. The previous night, he had awoken with a fright. A nightmare he had told Duck, who had settled him back down. He needed the rest. For the most part, the station seemed quiet…

A loud horn and whistle echoed in the distance. Oliver seemed to jump awake from his resting place while Gordon looked on in annoyance. Douglas watched Oliver for a moment, the wee engine's eyes darting around the place as he tried to find the source of the noise. His body shook slightly as the surprising horn remained a mystery to him. His wheels rattled as he attempted to roll back, only for the buffers to hold him in place. Douglas had seen deer back in Scotland look like that before they were hit by something. The wee lad was terrified. Coming into view of the station were Henry and Bear, coupled together. From the lack of a hum from Bear's engine, it would appear that the diesel had broken down and Henry had come to his rescue. This was becoming a common occurrence, something Douglas would no doubt use to tease the two engines at a later date.

"Again?" Gordon grumbled as Douglas watched the two big engines roll into the station and come to a stop.

"'Fraid so," grumbled Bear, seeming upset with himself. Henry smiled sadly at him.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured. "Like the Fat Controller said, it takes time to get things right."

"Agreed," Douglas smiled over at the friendly diesel, though his attention was still drawn to the little engine still shaking on the siding.

Douglas wished to jump over to that track and comfort him, but his trucks needed to be kept calm, which was becoming more difficult the longer he was held at the station. Douglas had noted that Oliver appeared to be jumpy when he wasn't on the branch line, even more so since he was moved off passenger duties. On a few occasions, Oliver had been surprised by people and engines coming up behind him quietly. Douglas' first instance of watching it had been when he was chatting in the yard with Oliver, and Percy had quietly snuck up on them without a sound. Douglas had found it funny, as it was something the little engine just did, but Oliver had looked like he had seen a ghost. His face frozen in shock, and his frame shaking under his weight. It seemed to be worse when it was a diesel engine. Boco and Bear had often scared the wee engine when he wasn't paying attention.

Oliver's crew eventually reappeared and calmed the wee engine down enough for him to move past the big engines without being noticed too much, still too engrossed in Bear's misfortune. Douglas watched him with a soft smile and a warming wheesh of steam. Oliver smiled appreciatively at the gesture. They would talk later about this, right now he had a job to do. The trucks were not going to sort themselves.

Oliver was upset as he sat in the workshop. His buffers were completely bent out of shape, and his wheels had been worn down during his accident. Oliver was deeply upset with himself; he should have listened to the other engines when they had told him about the trucks. Why did he never listen? The problem was, Oliver always struggled with praise and how to embrace it. On his old line, the controller had very rarely given praise to anyone; it certainly was a big thing when it did happen. He remembered little Lucy buzzing with joy for a week when the controller had said she looked respectable in a new coat of paint. Oliver had been no different; he longed for praise, and praise had been a very common thing on Sodor, even the engines seemed to praise him. It was too much in a way. He had let everyone's praise go to his head, and now he paid the price. What also hadn't helped him was the fear of not being useful. He had tried everything on his old branch line in the end, just in the hope he could stick around longer. One by one, his friends had disappeared, being replaced with cold and silent diesel engines. The diesels would never talk to Oliver; they would barely look at him, but Oliver heard the horrid words as they stood in their sheds at night.

"Useless engine, can't get anything right." They would sneer. "Can't even do his passenger run right."

"He's old and getting slow." Another one giggled. "He'll be in the scrap yard soon enough with the rest of them."

He just wanted to be useful, but it seemed that he was anything but in that moment. He had tried to show he was capable, tried to show he was adaptable. He certainly wasn't any of the praises the big engines had given him in the shed the previous night. Oliver sniffed quietly to himself. Maybe the diesels from his old line were right were right. Why would the controller fix him now? True, Sir Topham had personally affirmed his repairs before Douglas took him away to the works, but the sad look on Duck's face had said something else. Oliver was sure that was the look he had given to Lucy before she was sent away for good. Oliver had watched Bryn get taken away for scrap after an accident. Why couldn't it happen to him, too? Why couldn't the controller change his mind like Anderson did?

Douglas backed down onto the line next to Oliver. He had seen how shaken his friend was and decided that he would stay. Douglas felt guilty for the way he and Donald had snapped at him about the turn table, especially after Oliver had been frightened by Bear and Henry earlier that day and the lack of sleep, which was not their place to belittle him. Watching the wee engine, Douglas noted that he looked just as frightened as he was during his escape. Douglas could emphasis with Oliver, he knew what it was like to finally feel safe, only for a mistake to put you back on the brink of death. Oliver's stay on Sodor had been more permanent than Douglas' had been in the early days, but the fear was no less real. Oliver had let slip a few times about what had happened to him on his old line. Douglas couldn't have imagined what Oliver had gone through with regards to mainland life when steam was being dismantled. Douglas had known of the creeping tentacles of diesel reign on the mainland, but Oliver had been entangled in their cruel grip for longer than any engine on their little island could have known. Oliver had been the last steam engine on his line, and that had only been by his prowess. His speed, strength and willingness to work had been his saving grace for a while. Those strengths had brought him good fortune on Sodor, but it seemed it still wasn't enough for the wee engine.

"How yer holdin' laddie?" Douglas queried softly as he pushed his steam towards Oliver. He noted the wee engine shivering and hoped it would help. Douglas had watched Duck do it to Oliver the other night after he had been awoken from a nightmare; he only hoped it would calm him now. Oliver did nothing in response, no thank you, no looks, just silence.

"Tha' engineer said yous only be here a few days," Douglas tried to cheer him up. "I'm sure that Dulcie and Isabell will be happy to see yous all fixed." Oliver did not respond. Douglas watched silently as Oliver's driver circled his engine, looking at the damage, giving soft whispers to his beloved engine. Euan looked just as upset as Oliver did at the damage. There was nothing to be done.

Douglas sighed and told his crew to head home, adamant that he would stay with Oliver, even if he didn't want to talk. They had offered Euan a ride home, but he rejected it. Instead, the man had taken up his guard position in Oliver's cab. Euan had a small conversation with Douglas, asking him little things about life on Sodor before finally falling asleep in Oliver's cab. It seemed like such a normal thing to the two that Douglas didn't question it. He had never asked what the crew did when they needed a rest while on the run; he had never considered that resting would be a big part of their escape as well. The two engines said nothing but soon fell asleep too. Douglas slept somewhat peacefully before he was rudely awoken by a loud horn.

Douglas had jumped awake with a start, but Oliver had rolled himself away back into the buffers in fright at the sound of the horn, a started scream on his lips. Euan was instantly out of the cab and running around to Oliver's front buffers. The wee engine whimpered as pain erupted in his rear buffers and through to his bunker. Douglas could see the terror in Oliver's eyes; he was shaking far worse than Douglas had ever seen an engine shake before. Douglas wondered if Oliver's wheels would collapse under him from all the shaking.

Douglas turned his attention to the entrance of the works, ready to defend his friend. However, he found himself face to face with a confused-looking Boco. Boco seemed puzzled at the sight before him, a small engine cowering as far back as he could, hiding even from what little light the windows let in, and Douglas ready to pounce on him without a second thought. Although Douglas knew that Boco would not harm Oliver, the sound of his engine - the hum- reminded him of the dark night he had picked up Oliver. The fear of getting caught, of being Oliver's end. The diesels had packed around them, their smell was intoxicating that night, and Douglas shivered at the thought of the place he had hoped to have left behind. He growled a warning to Boco, not intentionally. There was a burning sensation inside of Douglas that he couldn't let go of while Boco was around.

"Uh, good morning," Boco said softly, still unsure of how to proceed. He had dealt with the cagey nature of Douglas in the past, but poor Oliver before him seemed ready to fall apart in fright.

"Boco?" Douglas warned. Douglas wished he had steam in him so he could move on to Oliver's line and shield him from Boco.

"I have some of the parts for Oliver," Boco answered calmly. He had to be calm in that moment; he was in a difficult situation with two highly stimulated engines. Talking to Duck yesterday about the accident, Boco had understood that the two steam engines before him would still have high emotions. Boco knew that he might not be a welcoming sight, especially after hearing stories about Oliver and his life before Sodor. Oliver and Boco had been introduced a while ago, but it had been in busy circumstances where there were many others between the two, and so they had never properly spoken. "I thought I would bring them down before I head for my morning train." Boco couldn't help but notice that Oliver's terrified gaze was purely on him, as if he would attack the moment Oliver even moved his gaze slightly. Boco had seen that look before, not nearly as intense, but similar. It wasn't difficult to understand why Oliver was the way he was. He had to remove himself from the situation, if only for Oliver's sake.

He was quickly uncoupled from his train, and with a quick goodbye, he headed back to Edward's line for his morning train. Boco knew returning to check on the little engine would be a bad idea, and asking Douglas about him would do nothing. He would have to ask Edward or Duck to check in for him. Boco felt sorry for the little steam engine; he had gone through enough, and to have his fears relived in seeing Boco had crushed him. Boco had feared the stories of Oliver being chased by other engines. Boco knew that at least one of his brothers would have taken up the challenge if Oliver had gone that way. Boco had always tried to be gentle and kind with the steam engines, even when they treated him badly, but he feared this was one situation that he could not help with, especially not with experiences like Oliver's.

Around midday, Boco found himself at Tidmouth yard, where he found Duck waiting for his trucks. He looked slightly impatient at having to wait; usually, Duck was a very self-reliant engine and could do his shunting, but something seemed to be stopping him. As Boco rolled closer, he could see an angry man shouting at Duck, the Great Western engine, giving him no time and attempting to ignore him.

"Can I help you, sir?" Boco intervened sternly, catching the man off guard.

The man jumped at the diesel's arrival, he took in Boco for a moment before an evil smile crossed his face. He confidently crossed the tracks in front of Duck - much to the annoyance of the Great Western - and stood firmly in the centre of the track to greet Boco. Boco had met many men like him before. A man with such high self-importance as to ignore everything else around them was not a person Boco enjoyed interacting with. Unfortunately for the diesel, he had a lot of experience with them.

"Finally," he smirked, "a real engine." Boco instantly did not like this. Duck was more of an engine than many greats that Boco had met. Duck scoffed at the man and blew steam. The strange man seemed unfazed by Duck's actions, as if it were a mere insect landing somewhere unimportant to him. "Tell me, diesel, do you have any Great Western engines on your line?" Boco cautiously glanced at Duck. His face immediately begging for Boco's silence. Boco glanced at the man calmly.

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged, "we do, sir."

"Fantastic, now we are getting somewhere. And where are they?"

"Why, you are standing in front of him, sir," Boco inclined towards Duck, who seemed relieved at his words. "Duck is the only Great Western Engine running on our line."

"You sure about that?" The man frowned, folding his arms. This man seemed adamant that the engines were hiding something from them. Like, there was a secret that he needed to solve. Boco was becoming more unsettled by the man.

"Yes, sir," Boco smiled before giving a thoughtful look. "We did have a Hall class engine a few weeks ago for a delivery, if that's what you mean."

"Any tank engines?"

"Again, sir, Duck is the only Great Western engine we have running in our fleet."

The man scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. He quickly glanced at Duck, his brow furrowing. There was a look of disdain shared between the pannier and the man. He tapped his foot before pointing at Boco.

"If you ever see a 1400 class engine come through here, you will tell me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Boco answered, wanting to get the man away from them as quickly as possible. The man spun on his heel, glaring at Duck before stomping across the yard to two men waiting for him. He dared not look both ways before crossing the tracks. Boco wanted to warn him but felt he should leave it be, lest they incur his company again.

Duck hissed violently, letting too much steam out, forcing Boco to roll back out of the way. Duck breathed heavily before sighing. Boco watched him silently, waiting for the usually calm pannier to calm himself. Duck looked to him with a small nod and Thank you. Edward rolled up quietly to them, looking rather concerned.

"Was that the man?" Edward enquired curiously as he glanced over at Duck. Boco frowned at the information provided and wondered if this was a conversation he should be having with the two steam engines. 

"Yes," Duck gave a big sigh, "he has been in every yard and asked a lot of the engines about a tank engine. He tried getting Percy to tell him about Oliver, but he said nothing."

"Well done, Percy," Edward smiled proudly for a moment. Edward looked over to Boco with a sad smile. "Did you see Oliver this morning?"

"Yes, I did," Boco answered as he felt the oil inside him slosh. He had tried to remove the terrified look of Oliver from his mind, but he couldn't help but think of it. His mind wanted to help the poor engine, but he was unable to. It was in his nature to be helpful to anyone who needed it. "I think I scared him, and Douglas, too, for that matter. You would think I had come to scrap him with the way he looked at me."

"It's no surprise, honestly," Duck lowered his gaze. "Oliver doesn't notice it, but he jumps every time he hears a diesel horn. I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't over his escape."

"After four months?" Boco quirked his brow. However, as he thought about it, he had noticed that Oliver tended to stay far away from Boco, Bear or even Daisy when they were in the yard. He also tended to keep his bunker away from them, as if it would protect him somehow.  He had hoped that Oliver would have gotten used to diesels on the island being friendly, but perhaps that was too drastic a jump for Oliver just yet.

"Donald and Douglas took a while to warm up to you and Bear, we can't put it past Oliver potentially having a fear of diesels." Edward surmised as he looked around the yard. His attention was caught by the yard manager rushing towards his office, before he looked back at his friends. "It probably doesn't help with this man looking for him."

"Who is he?" Boco enquired, feeling a little sickly after the interaction.

"Not sure," Duck hissed, "but I'm sure he is after Oliver. I'd bet my livery over it."

"Does Oliver know?" Boco asked, wondering if that could have amplified Oliver's fears. 

"I don't think so," Duck answered as he attempted to calm down.

"We should tell Sir Topham Hatt about this," Boco suggested. Duck was surprised at the comment and seemed to shiver. Was it worth bringing the controller in to sort this?

"I'm not sure," Edward answered, giving Duck a concerned look. "We should let the engines who deal with Oliver the most know. They will need to be on the lookout. Hopefully, this is just a harmless, strange man and nothing more."

"I hope you are right," Duck whispered, turning his gaze away.

"Careful!" Lucy snapped as she watched her trucks be shunted harshly into a siding, almost hitting Oliver in the process. Luckily, whoever was on the points was quick today.

Oliver blinked in surprise at the chaos of the yard before him. He had never seen it like this, not even when Lucy was first learning to shunt in the yard. The diesel engine that the steamers had named "the box" did not respond to her. It merely glanced at the trucks and then at Oliver before rolling backwards out of the yard with that stupid humming it made. Why did it have to hum? What an odd some for something so angry all the time to make. Lucy huffed in annoyance before racing down the tracks to collect the abandoned trucks next to Oliver.

"You alright?" She asked softly, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Just surprised, is all," Oliver smiled sweetly at her. Isabell rang her bell behind him. "How is he doing?" Oliver knew he was being cheeky, the results were evident, but he couldn't help himself.

"He is worse than you," Lucy smirked back playfully.

"Hey now," Oliver answered playfully, hurt at the suggestion. "I am a good shunter."

"At coaches, sure," she smiled, "but you are terrible with trucks. We could give you Toad, and you still wouldn't break properly."

"Lucky I don't work with them then," Oliver smiled brightly. Lucy rolled her eyes at him before beginning to pull the trucks away. Oliver watched her move the yard back into its correct place. Oliver thought it a waste of time since it would be a mess soon enough anyway. Oliver watched as another diesel engine rolled into the yard on the far line with the controller on its foot plate, not even giving a glance to the steam engines. Oliver frowned at the engine. Isabell rang her bell angrily.

"I know Isabell," Oliver agreed, hissing more than intended. "That thing wants to try and beat me?" Oliver scoffed. "I can go 80 miles per hour; that thing can only do 60. There is no way that it will be able to pull the passenger train like I do."

Oliver shouldn't have been overconfident about himself; he had been told many times not to do so, but he was so sure that they would not be replaced. Yet every day, he seemed to see more and more diesel engines rolling past. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Ellen or Jacob pull the express through. He missed them taunting him as he ran behind them. They had always been fun; these diesels never even spoke to them. They only seemed to speak with each other.

It was an unusual sight to see Edward on the Little Western, not that he was unwelcome, he was usually so busy with his branch line that it was difficult to get time. Edward swapped jobs with Boco to allow him to come to the Little Western yard to speak to the engines about the man searching for Oliver. When he arrived, Donald, Douglas and Duck were speaking in low whispers before the turntable. Edward rolled up to them, halting their whispers. Donald and Douglas seemed weary of the older engine's appearance, yet their jokes followed with cautious smiles.

"Edward," Donald chirped. "Decided tae come and join the best line. Aboot time too."

"We have a few trains yous can run if ye like," Douglas chimed in, "nice an' easy ones fir the ol' timer."

On a normal day, Edward would have bantered with the twins, but Duck's perturbed look said otherwise. Duck was not an engine to show concern in any circumstance; he was often a calm and methodical engine. Seeing him this way made Edward uneasy.

"He knows," Duck answered, not seeming to watch the banter play out any longer. Donald and Douglas seemed surprised, both turning their gaze to the little green engine. In that moment, Duck looked older than his years allowed him to be, and it saddened Edward a lot. Duck was a dutiful flag engine; his line was his responsibility, and he was conscious of that responsibility and the high standards required of him, as much as Edward or Thomas were of their lines. That meant the safety and happiness of those who worked on the Little Westerns were his responsibility. Duck had never had to call rank on the engines on his line before. He had no need since they were all so well behaved and responsible compared to other engines. Duck would only use his flagship status to pull certain trains on his line, but never to deal with a situation as difficult as this.

"So ya think this man is after our wee engine?" Donald asked, his thick brow furrowed as he turned to Edward.

"I'm afraid so," Edward sighed, not wanting to believe it, but the evidence stacked against them. "I fear that someone on Great Western was not happy to lose Oliver so easily."

"Sir Topham promised that the issue with Oliver was resolved," Duck grumbled at the thought, "he told Oliver himself."

"Aye," Douglas agrees, "but tha dinnae mean the other side is happy. They could easily try an' steal Ollie back."

"It's an easy task, three o' us Sudrian engines have done it, why not a mainlander?" Edward disliked the very real point Donald added. Duck's brow only furrowed further. No doubt his belief in his old line was conflicting with the revelation before them. Duck, who had always been so proud of his old line, was having to face the truth that perhaps the line he knew so fondly was now gone, and replaced with a dark history that he did not believe was possible. Duck had confided in Edward how distraught he had been to think the GWR capable of being so horrible and callous as Oliver described. It was a completely different experience from Ducks' life on the same railway. Edward had tried to comfort Duck by acknowledging the years of difference between his and Oliver's arrivals on Sodor. Duck had been a purchase with business as usual, a job needed filling, and he could fill it. Oliver had left in a time when no job meant death for many. It was hard to take solace in his words, but it had seemed to dampen the conflict in Duck.

"I know you struggle to, but we should tell Sir about the man Duck," Edward suggested. Duck had often refused to go to the Controller when he had an issue, something Oliver had difficulty with, too. Maybe it was a Great Western thing after all. It had resulted in many difficulties for the green engine, but it was how he knew things were done. He had reminisced about discussions with engines whom he disliked and resolved an issue simply. There was a togetherness in GWR that hadn't quite made its way to the other lines, and Duck wished to hold on to hope that it could be spread. This, however, was something he could not handle alone.

Duck frowned, he knew that in the end it would be he who would have to speak out, being the only engine in their little huddle to experience the malicious man.

"You will need to keep an eye on him," Edward added softly, drawing attention to the twins. "We don't know when the man will strike. I doubt he would do it during the day, but with Oliver now relegated to shunting and odd jobs, it means he will have more time away from everyone."

"Agreed," Douglas hummed, steam hissing around him. Edward wanted to smile as he saw the pride in Douglas grow to defend his little engine. "Ah'll stay with him again this evenin'. Am tae pull a train in tha mornin' anyways."

"Am on earlies," Donald nodded to his brother. "Ah'll be at tha Arlsburgh sheds all week with tha laddie if he chooses to stay there."

"I'll keep an eye on him if he stays at Tidmouth sheds," Edward affirmed as well. "Percy and Boco will keep their eyes out for him, too."

"Boco?" Douglas almost growled at the diesel engine's name. There was a certain disdain in the name that Edward couldn't put his buffers on. Something similar to possessiveness, he thought. Boco had mentioned him frightened the engine that morning.

"Boco was there when the man approached me," Duck answered, his brow softening at the support. "He shooed the man away from me pretty quickly."

"So he is disrupting my engines!"

All four engines jumped as Sir Topham and his attendants walked towards them. The frown that seemed to resonate in all the Hatt family usually brought a punishment, but this one was not directed at his engines.

"Duck," he continued, folding his arms as he approached the green engine. "Was the man who has been disrupting my railway, the one in the yard this morning with you and Boco?"

Edward wondered how the controller had found out. He was sure that he and his crew had not had time to talk to him, and Boco was on the Brendan line all day. Duck seemed to almost cower under the questioning. He lowered his gaze like a saddened puppy. Many times he had been told off for not reporting issues like this, instead wanting to deal with them himself. Duck was a self-sufficient engine, and asking for help from his controller was difficult for him.

"Yes, sir," Duck answered quietly. Donald and Douglas sat pensively as they watched the scene play out.

"Edward?"

"Yes, sir," Edward responded.

"Get your train ready to go back down the line," Sir Hatt commanded, "I will be riding with you."

"Yes, sir," Edward answered and slowly rolled away to collect his train. He did not hear the rest of the conversation the little westerns had. He hoped it was a discussion about their concerns.

Soon enough, Oliver was back in working order and returned to the Little Western. Sir Topham ensured that Oliver's work with trucks would continue, under the supervision of his other shutters. Oliver was sure he deserved his punishment and more after the chaos he had caused. He would take his punishment from his controller and any remarks from the engines, but what he couldn't handle were the trucks. They were rowdy and loud, nothing like the trucks Bryn and Lucy used to keep in line. Oliver glared at them as they began their songs. Thomas, Percy and Duck all helped him; they biffed and bashed the trucks when they misbehaved; however, the engines couldn't always be there to protect him.

After a long day with the trucks, Duck and Oliver rested quietly in the big shed. None of the other had returned for the day. Both were content to just enjoy the evening sun when the controller walked over to them.

"Good evening, Little Western," he smiled at them.

"Good evening, sir." They happily responded, Oliver holding back a yawn.

"I trust you both did well today," he continued, clasping his hands in front of him. He gave a look and a nod to Duck before returning his attention to both of them. "I wish to discuss something that night be a little distressing to you both." Oliver rolled slightly on his wheels; he was unsure of this situation. He had never had a conversation like this with the controller. Sir Topham turned to Oliver directly, taking a step forward. "There has been a man on the island asking many questions about an engine. I believe that he was after you, Oliver."

"Me, Sir?" Oliver didn't trust his voice. Many questions raced through his mind. Oliver felt what little fire he had left go out. Him... The man had to be looking for him; who else could he possibly be looking for? It wasn't every day that an engine ran away successfully, and it certainly wasn't unknown that Oliver had come to Sodor under unusual circumstances.

"Indeed," Sir Topham confirmed. "Now, before you start to worry, he has been removed from our railway and our island. I have personally been assured of this." Oliver glanced at Duck, who gave a reassuring smile. "You are an engine of my line, Oliver. I will not have people interfering with my engines and their work. You all work hard enough without people causing confusion and delay."

"How…" Oliver paused for a moment, wondering what was the best way to go about the question. "How do you know it was me, sir?"

"I wasn't sure it was you, until I spoke to Percy as the man was leaving," He began in a soft voice one would use with a child. "He wanted a 1400."

"Did you tell him I was here?" Oliver snapped a little too harshly, the anxiety in his voice impossible to mask. There was only one possible person who would come for him, and it was something to fear if it was him.

"No, I didn't." Sir Topham advised calmly, patting Oliver's buffers. "I told him that I would not have him causing problems on my railway and that he was to leave immediately."

"If someone is looking for me, then it means they haven't given up," Oliver answered, finally looking up from his tracks. There was a look of anger in his eyes. "They wanted to get rid of me. Why go looking for me?"

"I wish I could tell you," Topham sighed, "But rest assured, I am not giving up on you. You belong on this railway working alongside Duck on the Little Western. I will have no one argue that."

"Yes, sir," Oliver whispered, looking down at the tracks. His insides were torn, and he wanted to believe his controller, but Oliver thought he knew who was after him. That didn't give him confidence.

Sir Topham promised Oliver his safety before heading home for the evening. He advised Oliver that if there were any issues, to speak with him immediately. Duck wheeshed steam over him in the comforting way he did after a nightmare. There was a question on Duck's lips that was waiting to be asked. It was only when Oliver rolled into the darkness of the shed did Duck ask it.

"Do you know who it is?" Duck asked as he followed Oliver backwards.

"I can't be sure," Oliver sighed, his wheels rattling on the track. "But there is only one man from my old line who would chase me. Mr Anderson, the station master. Well... He was controller by the end of it. He was the one to advocate for diesel on our line. He was the one who pulled us from service. The only reason he kept me for so long was because I was so good at pulling the coaches. If anyone is chasing after me, it's him." Oliver had disliked the man from the moment he had met him, but he knew his place; he had to please him if he was to continue working on that line. He did not know a single engine on the line who liked the man, even Lucy, who liked everyone, struggled. He was gruff and no-nonsense; however, he lacked any kind of decency that the engines had learned from their drivers and firemen. He expected results, and his engine's happiness was not exactly a part of that equation. The only time praise was given at all was when something was done quicker than expected. The first time Oliver had beaten the record for fastest passenger engine down the line, he had been greatly praised for it; however, it had never come again, no matter if Oliver improved or not. Oliver, on many occasions, would go on to beat that record, but not as much as his first attempt. Seeking that praise that never seemed to come drove Oliver to faster speeds, speeds which had almost caused him to crash on occasions; luckily, whoever had been watching him that day had done a good job. On the other hand, the controller was a big fan of public humiliation. If an engine did something wrong, all of them had to watch the belittling happen, even for small things. Once, Glen had a train that couldn't fit onto the siding for Oliver to pass properly; the train hadn't been Glen's fault, but an issue with something on the line. In Mr Anderson's eyes, it had been the fault of Glen and Oliver. When the diesel, The Box, came, it got worse; only instead of being berated, their trains were taken from them. When their trains were eventually given back to them to prove themselves, the demands were extensive and far more than anything that could be asked of the engine. Towards the end of Oliver's time on the railway, he had become the controller, giving him more power than before. Oliver wasn't even sure if Mr Anderson knew their names; he had only ever referred to him by his old number. It was the drivers and the engines themselves who used their names, and even the,n they were sure to use it when the controller was away from them.

When Douglas had pulled him to Sodor and told him stories of its people, including the fat controllers, Oliver had feared that he had made a mistake. He sounded so strict and would take no nonsense. Oliver was learning that first-hand, but he hadn't seen anything like his old station master/ controller. Sir Topham had asked his name, asked his opinion on paint and even his number. Those acts of kindness alone had already made him a far better controller than his previous. Oliver couldn't think about Mr Anderson, the thought of seeing him alone held a strange mixture of hate and fear in his boiler.

"Sir will do everything to keep you safe," Duck reassured, wishing he could do more.

"You don't know how dangerous that man is." Oliver glared at the tracks, the rattling of his wheels stopping; fear was replaced by anger. "I'm sure he derailed Bryn, and I know he was on the diesel that crashed the trucks into little Lucy. I dare not even think how he was involved in Glen's ending." There was a growl in his voice, remembering his friends. "I wouldn't put it past him to do anything to get me scrapped."

The shed was silent. There was little that could be said against Oliver's claims. None of the Sodor engines had truly dealt with the idea of scrap or come close to it like Oliver had.

"The Fat Controllers will not let you leave. You belong to Northwestern now. The Topham family have never given up on anyone willing to work. They could have gotten rid of Henry or even Edward for their failures, but they never did. They care about us, Anderson will not get near you."

Oliver appreciated Duck's words. He had heard the stories; he knew the number of times they would have been scrapped had they been on the mainland. Yet here they stood, ready for anything that came their way. It brought comfort to Oliver, but it was not enough to keep the memories away that night. A restless night awaited Oliver.

Chapter Text

"It's a bonnie picture," Douglas smiled as he watched Oliver's driver attach the news clipping to the noticeboard where the pictures and articles about the engines on the Little Western were. There were different pictures from different events, the opening of Little Western, Duck at the regatta, Donald and Douglas from their first winter, and Oliver upon his arrival to Sodor. Each one a memory about their little line or engines, each one with an amazing story to go with. The newest picture was of Oliver smiling brightly outside an old station building blanketed in snow, giving the place a chilly feeling. Oliver had discovered it while on his first mail run, something that Oliver hadn't minded until he crashed into an old shed. The article in the local newspaper had decided to run with the story of how it was discovered, the history of the place and its plans.

"Aye," Donald chuckled, "shame aboot tha wee engine in the picture."

"Be nice," Duck hissed back with as little fight as possible.

Oliver just laughed as the two started bickering with each other. It was nice to be somewhat back to normal. The events with the strange man beforehand had become a memory to most of them. Oliver still felt himself watching the people closely on the platforms, especially at night. His nightmares had returned on a more frequent basis, but nowhere near the amount when he had first arrived. Otherwise, he had returned to normal. Douglas still stuck to him when the two were off duty, ensuring that Oliver took his breaks and didn't wander off to find some random train to run out of sight on; he even started calling Oliver "his wee engine", which had brought much teasing his way when the other engines heard about it. Oliver had found it funny and appreciated it. All of the Little Western engines had been supportive and helpful when Oliver was recovering from the shock.

"Dinnae mind those two," Douglas winked at Oliver as his steam rose in his boiler. "Their like an auld married couple." Oliver laughed as he felt his boiler warm in the cold winter air. Oliver watched the snow lightly fall from the sky, coating the already slippery ground in more snow. Oliver wondered how much longer it would be cold for. He longed for the warm summer months to come back. The heat soon rose in his boiler, and Oliver would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

"Let's go, old boy," Euan smiled, patting Oliver's buffers. A chuckle escaped Douglas at the endearment. Euan rolled his eyes and shook his head at the older engine. "We got some shunting to do."

Oliver marshalled the trucks one by one. Since the incident with Scruffy, the trucks had come to listen to Oliver and behaved whenever he worked with them. Oliver was by no means a natural shunting engine like the other tank engines, but he was getting the hang of it. When he wasn't working with the coaches, he had begun to prepare trains for the other engines. Donald and Douglas had been very grateful for the help, especially with their workload starting to increase. The weather was beginning to take a chilly turn for the island, and most of the engines disliked it. Oliver himself had never liked the cold, never liked the snow, but he worked on as a useful engine should.

While Oliver was shunting a humming Toad onto the end of a train for Douglas, he noticed a change in tune that he had never heard from the brakeman before. Toad's music was very limited at best: songs children would sing out at the park near the station, a few drunken songs from the platforms while waiting for a signal, and even an old folk song. This one was certainly new.

"That's a new song," Oliver commented as he waited for the workers to uncouple them. Oliver rather enjoyed music; he had gotten used to the twins singing to entertain themselves in the yards or long train hauls. Even on occasions when there was a celebration, they led the yard in song. Oliver would attempt to sing along by himself, while Duck would silently listen, until he caught himself quietly humming along.

"Oh yes, Mr Oliver." Toad happily answered, the joy bringing a bigger smile to the engine. "Mr Douglas taught it to me. He said it was a big song in Scotland. I think he said it was called Auld Lang Syn."

"Oh really?" Oliver chuckled. "I will have to ask him to sing it for me."

Suddenly, there was a strange rumble and spluttering sound that echoed over the yard. Oliver watched as black smoke seemed to fly in the air, followed by a bang and a screech.

"That doesn't sound good, Mr Oliver," Toad remarked as he buffered to the end of the train, his humming forgotten in the process.

"No, it doesn't, Toad," Oliver agreed as he watched BoCo turn the corner and splutter to a complete stop before the points. He groaned and choked as smoke billowed from his cab. His crew evacuated his cab and quickly scrambled to their places. Oliver watched for a moment before his fireman jumped from his cab to help the panicking crew.

"You alright, Mr BoCo?" Toad called out with worry. Boco coughed harshly, making Oliver grimace. It didn't sound good. His eyes closed tightly from whatever was causing his pain. Oliver rolled back onto the turntable before heading for the line that intersected with Boco's. Boco had still not responded to Toad, and it made Oliver worry. Well, this was an issue…

"Boco," Oliver called out to the other engine. Suddenly, there was a backfire, and Boco's engine cut completely, causing everyone to jump. Oliver jumped back wildly with everyone else, watching for the next issue to arise from the diesel.

"Now that's done it," called Boco's driver, waving the smoke from his face, "we pushed you too far and your motor's gone. We won't be able to pick up Douglas's train after all."

Oliver looked over at Boco, who was looking down at the tracks with shame. Boco and Oliver hadn't interacted since the incident at the works. They had occasionally crossed paths and shared a shed a few times, but it was with great distance between them. Oliver had very much rather bury the shame of the incident; as a result, he had hardly spoken to the diesel in a few weeks. It was hard to believe, especially with Oliver's reputation for being a chatty and friendly engine. Oliver knew he was in the wrong, but finding a way to admit it was difficult.

"Boco?"

"Yes, Oliver," Boco responded in a raspy voice. Oliver noticed how tired and sickly Boco looked. His eyes had dark circles around them and seemed heavy set; his smile didn't seem to reach the rest of his face. Oliver knew him to be a very busy engine, always pottering about without fuss, but this Boco looked completely exhausted.

"Why have you come for Douglas' train?" Oliver couldn't hide the scepticism in his voice. He liked Boco enough, and he knew that he wasn't a bad engine, but the thought of a diesel taking a steam engine's train still held bad memories for Oliver. Boco winced and looked back at his driver, who began examining him. He knew where the question had come from.

"Donald and Douglas are stuck trying to help some trapped engines," Boco weakly explained, struggling to catch his breath. "The snow is really bad past Edward's station. I said I would take his train so he wouldn't have to abandon his job with Donald." Boco gave a big sigh, looking away from the little green engine. "Guess that wasn't a great idea."

Oliver certainly felt sorry for Boco; he had only tried to help after all. Soon, workers started to show up to help in any way they could, which for most resulted in them standing around watching the engine crews work. Oliver shivered as a cold wind blew through the yard, the trucks complained on their siding, but Toad kept them in line - his quiet humming beginning once more, a background to Oliver and Boco's predicament.

"It's the thought that counts," Oliver awkwardly smiled at him. Boco gave a small smile himself before looking to the little green engine for the first time.

"You seem to have everything handled over here. The yard is looking tidy."

"I haven't done much," Oliver blushed and looked away. Don't let it go to your head, he thought to himself; it had gotten him in trouble before. "I just finished making Douglas' train before you arrived. I was about to head for my own, but…" Oliver discreetly looked down at the points before Boco, but the diesel engine had seen it. His face turned redder than James' paint.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver," Boco exclaimed, realising he had effectively trapped Oliver in the far side of the yard. The only other way Oliver could have escaped was currently occupied by the large train of lumber, coal and a humming brake van. Boco gulped as he watched Oliver roll back slightly on his tracks. Last time they had been in this position, Oliver had gone into panic mode, and it was certainly not something he wanted to repeat. Boco tried to start his motor, but all it did was bring up black smoke in his driver's face. Boco's driver had been unhappy and scolded him for his silly behaviour. When Boco looked up at Oliver again, he noticed a small smile on the engine's face as he watched the diesel driver.

"I don't think they will get your engine started," Oliver commented as his fireman returned to his cab. "You will have to go to the works."

Boco sighed; he had spent enough time there, but the Little Western engine was correct.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," Boco repeated again before he watched the little engine staring at the signals above them. "I've trapped you in the yard." There was a click, and the signal went down, causing Oliver to smile brightly.

"That's alright," Oliver whistled, and the workmen began to clear the area around them. "I'll push you out." Boco blushed with embarrassment; usually, it was a big engine that came to his rescue; surely, little Oliver was not going to be able to push him to the works. "If we get you onto a siding, I can keep working while someone comes to get you."

Boco looked down on the tracks to see a large pile of sand where Oliver had originally stopped, before making a small trail leading to him. Boco smiled as Oliver rolled in front of him, clearing the points with no issues. He waited for the workers to hook them together, his driver releasing his sand box to help Oliver grip.

"Please don't crush me," Boco chirped as the workers stood back. Oliver laughed brightly at him before steam started to fly high into the sky.

"I'm not Douglas," he laughed before narrowing his gaze on the task before him. "I'll rip you into pieces." Boco couldn't help but let out an awkward laugh as the little engine began to push. With a lot more ease than Boco was expecting, he suddenly moved them down the line slowly. A few times, Oliver slipped and hissed before making progress again.

Soon, they made their way further down the track, Oliver seeming oblivious to Boco before him and more focused on the actual task than the engine. Boco found it endearing to watch. Oliver was certainly a strong and determined little engine. Oliver had to have been, to have done all he had achieved in such a short time that he had been on Sodor. Boco had been on the island longer, yet failed to establish himself as well as Oliver had. Boco had to admit that his integration with the other engines had been filled with prejudice of his fellow diesels, but even when he had shown himself trustworthy, there were flickers of doubt in him. Like he was playing a long game with them. Oliver's integration had been seamless to Boco. His hardworking ethic and charismatic story had swept everyone away like a storm. Even with his multiple accidents, Oliver had fit into the Sodor fleet with an envious ease. Boco understood why, of course. Oliver was established; there was a history behind not just him, but his class. Boco had nothing but his newness and an ethic that was challenged early on. Boco didn't envy Oliver in any way, for he knew the darkness behind his story. Boco himself had never been a part of the removal of steam, had never seen the value or appeal that it seemed to bring to newer engines. He had gathered from watching Oliver recently that the events of the past were much more than what Oliver had ever let on when recounting his stories.

"I'm sorry about the other day at the works," Boco announced suddenly. Oliver seemed to jump from his focus, and his wheels slipped once more. Both winced at the sound before Oliver stopped to take a break. Oliver remained silent for a moment, not looking at Boco but at their attached buffers. "Sorry, should I not have mentioned it?"

"I don't think your breakdown was the way to get us talking," Oliver joked as his steam began to rise again. Pushing Boco was not an easy task, but it was not an impossible one. "We should have spoken about this before now." His voice was wavering for a moment, as if he was debating whether to be honest or continue with his playful talk from before. Duck had told him he could trust Boco. "It's hard for me to sometimes express how I feel when I am in a bad situation," Oliver began softly, his eyes looking up to the next signal. "I'm sorry for that. I know Douglas was unhappy with you because of my reaction. I have spoken to him about it. He is very protective of me."

"I should be the one apologising to you," Boco retorted, "I was the one who scared you. I should have been quiet on my approach."

"If I had woken up to see you there rather than hear you," Oliver answered honestly. "I probably would have jumped higher than Gordon's hill." Oliver sniffed while trying to joke, his eyes struggled to hold back tears. Boco knew why; he had heard stories. His brothers had bragged about how they would take steam engines from their sheds in their sleep. No doubt Oliver had a friend who had ended that way. Boco could not imagine a worse fate.

"You were chased by diesels, weren't you?"

Oliver didn't answer as they moved to the siding. He remained silent as a worker uncoupled them, and he rolled back to give them space. Oliver didn't look up at him; it said enough.

"Were any like me?" Boco didn't want to ask, but he had to know. There had been something in the way Oliver looked at him compared to Bear that told more than the little engine wanted to reveal. The pure terror, the look of someone watching horrors repeat in front of them.

"Maybe…" Oliver wheeshed uncomfortably around them. "It was hard to tell. I only saw them at night. There was one who almost caught me. I was forced to hide in a siding and listen to him rumble for hours." Oliver blushed and looked guilty; he didn't want to tell the whole story of how frightened he had been. Boco was so glad his engine was cut at that point, he didn't want to cause the little engine any more pain. Since Edward had mentioned it, on many occasions when going past Oliver on a siding, Boco and Bear had noticed the little engine jump and shiver on his wheels. At first, they had thought he had been woken from a nap; Bear did have a habit of growling after all, but it seemed to happen more when Oliver was not aware of his surroundings.

"I'm trying to get better," Oliver announced as his steam became stronger. "I don't jump quite as much when you come past. Although Bear is rather loud." Oliver smiled weakly, pulling a chuckle from Boco.

"He really is," Boco agreed. "I never intend to scare you, Oliver and I apologise if I have done so. I'll do my best not to sneak up on you."

"I'll do my best to get used to the humming," Oliver smiled. They sat quietly as workers began to examine Boco and attempt to figure out what was wrong. Oliver just watched them go about their work, similar to how they had done for him when he had broken down. Oliver looked over to the large clock on the side of the workers' hut. It would be a few hours before a Little Western was free to take Boco to the works, assuming he didn't get fixed beforehand. He himself still had a full 20 minutes before he needed to collect Dulcie and Isabell.

"I saw your picture in the paper the other day," Boco softly spoke, surprising Oliver. Oliver looked back over to the green diesel with curiosity. "Edward told me you found something on the mail run a little while back. What happened?"Oliver smiled brightly as he animatedly began to tell the story of how he bravely got lost and found the haunted house. Boco laughed at the joy that was Oliver telling a story.

It was inevitable, with the large workload and the weather, that everything became too much for Boco, and he was sent away to the works for repair. Winter had been harsh on most of the engines of Sodor; luckily, Boco had been the only one needing repairs from the weather, although Gordon had come close when he was clearing a line. The snow was beginning to slow down, but the ice and slush from the weather were still making work difficult for the engines.

Oliver had been sad to see him go. He and Edward had watched as Henry pulled him away to the works, both engines giving big peep peeps as he left the yard. Hatt had promised a new engine would come, just until Boco had been fixed, another diesel. Oliver had been conflicted at hearing the news. It was one thing to hear a diesel was taking a steam engine's job, but another thing for a diesel to take Boco's work. Oliver had expressed his feelings to Edward.

"I know I'm worried about nothing, but I can't shake the feeling that something is not right," Oliver explained to Edward as they waited side by side on the platform.

"Sir Topham Hatt will not get rid of Boco if that's what you're thinking." Edward was unsure how many times he had told Oliver this, but he understood where the Great Western was coming from. Edward himself had seen many diesels come to the island to steal jobs, only to be sent away upon failure. But this was Boco they were talking about; Hatt would never willingly give up Boco.

"I know," Oliver sighed, defeated. "I just somehow feel strange about this." Edward couldn't argue; he too had a strange feeling about this. Something didn't sit right in his boiler. At first, he thought it was knowing he hadn't been without Boco for so long, but that didn't seem right to him.

"He won't be gone long," Edward smiled, hoping he would reassure the younger engine. "Let's just do our work so Boco doesn't have to worry when he gets back." Oliver smiled and made an affirming sound, joined by his coach's bells.

Later that evening, when resting in the round house, news of the new diesel engine spread like wildfire. Most were unhappy with the news, while others remained silent. James complained along with Gordon about the bad record they were having with diesel engines on the island. Oliver sat quietly in a birth between Edward and Duck listening to the chatter and stories of previous diesels on Sodor. Duck and the twins had told him a few stories, but it seemed there was far more than he imagined. Oliver had never heard so many devastating stories about diesel engines like the Sodor visitors. They told stories of conceited diesels who failed to rise to a simple challenge after showing such promise. Oliver's own experience of diesel was them working well and taking over, not completely failing and being shown up by "old steamers".

"You've really had that many diesels show up?" Oliver enquired to Edward as they blocked out the bickering, which was beginning to annoy the others. At the start, Oliver had only seen one diesel on his line, but by the end of it there were four established diesels and himself.

"Yes indeed," Edward explained softly, "Boco, Bear and Daisy are the only diesels who have ever stayed."

"Yes, because they actually work, unlike certain ones," Duck muttered under his breath with annoyance. It had been Edward who had told Oliver the story about Duck and Diesel, after the pannier had expressed his wish to forget the events. Oliver would not have believed the story had anyone but Edward told him. Duck had never expressed hatred to any engine, even to Thomas and James who Duck often had arguments. To think him capable of hate was almost unthinkable.

Soon, Henry and Bear came into the sheds laughing as they discussed the weather. Henry pulled into his birth next to Gordon, leaving Bear with one of the middle births. Oliver took steady breaths as he listened to the humming of Bear, receiving a concerned look from his two flanking engines. Bear was loud, but much like Boco, it was completely harmless to Oliver. Bear tried being quiet around Oliver, but it was not his nature to be quiet. Bear was one of the kindest and most caring engines Oliver had ever met. Upon realising that Oliver was having issues with his noise level, he had attempted to keep his volume low. On a few occasions, Bear had caught himself being loud only to apologise to Oliver and sheepishly roll away. Oliver had begged Bear to stop running from him, just so it would help him get used to the sound.

"Care to share the joke?" James rolled his eyes at the interruptions as laughter suddenly erupted from the two newcomers.

"The new engine arrived," Henry chuckled to himself, glancing at Bear.

"Aye," Bear chuckled, "he was late due to the weather. I had to get him out of the snow while Henry rescued his train."

"Shows him for not listening to the warnings," Henry smirked as he settled in for the night. "He keeps this up and he might be gone the quickest."

"You two should know better than to judge," Edward warned, his concern for Oliver still weighing heavily on him.

"Sure," Henry laughed, "only this one didn't take mine or Boco's advice when he passed us at Crovans Gate. Serves him right for ploughing right into the snow."

"Where's he now?" James asked, sneering at the thought of another diesel.

"At the station with Sir," Bear explained softly, "his driver was chatting to him when we went passed. He will probably be here before long."

Oliver watched in disgrace as the box rolled out of the yard with his coaches. Oliver, for his part, had done nothing wrong; he had only been late… again… but this time was not his fault, the points were broken and he was forced to a halt because of it. The station master had been enraged with him. The previous night at the sheds, he had belittled Oliver in front of the others, including a visiting engine, before jumping on the Box and rolling away. Now Oliver sat miserably in the sheds, awaiting anything for him to do.

Oliver was the first to have his job removed by the box; everyone else had managed to keep their work to themselves. Everyone had been hit hard at the thought of Oliver being knocked out of the running at such an early time. No one had suspected that it would be their high-standing passenger engine that would be replaced by the Box. All had thought that Lucy or even Amy, their two shunters, would have been the first to leave; even Bryn and Gavin had thought their time had come as the Box had rumbled into the yard, but at last it was not.

Each engine, before it left for the day, spoke kindly to Oliver, all still leaving for their own duties. Not one word seemed to reach Oliver as he wallowed in his pity. Nothing reached Oliver that morning, not even Euan could get anything from his engine.

"Come on, old boy," Chris smiled as he patted Oliver's buffers. "You always wanted a break. It's only for today. Anderson will realise his mistake and bring you back."

If only that had been the only incident…

Oliver was quietly shunting in the yard on a cold morning. The snow was beginning to set after a heavy storm that morning. Donald and Douglas were resting in the nearby shed after their midnight delivery. Once they were rested, they would be shipped out to help with clearing the lines. They were the best at it after all. The trucks were calm for Oliver, even if they chittered about the cold weather. As Oliver was putting the last of his coal trucks in a line, a large horn echoed in the yard. The sound echoed off all corners of the yards, waking the twins and annoying the trucks that started to fuss.

"Who's that?"

"What an awful engine!"

The trucks began to complain. Oliver knew he should put them in order, but the sound that the new engine had made sent shivers through his chassis. Oliver knew that sound too well. His wheels began to shake and the pressure inside of him dropped instantly. Both Euan and Chris scrambled to get Oliver in working order; however, nothing they would do helped their engine. Their work stopped when the deep horn echoed once more. This time a chill was sent down their spine, they knew that horn.

Around the corner came a Metrovick diesel engine in a black livery. It growled and snarled at anything around. Donald and Douglas rolled out of their sheds to join Oliver on the tracks, sensing that this was not a time for anyone to be alone.

"Tha's him," Donald confirmed the unasked question. Oliver began to shake violently as Douglas rolled in front to cover his view of the other engine. Donald covered the outer track. The twins glared at the snarling engine. They were used to loud engines. Bear was a good example of loud, but this one was different, angrier than most. Bear's growls mainly came out of frustration at himself or situations; this engine seemed to growl because he could. Some trucks decided that they would have some fun after being disturbed.

"Look at this thing!"

"He's angry! He's angry!"

"Bet he couldn't keep himself on the track long enough to take us."

The trucks fell into a chorus of laughter that the Little Western engines were all too familiar with. They all had some sympathy for the diesel; however, he did not make things any easier for himself.

"Be quiet," he snapped and bashed the trucks into the long train Oliver had been preparing. The diesel did not seem to notice or care that the steam engines were there. As quickly as he came, he was soon off with the long line of trucks.

The twins hissed with frustration at the rudeness of the engine. There was no way the engine could have missed them. Oliver shivered on the tracks as his fireman and driver tried to soothe him with reassuring words. Oliver's eyes were closed tight as little whimpers fell from his shaking frame. Donald and Douglas soon lost their frustration and turned to each other, both seeming the worry for their little friend.

"Ye a'right laddie?" Donald whispered softly as he wheeshed warm steam over Oliver. Douglas rolled back to be in line with Oliver.

"Oliver," Douglas soothed softly, "he's gone. Yer safe now." Oliver didn't seem to hear them. It took a long while before Oliver opened his eyes; even then, he was not able to look at anyone. A tear fell from his eye; he knew that engine. It was him. The snarling engine that had trapped him in a siding for a full day, with the intoxicating smell and constant humming. Oliver had spent months trying to remove that engine from his mind, only for it to manifest before him.

Oliver could see everything before him, but was unable to hear properly. Everything seemed muffled, his vision was blurred. Euan and Chris stood before them, hands on his buffers, before they turned to talk to the twins. Soon, he found himself detached from his trucks and was being pushed by one of the Scottish engines. He was unsure who it was, but their soft words of folk tales and songs attempted to soothe him. Breath, breath, breath. Oliver continued before he was placed in a shed. As the engine pulled away did he noticed that it was Donald who had pushed him to safety this time. Silence fell over Oliver as he tried to come to terms with what he had just seen. He couldn't deny that sound and smell. True all diesels smelt oily, but this one seemed different. Almost burnt and rancid to him. Oliver could not deny that this was true fear in the most physical form he could imagine. Oliver had run from the cutter's torch, but it was that diesel that Oliver truly feared, because he knew what would have become of him had they met a few months prior. His boiler ached as he felt his fire lowered, simmering with little crackling as slow music emerged from the worker's radio next to them. Euan and Chris whispered softly to each other, telling stories as they started their end-of-day tasks earlier than expected. Slowly, Oliver's breathing calmed as sleep took over him… A dead sleep where time stops alongside thought. Just blackness. No dreams. No memories. Just sleep…

Duck couldn't say he was overly trusting of diesel engines. Diesel himself made sure of that. He had tried to be better. Boco, Bear and Rusty had shown him that diesels were not a bad thing at all. It was about the personality of the engine, not what they ran on. Duck had met many awful steam engines, too. Duck liked to think himself a good judge of character; however, he couldn't place this new engine into a category. When Duck had first seen him coming around the bend into the big station, he had thought it was Boco, but when the engine got close and did not reply was when he realised this was a different engine. The engine never did reply to him; he remained silent on the platform, even as Percy tried to welcome him.

"You must be the new engine," Percy smiled. "Welcome to Sodor. I hope the weather didn't cause you any trouble."

"Of course not," replied the diesel with a barb. "I never get stuck in bad weather." The engine didn't even look at Percy; he just frowned and kept looking at the tracks ahead of him. Percy looked over to Duck and rolled his eyes. Here we go again. Another conceited engine that was too big for his buffers. It seemed to be the only kind of they made now.

"Must have been a different engine that got stuck in the snow the other night," Duck mumbled, trying to deflect the horrid engine onto himself.

It turned out that the engine was indeed a hard worker. Soon enough, trains were running as if the whole fleet were in service. He was certainly a powerful engine; there was no denying that, Bear and Henry seemed in awe of his strength. Duck was even impressed by the standard of his work. All in all the engine seemed to fit in to the work day relatively easily, something Duck had never seen one of the engines do. However, that all changed when Douglas pulled into the station, pulling Oliver's coal trucks. Douglas came to a halt as he waited for his signal to leave for Edward's line with the coal, all the while explaining quietly about what happened to Oliver.

"First tha man and now this engine," Douglas announced with a scowl, his body stiff on the tracks. "Ah dinnae like it."

"Agreed," Duck answered softly before the Controller stepped onto the platform before them.

"Douglas!" He called sternly, the engines' face softening instantly. "What are you doing with Oliver's trucks?" The man folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. It wasn't unknown for engines to swap trains, but usually the controller would be advised in some capacity. In all the fretting about Oliver, Douglas had failed to mention it to anyone.

"The wee engine was no' feeling' well, sir," Douglas began to explain calmly. Oliver had a bad run of luck recently: the turntable, Scruffy, the turntable again, and finally running into a shed. Hopefully, the controller would be fair to Oliver. "He couldnae take tha trucks, sir, so Ah took them."

"Very well," Sir Topham sighed, rubbing his head. "Take the trucks and be back to clear the lines."

"Yes, sir."

The diesel rolled up as he left the station with a grumbling engine that sounded like a growl. Duck attempted to ignore the engine but it was too difficult with all that noise. He watched him quietly from the corner of his eye. The engine seemed to glare at him and any other Sodor engine that came past. Any who tried to make conversation with him only received silence, which was fine by Duck. If the engine didn't have manners then that was no paint off his boiler. Still, a strange feeling ran through his boiler that he couldn't quite put his buffers on… This engine was not to be trusted and Duck had a suspicion he knew why…

"I'm going to beat you!" Giggles shouted as she ran down the line faster than Oliver.

Oliver smiled brightly as he too attempted to chase after her. There was a salty smell to the air that ran past him as the sun shone down on them, a large ocean covered their left and wide open fields filled their right. Oliver laughed; he was actually enjoying himself. The tracks curved ever so slightly but were mainly straight, meaning they could pick up speed ever so easily. The tracks were smooth, smoother than Oliver had ever felt them before. They were perfect conditions for them to race at top speeds. The signs going past them appeared to have no limit for them. A part of Oliver thought that it was strange, but he was having too much fun. He chased after her as quickly as the hill raced into view. He remembered her once saying she did not like inclines. That's where Oliver would catch her. He charged at the hill, his steam high and his fire stronger than ever.

With all the strength he had, Oliver still could not seem to catch her. She charged the hill with no problems, but Oliver seemed to struggle, like his wheels were slipping on ice that wasn't there. She crested the hill long before he made it halfway.

"Hey, wait!" Oliver called; something didn't feel right. What was happening? His smoke box started to feel clogged up, and he struggled to push the smoke and steam out of his body. What was happening to him?

When he crested the hill, the scene before him was completely unexpected. Oliver felt his brakes slam on as the warm sunny day fell into darkness and a cold wind whistled around them. The temperature dropped, and Oliver felt wet. Was it raining? He skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill only to be met with a crash. Debrief was everywhere. There was water and coal thrown across the tracks. A wheel was spinning into the distance away from the track. There was a rusted side rod lying against the track. A broken boiler ripped open, rusted and dented lay on its side. The chassis is rotten from the inside. A funnel had tumbled from the engine and landed directly in front of Oliver.

His pressure dropped… What was this? This was familiar… His eyes crossed the body of the engine, along the broken cab, across the tanks towards the smoke box where her face lay. Giggles…

"No…" He whispered as all fire inside fell into ice. A tear fell down his face and landed on his buffers.

Suddenly, a growl erupted behind him. He was hit from behind.

"RUN!" A voice shouted, but it was too late. He was already attached.

"Got ya now!"

Oliver was angry with himself. For the last few nights, he had been coddled by the Little Western fleet in their shed as they told stories from their time on Sodor. The stories, although being something Oliver loved, had made him feel hollow; a desperate effort to get him out of his shell, to stop wallowing in the fear that had wrapped itself tightly around his buffers. He was tired… He had been so brave when he had been on his previous line, when he had been on the run, but after coming to Sodor, he had become soft. There was no need to be brave. He had found paradise… Right? One mistake after another, he had proved himself not nearly as strong or brave as he had believed himself to be. The dreams had almost stopped… He had been waking up everyone far less than he had when he originally arrived. They were still there, and often the Little Western fleet was there to coo him… He had been healing, he had been getting better…

That diesel showing up had undone all the work he had put in to rebuilding himself after a year of fear and secrecy. It had needed to be done, to fight for his freedom, he had hidden and run. He had been given so many chances, so much extra time that others had not thought possible. He had gotten used to it. That luck… Maybe he had gotten used to it too much… He didn't force things like he used to… He didn't have to prove his worth by going beyond what he was actually tasked to do… Maybe that was his problem… Maybe he didn't fight as much as he should of? He had allowed Douglas to convince him that taking things steady was a good plan. That looking sharp had got him his safety, it had gotten him here… Now that he was on Sodor, he didn't need that anymore, right? Why did he agree to those midday naps with Douglas? Why did he like to watch Duck potter around in the yard? Why did he love to joke with Donald so much? Why had things suddenly gotten easy, only for him to be thrown back onto the tracks leading him to the cutter's torch just because of some silly diesel? Was this the universe's way of telling him he was slipping? That he need to work harder again? Did he need to prove himself again? Did he deserve another trial for becoming satisfied with his lot?

"So it is you," came an oily voice.

Oliver looked over to the other track to see the new diesel engine growling beside him. He didn't nearly smell as bad as he had last time, but Oliver was sure that was due to the weather alone. Oliver did not bother to look for very long before turning his attention to the signals. He needed to focus on his task, taking the train to the docks. Nothing more.

"I had wondered where the scrap had rolled away to," he smirked at Oliver. "I didn't give you credit. You did run an awful long way. If I didn't know you had help, I would almost be impressed."

Oliver understood the diesel was trying to rile him up, but Oliver couldn't allow it. He couldn't slip up. Don't let him get to you, had been Duck's words. Ignore him, and he will lose interest. Don't do what I did, don't challenge him… So Oliver wouldn't. He would stand strong, waiting for the diesel to falter as they all seemed to do on Sodor. Oliver had nothing to prove. He was on his home turf. He had everything, while the diesel had nothing. Oliver was not in a foreign land with only his wheels and his own steam behind him. He had his friends and the hope that this was a better place on his side. The weight of the unknown diesel that had brought him to silent tears and wobbling wheels in that siding had no power over him this time. Oliver had the advantage of knowing where he was and who was with him. He had his allies on his side now. He wasn't alone.

Soon Gordon ran past them on the up line with a large Poop Poop, receiving a growl from the diesel. The signal dropped, and Oliver slipped as he attempted to move.

"How long before you abandon this place?"

Oliver let out a growl of his own. He had never abandoned anyone. His line had abandoned him well before he had done the same. Oliver had to agree with Douglas, it was no coincidence that one of the main engines that hunted him would arrive right after a man had come searching for him. There was a seeping onto their island and they couldn't be afraid of it.

Every stop Oliver made that day appeared to have coincided with that diesel being there, too. Every signal, every station, every yard had them meeting. Oliver couldn't stand to be in the main sheds that night. He needed to be there for his early morning train; however, the thought of sharing the shed with that diesel was the worst. Oliver had run along every track he could, asking to swap jobs with people. He tried taking the scrap train from Douglas, who violently told him no (Douglas had promised Oliver that he would never set wheel in a scrap yard again). He had tried to get James to swap the early passenger train, only to get a scoff about taking all the red engines' passenger work. He even tried to take Bear's heavy goods to the works, but no one seemed happy with the idea of swapping.

Oliver was sitting at Tidmouth station waiting for his passengers to board as he wondered what he could do. He supposed he could sleep in the coach shed, the coaches never seemed bothered by his company, or would sleeping under the station would be more covered.

Soon, Percy rolled in looking more tired than usual. His snowplough seemed completely covered in the thick powder.

"Rough morning?" Oliver asked with a smile. Percy looked over at him, his cheeks rosy from exhaustion and cold weather. It wasn't like Percy to be this tired, even after the mail train.

"It's this snow," Percy mumbled, letting out steam to melt the snow clinging to him. "It's so hard to get through. I've only just finished the mail train. Thomas had to abandon some of his so he could pull his passenger train."

"I thought Donald and Douglas cleared most of the lines," Oliver quirked a brow as he remembered the twins leaving the sheds when it was still dark to start their job.

"They do, but this snow is nonstop this week," Percy grumbled as his fireman pulled out a brush to remove some of the snow from his footplate and buffers. "By the time it's cleared, the snow is down again."

"Maybe I could help," Oliver had an idea. He had pulled the mail train a few times in the autumn before his return to passenger work. Even with his disastrous first run, he had still enjoyed the long runs it allowed him to do.

"Are you sure?" Percy quirked his eyebrow, remembering all the fuss that had been made over the auto tank's disappearance. "You don't like snow. Why would you want to do the deliveries instead of being in the warm sheds?"

It was true that Oliver didn't like snow. He didn't like being cold and had often complained about it to whoever listened. It reminded him of the winter when he was only pulled out of the sheds on the weekends to pull passenger trains. But anything, anything was better than having to share space with that diesel.

"I know," Oliver sighed, seeming desperate, "please, Percy. I just need a run."

Percy seemed to weigh the thought for a moment. Having Oliver on the mail train would always be easier than the two on their own.

"You should speak to Sir about it then," Percy sniffed as his face was cleared of snow. "I'm sure Thomas will be happy about it."

"Anything not to wear his snow plough," Oliver chuckled alongside him.

Oliver had to admit that he was excited about the mail run. It was a long run and would be amazing to get some frustration out. Percy and Thomas were at the docks with him, collecting their respective trains. Thomas, as usual was grumbling about his snow with Percy teasing him about the few times he didn't wear them. Oliver sat comfortably as his crew did their last checks. Donald rolled past with his last goods train of the night.

"Sure about this, laddie?"

"Of course," Oliver smirked, the water bubbling in his tank, "it's only a delivery. Think I can't do it?"

"Just dinnae find any haunted buildings on tha way, aye", Donald chuckled. "Ah dinnae think Henry's valve can take another horror story." With a whistle, he left the snow parting easily for him. It wasn't long before he and the other tank engines were ready to head off.

"We'd better get going," said Thomas with a frown as he looked out at the snowy tracks before them. "The sooner my snow plough is removed, the better." Both green engines laughed at the blue tank engine.

"Stop your complaining, Thomas," Percy rolled his eyes, forgetting how many times he had had this conversation. "Remember what happened last time you left without it."

"How many times have you gone without your snowplough?" Oliver enquired curiously, a cheeky glint in his eyes, knowing too well the stories.

"About as many times as you've had accidents with the turn table," Thomas snapped back with just as much cheekiness. Oliver blushed at the statement.

"Come on, you two," Percy smiled and peeped. "We haven't got all night." Percy rolled off, leaving the two side tanks to their teasing.

"Bet I can finish my work before you can," Oliver proudly proclaimed.

"You're on Oliver."

Both quickly pulled from their spots and off into the night for their journeys. Oliver ran from the docks, all the way to Tidmouth, before veering off to Little Western and along Toby's line. It was a fun journey with some long straights for him to pick up speed. He also enjoyed the games that the postal men in his vans would make of catching the nets of mail hanging above the stations and tracks. He only had a few main stops on this journey, mainly Edwards station, Tidmouth, Callan, Arlesburgh and then off to Toby's line; the rest he could just shoot past without a care.

Soon enough, he reached Edwards station, and Thomas just avoided the signal that forced Oliver to stop. He watched Thomas sail away into the distance, but Oliver wasn't concerned; he would catch up to him soon. As he waited, two trains passed him. Edward with the late local train who gave a friendly whistle, and then the diesel engine passed with a heavy goods. The engine smirked but didn't say anything to Oliver. Oliver glared but paid no mind to him. By the time Oliver would be at the sheds, the diesel would be leaving for his morning job. The closest they would cross paths at night would be at the big station, if Oliver were unlucky.

Without much fuss, Oliver continued his journey. He whistled to Duck shunting at the station and he whistled to Donald at the sheds. All was happy and peaceful for Oliver, even when the snow started to become heavy. Euan promised to ask the controller to do more night runs since it put Oliver in better spirits than he had been in a while.

Oliver was the first to make it back to the sheds after the deliveries, cementing his win against Thomas. He was greeted by James and Edward as their fires were being lit. Henry, Gordon and Duck were asleep for the moment. The diesel was sitting in the far birth where Thomas usually stayed, so Oliver opted to settle on the other side of Duck and between James. They whispered softly as their crews went about their duties, watching as the sun attempted to peak through the clouds. Soon Thomas rolled in taking a spot next to Edward, a look of disappointment at having lost to Oliver. All engines wished to give the diesel a wide birth.

Soon, the diesel crew came and woke their engine with little fuss. In what seemed like minutes, the diesel was revving into life, surprising Henry, Duck and Gordon awake in the process.

"Oh, sorry," the diesel sneered. "Did I wake you?" All the steam engines hissed at him as he smirked. He seemed unbothered by the trouble he was causing. "Oh well, you old timers take so long to get ready that you might as well be up anyway." He laughed before heading on to the turntable and out of sight.

Percy, who had watched everything from the other side of the turntable, rolled in.

"When's Boco coming back?"

"Not soon enough," Grumbled Gordon as he attempted to fall back to sleep, the express not due for another few hours.

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually missing Boco," James glared ahead at the diesel. "This engine has been nothing but trouble since he came to the island."

Oliver watched intently as the diesel skulked away. It wasn't difficult to see that the diesel was entirely focused on him while he mocked everyone. From what Oliver had gathered, the diesel made general remarks about the other engines, but the comments to him were targeted.

"It's just a few more days," Duck whispered to him as the others continued to complain about the new diesel.

"I know," Oliver commented before taking a short nap.

The controller agreed to have Oliver on the mail train for a week; hopefully, the weather would settle again, allowing Percy and Thomas to run the deliveries on their own.

Chapter Text

Oliver rolled into the siding for his late morning rest. His next train was not for another half hour. Usually, he would have spent that time resting, but now he waited for Giggles to show up. She would arrive on the last Thursday of every month, bringing passengers to Swindon. She would take a long stop at their little branch line to refill and let her passengers use the facilities until their turn on the main line was ready. Oliver was excited to see her; he hadn't seen her since the Box had shown up, and he wanted to get her take on it. See if she had them on her line yet, or if they were just the lucky ones.

Soon enough, she rolled in with a loud peep peep, which surprised everyone around. She was in high spirits that day.

"Good morning," She called out, happily receiving peeps in return from around the yard. She was quickly uncoupled from her train and rolled to the water tower next to Oliver. Oliver smiled and waited for her driver to begin before talking.

"Good trip up?" He enquired softly as they watched the yard around them.

"Always Sunflower," she giggled in response. "It's such a good run, you should do it sometimes. I love running down the track. I chased one of the Castles the other day. Didn't catch them, obviously. But still it was fun." Oliver enjoyed her conversation, but couldn't help but notice the Box creeping around the yard with its loud engine humming. Not long ago, their yard was peaceful; now it was too loud to be comfortable. The Box had taken a dislike to Oliver and all of the other steam engines. Oliver understood why, and they had responded in turn. The Box looked over at Giggles for a moment, curiously raised its brow before continuing with its work.

"So," Giggles commented, realising quickly that Oliver had completely ignored her talk about the Castle Engine. "Who's the new guy?"

"Unsure," Oliver frowned. He wasn't, but he didn't want to say too much about the Box taking his train away from him for a solid week. "Showed up a couple of weeks ago and has been doing odd jobs here and there."

"Oh," Giggles wondered for a moment, "I saw a few of them at Swindon a while ago. They didn't seem bothered by me. Just puttered around moving some trucks and supplies. Didn't know they had been moved out already."

"What??" Oliver startled as he turned his attention completely to his sister. "You've seen them before? And there are more of them?"

"Yeah," she explained with a giggle, as if it was such an obvious thing to everyone. "Haven't you seen a diesel engine before?"

"W-well, yes, but…" Oliver was unsure what to make of her question. She seemed oblivious to what that engine meant for them. Jacob had warned them about diesels on the main line, but they had always seemed so far away. So removed from their little world.

"They are all over the main lines," she smiled softly at him. "Paddington is full of them, according to the big engines on my line. I'm not surprised they are here."

Before Oliver could utter another word, a large whistle sounded through the yard. All engines turned in silence as a train rolled quietly through. Gavin, who usually took the passengers to Gloucester, looked sombre as he pulled the breakdown train behind him with little effort. Oliver watched on in fear, and little whimpers came from Giggles. Gavin did not look well, as if he had walked into the cutter torchers yard with an army and came out as the only survivor. Amy and Lucy, the little saddle tank shunter, tried to call out to him, but he kept rolling down the line and off towards the docks. Soon, another engine came through. A large, burly diesel engine with a louder engine than the Box. His growls and hums echoed unnervingly around the yard and station as people watched on. Behind him was a sight. A mangled engine with its boiler caved in on one side and a distinct lack of wheels on its truck bed that made the engine look smaller than it had ever looked. Bryn… His eyes were darkened, like the fire had gone out a long time ago. His face seemed frozen in pain and fear as he was pulled past them. Oliver was unsure if he was even able to look at them. Soon they passed through, and then humans seemed to return to normal, but the engines were spooked.

Oliver felt his wheels wobble as different thoughts ran through his head as to what could have happened. Bryn was always so careful, probably the most out of all of them. If bets had been put on for an accident, Bryn wouldn't have even been considered. Giggles whimpered softly as she tried to comprehend what had happened, no doubt unused to accidents. Lucy shunted the loose trucks into a siding before racing after Gavin. Amy rolled over to them, tears in her eyes as she sought refuge with her friends. Oliver cooed gently to her, telling her that everything would be okay. Giggles joined him as the saddle tank continued to cry. She had been close with Bryn. Oliver looked towards the Box as it entered the yard with a load of empty trucks and a sad-looking Toad at the end. The Box smiled at Oliver, but it wasn't kind or comforting. It looked forced and as if it was laughing at him. Oliver wanted to growl, to confront that diesel, but now was not the time. He had his family he needed to look out for…

Yet, Oliver couldn't help but feel the Box knew something Oliver didn't…

Oliver sat quietly in the yard with Douglas that afternoon when Henry rolled in looking sorry for himself. He coughed and spluttered down the line before coming to a stop at a set of points. Smoke flew from his tunnel in plumes of black smoke, and sparks seemed to fly from his undercarriage.

"Ya dinnae look so grand Henry," Douglas called out to the green engine.

"Yes," he suddenly coughed violently as his driver and fireman scrambled to snuff out his fire before it caused them more problems. "I think the coal at the docks is bad." He coughed once more, seeming to struggle to speak. Oliver had experience with batches of bad coal before. A few times, there had been a delay on the Welsh coal that his branch line used to use, and so they would pull from the closest coaling facility they could. Unfortunately, it was often bad and not nearly the quality that Oliver or his friends were used to. It had resulted in them being slower and dirtier than they usually were, but never had any of them resulted in anything close to Henry before him.

"You sure it's the coal?" Oliver queried as he watched the black smoke hiss around Henry, coating his paint in soot. Oliver had heard of Henry's bad health in his younger years, but had never seen it before. Henry was always a strong and hard-working engine. Getting him to say no to a task seemed impossible to Oliver. "Maybe you need a clean out."

"Aye," agreed Douglas, looking to the far side of the yard where Henry's next train sat. The trucks were beginning to giggle and cause a fuss. "The wee engine is right. Ya haven't had a good clean in a while. Ya need tae stop takin' on Boco and Bear's work. Take a rest."

"I was fine this morning before I filled up," Henry muttered, not wanting to argue, but agreed that the two had a valid point.

"Happens at tha worst times," Douglas smiled before puffing out of the siding. "Patch yer train. Ah'll take this one. Go 'nd have a clean." Henry smiled appreciatively before watching the Caledonian engine head off. Oliver was rather sad that he wouldn't get to spend his break with Douglas, but that was alright. Henry was just as good company as his crew manoeuvred him onto the siding next to Oliver.

The next few days went on like they always had. The diesel engine would insult the North Western fleet, which would fluster the engines to no end. However, work continued at a usual pace, so it was difficult for the engines to complain to their Controller about the disagreeable engine. Oliver would take his passenger trains for most of the day before taking a short rest in the evening, then heading off to do the mail train with Thomas and Percy. Each night, Thomas and Oliver would compete to see who would finish first. Currently, Oliver was in the lead with 4 wins over Thomas' 3. Even with the snow, both engines seemed to do the work well, stubborn and proud as they were, and more often than not came down to the buffers with the winner of that night's race.

One night, Oliver was stuck at Edward's station, waiting for the deliveries. There had been an issue with one of the sacks, and it was causing a delay. It had caused an argument between his crew and the station porters to no end. They were attempting to find out what the next step was while Oliver quietly waited at the platform. Douglas had been sitting on the siding resting while he waited for a gap in trains for him to continue clearing that section of the line. He had been soundly asleep, not even noticing Oliver's arrival. It was only the arguments between the humans that had finally awoken him.

"Ah'll be clearin' up tae Tidmouth," he explained proudly, attempting to ignore the humans.. "Shouldnae take me too long. Ah'll get it cleared 'fore yous make it there."

"You wish," Oliver smiled back, his fire burned bright even in the cold weather. Oliver had been disappointed that his race with Thomas had been disrupted, and so early on, it was a good pick-me-up that Douglas was interested in a race instead. "You couldn't possibly beat me in a race." Oliver knew his chances of beating Douglas were scarce at best, but he had wondered how he fared against the tender.

"Ouch, aye," Douglas indulged his wee engine. "Even while clearing tha tracks, Ah'd still get there 'fore yous."

Oliver laughed at him. He really did enjoy his small chats with Douglas. The two smiled brightly, enjoying the calmness of their friendship in the cold night air. There had always been an easiness with Douglas that Oliver didn't have with the others. Oliver had wondered if it was because of Douglas' help on his escape. Oliver wasn't sure if it had been down to that cool night as they ran for Sodor. Face to face with no hiding possible as they bared themselves to each other in the hope of finding solace in the exhausting thrill of escape. In those quiet moments in the dark, with only Douglas' puffing and the turning of their wheels to accompany them, they had become acquainted and friends in one swift ride. Even with the crews and Toad riding with them, Oliver had only felt Douglas there beside him. The two against the world. Somehow, that had brought him comfort, even when they held their breaths at points waiting for entry to freedom.

"Sorry, old boy," Euan interrupted the two as he patted Oliver's cab. "Seems someone has completely messed up the sacks. We will be stuck here a little while, until we can figure out what has happened." Oliver sighed. Well, there goes his race against Thomas and Douglas.

"Maybe another time, laddie," Douglas smiled sympathetically. Douglas' attention shifted for a moment, further down the track. He glared at something Oliver couldn't see. A hum began far behind Oliver, disturbing the peace of the snow. He knew who was approaching. Oliver glared as his steam rose angrily around him, any calm immediately removed from his frame as he braced for the foul stench of the diesel. Douglas seemed to match Oliver's attitude as the diesel stopped beside them.

He sneered at the two; they, in turn, hissed at him. In the beginning, Oliver had been fearful of the diesel, but when he was being horrid to his friends, any fear had dissipated from Oliver and was replaced with frustration and protective behaviour. Oliver had imagined it was a similar feeling to how Douglas had reacted many times to someone belittling Oliver. Oliver could stand to be the victim in that situation; he could handle anything. He would stand as the target so others could carry on without issue. 

"You should be careful on the rails," Growler, as they had affectionately named him, smirked, his engine growling. "A lot of you kettles have been scrapped in this weather."

"Haud yer wheesht!" Douglas snapped his boiler, ready to explode. "Yer a bampot if ye think yous can talk like tha' to us."

A chuckle escaped the diesel before his attention turned to Oliver. Oliver simply glared; he would not give the engine the satisfaction of a conversation. The noises and smells of the diesel seemed to have little effect on him, as they had many months ago. The diesel glanced back at Douglas with a raised brow as if something had just been revealed to him. Often, if Oliver was about, a second glance wasn't even considered at another engine. 

"This is the one that pulled you from the scrap heap?" He gave Douglas the once over, turning his nose up at him. His attention soon turned back to Oliver with a darker smirk than before. "He should have stayed there with you."

"Awa' an bile yer heid." Douglas snapped as steam hissed violently at his side. 

Oliver growled as the diesel rushed off into the night, wanting to give chase. Douglas sighed and let off steam, surprising the staff at the station. Their crews slowly came to their engines, giving them words of reassurance. Euan spoke softly about how there were only a few days left. Chris explained how Oliver and Douglas were safe on Sodor. Oliver couldn't help but allow the pressure in his boiler to continue to grow. Something in that interaction had not seemed right. Oliver needed a run. He needed this feeling to go away.

"Hauld back on yer run," Douglas began as he cuffed out of the siding, sounding less angry than Oliver had expected. "Ah'll see yous at tha big station."

Oliver frowned in confusion, the fight draining from him as Douglas pushed on into the night, clearing his path for him. What did Douglas mean by that comment? Why would Oliver hold back on a run he was already late for? Within the next half an hour, Oliver was ready to leave. His fire blazed to life as he began to make up time. He wouldn't beat Thomas tonight, but he would finish his job.

Eventually, he made it to the big station. Even with Douglas clearing the snow, it was still a big push to get through the bad weather. The icy tracks did nothing to help Oliver's grip, and the wind seemed to constantly be against him regardless of which way he turned. As he pulled into the big station, he noticed Donald and Douglas whispering on the far track. The two were never ones to whisper unless something was going to happen. Oliver had heard from the others about the temper the twins could have, but had never seen anything more than some irritated words and hissing. Donald, who was facing Oliver, smiled happily at his twin before Douglas headed towards the sheds. Donald noted Oliver on the platform and regarded him for a moment. His smile softened as he rolled towards the smaller engine.

"Make sure tae fill up on sand wee one," Donald smiled as his own sand box was filled on the platform. Oliver didn't respond; he looked to see Douglas turning the corner out onto the loop rather than head for the shed, wondering what he had said. "Hey, wee one," Donald called for his attention again. "Maybe take yer nap somewhere else tha 'morrow."

Oliver scrunched his face. Why would he do that? He was to nap with Thomas and Percy at the main sheds, like they had done most of the week. It was a little bit of an inconvenience to have to double back to another shed. Oliver didn't really mind the idea of it; it would keep him away from Growler in the sheds, but Oliver liked seeing the other engines and having a catch-up before taking a nap.

"Why?" Oliver asked curiously, not truly trusting Donald's friendly advice.

"Dinnae ask," Donald smiled sinisterly. "Tha' less ya know, tha better." Donald whistled and exited the station. Oliver turned to his driver, expecting an answer, but all Euan could do was shake his head.

Duck woke up early the next morning to watch as all three mail engines rolled into the shed beside him. Duck frowned. He had slept alone at the Little Western sheds so that there would be room for all three at the big sheds. All three yawned and giggled like school children when they finally came to a stop.

"What happened?" Duck questioned with concern as he watched all three crews fuss over their engines and laugh. Duck knew that trouble had been caused when those three giggled that way. He just couldn't work out what it was.

"Donald and Douglas happened." Oliver couldn't contain his laughter much longer and gave one of the loudest laughs Duck had ever heard him make. Duck wanted to smile, but was more concerned that he was the tender of the joke. He quickly observed himself before understanding that the joke did not involve him this time.

"That new diesel made some rude comments at the junction near Edward's station," Percy elaborated between a yawn and a laugh. "They made sure he didn't get up for his run this morning."

Duck wondered what the twins could have possibly done to stop a big engine like Growler from doing a run. Getting on the wrong side of one twin was bad enough, but to have both of them was a recipe for pain. If both twins were angry, then there was certainly a big problem for the recipient. 

"Lucky James and Gordon got out of there before it was too late," Thomas smiled brightly from the other side of Duck. He seemed to take the most pleasure out of the situation.

"Okay, but what did they do?" Duck asked, concerned that the twins might get in trouble for it.

"Unsure," Oliver elaborated, "but the turntable for the shed is completely frozen over."

Duck blinked rapidly. Oh no. He knew exactly what had happened. It had been a joke from a couple of winters ago when James had been extremely difficult and conceited. The twins were going to freeze the turntable by throwing buckets of water on it in the middle of the night, leaving it to freeze and strand the red engine inside. They had never done it as the weather had warmed quicker than they would have liked, but the twins always joked that they would do it one day just because they could. Duck was not against the idea of payback where it was due, but he couldn't be seen to take enjoyment from the idea. It would not be proper for a flagship engine to do; Thomas appeared to have missed that memo. Yet, deep down, he too wanted to laugh and joke about it; the engine deserved more than to get a rest in the shed for the comments he undoubtedly made. Duck wanted to know what had been said, but knew that he would have to wait until later in the day to get the answer.

"Well, if it keeps him out of the way for today," Duck huffed, hiding his amusement.

Eventually, his own crew arrived and prepared him for the day as the others took their nap. Oliver and Percy had been quick to fall asleep in the warm shed. Duck left quietly with only a nod from Thomas before heading to Tidmouth yard for his deliveries. Duck couldn't help but take a look as he passed by. Indeed, it was a sight to behold. Gordon, who was on a siding with James, watched on as the diesel screamed demands to be released from the shed; the two North Western engines were truly amused by the situation. A few poor workers attempted to fix the turntable along with the diesel crew, but without getting some ice picks and a lot of fire, Duck didn't think there was a lot that could be done. Duck rolled up to the tender engines and watched for a moment. The two were also giggling like children after a silly prank.

Growler appeared to be vibrating with annoyance as he sat at the edge of the turntable. He glared and cursed the silly thing, hoping that threats could get him what he wanted. His crew were in no way better. They, too, snapped and growled at the workers who had kindly attempted to help them. One poor worker had attempted to shift the turntable by themselves manually, but had managed to fall face-first into a pile of snow instead. Eventually, the kind workers walked away nursing their wounded pride from the situation. Duck rolled his eyes and smiled. Yeah, he couldn't deny it any longer. It was a very funny scene.

Duck continued his shunting in the yard; every engine that passed laughed at the annoyed diesel. Even Bear, who was snapped at for not stopping to help his fellow diesel, could not deny the entertainment.

"Serves him right," Bear chuckled as he rolled on past. "Boco is missing all the fun." Indeed, he was, just two more days, and he would be back. Then Growler would be allowed to leave.

As Duck began shunting the last of his trucks, he noticed something off about the sheds. While workers had given up on the turntable, a small group of workers, plus Growler's driver, talked near the engine's buffers. Duck couldn't tell what they were talking about or saying, but he knew something was off about them. Something didn't sit right with the pannier. They seemed to stick too close together for the conversation to seem normal. Growler seemed to scowl at everything that moved around them, as if something was about to invade or attack them. Duck stared at them until his driver tapped on his cab, calling him to move on. Duck wanted to stay longer and work out what was happening, but he had duties to attend to.

James rolled into the yard, coughing and sneezing as black smoke billowed from his funnel. Edward watched from his berth as the red engine slowly rolled onto the freshly de-iced turntable and into the shed. He came to a stop with a large sneeze, sending soot and smoke everywhere. Edward squinted, hoping not to be hit by anything.

"I see you got the bad coal at the docks," Edward sympathised with his friend. James merely coughed as his crew set about their work.

"I told you I wasn't making it up," Henry grumbled next to Gordon, with an "I told you so" smirk. James merely glared at the green engine before a coughing fit started.

"Hopefully no one else got that coal before it was cleared out," Edward muttered to himself, knowing that there had been arguments between the three big engines about the state of coal and Henry's health. Edward looked to the sky as large clouds rolled in, promising snow. The sky was already dark enough without the threat they brought. Edward pondered to himself about the night trains. His own local train and the Express would go out in a few hours as the last passenger runs of the day. The mail train and the scrap train would be the only ones running late into the night. Hopefully, the snow would not threaten them too much or strand them in any way. Edward watched as a group of workers hastily rushed into the sheds and began inspecting the engines, snow ploughs and their cabs.

"We still have a run to do!" Gordon barked with pompousness as the men clambered into his cab.

"I'm afraid not," his driver announced. "Sir Topham will be here soon to explain."

Oliver quietly sat at Edward's station once more, waiting for directions. There had been a change of plans. Harold would usually collect and drop off mail from Crovan's Gate to Dryaw station, where Percy would then take it to wherever it was needed. The problem was that the weather was too bad for the whirlybird to get off the ground, and so it was stuck on the wrong side of the island with all the mail. Oliver had agreed to forgo his own delivery that night so that he could collect that mail instead and then deliver it himself. It would mean no racing, Thomas, which to Oliver didn't matter; he was already ahead by two wins. He had filled up with coal and water at the docks before making his way to Edward's station.

The snow was getting worse, and the slope at the edge of the station disappeared under the snow drift made by the passing engines. The siding alongside the station was completely obscured, and the buffers looked like the remains of an accident as they poked out the side. Oliver wondered how much longer it would be before they were called to a halt. Oliver at least hoped that he would make it to the mail before he was called off for the night. Then he potentially had the chance to spend the night with Boco in the warm works. It was a cold and horrid night to be out; given the choice, Oliver would have much rather been in the shed, but he had promised, and he didn't break his promises. The hardest part of Oliver's journey would be Gordon's hill; after that, it would be smooth sailing for him. He wondered who the banker was for that evening; he was unsure if he would even get one. It wasn't like he was pulling the Flying Kipper or the Express, but it was still a steep incline in bad conditions. He hoped it was Edward, but he was unsure.

Soon, the guard sent the signal, and they were off, his empty mail trucks pulling easily behind him. It was a quick journey to Gordon's Hill. Oliver felt his fire blaze strongly, and he charged at the hill with all the determination the big engines usually had. Many times, Oliver had attempted this run with heavier trains and had made it through with minor issues. But it was not to be; Oliver slipped and slid as he attempted the steep incline. He grunted as his wheels turned on the slippery rails; there was no grit to be had. The more he pushed himself, the quicker he felt himself go backwards. Oliver sighed, defeated by the hill as he carefully pushed himself back down safely.

"It was no use," Euan had decided after their second attempt. There was not enough traction for Oliver to make it alone; they would have to wait for a banker. The weather was getting worse the longer they waited. Snow piled up on his snowplough as winds rushed around his frame, forcing the snow back up into Oliver's face. Part of Oliver just wished to go back to Edward's station and call it, but his pride wouldn't let him do it. Their radios were no use in this weather; it simply crackled with an occasional word. His guard agreed to head back to the previous signal while they could, to call for a banker. It would be a long wait for them. On a good day, a guard could run to the previous signal box in about 10 minutes; it would be impossible to do it in this amount of snow. Euan had jumped down from Oliver's cab to check on his engine, the wind and snow buffering him at every move. The snow already reached mid shin and was growing. Chris shovelled more coal into his firebox before attempting to clear the snow from Oliver's snowplough. Oliver was struggling to see now; the snow stung as it hit his eyes, and the wind was harsh against his iron body. It was hard to hear over the echoing of the wind as it grew. Both Chris and Euan tried to talk to Oliver, but it was no use; they couldn't be heard well enough. Oliver closed his eyes as he braved the weather, thinking of the warm shed that would await his return. He was so cold, even his fire did not feel that warm any more.

Oliver lost track of Euan and Chris; their hand movements on him faded, and two people entered his cab. Oliver wondered how long he had been waiting before they had given up on the cold and chose the warmth of his cab instead. Oliver thought nothing of it as he heard a guard's whistle; he must have arrived with the banker. He opened his eyes to more snow buffering his face. He felt his face grow cold as coal was added to his fire. He heard a whistle on the wind, the guard's whistle. Something buffered up behind him. He whistled himself as his brakes were removed, and they charged the hill again. Oliver was unable to see the engine banking him, but they were strong. Far stronger than he had known, it couldn't have been Edward. It could have been James or even Bear; it was hard to say. They reached the peak of the hill with no problem at all. Oliver whistled as he carefully made his way down. As Oliver continued on his way along the track, he started to feel something odd. The empty trucks, which had been heavy due to the weather, seemed heavier now that they were cruising down the hill. The mail trucks weren't usually this difficult. Even when full, they were the nicest of the trucks, and as long as they weren't biffed hard, they never had issues.

"Come on," Oliver shivered, "we haven't got that far to go." He hoped this would spur the trucks. Passing Killdane was where the pull tested Oliver. He felt his wheels slip just as much as Gordon's Hill. Pushing through the snow felt more like clearing a huge drift than pushing the foot-deep snow from before. His snowplough was covered in snow, so it seemed a little pointless to have it on him. The snow was slowly pooling over the top of his plough, making it frustrating for him to move. He wondered if this was a reason Thomas hated his plough? Not only that, but his funnel and smoke box felt strange. It felt like something was stuck; he couldn't force the smoke out like he usually would. It felt like something was pulling the smoke back into his body rather than pushing it out. It was heavy and thick…

"Driver," Oliver began a strange rumbling came from his boiler, "I think we need to stop. Something doesn't feel right." Oliver eventually ground to a halt. He felt exhausted and completely out of steam. He had felt his boiler rumble in an odd way, which never meant anything good in his opinion. He coughed loudly as he came to a complete stop. That was him out of power, oh no…

He waited as his boiler continued to rumble; he felt his crew move around in his cab. His fire box opening and closing, his pressure gauge being tapped, and coal shifting in his bunker. Oliver couldn't understand what was happening. All power was gone. Oliver focused on himself, trying to figure out what was happening. He still had a fire in him; he could feel it. His water didn't feel low to him. His pipes had recently been cleaned, and he had been cleared for work not that long ago. A horn sounded nearby. Oliver blinked as he tried to see who it was. The area around him was white; there were a few flecks of green, but mainly white. It was hard to see where the snow started and where everything else began. It looked more like a blank piece of paper than the start of Henry's forest. He couldn't tell who it was; it must have been Bear, right? He was the only diesel who would be out on the main line right now.

"Bear!" He tried to call out, but came out far quieter than he expected. Oliver gave a large whistle, which left him panting and struggling to breathe as the smoke inside him seemed to get thicker. Oliver felt the heat drain from his body as a shadow emerged through the snowstorm. The large box-like frame rolled up beside him for a moment, and suddenly, he realised who was before him.

Growler!

Growler laughed as Oliver tried to back himself up, but the trucks seemed too heavy. His wheels barely moved from the slippery rails; it was like the turntable all over again. His buffers pushed against the trucks, but they would not shift. Get away. Get away. Get away! Oliver hissed as black steam and smoke poured around him. He felt empty… He felt parched, and all the heat inside of him reduced to ice in a matter of moments. That was when he realised his fire had been lowered. Oliver wanted to scream at his crew. What were they thinking doing this right now? Why weren't they shouting? Why weren't they as upset as he was? His crew jumped from his cab, finally, as Growler rolled back onto the tracks in front of him. Oliver's heat turned ice cold as two strange men walked around him to stand before his plough. Their clothes were those of workers, with large jackets wrapped thick around them. Their smirking faces held only malice to Oliver. Where was his crew?

"Gotcha," Growler sneered as the two men departed from his line of sight. His coupling with the trucks became lighter as Growler pulled up to him. Oliver tried to stop the men as he was coupled to the diesel. He shifted and jumped, but soon the diesel was too close and the trucks blocked his only escape. Oliver whistled as loud as he could, but not even someone on the other side of the track would have been able to hear. Quickly and with ease, the diesel pulled Oliver from his train and down the line to a fate Oliver hoped he had escaped.

Douglas was concerned as he watched the snow fall before him. It was getting heavier. So heavy that Sir Topham had personally come to the sheds to advise that all services would be cancelled until the weather cleared up. That meant that the late-night express, locals and all good were cancelled. All staff were to head home immediately

"It's just too dangerous," Sir Topham explained as he examined the engines before him.

"Sir," Edward began, looking concerned. "What about the mail train? Thomas, Percy and Oliver are still out."

"Don't worry about them, Edward." Sir Topham smiled warmly at them, even as the cold wind blew at his hat. "Thomas and Percy are currently heading to their shed on Farquhar. They hadn't left Tidmouth to collect their trains." Douglas began to panic at the lack of a Great Western engine. His wee engine couldn't be out in the snow alone. "I couldn't catch Oliver before he left for Crovan's Gate, but I have called the signal men on the main line to advise Oliver to seek the nearest shed." Oliver held too much faith in signalmen, after a few had been so kind to him on his escape. They couldn't always be trusted. Douglas did not trust the signal men and Oliver together. That is how Oliver discovered the haunted house for the tea rooms in the first place. "With luck, he should be at the shed at Brendan with Bear."

Douglas looked towards the others in the shed. James, Gordon and Henry did not seem to mind the news. Edward seemed disturbed, but would not comment on it. Douglas, however, could not abide by it. He needed to go and find his wee engine.

"Sir," Douglas began, "maybe Ah should go find Oliver. He could be stuck, Sir and Am good wid tha snow." Douglas' accent grew stronger the more he talked. Sir Topham walked over to Douglas and patted his buffers.

"I appreciate that you worry about Oliver," Topham smiled, "but it is too dangerous. It's difficult to see out there, and I would rather not have an accident tonight because you ran into the back of his train. The snow is too thick even for you and your brother, Douglas." Douglas looked out at the whitened yard with a dissatisfied look. The wind whistled as it picked up snow and pushed it around. It was becoming difficult to see around the yard. Douglas couldn't bring himself to look at his controller. He had a bad feeling that something was not right. Sir Topham sighed, knowing the stubbornness of the Caledonians. "In the morning, once it has calmed down, I want you and Donald to clear the main line." His expression demanding the Caledonian's gaze, "If you so happen to see Oliver, then you can bring him back. Until then, you will wait here. Is that understood, Douglas?" He emphasised the engine's name, giving a stern look. Douglas nodded and gave a saddened 'sir'. Topham bid them all a good night and advised their crews to leave for home quickly. As Douglas' crew were leaving, they promised to send word to Donald to be ready to head first thing in the morning.

Douglas' night was restless, much like everyone else. The wind battered at the sheds, and snow piled high, darkening their small windows. At some point, the new diesel returned to the sheds completely covered in snow. He made no comments and no growls of displeasure upon his arrival. He simply bid his crew good night, shook off the snow and promptly fell asleep. It was about 5 in the morning when his crew arrived and began to light their engine. There were no noises in the sheds apart from the odd snore. Edward woke up just as Douglas was ready to depart, advising him to be careful.

"He will be alright," Edward whispered, so as not to wake the others. "Just take your time down the line, and you will find him."

"Tha wee engine could'av been there all night," Douglas mumbled as he wheeshed excess steam. "A've got tae know he's safe."

"Just be careful."

Douglas met up with Donald at Tidmouth with their equipment before heading off on their journey. Donald could tell his brother was worried. He and Duck had heard that Oliver had still been out on the main line when the stop call came through. Much like Douglas, they too had been worried. They did not want nights and Oliver getting lost on them to become a normal thing.

"He'll be fine," Donald smiled as he buffered up to his brother, "Tha' wee engine could fall into tha Clyde and come out wid a salmon in his cab." Douglas appreciated the sentiment, but until he saw his wee engine, he could not help but worry. They made their way along the line as quickly as the snow would allow them. The snow had stopped falling for the moment, but the wind had built up, making it difficult for them to push through. The snow was heavy; it felt like everything that had come down in the last few weeks had once again descended on them in one night. Donald was sure he had cleared that siding only yesterday…

Eventually, they made it to Edward's station, where they saw Bear attempting to clear the line to the docks with little luck. Both steam engines whistled to get the diesel's attention. Bear paused in his work with a grumble.

"Bear!" Donald shouted as they stopped at the junction. The grumbling engine smiled towards the brothers and rolled back to line up with them.

"Please tell me you are coming to clear this line?"

"'Fraid no," Donald replied.

"Have yous seen Ollie?" Douglas interrupted the small chatter. Oliver should have been with Bear. Bear was at the docks. Bear would have watched over Oliver last night. Douglas so wanted Bear to confirm that he had watched over his wee engine that night. Bear looked at them quizzically for a moment.

"Sorry, but I haven't," Bear responded honestly. "We were told he might be coming, but he didn't show up."

"Do you think he stayed at the sheds at the docks?" Douglas asked, his boiler pressure dropping as the fear of Oliver going missing again clouded his mind. Maybe Bear had stayed at one of the smaller sheds at the docks, or even the coach shed, and that was why he hadn't seen Oliver.

"I'm afraid not," Bear answered with a solemn look. "Bill and Ben were the only ones there when I left." He gave a small beep of his horn before he continued with his job, leaving the twins to stew in their worry.

"We'll find him," Donald tried to lighten the situation. "There are sidings at Maron, Cronk and Killdane. He could have stopped on them."

"Aye…" Douglas did not think he could hope, for the feeling in his boiler got heavier and heavier the longer he waited for answers. Oliver was a smart engine, very resourceful, but he was also very stubborn and proud. Oliver had promised he would get that delivery, and then he was going to do it. Douglas only hoped that his crew had knocked some sense into him before they were stranded. It was not fun to be left out in the snow alone, Douglas knew that from experience.

Soon, the twins made it to the signal at Killdane with no sign of their wee engine. Douglas could feel the worry about to overflow, like when his tender spilt water from his fireman not paying attention. It was hard to deny the feeling, but every click of the tracks, every shunt of snow and every hiss of steam made his boiler feel worse. He would not be better until he knew Oliver was safe. When they reached the signal box to allow them towards Henry's forest, they were met with two men standing outside the signal box waving a red flag. One was the signal man, the other a guard.

"What can we do for you?" Donald asked curiously about the flag. Signal men only tended to stand outside in the cold with a red flag if there was important information to share.

"Oliver's train got stuck in the snow. I ran back to get help, but the snow was so thick there was nothing we could do." The guard explained himself as he wrapped his large coat around him. Oliver was nearby, Douglas thought as a little dread fell from his frame.

"We closed the line as Oliver is still stranded on it. You will need to go along and clear him off the line," the signal man explained as he rubbed his hands together. "Careful, though. The buildup of snow could mean he is buried deep. It may take you a while to free him."

Douglas detached from his brother and found a turntable a little further down, turned and headed up on the inner line. The two would clear the snow, and then Douglas would pull Oliver to Crovan's Gate, leaving Donald to clear the line alone.

"Be careful," called the guard, waving them off. "I'm not sure how close to the forest entrance Oliver is. You will have to go slowly."

"We will," said Donald, but Douglas had already left.

"Slow down, Dougie!" Donald called after his brother, but Douglas was not up for listening. The heavy feeling in his boiler was only getting worse, and the longer he was without knowing Oliver was safe was making it worse. He covered the bend into Henry's forest quickly, and there he saw the back of the mail train almost completely covered in snow. Douglas smiled as he pushed through the snow slowly to make his way towards Oliver. No doubt the wee engine would complain his smoke box off about being so cold. Douglas would make sure that didn't last for too long. He had plenty of coal and fire in him to keep the two of them warm for another escape.

"Ollie," Douglas called happily, a weight in his boiler lifting. "Ya wee engine, did ya know yer no made fer snow?"

Douglas laughed, but not for long. Douglas stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the front of the train. Where an engine should have been was a pile of snow at half the height of an engine. The front of the mail truck had its face ploughed into the snow, making it look like it had crashed into the snow bank. Douglas could see instantly that this was a deliberately looking scene. Snow never shifted that way after being ploughed into. Douglas blinked once as the sound of Donald coming to a stop behind the train sounded.

"Tha wee guy a'right?" Donald shouted curiously as his crew jumped from their engine to join Douglas' crew.

Douglas remained confused as he surveyed the surroundings. There was no sign of another engine having been through, so Oliver must have travelled on without his train. But then why did the front of the train look like this? There were no tracks around to suggest that any humans had intervened in the scene. The trucks seemed confused at their surroundings, almost absent-minded at the seriousness of the situation. Both crews of the twins examine the train and the surrounding area; they, too, were confused at the trucks in front of them. They shovelled the snow the best they could to get to the doors. They had to check the trucks before moving off.

"It will be alright, Dougie," Donald reassured, rolling close by.

Soon, the crews got the first door open, and everything looked in order. They continued up the train until they got to the truck that would have been right behind Oliver. The four men opened the door with a big surprise. Inside, mixed in with the bags of mail were two men tied and gagged. The two drivers jumped into the truck quickly to help the men. Donald and Douglas waited patiently as the four men exited the trucks. The two new men were Oliver's crew, shivering as they rubbed at their joints. Donald and Douglas' drivers quickly pulled their coats over the missing engine crew's shoulders. Their cheeks were pink, and each movement seemed wobbly at best. The heavy feeling that had been in Douglas' boiler dropped finally, and the sloshing of water in his tank became too much. With a large hiss, the engine had had enough.

"Where's Oliver?" He demanded, looking like a beast from hell as steam poured from his mouth and nose.

"That bastard!" Euan snapped as he rubbed his sore wrists. "Jumped us as we were checking Oliver."

"Who did?" Douglas' driver asked.

"Anderson!" Euan snapped with venom in his voice.

"We don't know that," Chris argued back, his cheeks blackened from impact against something.

"I'm telling you I heard him barking orders!"

"You need to calm down," Donald's driver intervened, noting the hissing engine. Donald and Douglas were fiery engines at the best of times, but when angered, they needed to be held back so as not to hurt anyone. All of the drivers understood the close relationship between the Little Western engines and understood that anything that happened to one of them happened to them all. "Oliver couldn't have gotten off the island last night in this weather. Any idea where they could be right now?"

"Not many places to hide this far down the line," Donald added from far behind as he frowned at the situation.

"They wouldn't be able to drive Oliver out on his own steam," Chris commented, looking up at Douglas, wanting to reassure the growling engine. "Oliver would scream all hell given the chance."

"Especially if he knows it's Anderson," Euan added with a spiteful tone.

"Meaning?" Enquired Donald's driver.

"They need an engine tae do it," Douglas snapped and released his building steam, melting the area around him. "Ah, bet it's tha diesel. He's tha one who chased yous here."

"We don't have proof of that," Donald argued, knowing all too well that Oliver could never confirm it to be Growler from sight.

"No," Euan nodded, "but we can get it."

Edward quietly hummed to himself as he watched over the yard. Percy had kindly offered to shunt his good train for him, since he had yet to put his snow plough on. The morning had been very quiet after the mess of a storm the night before. He was about to set off when he saw Duck struggling down the line with his snowplough. Duck looked exhausted and red-cheeked as he pulled to a halt at the water tower. Edward observed how quiet the engine was, even when exhausted, Duck would always peep as he entered a yard or say hello. Quietly, his crew seemed to disembark and split off to do their own jobs. His fireman rushed to the signal box while his driver ordered some nearby workers to help water their engine. Duck did not even greet the workers as they moved around them. Very out of character for him. Edward was about to roll on over when a loud horn echoed through the quiet snow. Edward turned to watch Growler zoom through the yard, faster than anyone would like in this weather, almost colliding with Percy in the process. Edward didn't miss the smirk that he sent towards Duck as he passed through, not even bothering to say anything to the other engines. Percy shouted for him to watch where he was going as he pulled out of the yard towards the loop.

Edward rolled up to Duck as the workers finished filling his tanks and continued on their way.

"Not a happy morning, I see," Edward commented as he watched the pannier twitch at the comment. "I haven't seen you this out of sorts in a while."

Duck looked down at his plough for a while, seeming to debate what to say to the tender engine. Edward waited patiently; he wouldn't leave Duck when he knew the engine was in need of advice. It wasn't often that Duck was one to seek advice, usually only seeking it in times of distress, but this seemed to be one of those moments to Edward. Duck gave a big sigh before turning his gaze to his friend.

"I'm worried about Oliver," he answered honestly, his steam curling around him in a worried fashion. "He hasn't returned yet. I know the storm was bad last night, but surely he should be back by now."

"I suppose it depends on whether Donald and Douglas have cleared the main line yet," Edward answered softly as he weighed the actual frustration that was not spoken. With everything that had happened in the last few months around Oliver, it was no surprise that the other engines worried about him. "I'm assuming no one has heard anything, and you want to go look. But you have duties to do, because you are a useful engine; they come first. So, you have to trust that the twins will find him."

"Nothing has been sitting right with me, Edward," Duck explained, looking frustrated at himself. "Since that man came, and now this engine that chased Oliver. It's all too much. My boiler is aching with worry."

Edward had to agree with the pannier; this had all been too much of a coincidence for him. First, a strange man comes looking for an auto tank with no reason why, causing a lot of confusion on the railway. Then, when everything appears to be settled, an engine from his past comes along and causes trouble and terrible nightmares for the little engine. Edward himself had rarely had nightmares, but he'd seen enough engines with them to know that it would take a toll even on the bravest of them. Oliver was proud, too proud sometimes for Edwards's liking. Then again, Edward had been young once and remembered all the bravado that came with it. All that pride is good for an engine; it allows them to show their responsibility. No doubt Oliver felt weak because of those nightmares affecting his responsibilities. It was too much for anyone to deny. Something was happening, and they were being kept in the dark. Edward, ever the helpful engine, knew he needed to step up and support the pannier.

"You have a passenger run soon, don't you?" Edward enquired as he watched Percy complete his shunting.

"Yes," Duck answered meekly.

"Take my train to the docks then," Edward explained softly to the little engine. The pannier seemed flustered at the suggestion. "I'll take your passenger run up the line and back. All trains are limited today. While you are up there, make sure you talk to Bear. He might know something."

"But sir-"

"Let me worry about that," Edward advised sternly. Edward knew how to speak to the Controller; he had much experience. If Edward came to him with worries, then the Controller knew it was serious. Right now, he needed to get the pannier away from their yard and do a long run, while he spoke with the Controller about the situation. "Now get a move on before you are late."

Duck gave one more concerned look to Edward before agreeing and switching tracks to Percy's newly shunted trucks. Quickly and safely, Duck pulled the long line of trucks out of the yard and down the line. Edward was watching all the while. Percy ran up next to him, sitting, waiting for the next move.

"Deputation?" Percy asked softly.

"Indeed," Edward agreed.

Chapter Text

Oliver quietly slipped through the yard before him. He switched to the siding and waited patiently. He didn't want to be on that line for much longer, but he needed to wait till the long passenger train came through, giving him his escape. He watched patiently, keeping his steam close to his body as the darkness curled around the yard and its inhabitants. His crew quietly listened to the radio chatter as they waited for his moment. Oliver had never once been this far down the line; he wasn't sure if he was even on his own line any more. All he knew was he needed to make as much distance as possible to keep them safe. Toad was quietly napping while they had a chance. They had been in such a rush to escape that Oliver and Toad didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to the place they had once called home. Could they even call it that any more? Everything that had made the place home beforehand no longer existed. Their friends and family were gone, scrap for all they knew. Or at best, rusting in some shed or siding. Oliver couldn't abide by that being his fate. His driver and fireman had agreed with him. They would have been further along the line had they not stopped to collect Toad. Oliver couldn't leave the poor brake van, who had always been so kind to him, to live on the branch line without his old friends. No, he had no choice but to take him. In doing so, they had missed their perfect window, but that was okay. Another one was coming soon.

A whistle echoed in the distance, and steam danced across the sky before them. They waited a while. They were waiting for something specific. There was a large click, and that was when his brakes were removed. They trundled on into the middle of the night.

Close to sunrise, they found a good siding to settle into. Oliver didn't question where they were. It was better to let his driver do all the talking for them if they got caught. Chris left in the early hours of the morning, saying he would be back with some supplies for their journey. Before midday, he would return with food for the two men and a small book that Euan began reading to the engine and brake van when it was safe. It wasn't a fancy book. No big words or complicated story lines. Just a simple story about a little boy with no family trying to make his way in the world.

Most of their days were like that, until one night when they made it to a forgotten branch line. From what Oliver could tell, there was one lonely shunter engine working there at the time. Oliver didn't want to make friends, so they stayed out of sight for a while; however, Oliver would soon wish they had rushed through instead. Euan had rushed off just after midnight to find something. Oliver sat, waiting quietly and with great concern as he did. This place did not feel safe, far worse than their journey so far.

Within an hour, Euan was rushing back. He pulled Chris into Toad's cab and spoke in low whispers.

"What are they saying?" Oliver hissed as he kept looking out.

"I don't know Mr… Oliver," Toad responded, seeming unsure about the new name. "I can't hear them."

Oliver grumbled to himself until they both returned, looking at odds with each other. Oliver frowned harshly at them; they never kept secrets from each other. It's how they had survived so long on the run with each other.

"Tell me," Oliver demanded. Euan looked to Chris with a satisfied look before the other gave a big sigh.

"It's a bad idea," Chris mumbled.

"We have some news," Euan spoke softly, walking towards Oliver's buffers. He placed his hands gently on his buffer beam to gently soothe him. "Do you remember 1436?" His face held concern far softer than what Oliver had seen recently. Oliver thought for a moment about the question. 1436… He did know that number… He had called her Giggles. She had called him Sunflower. Oliver nodded with uncertainty. "Remember how she disappeared? Well… She's here… Well, nearby…"

"She is?" Oliver muttered softly as he remembered her so fondly. He would see her every two weeks, and they would have such fond conversations about anything they wanted. She had been so fun and full of life.

"Yes," Chris nodded and walked forward. "We could go and see her if you wanted, but it would be dangerous."

Oliver slowly opened his eyes to the darkness of the forest around him. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he knew he was still in Henry's forest. Henry had explained that many sidings had been forgotten after they had replanted the trees a few years ago. It was smart, a good place to hide something without anyone noticing. Oliver quietly watched the four men who had stolen him in the middle of the night putter about with their makeshift camp.

Upon reaching their camp the previous night, Growler had left Oliver to his fate on the siding with a promise to return. Oliver had done nothing; attempting to move by himself would yield nothing. The little heat he had remaining in his boiler was barely enough to speak, let alone do anything of importance. The two men who had originally driven Oliver returned, bundled in their unknown uniforms and quickly got to work unbolting Oliver's snow plough. A mumble between them about potentially scrapping or selling it too. Oliver had bucked a few times, sending the men flying with a fright and a smirk on his lips. They came back with two more men and soon had the plough removed. Oliver felt the corner of his buffer beam scratch as they removed it with force. They had attempted to clear Oliver's smoke box, and all ashes from that night were dumped at the first sign of light. Oliver had ensured that they were covered when they did so. Oliver proudly smirked to himself; he would not go down without a fight. He just needed to stall; that was all. He had never been caught on his run to Sodor, but Euan and Chris always told him that if he did, he was to stall for time.

Upon realising who had taken him, Oliver lost all will to fight the men. Fear ran through his pipes like ice-cold water as he looked upon the man before him. The leader of the men, who had taken great pleasure in removing his number plate and throwing it to the floor, was none other than Mr Anderson. The old controller of his line. Oliver dared not say a single word to the man for fear that he might say too much.

"It was a clever plan," Anderson praised as he stood on the number plate before rounding on the engine. "Changing your number was very clever indeed. You always were a resourceful engine; it's why I kept you around so long. Change the number and no one will suspect you travelling along the line." Oliver glared at the man before him. Once, Oliver would have done anything to please him; now he just hated him. "It was stupid to pick her number, though." If Oliver could have hissed, he would have. He would have made it burn. How dare he mention her! "Did you go looking for her while on the run? Or was it an unhappy coincidence? Did you think you could save her, too? Either way, it was what got you in the end. You should have taken the North Westerns number; we wouldn't have found you then." Oliver wondered how they could have possibly known about the number. "There was a very pretty picture of you in the papers at the tea rooms. A good friend of mine sent it when I said I was looking for you. If you hadn't posed for that picture so handsomely, I think you would still be missing. You were always a selfish engine."

The tea rooms… Oliver's first mail run had got him caught? The papers had asked for a picture of Oliver outside the house as a fun little addition to the story. That is what got him? A silly accident with a shed and an old station house was what caught him? How many times had Oliver hidden in abandoned stations and sheds in the past for safety?

"Don't worry, you will be joining her soon enough," Anderson smiled with a toothy grin. "The yard that held her for so long has offered to take you in while we cut you up. Enjoy your freedom while you have it. It won't be much longer."

The group of men continued the day as if they had not just stolen an engine and were waiting for their escape. Oliver couldn't help but watch and compare their movements to those of his crew during their run. Instead of whispers and small conversations, the men were loud, and laughter rang high in their small gang. Their mouths were filled with food and drink, something Euan and Chris would often forgo just so they could get time to collect Oliver's own coal and water out of sight. Their clothes wrapped snugly against their bodies, and warm fires with plenty of kindling kept them snug on the frosty winter day. His own crew wrapped their summer jackets close to their bodies as they huddled together in Oliver's cab, wondering if a few more pieces of coal would be worth a little extra warmth while they were hidden. They would glance over with malice in their voices as they taunted him with threats of the cutter's torch and stories of his old friends. Oliver learned that the group of men had indeed worked on his branch line in some capacity and had fallen for the greed of Oliver's scrap that Anderson so freely offered them. No doubt he would find a way to keep anything he made from Oliver to himself. Anderson had never struck Oliver as a sharing type.

"Remember the small saddle tank? She gave us a pretty penny."

"What about that 4500 engine?"

"Nah. We ran him off the rails too hard. Didn't get much for him in the end."

Oliver felt the stab of each comment in his boiler rip more and more. Oliver didn't let the pain show; he had learned not to feel. Not to listen. That's how he survived all those years while the others fell. Yet, somehow, finally knowing the truth about his friends was breaking him. He had often pondered how all of his friends had come to untimely ends. At some point, he stopped wondering. It was easier to hope that they magically disappeared than to end up crashing and scraping.

At some point, Anderson became annoyed. He had been watching Oliver silently as the men tortured him. He had watched the men badger Oliver with stories to make the engine miserable, but nothing had worked. Oliver was stronger than that, and it infuriated him.

"You tried to prove your worth in the end, didn't you?" Anderson walked over to him, his look becoming darker. "Your need to be in the spotlight is the reason the other engines fell." What did he mean? Oliver was only the passenger engine; he had never been in the spotlight for anything other than that… "Don't you remember? You took on so much work to give the others a break. Shunting those coaches every morning so that the saddle tank didn't have to wake up so early. Or how you would move the break vans back to their shed when that older engine lost its fire. I even saw you shunt some of the engines into their sheds when you thought I wasn't looking." Oliver had not done that to look good; he had done it to help, so they wouldn't get in trouble. So they would look useful. He had hidden their problems so they could stay longer. "Yes, I saw each and every task you took on. My, you were busy. Trying to prove that you were so useful that your number stayed low on the list." No! That's not true! "You were supposed to be one of the first to go. Did you know that? But once I saw how hard you were working, I made sure that you were pushed to the bottom." Oliver cracked, and his frame shook, earning a wicked smile from Anderson. "It was a good thing, too. I don't think I would have got nearly as much work out of the saddle tank as I did you." He wasn't supposed to have survived that long? He had tried to save them by covering them. They had all covered each other, so they wouldn't be sent away. He had hidden their mistakes and problems so they could stay a little longer. But in the end, he had brought them to their end sooner. By working harder, by proving he was more than a passenger engine, he had signed their numbers on the line. No! Anderson had done that. If Anderson hadn't decided that Oliver and his friends were useless because of that stupid box, then they would still be alive! Anderson seemed happy with himself. He had begun to break Oliver. That was enough for the moment. There was plenty of time to make it worse.

Oliver had never truly wished to know what had happened to his friends. He had witnessed Lucy's end at the hands of trucks and the Box. Bryn had run off the tracks and down an embankment, according to Gavin, who had brought the breakdown train. Oliver had never found out what had happened to Gavin, Lucy or Jacob. They had slowly been replaced without a word. Just like Giggles had. They had not been the only ones… Oliver had heard of a Jinty engine that had been crushed on the main line a little further down from the junction for their branch line. Toad had tried to tell him what had happened, but the break van could not bring himself to utter the words. Oliver understood why they had taunted him with those words. Once upon a time, Oliver had loudly proclaimed to the whole shed and the workers,

"Those boxes will never replace us! I will bet my life on it!"

Oliver had lost that bet without having to give up his forfeit. Until now…

Oliver rolled up to the junction with apprehension. The rain fell around them, providing an eerie feeling to the whole thing. Drip. Drip Drip. It pat against his tank in an odd rhythm he couldn't keep up with. They had been watching the yard for a few days to see if they could make it in. It seemed only two engines worked, both of which took long trains in the late evening, leaving the yard unattended. He watched as the end of the last train left before making his way quietly in. He chuffed slowly, looking for the little engine he sought. The friendly signal man had advised that the auto tank would be at the far end of the yard. Oliver felt the water in his tank slosh inside him as his nerves built up. Oliver was unsure what he would do once he went there. He wondered how she would look. What would he say to her? Would she remember him? It had been two years since they last spoke. How bad would she look? Would she even be able to recognise they were there?

"There she is," Euan whispered and pointed around a corner.

Oliver let himself roll silently around the corner, and there she was. His sister was standing on a dingy siding, or what was left of her. Oliver wanted to cower away at the sight of his sister; it was hard to look at pretty Giggles, she didn't look so pretty any more. Her cab had been sliced, the roof removed, and the back was open, revealing her controls. One of her wheels was missing, fallen on the track side, dented and warped. The side of her tank was scratched and buckled. Rust exploded at the corners of her boiler. The axle rods had been removed, and her running board was hanging low over the wheels. Her brass had been stripped - no whistle, no handles, no dome. What was worse was her funnel. An uneven cut had been sliced at the base, leaving her with only a little bump. Oliver coasted quietly to her side. The only thing that seemed intact was the lettering that once noted her as Great Western. Her face while asleep seemed disturbed. Her brow was scrunched and her breathing laboured. Her usual clean face had collected dirt and grime that seemed to have embedded in her being. There was a streak of coal sludge that dripped from the corner of her mouth, making her look much sicker. What made things worse for Oliver was watching as the beads of rain trickled down over her body, then ran swiftly inside of her, as if they were running from the clouds above them. Rain filtered through the holes in her body, making Oliver shiver, knowing water should not enter some of those parts.

"Poor girl," Chris mumbled as they came to a halt. They had known that this could have been an outcome. There was no real chance that she would be intact or transportable.

"Giggles…" Oliver whispered as his brakes were applied.

"Will she be okay, Mr Oliver?" Toad asked, looking out over the yard.

"I don't think so," Oliver answered as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. She had been the closest thing to a family he had. Oliver had memories of other auto tanks being created alongside him, but very few memories of them exactly. A few conversations between them and the workers, questions about this new world they were experiencing, and someone leaving the shop. Nothing as established as his relationship with her.

"Don't be sad, Sunflower," a voice whispered. Oliver jumped on the track at the voice, his eyes wide as darkened eyes looked back at him. Giggles smiled weakly at him. She coughed as she tried to speak. "I know the sun has gone, but you shouldn't be sad."

"Giggles," Oliver whispered. "What happened?"

"Same as everyone," She rasped. "I got replaced. I worked my line for a few months before being shut in the shed. I didn't get to prove myself." She sighed as her frame rattled. This was taking a lot of energy out of her. "Then I got the paperwork to be scrapped. There were a few bigger engines here with me. They cut them up first, leaving me here to watch. They came for a few bits here and there, just to get some extra money, but for the most part, I was left."

"Can we take her?" Oliver enquired of his crew. His crew, who had been looking over her, shared a saddened look. They shook their heads.

"Sorry, old boy," Euan patted her old buffers. "She's completely rusted. Even if we took her, it would be a struggle."

"No," Oliver cried softly, letting the tears finally fall.

"What are you doing here, Sunflower?" She rasped as she appreciated the gentle touches of his crew. "Not for scrap, I hope. Not with a nice crew like this."

"He's not for scrap," Chris mumbled as he moved dust and dirt from her running board, trying helplessly to fix the situation.

"We're running," Euan finished. "We can't let Oliver end up as scrap."

"O-Oliver?" She smiled sadly, "You changed your name?"

"Had to," Euan nodded, moving over to comfort Oliver. "It's the only way to keep him safe. We've changed his name and we removed his number so no one would notice him."

Giggles seemed to examine Oliver's side for a long while. She looked down at the ground and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

"Fireman," she whispered so quietly they almost missed it. Chris walked to her buffers and leaned in close. "I have something in my toolbox. Can you give it to Oliver?"

Without hesitation, Chris walked to the remains of her cab and climbed on. It took him a few minutes to find the box in question and search in it. Oliver sniffled as Chris returned to their fronts, holding something to his chest.

"Are you sure about this, love?" Chris asked cautiously, watching the engine's face closely. She nodded and smiled the brightest she could with her pain. Chris nodded and turned to Oliver.

"What is it?" Oliver sniffled, curious about the gift. Chris turned the plate and showed it to Oliver. It was Giggles' number plate - 1436. Oliver blinked in confusion as he looked at the number plate. Why was she doing this? What did it mean?

"Take them. Use them." Chris quietly got to work. "I can't run with you," she rasped before another cough racked her poor body. "But this will keep you safe for a little bit longer."

"I-I can't," Oliver mumbled as more tears threatened to fall. He knew he had to, though. It would be suspicious for an engine to run without a number. "T-thank you."

"You should go…"

Growler smirked as he quietly rolled out of Tidmouth station with his small load. He was heading back to the mainland, but not without a souvenir for his journey. It was late evening, but that was his slot to head home, taking a small load up to Barrow-in-Furnace while travelling home. But that was not the only thing he would be taking.

No one stood in the stations. The weather was still too bad for anyone to be out later than they expected. The silly steam engines had been worried about the little auto tank all day. All of them seemed flustered as they scampered along the tracks trying to rearrange themselves. He didn't get accused like he hoped; he had perfected his alibi for why he wasn't involved. He had also made up a convincing lie for them. He would spin a tale where the little autotank would putter about on a line for a few weeks until he was bored, or caught and then would run with his tail between his legs to the next place. Only this time, the little engine had decided to stick around much longer... They never would have truly believed him, but when the little engine didn't come back, it would be enough to put the doubt in their minds. Not in the panniers, though. The look the pannier had given him all day was enough to say everything. The pannier seemed to know exactly what was happening, but without the evidence, he could do nothing. Growler found that a lot of the Great Western steam engines were like that. Every chance he got, he watched Growler like a hawk. He made sure to know where he was at all times. The other engines simply hissed more than usual when Growler passed, seeming none the wiser to the plot. Even the silly diesel engine Bear had glared as he rolled on past. They could accuse all they wanted, but there was no proof of his involvement in the disappearance of the disappearing auto tank.

It didn't take him long to make his way down the main line. He was one of two engines routed to use it that night. He knew his plan. He would collect the little green engine from the siding in the forest and attach it to his train, and continue along. The group of men had paid off the signal men working that night to ensure they made it through without any problems. Once they were on the mainland, he could continue to the scrap yard where the little engine belonged. Growler had lost count of how many steam engines he had pulled to scrap now. His original work had been along the South Wales coast, pulling all those scrap engines to Barry Scrap Yard. It had been an enjoyable experience. He got to show them how well he would replace them.

He cackled to himself as he passed through Wellsworth, the only engine in sight was the medium blue engine, which was there to be banker, sleeping in a siding. That stupid old engine should have been scrapped ages ago. Barrow-in-Furnace had many of them back in the day, but Growler was sure that most of them were in pieces by now. Growler would not need him for the journey; he would never take help from a steamy.

What Growler didn't know was that there had been more than one engine at Wellsworth, watching him pass that night…

Oliver growled as loudly as he could (which wasn't that loud) as the group of men attempted to prepare him for the journey. They ripped at anything that wasn't needed. His toolbox, his shovel, even the coal and water in his bunker were poured out of him. Anything to make him lighter. They attempted to jam his brake open and remove all safety equipment that would allow Oliver to take control himself. Oliver had managed to knock one of them off with the little movement he had. The man cried out in pain as he landed on his shoulder. He screamed and writhed around on the floor in pain. Oliver would have laughed if he weren't conserving his energy.

He knew that it would be difficult for them to get him off Sodor under his own power. That's why they were doing all this. That was why they had that diesel here. He would be the power to move Oliver. Oliver knew that Anderson was smart, but there was no way he could honestly think of getting Oliver off the island so easily. Crovan's Gate would be busy, as would the border. When Douglas had pulled in over the border and into Sodor, there had been so much information to take in before they could pass through. Douglas had ensured their safe passage through understanding the railways and guards that they needed to pass. He knew when Oliver should shut off steam, when they should both coast quietly, or who was the friendly signal man who would let them pass with small warnings about the line. Douglas had known so many ways and only succeeded because of his knowledge. There was no way these men could do this on their own without prior knowledge of the area...

"Quit your complaining," Anderson snapped as he dragged the man back to his feet with little care for the injuries. Tension was high between the men. "It's just an engine! Get him ready so I can get my money!" Oliver frowned as he once more attempted to bump off the guy. He wouldn't be getting the money for Oliver being scrapped.

Soon, the men were prepared, Oliver tried to force on his brakes as Growler buffered him up to his train, but it was no use. Whatever they had used to jam his brakes open left Oliver stiff and in pain. They quickly coupled him to the last truck without much fuss. Oliver felt a tightness in his body as he looked down at the coupling. His body instantly wanted to tense up and refuse. He wished to stay completely still, regardless of how the diesel pulled. He would rather be pulled apart here and now than go anywhere with them. Oliver whimpered as he felt the coupling pull him down. No, this couldn't happen. Oliver felt his tank drop. This couldn't happen, could it? He had spent so long running for it to come to this! To be stolen in the middle of the night after spending so long being happy with new friends and family. A tear fell from his eye as they built up speed through the forest. Oliver stuttered out a breath. How could this be the end? How could he leave everyone behind on the first line that had felt like home in a long time? How could he leave his family and friends behind? Oliver tried to pull backwards as much as he could. With every pull, a memory he would lose popped into his mind.

How James and Gordon would complain every time they had a goods train to pull. The happiness in Henry when he won an argument, especially over Gordon or James. Toby and his mess about and find out attitude towards silly behaviours. Percy and Thomas teasing each other over the silliest of things. Edwards with a story on hand for those who needed it. How all the coaches greeted him so happily in the mornings. His mind turned darker as he thought about his closest friends. Donald, with his teasing and constant watching of Oliver, as if any moment something bad was going to happen, even though he had already told Oliver a thousand times about it. He loved watching the tricks that Donald and Duck would play on each other. No matter how many times they called it quits, another argument would start a new round of tricks. Oliver wished he knew how Duck was going to pay out Donald for the kittens trick. Then there was Douglas, and that protective nature of his. How every rest that they shared would somehow end in a nap. How easy their conversations were, regardless of the topics. It almost seemed in vain the trouble the Caledonian had gone through, only for Oliver to now be sent back to the mainland. Duck... That no-fuss attitude, always knowing they could resolve anything. Duck had been so patient with him, his biggest supporter for Oliver to succeed. Duck was always there to support him and boost him up when he could. Even when Oliver was at his lowest, the Little Western had always been there for him.

The Little Western… Their branch line… It had been named after Duck and Oliver's partnership… What would happen to their little line now? Would they get another engine? Would they just shift the jobs about as if nothing had happened? Would they consider renaming it? Oliver had felt safe there, felt wanted… He felt useful… Oliver couldn't remember the last time he had felt useful before coming to Sodor. He couldn't save his friends back home. He couldn't keep himself safe on his first branch line. He couldn't keep himself hidden when on the run. It was because of him that they had run out of coal. He couldn't even run away properly… Maybe everyone was better off without him…

The further along the track they rolled, the more Oliver was resigned to his fate. This was it... Once again, he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to anyone. Just disappear into the night with no words. Last time he had been able to take Toad with him… Now he was completely alone… Not even a crew to watch him… How sad that an action that had saved him the first time would be the same thing that would be his demise.

The last signal box before Crovan's Gate came into view. Once they passed that, there was little chance of anyone coming for him from the Sodor fleet. Oliver could see the bright lights of Crovan's Gate coming into view over the treetops. Oliver had spent his first few nights at that place being repaired and repainted. Even with all the noises and comings and goings of people, it had been one of the safest places for him up until that point. The lights from the works usually shone pretty patterns onto the tracks at night. The cooling of machines would click loudly in the quiet night air, showing how peaceful the area was. It had been the first time he had felt hope in such a long time. The idea that he could belong somewhere again finally stuck while he rested in the workshop. This was his last chance. The last thing he would see before leaving forever. The building that once stood as hope, now silently sat watching his forced farewell.

Even if Oliver could make noise, no one would hear him. The rumble of the diesel would be too much. Who would expect a steam engine to be attached to the end of a diesel train?

AS they passed the last signal box, Oliver noticed something was off. On the small siding just before the signal was a brake van... That siding was usually reserved for slow engines to wait for the faster trains to come by...

"For auld lang syne, my jo, for auld lang syne. We'll take a cup o' kindness yet-"

Oliver watched it for a moment as it was humming to themselves as they passed by. The brake van smiled and gave him a wink as it continued to hum. It was Toad… But that song… Auld Lang Syn… Why?

They came to an abrupt stop near the works. Oliver biffed into the last tuck hard as they stopped, and it hurt. He heard a loud blast of a horn and shouting. Oliver observed the scene quietly, wondering who his hopeful saviour could have been.

"Come on! Get moving!" Voices shouted ahead of Oliver.

Ahead of Growler was another diesel engine that was stuck on the points crossing over the fast and slow up track. He honked his horn as he watched the engine before him apologise.

"I'm so sorry," Called the engine as smoke hissed from his cab. How pathetic and embarrassing, Growler thought as he noticed the engine as a brother. Not one that Growler himself knew, but a brother nonetheless. Growler had never had any of the problems the rest of his siblings seemed to have. Whether it was down to something in the factory from when they were built, or just his sheer determination to become powerful, that had made him successful. 

"Sorry, lads," Called the engine's driver as he waved his hat outside the cab. "His engine has knocked out. Didn't think anyone would be on the line tonight while we were testing."

"Get him moved!" Snapped Anderson from the front of the train with all the pompousness of a controller. "We need to be somewhere!"

"Alright. Alright." The driver called, waving his hat in defence. "I'll call the shunter." He pulled a guard's whistle from his pocket and blew on it a few times. Another guard's whistle responded somewhere nearby in the works. Growler only grew in noise as he waited. With every moment they wasted on this engine, the closer it got to them being caught. The confusion in front of him left him blind to the happenings behind him.

Oliver frowned as he watched the scene play out before him. Who was blocking the track? A diesel engine. Not many lived around here. Could it have been BoCo? But shouldn't he be at the diesel works on the mainland? Who did testing on the main line? No one! It was a stupid idea to do, even if it was the middle of the night. Why had Toad been happily singing on a siding this far up the main line? Had he not seen Oliver pass by and thought it strange? Had no one noticed him gone? Did his loyal brake van not care about him? Had giving Toad to Douglas meant that the brakevans' loyalties no longer resided with the little green engine? No! Toad was his friend. He had helped him so many times! Then why hadn't he sounded an alarm!

Oliver had been too distracted by the scene and his thoughts to notice the engine rolling up behind him until he felt the buffers against his. He jumped at the gentle touch.

"Shh…" An engine whispered behind him as a worker ran and unhooked Oliver from the train; another hooked him to the engine behind him. Was this it? Was this the rescue he had been waiting for? Someone had actually noticed! Someone had actually cared enough to come. Only as his wheels started to turn did Oliver realise who the engine behind him was. The hiss of their steam, the quiet chuff from their wheels. Oliver had come to know that sound all too well. They rolled back quietly and pulled into the siding to watch the confusion unfold before them.

"You alright?" The engine whispered as their buffers pressed tightly. He knew this engine…

"I will be," Oliver whispered, feeling safe attached to this engine. Through the darkness of the night, more engines coasted onto the scene. On the main line, two engines rolled up next to them. One was standing strong behind the train that had once held Oliver prisoner, and the other on the upper track, blocking any escape that could be planned.

Growler groaned as a steamer whistle echoed from the other side of the diesel. Not a good look for the diesels to be rescued by a steamer. No wonder this diesel was on this stupid island, a defect of his own class. How on earth had all these steamers survived? It must have been from defunct diesel engines like his brother before him. If this were the mainland, they would be lucky to only have one of the big engines left, and even then, that was a slim chance. The steamer was obscured from Growler's view as if rolled up to help, and soon the diesel engine before him started moving.

"Finally!" Growler rolled his eyes, preparing his engine to get going. He would need to be quick so those engines wouldn't see the end of his train. What Growler had failed to notice was that the diesel engine had not been pulled away by the steam engine. Instead, the Diesel had shifted backwards on the slow upper track while the steamer blocked the fast upper track, directly in front of Growler, leaving no path for Growler to take other than backwards. Growler blinked as he watched the two engines before him. This was not correct in any way. Once Growler and his crew had realised it was too late.

"What's the meaning of this!" Snapper Anderson as he dismounted from the train to confront the steam engine. Anderson appeared to have no fear as he strode forward like the controller of any line. Power sounded strong in his voice even as he marched on the towering locomotives.

"Ah believe ya have somethin' o' mine," the Scottish engine answered with a hiss as steam rose high before it.

"Somethin' o' ours!" Called a voice as Growler was biffed forward hard. Growler's eyes widened as he realised the two steam engines before him. There was no mistaking the look of that engine or their accents. The Scottish twins Donald and Douglas surrounded him. Their plan was ruined, but Anderson didn't seem to realise. Their plan was completely out of the window. No doubt they would take the little engine back. The question would be, would the rest of them be allowed to escape if they got their engine back? It was a difficult question to answer. Growler wondered if he could overpower the steam engine before him, allowing some kind of escape to happen. He had gone head-to-head with a steamy before and had even pushed it off the rails with his strength. But the circumstances had been very different back then. He had surprised that engine from behind, ensuring that its tender was broken before it could put up a proper fight. Growler did not have that advantage this time. For him to be successful, he would have to dump his train and the auto tank. That stupid little engine was the main reason they were here. Sure, he would be able to escape potentially without any problems, and it would block the steamer behind him. If there was any chance of getting out, then this was it.

The diesel standing tall next to Douglas appeared to read his mind.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you," The diesel warned in a stern voice, its own engine rumbling to life. No sign of the smoke that had earlier appeared. Why was he siding with those filthy steamies? Why would he ever consider siding with the past? With something whose time was already up? "These two are known to smash a train or two with their strength on their own. Imagine what they can do together."

"Indeed!" Called a voice as another steam engine rolled up next to Growler. The blue paintwork of the Victorian engine was enough for the hate in Growler to grow. It had not been Edward who had spoken to them just then. Edward stopped beside him with a hiss. From the old engine, a person stepped out who ran Growler's engine cold.

"Boco is right. My engines are strong," Sir Topham stepped forward from the cab. All the elegance of a controller that Anderson failed in was embodied by this man. His voice spoke power, but it was far different from the harshness of Anderson. That voice could command a room in moments, no need for threats or belittling to get his opinion on the table. "I would not recommend testing that today."

"YOU!" Anderson snapped at the older man. Composure seemed lost to Anderson in that moment as he spun on his heel to face the smaller man. "You help steal my engine, and now you stand in my way."

"I stole nothing from you," Sir Topham answered, seeming unfazed by the situation. "That engine belonged to the Great Western Railway. You had no claim to him. Oliver belongs to the North Western Fleet and was never once under your authorisation. I suggest that you surrender yourself, and we can put this behind us." There seemed to be a hesitation in Anderson.

"Growler!" Anderson snapped at the diesel engine, which only surged forward towards Douglas. Douglas met Growler head-on, anticipating the move. The clang of their buffers echoed far greater than any of the noises that were emitted from the two engines. Their faces hardened as their wheels spun on the tracks. They growled and hissed as they pushed against each other. Growler made quick work and gained a few wheel spins before Douglas dug deep and began his own attack. Their wheels continued to spin as little movement was made. This would be a competition of endurance. Who could hold out the longest while pushing against a force as strong as themselves? Growler had not expected this from such an old engine. He had heard stories of the 652 Class being strong, but not like this. The twins had always worked together, making Growler assume that apart they were weak, but that was not the case. Growler snapped, calling Douglas weak and pathetic, hoping that insults would force the engine to falter. But the Scott only smiled as he began to gain ground.

"What!" Growled growler as he began to slip on the icy tracks. "What's happening!?" He was continuing to roll, the weight of his train feeling heavier than before.

"Did ya forget?" Donald's voice called from behind as he pulled backwards against Growler. "Am here too." Growler snarled at the situation. Impossible! He was a powerful engine; he should have been capable of ending those engines. He could take on these old, feeble engines. 

Soon, Growler came to a complete stop as his wheels slipped and smoke started to rise from his cab. Quickly, his engine was stopped as a group of men evacuated the engine that began to overheat. Donald and Douglas halted their movements with proud laughs, their buffers pressed tightly against the train so it would not move.

"Nae tough are ya," Douglas laughed.

"I hoped it wouldn't come to this," Sir Topham shook his head disapprovingly and pulled a whistle from his pocket. The men from Growlers train attempted to run. Sir Topham blew three times and soon police officers rushed the tracks around them, surrounding the group who attempted to flee. All were quickly captured, and Growler was shifted to a siding where he would be locked in place for the night.

Oliver and Duck laughed from the sidelines as they watched the whole event play out. The two had cheered from the sidelines as their respective Scottish engine showed off their prowess against the diesel. Oliver and Duck both knew the power of the twins; no one could deny their power. Duck had whistled happily as both Boco and Edward shunted Growler into his siding to be locked away until further notice. One by one, the police collected the men as they kicked and screamed at the arrest. Once all was safe, Chris and Euan had jumped from Duck's cab to check over and praise their engine. All happy to finally be reunited once more. Oliver was soothed by their touches over his cab and buffer beam as they worked on their engine.

"Glad that's over with," Oliver croaked softly, as a small fire was built for him to pull energy from. Duck smiled happily, pressing into their joint buffers.

"I'm glad you are alright," Duck whispered as they continued their watch. "We were worried."

"Ollie!" Douglas called out with joy as he moved to their line, buffering to Oliver's front, knocking the two tanks back a little. "Ya wee rat! Gonnae no do tha'! Ya gee us a blow back!"

Oliver laughed awkwardly as he nestled into the warmth from his two friends, feeling the pressure from being squashed in the middle. Half heartedly wondering if he would get crushed. The heat from their steam slowly warmed his aching body; he had not realised just how cold he was. 

"Sorry, Douglas," Oliver whispered as the fire inside him began.

"Gee, tha wee engine some room, Dougie," Donald laughed as he rolled up beside them with Toad in tow. He smiled warmly as he blocked the last remaining view of Oliver from the main line, his own steam warming the wee engine more. "Ya good wee lad?"

"I am," Oliver croaked as he felt his voice properly for the first time in days.

"Good to see you well, Mr Oliver," Toad added cheerfully from the back.

"We'll head home soon," Duck commented, watching as the Controller strode towards them. A smile on his face, yet concern in his eyes. He glanced over his four engines for a moment and pondered before turning his attention to the smallest engine.

"Oliver," he commanded, silence from his engines and crews. "I believe there is a long story to be told?"

"Yes, sir," Oliver shivered. Sir Topham glanced over the engine once more. He looked at the faces of the engines before him. Exhaustion was obvious in their brave faces. This had been a difficult situation, with the potential for everything to go wrong if one little thing had been a minute out of sync. But it had not… He patted the little engine's buffers and turned on his heel.

"We will discuss this in the morning," he commanded with a tip of his hat. "For now, you will rest. Little Western, get back to your sheds."

"Yes, sir!" They all acknowledged before coupling together and heading back down the track to their home.

Chapter Text

It was a mild spring day as Oliver sat on a siding watching the workers go by. Chris had brought his granddaughter, Sky, to work with him. She had been visiting Sodor with her parents for the holidays, but instead of going to the shops with them, she insisted that she had to go and see her favourite engine. Presently, she was sitting on his buffer beam with her drawing book and pencils as she listened to him tell the story of his escape. Oliver was unsure how many times he had told her the story, but she was still in awe. Every time she came for a visit, she had to hear about his escape; she even got Douglas to tell it a few times. She always brought a smile to the engines when she requested stories from them. She would sit on their buffer beams with her little colouring book and listen in awe as they told them different stories. On her page, she had been drawing the Little Western engines, all standing neatly in a row. Just as she was finishing colouring, Duck arrived at the siding.

"Good afternoon," he peeped before smiling at Oliver, then noticing the little one on his friend's buffer. "What are we drawing today, little miss?" Sky smiled brightly at Duck, and the six-year-old proudly turned her drawing to him. On closer inspection, Oliver could see that it wasn't the greatest picture of them. For some reason, Oliver was pretty big; meanwhile, Donald and Douglas were two different sizes, with one in black and the other in blue. Duck was only a box with a face on it. Duck had that look on his face where he was trying to hide his disapproval but wanted to be supportive of the little girl. Oliver had been on the receiving end of that many times before. "Well, that is lovely indeed." Softie.

"Will you put it up in your sheds?" She asked bright-eyed as she rose to her feet, grasping at Oliver's railing, her fingers barely touching the shining metal, while the other hand held on to the page. All adults around them paused in fear as the child steadied herself against her favourite engine. Oliver and Duck themselves were frozen, not daring to move in fear of her falling. It was one thing to have an adult hold on to them; it was another for it to be a child.

"Of course we will," Oliver laughed as Chris and Euan ran over to his buffers to lower the little girl to the ground. They quickly checked her before deeming it safe for her to move independently.

"Come on, young lady," Chris chuckled as he swung her to the floor before she got into trouble. "Let these two have a rest, and we will get some food, sound good?" Sky agreed, but only after encouragement from the two engines as well. She ran to Oliver and Duck, patting both their buffers before racing back to her grandfather's side. She waved happily to them as she and the crews walked towards the break room.

"Can't believe she's six," Oliver laughed as he felt his axles creak. It felt like only yesterday Chris and Euan announced that their wives were having babies.

"She is bigger every time we see her," Duck laughed as he released some steam over Oliver. "We may need a bigger wall in the sheds for all these drawings." The younger engine basked in the warmth for a moment. His eyes closed as he listened to the sounds of their line. Their work was about to ramp up. There had been a lot of work on the Little Western recently. It had pulled in different engines from different lines. It had been nice to work with Boco again. Even Edward had come on to their line to take a few trucks down to the yard just to give the green engines a break.

"How are you feeling?" Duck asked softly, knowing what the date was. This year marked 30 years since Oliver escaped to Sodor. For the first few years after his escape, Oliver had tried to forget the years of pain he had endured before coming to Sodor. Waking every morning and wondering if they would all sleep in the sheds later that day. To run up and down the line with little care for themselves, for one wrong move could mean their end, but they had to get the job done. Of long days and silent nights, wondering what happened to their friends. Oliver still felt a pain in his boiler when he thought of all the times he had helped his friends, unannounced to him, and that eyes watched his every movement.

For the first decade, Oliver had tried to forget. He would make himself busy and would almost collapse asleep due to exhaustion just so as not to think about the dark times. Staying busy meant that he didn't have to think about everything he had lost. With the help of Donald, Douglas and Duck, he managed to change his ways. The four would stay up late those nights, remembering all of the friends they had lost and reminiscing about all the stories, too. Sometimes the nightmares would visit him and wrap his memories with fears of his new family. If he woke up from those dreams, they would listen and console him. It had made it bearable for Oliver. Knowing that he stood in that shed late into the night with engines that understood him. Who shared in his sadness, but also stood by him with smiles at all the good memories. He quickly came to the realisation that he couldn't forget and should focus on the happiness of Sodor. Of finding his new family and friends. It was a new celebration, no more darkness. Just the promise of a new day and a better day.

"Better," Oliver answered as he opened his eyes. He noted the worry on Duck's face. "Honestly, I'm better." He attempted to convince the pannier. Duck had been there through everything and still fussed over him all these years later. When Duck had gone for an overhaul, he had weekly letters written between the two just so neither would feel lonely. "Sodor is so different from my old home. My friends and family were no different here, but the way we worked was like night and day. I don't fear one of us breaking down now. I'm not worried about us swapping jobs and helping each other out. I know Sir would never throw us to the scrap yard for not working. I know none of us would ever let him."

Duck hummed, approving the answer. They sat quietly for a moment, allowing the world to go by them.

Oliver could never forget the engines that he had left behind, but he kept them close. He would tell stories of them to anyone willing to listen. He would tell silly old jokes that very few laughed at, just because they had once been told to him. Oliver could feel the weight of his number plate on his side. The beautiful gold and black that shone all year round. The symbol of his sister standing proud at his side. They were now one as far as the world was concerned. The engine that Oliver had been before had disappeared. Oliver, the brave little engine who ran across the country to escape scrap, would always be remembered as number 1436. He didn't erase Giggles. He never wanted that. Sir Topham, along with a few other members of staff, had managed to pull records of her at Oliver's request. They found stories about her. About how she once raced a Castle Class down the mainline just because she could. Of the time, she almost ran into the back of some trucks because she had been going too fast for the signal man to catch her. He had the chance to meet her crew one time. They had been holidaying and seen Oliver with the number. It had caused some confusion at first, but soon it was explained by all. They praised him for being so brave and approved of her memory. Oliver embraced her stories... His sister was dear to him... 

"The twins should be back tonight."

"Feels like forever since they left," Oliver laughed, "hopefully they taught Toad more songs. I don't know how much longer I can listen to Sea Side."

Duck chuckled loudly at that.

"I completely agree with that one," Duck smiled brightly to his friend. The two sat quietly for a moment, watching the yard come to life for their little siding.

A group of workers were inspecting a broken truck that had its side ripped apart. When it had been found the other day, instant blame had been thrown at Oliver and Douglas. Turned out to have been neither, but it had still been a mystery as to how it had happened. Over at the turntable, the Inspector was examining the turntable, making sure it was still acceptable to be used. It had broken the previous autumn, meaning the twins had to work on other branch lines so they wouldn't keep derailing. In one week, the twins had derailed six times because they were unable to turn around for their shunting. At the far end of the yard, they could see Arthur, one of the newer engines, shunting his trucks into place for his goods run up to the finish village. Tomorrow would be market day, and they would need as many trucks as they could for the fish. Sir Topham wanted to expand the tracks further north along the western coastline. It would be a lot of work. It was why the twins were finally coming back to Little Western. There was talk of them getting two new engines to help out along the line, too.

Oliver smiled at the Little Western yard. Once upon a time, this little branch line had been run by him and Duck. It had been named after the two of them. Their own little world that ran because they were there. It was hard to think that the little line was now becoming the biggest branch line on the island and having more engines joining their little family. Back when he had joined, Oliver could not have ever predicted the line growing to need more than the original four Little Westerners. In some ways, it eased the pain Oliver held tightly in his boiler, never forgetting the people he lost. He would make this place better for all those who joined them on their line, so they would never end up like the friends he lost. That was a promise he made to himself, to the Little Wester. He would help and teach, just like his friends had done with him. He would listen and offer advice, even if it wasn't taken.

He would be reliable.

He would be useful.

He would be brave.