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“You cannot seriously be getting back together!” The coaches had exploded on Dinah before she had even made it in through the train shed door.
The race’s afterparty had been a success, no bickering or fighting, even the toughest of the engines, including Greaseball, had congratulated Rusty.
Everything had been surprisingly cheerful for the train yard. That’s why her friend’s frustration caught Dinah so off guard.
“She didn’t even spell ‘sorry’ right,” Tassita rolled his eyes, skating away from Belle’s shouts and off to the kitchen with his hands pressed to his ears.
Belle threw a quiet apology after him, surprisingly energised as she returned to face Dinah with a glare. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Joking about what?” Dinah tipped her head, uncertain if she could move any further into their shed while Belle stood in front of her. She had vaguely gathered that this was about Greaseball, but not what had made Belle this upset.
Dinah and Greaseball had been off and on in the past, and Dinah couldn’t pretend she hadn’t caught Belle rolling her eyes or Tassita groaning when the engine eventually found her way back into Dinah’s favour, but they were usually mad at Greaseball, not her.
“About forgiving her,” Belle crossed her arms where she stood in the shed doorway.
“Yes, but she apologised! Remember?”
Pearl, who had been stuck outside behind Belle until now had to awkwardly push her way inside under Belle’s arm. “In a way,” she shrugged, mumbling her note almost exclusively to herself.
Belle stepped aside to let Pearl in, looking like she was about to slam the shed door shut before they all caught Tassita wincing preemptively. She closed it gently instead. “No, Dinah. ‘Sorry’ shouldn’t cut it for the way she made you feel.” She blocked the doorway, her d her wheels planted firmly to the ground like she was worried Dinah was going to run off to Greaseball the moment their conversation was done.
“But she-“
“She spelled it with three ‘r’s,” Tassita reminded them, his voice always firm and level headed, a stark contrast to Belle’s exasperation as he returned to the trio in the hallway. “She couldn’t even say it.”
“She’s not great at saying it,” Dinah defended her, her wheels rolling back and forth anxiously. “This was really big for her, besides, the stress of racing always gets to her. I really don’t mind! I understand it!”
The opposing three coaches had formed a semi-circle around her, her back to the shed wall. Whether they intended to or not, this certainly felt like some sort of intervention.
“Not only is she a jerk most of the time, but she told you to shut up in front of the whole train yard,” Tassita reminded her. She dipped her head to stare at the floor, the memory stinging her eyes. She had been trying to ignore that.
“And then she got the whole train yard to tell you to shut up, too!” Belle’s jaw had dropped. “Not even a minute later she was flirting with Pearl while you were right there!” She gestured sharply to the young coach who remained behind them with her lips pursed shut uncomfortably.
“I wouldn’t say she was flirting,” she began, fiddling with her ponytail. “I think she was just playing around.”
“Girl.” Tassita shook his head.
Her friends had on one occasion suggested her devotion to the Diesel engine was delusional, and while Dinah could always find some way to reframe Greaseball’s actions, she couldn’t do it this time.
“You’ve barely met Greaseball, Pearl. That was flirting,” Belle cut in, explaining what Dinah dreaded for her.
Pearl paused to think before giving in far easier than Dinah would’ve wished. “Yeah. Maybe it was.”
Dinah held out her hands to settle her friends, exhaling a cooling breath in suggestion they should all do the same. “It’s alright, I promise.”
That seemed to ease Belle and Tassita slightly, both of them rolling a step back to give Dinah a chance to explain herself.
“Greaseball has definitely been abrasive, a bit harsh, and she can be cold sometimes,” she begun. It always felt strange to describe her girlfriend that way, but she wasn’t technically lying. “And I know Greaseball can act that way in public.”
Tassita crossed his arms and the patience in Belle’s expression started to drain quickly.
She’d given this spiel before and they knew where it was going, but Dinah was already resolved to her decision and tried to match Belle’s firmness without making anyone any angrier, a skill she had too much practice in. “But she’s sweet to me, and I think this race has really changed her. That apology really meant a lot.”
This time it was Tassita who lead the offence: “she’s not the only one who has to change, Dinah.”
The words took a moment to process. She startled like someone had raised a fist, and Belle and Tassita reached out to steady her on her wheels.
She had to change?
That was the first time anyone had ever said that to her. It was always ‘Greaseball should treat you better’ or ‘you did nothing wrong Dinah, it’s not your fault,’ and a chill raced through her wires as she scanned her memory for what she had done wrong, what she could’ve done differently this time.
Should she have just let Greaseball race with Pearl? Should she have kept her broken heart to herself this time? Control had ordered every engine to switch partners, so it wasn’t like Greaseball had a choice—
“Dinah!” Belle squeezed her hand, drawing her back to reality in the cramped hallway. “No, you don’t get it.” She looked defeated, tired but not sleepy. There was a more harrowed look to her exhaustion as she let go of her hand and rolled away.
“Come on.” Tassita dipped his head in the direction of the couches across from the kitchen bench.
Only Pearl, unfamiliar with this side of the coaches dynamic, followed slower than Dinah.
The coaches usually shared a comfy sectional coach decorated with a range of knitted blankets and colourful pillows.
Belle would usually take the longest segment of the couch and wind up sleeping through any movie on the TV, but Dinah doubted she’d be sleeping through this.
“What did I do wrong?” Dinah tried to ask, legs buckling as she made it to the couch and dropped into her seat.
She had tried to be calm and diplomatic but the thought she had done something wrong was too much to bear, and the words only just made it past her lips before her throat was choked by sobs.
“Oh, no, Dinah!” Despite their argument, Tassita and Belle had come quickly to her side to crush her into a hug.
Pearl hovered behind Belle, patting an anxious hand to Dinah’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she soothed in between Dinah’s sobs. “They aren’t mad at you.”
Dinah lifted her head, her eyes round and wet as she clung to her friend’s hands. “You aren’t?”
Belle and Tassita exchanged a weary glance before nodding. “We’re not mad, we just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Belle confirmed.
Dinah sniffled, and Pearl rolled off to fetch a tissue box. “Huh?”
Tassita relaxed their hug, holding Dinah’s hand between his. “You let Greaseball off the hook too easily.”
“Yeah,” Belle nudged her. “You were shattered, remember? And then you went on that tirade about getting revenge and you called her a bastard?”
Right, that.
“And despite that, when Electra invited you to race with them you said ‘sure, why not? Unless Greaseball comes back!’” Tassita continued. “I mean, what do you even like about her?”
That brought the tears on all over again. “Everything!” She bawled. “She’s strong, she’s brave, she’s charming, she’s really fast,” she held out a finger for each point. “She’s my race partner! And she makes me feel loved!”
She could be selective in public sometimes, that was true, but there was something about the way Greaseball would stand right up close to her and drape an arm around her shoulder to bring her tight when they were in a crowd. When visiting trains stopped in their train yard they knew she was hers.
Being picked by the fastest Diesel engine around made her feel special.
By now, Pearl was back with the tissues much to Dinah’s relief. She grabbed a handful of them to blow her nose. She missed Greaseball already.
The engine was a trained and true expert at handling her tears, because Dinah cried a lot. When she was happy, when she was sad, even when she was angry. Greaseball would cup her face and wipe her tears away with a calloused thumb. She always let Dinah cry into her chest and held her tight, even when she was putting on a busy facade she never ignored Dinah when she cried, and that made her cry even more.
“Dinah! Dinah!” Someone was patting her back but her head was in her hands, so she couldn’t tell. “Come on, it’s alright.”
“This is why we think you need some space from Greaseball. Just for a bit,” that was Tassita.
“You have to show her there are consequences for talking to you like that.”
She raised her heavy head and dabbed at her eyes, glancing at the coaches around her. “You mean I have to be harder on Greaseball?”
“Maybe just…” Pearl nodded, “kinder to yourself?”
Dinah made use of a few more tissues, stifling another bout of tears by biting down on her lip. “How do I do that?”
“Well first of all,” Belle begun, “try waiting for Greaseball to give you an actual apology before you try things with her again.”
—————————————————————
The air was tense in the yard the following morning, or at least it was for Greaseball.
She still ached, although she wasn’t letting anyone pick up on it. Her engine felt particularly bruised (albeit not as bruised as her ego) and a rod in her arm felt slightly kinked. Nothing that wouldn’t fade away after a hard day of work.
The diesel engines shared the same sheepishness as Greaseball as they rolled into the yard. It could be passed off as exhaustion after yesterday’s race but Greaseball knew this one: They’d all been shown up by a rusted steam engine and a freight. It was shame, clear as ever.
Electra and their components mingled in the yard, surprisingly cheerful despite their defeat. How come they were handling it so well?
Greaseball huffed, tossing her head and skating forward to find out what today’s roster would look like. She’d show the yard that she still had the power of a reigning champion and this would all be forgotten in the train yard by the end of the week.
The morning air was cool, but it would heat up as the day went on.
As the freights and coaches joined the engines in the yard Greaseball shouldered her way through the throng to where the assignments and routes were displayed on the departure board in bright, green text overhead.
She was due to take a couple of coaches up the north-east track on a passenger trip. Rusty, of all the trains, had her usual job of pulling freights today.
The gritting of her teeth did not go unnoticed by Golden Eagle, who snorted and elbowed her. “At least that steamer can’t take your coach away from you.”
Greaseball elbowed him back, preparing for a retort that never quite formed. “I’d like to see him try,” was all she managed before skating away, the clutter of the trains jostling around the departure board brushing past her shoulder and her engine was suddenly too much.
As she rolled towards the coaches shed a strange feeling of apprehension prickled in her pipes, she could’ve sworn her pistons stalled for a split second as she caught sight of the coaches outside their shed.
Rusty was already there, fingers entwined with Pearl’s and wearing matching grins. Their chatter was too quiet to hear over her engine growling but they looked too happy.
It was the flash of pink hair that made her insides feel funny. She’d apologised to Dinah, but she hadn’t heard from her at all since she did. At least she’d have today’s route to sort out where she stood with her now; Dinah made a great diesel tea for her when she wasn’t feeling well, and the thought of a hot cup in her system was appetising to her sore mechanics.
“Hey, beat it, buddy.” Greaseball skidded to a stop besides Rusty, jerking her thumb at the departure board. “I’m on coaches, you’re on freights. Save your sappy stuff for later and get the work done.”
Rusty didn’t usually laugh at her orders, she guessed he was in a good mood today. “I’ll find you after my route, Pearl.” And with a shy wave he skated off, the coaches calling out warm farewells.
“Alright. North-east lines today. Hitch up.” Greaseball turned around, loosening her couplers.
Cold hands wrapped around her couplers. She whipped around to see Tassita staring back at her, unimpressed, as Belle herded Dinah to the back of the line.
“What gives?” she asked. Tassita was never at the front. Hell, Greaseball couldn’t even remember the last time any coach but Dinah was behind her on a shift.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
Greaseball stammered, turning back to the rails as she felt the weight of the four coaches locking in behind her.
Whatever. When they stopped for their break she’d make sure Dinah was first in line to couple up again. They could talk on their way back to the yard.
Pearl chattered along happily from her position third in line, Greaseball could hear the faint buzz of her radio and the giggle of the coaches: laughing it up with the new champion of the railway no doubt.
It was all they spoke about for the first half of the trip, Rusty this, Rusty that. How fast he was, how charming he was. If any of them caught her engine growling they didn’t care.
Usually Dinah could easily pick up on the first signs of her frustration and would make an attempt to soothe her. She actually didn’t know what the next step was after signalling she was feeling angry to no response.
Part of her wanted to slam on the breaks and uncouple, turn around to shout at them for being so frustrating and ask why they were ignoring her, but she knew she wasn’t supposed to act that way.
It was the isolation that was getting to her. The other coaches didn’t usually chat it up with her but when Dinah was riding up front she was always included. Without the attention there was nothing particularly glamorous about hauling the coaches around, it just felt like brute labour.
She slowed down on the tracks, trying to pick up wisps of their conversation to force her way in. Once you joined a conversation you were supposed to be included, that was how it worked.
“Rusty must be feeling better after his fall if he’s out pulling freight today,” Belle was saying.
“You know!” Greaseball cleared her throat to cut in as she continued to carry them down the rails, a bothered curl of black smoke clouding out of her exhaust. “What a race, huh?”
The laughter from the coaches ceased immediately. The weight on her coupling shifted and she risked a quick glance over her shoulders, her eyes fixed on where Dinah’s should have been if she was leaning out to listen. She wasn’t even looking her way.
“Yeah.” Tassita blinked. “Anyway, Belle—“
“Green Arrow thinks I should visit a mechanic,” she cut in. “He thinks I’ve got some piston damage.”
Silence from the coaches again. The only sound was their wheels clacking down the rail.
“Well, go then,” Belle shrugged.
A stinging second of silence followed as she waited for any response from Dinah who was usually quick to jump in when Greaseball spoke. There was only a muffled murmuring from the back of the line before Pearl chimed in: “do you think it was from the crash caused by the oil spill?”
That was her queue to shut up and ride on.
It was only quiet for a moment before the coaches found something to chatter about again. Starlight, coaches could talk. Greaseball didn’t know what else she could do, it was usually Dinah’s role to point out where and when she could talk.
Her head was full of static and smoke as the route continued. Sparks flew from her wheels as she jerked tightly around the corner, jostling the four coaches.
“Hey!” Tassita warned. “Be careful. We’re not freight trucks back here.”
What did Greaseball care about their comfort if she was getting them from point A to B? They should just be thankful they had an engine to drive them. If they were going to act like she wasn’t here then she’d do the same for them!
But as she picked up speed to veer around the next curve in the tracks she felt the gentle pull of Dinah counterweighting at the back of the line to steady the coupling.
The quiet sway was familiar to Greaseball in all of the change in the tracks in the past days. She cast another glance over her shoulder, barely grazing Dinah’s gaze before the coach looked away.
What was going on with her?
They stopped in an up-north yard over lunch for Greaseball to refuel. It was one of those stations so far out that it was only built for trains to take their breaks and not for much else. They seemed to be the only trains around.
It was a long stretch of cracked cement with a few fuelling pumps covered by a concrete shelter. The coaches might’ve been used to something more civil but this was all Greaseball needed.
As she skated off towards the pumps she was surprised the coaches uncoupled from her. Refuelling was sort of a two-train job at times — it was not easy to get a pump into your port when it’s on your back.
“Di?” Greaseball rolled back around to face the coaches, scratching at her neck. “Uh, can I get a hand with refuelling?”
The other coaches seemed to jolt when she asked after Dinah, and Dinah froze. Did she look scared? Greaseball couldn’t pin the look in her eyes.
“I’ll help,” Pearl offered first, guiding Greaseball swiftly away from the remaining coaches and coupling up again to ride behind her.
Well. That was fine, she guessed. Although Dinah was the only coach who she trusted that they knew what they were doing.
“You know how to refuel a diesel?”
“How hard can it be?”
Pearl grabbed on tight as their wheels shuddered over the weeds growing out of the cracks in the pavement and rolled under the shelter.
The reprieve from the summer heat was barely noticeable, she still had a strange burning sensation inside.
Greaseball had to point out which pump was the diesel fuel. A slight shiver ran through her internals as Pearl unscrewed her fuel port.
Diesel ran cold through her tubing, waking her up again as she felt it pour into her tank.
Sure, other trains had refuelled her before, but why not Dinah? What had changed between now and yesterday?
“Did you top up after the races yesterday? You’re practically empty!”
Then it clicked for Greaseball. “This is that steam train’s fault! What’s his problem?”
The fuel pump shudder inside her port as Pearl jolted. “What? You mean Rusty? What’s his fault?”
“Of course I mean Rusty. He wins one race and suddenly he thinks he’s king of the railway! I’m still a champion, you know!” She stomped her wheels down, her engine giving a threatening rumble and spewing up a dark cloud of smoke. “I only lost because Electra got in my way. They crashed into me!”
Pearl huffed. “You uncoupled me. You wouldn’t have qualified even if you did win.” She patted a hand to Greaseball’s engine as if to tell her to stay still. “If Electra crashed into you, why is it Rusty’s fault?”
“Now that I’m not champion—“ her jaw clamped shut before she could finish her sentence. She had been talking without thinking, and once she realised where her thoughts were taking her it was too embarrassing to say. Gossip spread fast between the coaches and she did not need this conversation leaving the station.
“Now that you’re not the champion?” Pearl prompted. She was stretching to reach the port on Greaseball’s back and every now and then she could feel a trickle of diesel slip down her metal. If she didn’t clean it up it would stain. Dinah was never this messy. What was Pearl’s problem?
“Whatever,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t care. I could get another coach. I could get any coach I want. I could get a dozen coaches.” She shouldered the pump out of her port, slamming it shut as she tossed her back up against the concrete wall.
Pearl fumbled with the yellow pump, catching it before it could fall and hooking it back into its hanger. Greaseball could see her grimacing out of the corner of her eye. “Greaseball, you’re being a jerk, you know that?”
“I’m not the one being a jerk, Dinah is!” Greaseball barked. “What? I lose one race and suddenly she’s too good to talk to me? Everyone’s obsessed with Rusty now?”
“What on earth does this have to do with Rusty!?” Pearl shook her head like she was astounded. “Dinah is the last train to care about your race record! What are you on about?” She thwacked Greaseball’s forearm plating.
“Oh, sure.” She rolled her eyes so hard she was almost rolling her head, she leant down to Pearl’s level, laughing. She didn’t know Dinah like Greaseball did, Dinah had never ignored Greaseball like this until today.
“Why is it killing her to talk to me all of a sudden then? Is she embarrassed by me or what?” She pushed Pearl back a step and the coach yelped.
Her engine was heating up as she loomed over Pearl. “What sort of stories is she sharing back at the shed? About how I’m a shit racer? Or how I’m not fast enough for her? She’s off to find the next best racer?”
“That’s not what she’s saying!” Pearl put her breaks on, widening her stance and shooting a fiery glare up at her. “I know I haven’t been here long and I don’t know everything about you two, but something I do know is how much Dinah loves you, and based on what you’re saying I guess what I don’t know is if you love her back at all!”
Greaseball’s wheels froze up, her cheeks hot. “Love her?” She spat, lips curling up in a laugh.
What a soppy word! ‘Love’ was gross. ‘Love’ was what Pearl and Rusty were up to, holding hands and giggling and shooting bashful looks at each other. Greaseball was pissed at the suggestion that what she had with Dinah was anything like what Pearl had with Rusty.
It was pathetic to be in love — what Greaseball wanted was the glory of fame, to have everyone around her so hopelessly obsessed with every move she made that nothing else she did mattered. That ‘love’ stuff was for other trains, not for her.
“Yeah. Do you?” Pearl challenged.
Greaseball exhaled.
Well. She wanted Dinah, was that love? She liked Dinah’s hair, and her speed, the way they fit together seamlessly when they raced. She definitely loved her cooking, but so did everyone.
The thought of being ‘in love’ pissed her off, but the thought of anyone else liking Dinah more than her — or Dinah liking anyone else more than Greaseball pissed her off even more. “You don’t get it!”
“Hey!” The three coaches came crashing in from behind, Tassita grabbing Greaseball’s couplings to yank her back and Belle skidded around her to slide in front of Pearl protectively.
Greaseball put on her breaks to stop herself rolling back, eyes darting around to take in the scene.
“Did she push you?” Belle took Pearl’s hand in hers.
Dinah stood three steps back from them all, watching the situation with a frown that Greaseball couldn’t ignore.
Instead of answering Belle, Pearl kept her gaze locked with Greaseball’s. “Do you?Yes or no?”
“I mean—! Well— you don’t—“ she fumbled, lost on what to do with her hands.
“What’s going on?” Dinah asked, rolling in closer. She had absently grabbed a wash rag from the fuel pumps, dabbing at Greaseball’s fuel port to clean up the dribble from the pump Pearl had left.
“Nothing, Dinah. Come on. Greaseball can finish up on her own. Let’s go enjoy some sun before our break is over.” And just like that, Pearl skated away.
Belle and Tassita shot her matching glares, the latter reached out a hand to usher Dinah along with them, but Dinah hesitated.
The three of them shot a series of glances and winces back and forth, having an entire conversation that Greaseball wasn’t privy to through their expressions alone, but finally, Belle and Tassita followed after Pearl while Dinah stayed behind.
Greaseball couldn’t remember the last time the fuel in her tank made her nauseous.
“What did you say to Pearl?” she asked. “You pushed her, we all saw.”
“Nothing.” Greaseball crossed her arms. “We were just fooling around. It’s personal.”
“‘Personal?’” Dinah echoed. She gave a small shake of her head and Greaseball knew she wouldn’t push it any further.
“Yeah. She’ll tell you if she wants to.” She pressed her back up against the concrete beams of the shelter, trying to look as nonchalant as she could.
“This is your first refuel since the race?” Dinah changed topics, busying herself by pulling out a second pump. Greaseball didn’t have to answer, Dinah knew her well enough.
“Open up, then.” Holding the pump in one hand, she reached for the panel on Greaseball’s side, and in a clean motion she popped open the plating on Greaseball’s chest to reveal her tubing and internals.
“Hey!” Greaseball snapped, reaching up a palm to slam her chest plate shut, her engine burning hot with embarrassment. “My systems are fine! Don’t go putting that inside me!” She pointed at the pump accusingly, pressing her back tight to the concrete wall.
“You’re in a bad mood because you’re low on coolant. Let me top you up.” When her eyes met with Greaseball’s, the engine shot her gaze to the ground, lowering her palm to allow Dinah to open her chest plate again.
“My coolant is fine.” It was definitely low.
“I’m sure it is, Greaseball.” She was lying, too. It made it easier for her to stomach the embarrassment.
Greaseball kept her gaze trained over Dinah’s shoulder on the chainlink fence that circled the refuelling station. The coaches were just out of earshot, but every now and then a beat of laughter would echo across the concrete ground.
Dinah’s hands worked gently inside her chest compartment, never grazing a wire or a tube as she poured coolant back into her coolant reservoir.
“Thanks,” Greaseball muttered, her voice so quiet that if she hadn’t been at Dinah’s shoulder, the dining car wouldn’t have heard.
There was a beat of silence before she replied with a cool indifference as she worked: “this isn’t for you. I’m just making sure you don’t crash and derail us on the way home.”
“I know,” she lied. She wished it was for her. Looking into someone’s internals was an intimate act, the thought of it being for general maintenance hurt.
“Greaseball.” Dinah screwed the cap back on to her coolant reservoir. “Don’t treat Pearl that way again.”
—————————————————————
“That was great, Dinah!” Pearl had given her a big hug after they were dropped off at their shed that evening.
“I’m surprised you managed to steer clear of her as long as you did,” Tassita noted as they all sat down on the couch.
Belle stretched out on her section of the couch, propping her head up on a soft, purple pillow as she snuggled into the couch. She’d fall asleep before making it to her bedroom after a tense day like today. “Yeah, and you told her off for picking on Pearl too, that was brilliant!”
“I’m not used to talking back,” Dinah confessed from her spot in the middle of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. She had felt all funny inside like her wiring was wrong since she had walked away from Greaseball at the fuelling pumps. “But that’s what I have to do, isn’t it?”
“Set some clear boundaries,” Tassita confirmed.
“What was it Greaseball said to you, Pearl?” Dinah tried, and the coach gave her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Oh, it was nothing important. She was just picking on Rusty, that’s all.”
“Let’s do some workshopping!” Belle suggested, although her eyes were half-shut. “Boundary number one, Greaseball can’t pick on us.”
“Hmm. That one could be tricky,” Dinah hummed. The thought of Greaseball doing a one-eighty seemed impossible. “What about ‘she can’t be intentionally harmful?’”
Belle opened her eyes. “Feel like we’re going easy on her here.”
“We’re workshopping!” Dinah reminded her, tapping a hand to her shoulder and turning to Tassita and Pearl for their input.
“How about Greaseball stops if you ask her to?” Pearl suggested instead. “That seems like a reasonable first step.”
“I’m going to write these down.” Tassita got up to grab a pen and paper.
“If it was up to me I’d be harsher,” Belle rolled over onto her back, yawning. “She was going around those corners so fast! Was she trying to burn our wheels?”
Dinah held out a hand to ease the sleeping car. “No, she just turns the corners fast when she’s upset.”
“Boundary number two, Greaseball learns some healthy communication skills,” Tassita clicked his pen in and out, nestling back down in his pile of blankets and pillows to jot their notes down. “I’m not letting that engine ruin my wheels just because she’s having a bad day.”
Dinah winced. ‘Communicating’ sounded like another tough one for Greaseball.
“Boundary three, she can’t flirt with anyone else if you’re going to be together,” Pearl chimed in.
Dinah bit down on her lip. “These seem like big asks.”
That woke Belle up. Tassita whipped around to gape at her, Pearl blinked.
“Big asks?” Belle’s voice was rising again, the same way it had when their argument had first started. “It’s a ‘big ask’ to ask your girlfriend to be kind and loyal?”
“Uh—!”
“What do you see in her, Dinah? Doesn’t it get to a point where it feels more like pet-sitting than a relationship?”
Dinah hesitated, shaking her head slowly. “No, that’s— she’s not like that. She just has poor impulse control sometimes.”
Tassita slumped back into the cushions, groaning and Belle opened her mouth to start something, but Pearl spoke up right in time. “This is what we mean when we say you have to raise your standards. Greaseball can only be with you if she’s willing to do this. Don’t settle for the bare minimum, Dinah, any train would be happy to have you!” The first-class coach drew her legs up under her, kneeling on the couch and clasping Dinah’s hand in hers.
“That’s right,” Belle and Tassita echoed.
“Love is important. You need someone loyal and kind who can love you with their whole heart. You shouldn’t ever be second.”
Dinah’s stomach stirred. She knew that was how Pearl felt with Rusty. They had been passing messages back and forth over the radio for the whole route and as sweet as it was, she had just longed for that same connection again.
Maybe more than anything Dinah just wanted things to be normal again. She wished it was a normal night where Greaseball was still hers and she had ridden up front today. Greaseball would’ve come back to their shed and have been sitting right where Pearl was.
Belle would be asleep on the couch already and Tassita would be in his room because Greaseball laughed too loudly at whatever cheap show was on the TV that night.
Dinah would’ve loved to sink into Greaseball’s arms tonight, but perhaps more than a sense of normalcy she wanted a sense of security. Just for once.
It made her mad when Greaseball revved her engine around Tassita or didn’t lower her voice when Belle was trying to nap. It especially made her mad when she had pushed Pearl.
She tried to imagine Greaseball buzzing in through her radio to wish her a good night’s sleep the way Rusty did with Pearl, or for her to look at Dinah the way the steamer looked at his partner with so much joy in his eyes.
Maybe if she did lay down some boundaries there would be a night where Greaseball joined the coaches for games night and Greaseball didn’t flip a board or snap at the other coaches at the first sign she might lose.
It would be nice to hear Greaseball apologise more. “I’d like her to tell me she loves me more often,” Dinah suggested.
She thought she saw Pearl wince but she had already turned back to Tassita.
“Boundary seven,” Tassita was murmuring, his pen working fast against the paper. “Cannot come to the shed smelling of oil. Boundary eight, can’t take up my side of the couch manspreading. Boundary nine—“
“Tassita?” Pearl reached for the notepad. “This is for Dinah, remember?”
He sniffed, relinquishing the pen to Pearl. “What happened to ‘workshopping?’”
——————————————————————
Greaseball was dumbfounded that night as she trained with the other engines.
She didn’t know what to tell them about the day’s trip as they all relaxed for the evening in their communal space, sipping on fuel cocktails or lifting weights in front of the TV.
Control must have given her that old, dingy route because he didn’t think she was capable of the proper stuff any more.
And Dinah had just as little faith in her apparently. She must have had no clue how hard Greaseball had to work to muster up the courage for that apology, in front of the whole train yard no less. That was not easy for her!
But maybe Dinah only wanted to be around the winners? Her face scrunched up at the thought their dynamic might have been that shallow.
“Hey, GB, what’s the grimacing for?” Silver Bullet announced to the whole shed, putting down his weights.
“You should seriously go to the mechanics and get your engine checked out after that crash,” Green Arrow reminded her, kicking his skates up on the table.
“Yeah, what’s your problem tonight?” Orange Flash always spoke a little too loudly, especially from where she was sat across from her on the couch. Tassita had pointed it out once and now she couldn’t stop noticing it.
“And can you get your coach to make us some more of those diesel protein bars?” That was Golden Eagle, sticking his head inside the empty communal fridge.
“Oh, piss off, Eags! Ask her yourself.” Greaseball sunk back into her seat, arms crossed tight against her chest plating.
Blue Lighting cocked her head, setting down her dumbbells with a thunk. “Oh, I get it,” she grinned, sharing a jeering look with the other engines as she gathered their attention. “Dinah’s left you, hasn’t she?”
The shed exploded with noise, engines revving, speculations flying around faster than Greaseball could process them. She clapped her hands to her ears.
“She hasn’t left me!” She barked out, stomping her wheels down. She heaved out a breath, baring her teeth to the engines whose chatter ebbed but whose smiles definitely didn’t.
“She’s still my girl. Mind your own business.” With that, she stood up to storm out to her own part of the shed, their laughter following her down the hall until she slammed her door.
In her room, the sound was dulled. She kept the lights switched off and the curtain’s half drawn. She hadn’t given her room a proper tidy since the races were announced so repair tools and empty cups stained with diesel still littered the floor.
She dropped down on her unmade bed, reaching around her sheets blindly for her spanner.
She jammed its jaws against the bolts of her shoulder plates, grunting as she unwound them and tugged them off her shoulders. Next were her elbow and knee plates. She definitely had to give her arm guards a proper clean after the race too. They were still splattered with oil.
She worked the spanner hard against her bolts, the metal turning inside of her.
Dinah had not left her. Dinah was her girl, her doll. They were race partners, Dinah never argued with Greaseball or went against her wishes. She always brought Greaseball home-made meals after a big race and rubbed her neck to ease up the post race stiffness. Dinah loved her. Dinah would always love her.
She let her driving plates clank down on her carpet, dropping the spanner down on top of them with a thunk as she swept her sheets up around her bare shoulders and hunkered down under her blanket.
Golden lights poured across the floor as they spilled under her curtains. Across the train yard she could see the coaches shed, the doors open to the warm night.
Greaseball growled, her pistons churning.
It was late, and after a moment of watching intently she caught sight of Rusty and Hydra skating out the doors, waving goodbye to the coaches inside as they headed back to the steam yard for the evening.
So Dinah was hanging out with the winners after all. No invite for Greaseball.
This was all bullshit. It was stupid. It was like the whole yard hated her now that Rusty was the ‘champion.’ Her stomach was hot with feelings she couldn’t decipher and it was starting to grind her gears.
If Dinah didn’t want to see her anymore then she’d have to say it to her face.
She sat upright, kicking her sheets off again and groping about for her plates and the spanner again.
Dinah was her girl until she told her otherwise. As if she needed an invite to visit.
And so Greaseball left her shed, assuring the other engines with a stern word that Dinah was in fact still her girlfriend, and that she’d prove it.
The summer air was hot on her back as she rolled closer and closer to the coach shed. Cheery voices drifted out the open doors alongside the delicious scent of something only Dinah could’ve cooked.
And that’s when the steam train stopped her.
“Greaseball!” Hydra started, reaching out for a handshake that she did not give him. He played it off as cool as he could, shaking out his own hand before propping it up on his hip. “What’re you doing out this late?”
“Visiting my girl, it’s none of your business what I’m up to.”
“You mean you’re visiting Dinah?” Rusty clarified, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the open shed door and the light that poured out into their garden.
“Duh. Who else?”
“I thought you two were on break after everything?” Hydra chimed in.
“Wish they’d break up,” Rusty muttered under his breath, clearly not trying hard enough to keep that thought to himself.
“On break?” Greaseball repeated, venom dripping from her words. “Says who? Since when?”
One look she did understand was fear. Rusty and Hydra exchanged quick glances as if they had realised something.
“Who said what?” She growled, rolling in closer and stretching her back up to look down at them.
“Why does it matter to you?” Rusty kept his stance straight. “I thought you didn’t care about her.”
Her teeth gritted together. Pearl had already told everyone about this afternoon then.
She grabbed him by the pipes running up his chest, jerking him in close. “And who told you that?”
Hydra’s grip was tight around her wrist as he pried her off him. “Hey, cut it out!” He glared at her like he truly believed he could be a threat to the diesel. “If you care about anyone, you never treat someone like that.” He placed himself between her and Rusty.
She held her hands up in defence, she hadn’t started it! She paced back a step to show Hydra she was leaving them both alone and to drop the security act. “Fine. Fine. But watch your back, Rusty, or I’ll send you to the scrap yard. You don’t know a thing about me and Di.”
She held her ground as the two of them scoffed and rolled away. She waited until the thin glow of their lighting was swallowed up in the darkness before she rolled onwards.
Rusty had let his new title go to his head if he thought he could make up lies like that and get away with it.
She rapped her knuckles against the shed door and the room drowned in silence instantly as she rolled in.
From inside, four coaches stared at her, stunned.
“Greaseball, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Tassita started, already looking displeased.
“What, I need a reason to be here?”
“We were just about to close everything down for the night. It’s time for bed,” Belle shook her head, skating forward to meet Greaseball in the doorway. She placed her hand under Greaseball’s, tugging on the door as if to slide it shut.
Greaseball pushed past her, stepping inside. “Dinah,” she started.
The coach had been in the middle of washing dishes and now lingered uncertainly in the kitchen, staring back at her and hugging herself tight like she was afraid.
“What’s going on? What is Rusty talking about?”
Tassita intervened, rolling in front of Greaseball and pushing her back towards the open exit. “Are you deaf? Belle said the shed is closed.”
She batted his hand away. “Sheds don’t open and close!” Greaseball had slept over in the coaches shed plenty of nights before. She was just as familiar with this shed as her own. She had never been kicked out before.
“Greaseball!” That was Pearl. She joined the other two coaches on the front line, blocking her path to Dinah. “Have you come to answer my question?”
“I’ve come to figure out what the hell is going on!” She barked.
“Shhh!” Tassita hushed. “Nothing is going on.”
“Then let me in! I’m here to see Dinah!”
The three coaches rolled back, briefly ceasing their affront on Greaseball to turn to the dining car.
She was wide eyed in the kitchen, her hands clasped tight. “Uh—“ she begun, and no matter how hard Greaseball tried she wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Well, Greaseball, I don’t know if I want to see you right now.”
“Exactly!”
“That’s right, so get moving!”
They were talking to her again but Greaseball couldn’t put a name to the voices.
Dinah didn’t want to see her?
That wasn’t something that had happened before.
The coaches kicked up a fuss almost immediately, blocking her line of sight to Dinah in the kitchen.
Greaseball had screwed up with Dinah a dozen times, but never had Dinah refused to see her.
More chatter from the coaches, someone placed a hand on her shoulder plating, turning her around on her wheels to move her out the door.
The hot summer air seeped back into her metal as the lighting of the coaches shed was replaced by the dark of the night.
The shed door thunked shut behind her before she could even gather her thoughts.
Dinah had broken up with her.
The fact didn’t register in her internals. Her fans continued to spin, pistons continued to hammer, but everything else in the world seemed to stop.
She wasn’t sure how long she had stood frozen there in front of the shed door until a tiny click of the doors rolling open snapped her back to her senses.
She spun around. “Dinah?”
“Nope. Just me.” Pearl.
A cold sunk into her metal. She didn’t put up a fight as Pearl wheeled her over to the bench in the front garden and sat her down.
“That was really messy, Greaseball.” Pearl eased herself down onto the bench beside the engine. “Like, super messy. And your shoulder plating is on backwards.”
Greaseball still couldn’t speak. Her jaw hung slack, and Pearl’s voice reached her as if it was echoing to her from the other end of a long tunnel. She couldn’t feel her wheels on the ground.
“Come on, Greaseball. You can’t be that shocked.” Pearl nudged her. “You had to have seen this coming.”
“Watch it!” Greaseball nudged her back. “I lose one race and suddenly everyone in the train yard is being a total bitch! I’m still the champion! I’m still going to win that next race!”
“Hah, what?” Pearl held a hand to her mouth to poorly muffle her laugh. “Greaseball, sometimes when I talk with you it’s like we’re having two completely different conversations. This has nothing to do with the race!”
A cool breeze passed through the garden.
The mere thought that it was not her loss that had scared Dinah away bought some motion back to her wheels. “Huh?”
“I think everyone is always a bit of a jerk to you because you don’t treat people very kindly. Dinah just loves you loudly enough that you don’t even realise it.”
The memory of the morning crossed her mind: Electra, smiling despite losing the final race, their components still close at their side.
“That’s not true, everyone loves me. Even you wanted to race with me.” Greaseball huffed, crossing one leg over her knee and glaring off across the empty train yard. The faint clank of metal rang out from the steam yard. She wasn’t taking advice from a coach of all trains.
“Yeah, and I’ll tell you one thing, I’m never racing with you again,” she snorted. “I learnt my lesson. You’re mean, Greaseball. You get really harsh when it’s race time! Telling Dinah to shut up like that was too harsh! And she’s still the only train in the whole station who’d ever be willing to give you a second chance is Dinah.”
She supposed she hadn’t had many repeat partners in her career. But that was because everyone was lining up to race with her. She was the fastest, the strongest train around, she was never short on race partners.
“We all love to race. And you’re definitely fast, you’re the greatest Diesel engine around.” Pearl held up a finger to stop Greaseball from interrupting. “You’re super popular during the racing season, but what about every other day of the year? Who’s with you then?”
“Plenty of trains! I run routes all day!”
“Outside of work!” Pearl corrected.
“You don’t know it ‘caus you’re new, but I’m at the coaches shed all the time with those guys! Don’t know why they’ve turned on me now!”
“I might be going out on a limb here, but they’re not ‘spending time with you,’ that’s just where they live. You’re here for Dinah, not them. Dinah is the only train who gets what your whole thing is about. You have to see that, right?”
Through it all, Dinah had always been there. Forgiving, too forgiving maybe. Until now Greaseball had just assumed she’d always be there because why wouldn’t she? They were a great match, Dinah loved Greaseball, and Greaseball—
There was that word again. ‘Love.’ It made her engine choke and the sound did not go unnoticed by Pearl.
“You two really know each other, don’t you?”
Undeniably.
Sure, other trains saw Greaseball as the ‘tough’ one, but they had no clue how equally gossipy Dinah could be.
Every time they were scheduled together with a freight train behind them she would roll her eyes and groan. ‘They’ve put us with the dozy trucks again,’ she would say. Greaseball always laughed. Whenever a freight train didn’t pull their weight turning a corner Dinah would give her couplings a knowing squeeze, equally annoyed.
She’d share passenger news in bed at night while Greaseball ran her fingertips up her soft skin and through her hair. More than once had she laughed when a passenger had run late due to their own poor time management.
Whenever Greaseball complained about the other engines Dinah did not scold her, but roll over in bed and prop her head up on her arms, eagerly anticipating a good story. Behind closed doors Dinah was not always the yard sweetheart that the train yard saw her as.
Greaseball missed the quiet, dark moments in bed. Dinah’s room was always tidy and smelled of vanilla and strawberry. She had the perfect curves for Greaseball to wrap her arms around as they slept.
She missed waking up to a personal five-star breakfast. Always ready at the table when Greaseball made it to the kitchen and, according to Dinah every day, ‘made with love.’ How early would Dinah have to have woken up to make the meals she did?
“Mhm,” she finally answered.
She did know Dinah. She knew what she needed when she cried, she knew what stories from the engine shed made her laugh the most. She knew Dinah preferred the start of a route to the end, and that Greaseball had to take the corners a bit slower when she was tired, and that her back, left wheel ached after a long trip so Greaseball always took left turns slower to ease the pressure on her axle. She knew that after spending all her time in her shed with the quiet and sleepy coaches that sometimes she loved staying the night at engine shed where it was almost never silent.
“And do you love her or not?”
A chuckle managed it’s way out of her strangled throat at that word. ‘Love.’
What an absolute understatement.
Greaseball didn’t just love Dinah, she adored her. She needed her.
“So?” Pearl finally broke the silence, and the world came back to Greaseball in all its colour.
“I’m obsessed with her.” There was no hesitance behind her words, just the simple shock at her own realisation. She couldn’t stand being without Dinah, and she had ruined it all. “I need her. I need her back, Pearl.” She turned, grabbing Pearl’s shoulders in her calloused palms. “You’ve got to let me inside!”
Pearl shooed her hands away, holding on to Greaseball’s shoulder plating and exhaling a deep breath. “That’s great and all, Greaseball, but the other coaches aren’t going to let you near her until you prove that you actually care. We’ve all made a list of requirements for you before you can see her again.”
“I do! I do care! I really do!” She was stunned by her own desperation. She would’ve tried to rattle the answer out of Pearl, but Dinah had told her not to treat the other coaches that way again.
“Thank Starlight! Belle and Tassita practically have to hold her down to stop her rolling straight back to you! It hasn’t been easy keeping you two apart. Now what’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
“To show them all you care! That you aren’t going to tell Dinah to shut up in front of the whole yard again,” Pearl leant in eagerly, waiting for a plan Greaseball didn’t have. “You really, seriously have to do better.”
“I said I was sorry,” she reminded Pearl. “What else can I do if those coaches won’t let her near me?”
Fireflies flittered around Pearl, casting a soft glow on her thoughtful expression. “Why don’t you start with Belle and Tassita? She loves them, and if you treat them well I’m sure everyone will calm down!”
Her nose scrunched up, not pleased at the thought. Part of her wanted to just push them out of the way and run right into Dinah. Who were they to keep them separated? But if Greaseball was going to do better, she guessed she could start with Belle and Tassita.
“Well. I guess that’s my plan then.”
——————————————————
Dinah didn’t like being mean. Tassita had to reassure her that setting her boundaries was not mean, especially after the way Greaseball had spoken to her during the races, but this was hard.
Dinah had never turned down an opportunity to see the engine before. She had cried so hard last night after Greaseball tried to visit that the coaches had set up an impromptu sleepover in the lounge so she didn’t have to be alone.
So this morning, part of her was deeply relieved to hear there had been a last minute engine change. The coaches would be going out with Greaseball again today after Orange Flash had woken up sick.
She made a mental note to cook up something for the engine later tonight.
Pearl skated by her side as they trailed the other two coaches towards where Greaseball was supposed to pick them up. Pearl was smiling about something this morning.
She sighed. Dinah felt like it had been so long since she had last smiled (although the coaches did tend to call her dramatic).
She knew she was supposed to be keeping her distance from Greaseball, but she wasn’t the smartest engine and she was prone to being a reckless and making dumb decisions when she was upset, and she had certainly looked upset last night. She just wanted to keep an eye on her.
A deeper part of Dinah wanted to keep an eye on her to make sure she hadn’t already raced on to another train the moment Dinah had turned her down.
The list of boundaries they had written up sat folded up inside her uniform. It would be a steep list for Greaseball, but her friends were right. None of them were hard asks.
“Look,” Pearl whispered, pointing through the morning rush of trains.
Dinah tilted her head, catching the familiar sight of yellow and black stripes through the crowd that always made her heart skip a beat.
Greaseball was already waiting, her eyes darting anxiously through the throw. There were dark circles under her eyes but her plates were polished and shining and her mullet was groomed neatly back.
Pearl chuckled at the sight, drawing Greaseball’s attention.
It was impossible for Dinah to miss the way her eyes lit up when she saw them.
“Morning, Greaseball,” Pearl waved.
“Uh— morning — good morning! Good morning, coaches.” She cleared her throat, holding out an arm to lead them to their spots on the tracks.
Weird.
Pearl was the only coach not to hesitate. “How kind of you, Greaseball. You look ready for the day!”
“Uh, yes!” She dipped her head in a way that was both strangely formal and out of character for Greaseball.
She exchanged bewildered looks with the other two coaches, but Pearl only grinned back at her and skipped forward.
Greaseball turned dutifully to the track, not meeting Dinah’s eye as she did so.
Belle and Tassita were much more hesitant. Tassita’s lips were curled back in a hint of disgust and Belle was wincing.
There was some shuffling, but this time Dinah wound up third in line, with Pearl and Belle in front of her and Tassita at the end.
“Uh. It’ll be a smooth ride today. Let me know when you’d like to stop for your break,” Greaseball advised over her shoulder. “We’ll depart now.”
She didn’t rev her engine, but gave a controlled hum as she took to the tracks.
Usually Greaseball took off with a start, jostling them along and racing off as fast as she could to get some run time in before she had to slow down to an appropriate pace for the passengers.
This was nice too, she guessed.
Pearl leaned forward, stretching up on her wheels to whisper something. Greaseball always slowed down when she was trying to process something. Not even a beat had passed after Pearl leant back for Greaseball to ask: “Is this speed okay for everyone?”
“Perfectly fine,” Tassita announced from the back of the line on the coaches behalf. The speed was almost too slow, if anything.
Greaseball had used a surprisingly appropriate volume while addressing Tassita. She usually shouted over her engine. She sounded so polite like she was trying to curve the growl in her voice.
They had played with the idea of needing Greaseball to be kind to her friends in their list of boundaries, but seeing it played out this way was entirely unnatural.
“What about you, Dinah?” she asked.
Dinah watched her own wheels skate across the iron tracks. “Fine, thanks.”
“I’m glad!”
Pearl tapped Greaseball’s shoulder.
“Oh, Belle? Are you okay too?”
“Uh, sure, Greaseball.”
“I can change speeds if you need!” She jumped to offer.
“No, no. You’re fine.” Dinah could feel Belle tense in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder at Dinah, mouthing ‘what?’
“Weird!” Tassita hissed.
Dinah didn’t know what was going on with the diesel today either.
Had she done something to herself last night after she was kicked out of the shed?
The first stretch of their trip was scattered with awkward commentary from Greaseball. She slowed down around the corners and turned on her headlights each time they passed through the shade like she was carrying fragile cargo.
Compared to her usual race style, this was practically boring. She was pretty sure Belle had actually fallen asleep.
Greaseball pulled up to a smooth halt at their halfway mark, allowing the four coaches to uncouple before she joined them off the tracks for their break.
“Lovely morning for this route, right?” Greaseball started, slapping a hand to Tassita’s back and causing him to clip his wheels, smacking right into Belle.
“Oh my starlight!” Belle held out a hand to help Tassita up as Pearl checked him for any scrapes.
Greaseball’s hand was still frozen in mid air, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide as Tassita struggled to get back up on his wheels.
Dinah looked up at her, and Greaseball looked back.
“Ha—“ a single, strangled laugh made its way out of Greaseball’s throat before she slapped a hand to her mouth, the shock remaining painted across her face.
She exhaled shakily through her palm, tearing her gaze away from the scene to turn back to the tracks, panting for a moment like she had forgotten how to breathe.
“You oaf!” Tassita snapped, his wrists still grasped by a coach on either side.
For a split second there was a glimmer in Greaseball’s eyes that was so familiar, but Pearl gave a stern shake off her head and Greaseball steeled herself with a thick swallow.
“Sorry, Tassita— I didn’t mean to push you.” She held her hand to her chest. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength, huh?”
It was true. Sometimes Greaseball didn’t. She had to fight against a rampant urge to reach out and touch her delts and took to staring at them instead as she rubbed her neck sheepishly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just watch where you put your hands.”
Dinah had prepared a picnic last night for today’s trip and started to unpack it once Belle had found a nice spot under the shade to sit.
“Greaseball, did you want to join us? Dinah made protein shakes!” Pearl called out, but Greaseball shook her head.
“I should check my internals and refuel. My breaker fluid probably needs checking.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the concrete refuelling station. “You coaches enjoy your lunch, and uh, sorry again, Tassita.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Do you need a hand refuelling?” Dinah offered.
She shook her head and waved her hands in a vehement ‘no.’ “I don’t want to bother you when you went to all the effort of making that lunch. I’ll handle it. I know my engine well enough to do it myself!” And she was off.
Belle waited for her to be out of earshot before she spoke up. “Has she hit her head or something?”
“I think she’s refuelled herself with the wrong petrol,” Tassita guessed with a nonchalant shrug, unpacking the picnic basket. “As long as she stays away from me, I don’t care what she’s up to.”
“She didn’t mean to push you,” Pearl promised.
“She is very strong,” Dinah agreed. She picked at the paper wrapper of the sandwich she had selected. “She’s really strong.”
“More like really stupid,” Tassita huffed.
Greaseball didn’t join them for lunch, she instead spent their break keeping her distance over by the fuel pumps, fiddling around inside her panels.
As Dinah finished her sandwich she reached into her pocket to withdraw the list of boundaries.
Pearl leant against her to read it as well.
“Well, she doesn’t smell like oil,” she joked, but Tassita seemed past dealing with Greaseball right now. “And she’s been very polite to us all morning.”
“That was polite?” Belle wiped her napkin over her mouth.
“Did you hear her laugh when I tripped?” Tassita snapped.
Pearl paled, but it made Dinah laugh. It was classic Greaseball to laugh at someone else falling over. “At least she tried to hide it.” That and the pat on the back had felt more genuine than her strange attempt at social conventions.
Yes, Tassita had fallen, but it had been an accident and Greaseball had apologised. That was a snapshot of the sort of camaraderie she had imagined the engine could have with the coaches one day.
When they were back on route it was more of the same. She was awkwardly formal in a way that wasn’t warm or cold, just entirely alien to the Greaseball she knew.
They arrived back at the train yard exactly on time, and once more Greaseball waited until they were all uncoupled to so much as move a muscle.
She was starting to get worried Greaseball had damaged some part of her engine, she didn’t know what else would have her acting so out of character.
“Uh, was the trip alright?” Greaseball asked, her eyes darting back and forth between Belle and Tassita.
Belle glanced at Tassita. “Uh, yeah. It was fine, thanks, Greaseball.”
She lit up, a smile crossing her face as she rolled towards them.
Tassita held out a hand to stop her before she got too close. “What are you doing?”
She seemed to catch herself, her smile dissolving back into a stiff, neutral expression. It was almost customer-service like.
“Sorry. Well. Have a good night, coaches, and um, take care.”
——————————————————————
The pot of diesel stew boiled on the stovetop, gurgling and bubbling.
She knew she had to stir the stew to stop it burning but her thoughts were somewhere else and so she stood paralysed in front of the stove with the ladle in her hand.
“That was a nice trip out with Greaseball today, right guys?” Pearl was licking her lips as she skipped into the kitchen.
“Sure, it was nice,” Belle shrugged, curled up on her section of the couch. “I’ve never heard her say please and thank you so much.”
“She still pushed me over, but aside from that I guess it was more tolerable than usual,” Tassita agreed, looking up from his book.
“Really?” Dinah managed, looking up from the pot. “I thought she was…” she managed to stir the stew. “Strange.”
“But she didn’t say anything mean the whole trip!” Pearl pointed out, throwing herself down on the couch next to the sleeping car. “And she was very thoughtful, don’t you think, Belle?”
Belle raised a brow. “It all sounded forced if you ask me.”
Pearl frowned, picking up a pillow to squeeze in her hands. “Maybe she’s not used to being thoughtful, but maybe she’s working on herself for Dinah, right guys?” She turned between Belle and Tassita, rolling one of her hands in circles like she was trying to build up some agreement.
“Hm. Maybe,” Tassita guessed.
Dinah turned the heat down on the stove top. “I don’t want that.”
“Huh!?” All three coaches whipped around to face Dinah in the kitchen.
“You don’t want her?” Pearl gaped.
“No, no.” Dinah shook her head, setting the ladle down so she didn’t fling hot stew everywhere. “Of course I want her, but I mean, I want her, not this weird Greaseball clone.”
Belle sat upright. “You want her to be mean?”
“Well, no,” Dinah clasped her hands together, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling. “I don’t want her to be mean to me,” she corrected. “But who is Greaseball if she’s maybe not just a little bit mean?” Her voice raised an octave in her explanation, but she was being entirely honest.
“You want her to be mean to us!?” Belle gasped.
“That’s it, I’m done.” Tassita threw his hands up. “There’s no saving you two.”
“Tassita!” Pearl batted at his arm. “No! She’s right.”
“She’s right!?” Belle blinked.
“Well. You love Greaseball for who she is—“
“Most of the time,” Tassita cut in.
“So, maybe Greaseball shouldn’t have to rewrite herself entirely, but there definitely has to be a chat about boundaries and respect,” Pearl suggested.
A hope roused in Dinah’s chest, her eyes widening as she leaned across the kitchen counter to watch the conversation unfold.
“Well. I guess it’s not our relationship,” Belle forfeited. “But Dinah is right. Today’s version of Greaseball was weird.
Tassita sighed, sinking back into the couch. “You sort her out then, but that doesn’t mean I have to be kind to her.”
“So, you mean—?” Dinah switched the stove top off.
“You can go and see her?” Pearl answered, and Dinah nodded feverishly, leaning up on the tips of her wheels.
“Just to see if she’s okay!” She insisted. “I know we’re technically on a break, so I won’t do anything, I just want to check on her!”
The three coaches exchanged looks and defeated sighs before giving Dinah the shrug she was waiting for. “Alright, Dinah,” Belle said. “You can check on her when you take Orange Flash’s stew over, but if she says anything harsh you walk right out of there, okay?”
“Okay!” Dinah promised. After doing her best to box up her stew without any spills, she raced out the door to visit the engine shed.
—————————————————————
Greaseball wouldn’t say she was sulking, but she currently felt no closer to winning Dinah back.
She lay crumpled up on her bed, her arm stuffed under her pillows so she could prop herself up enough to stare out her windows at the quiet train yard. The coaches’ shed door wasn’t open tonight.
Pearl had told her being kind to the other coaches would work, but Dinah hadn’t even lingered at the end of the day, and Tassita had held her back when she tried to approach Dinah.
And it would be hard to do this every day. She didn’t know how many of the engines she could get away with convincing to call out sick so they could swap routes.
Orange Flash was easy enough, she’d worked out too hard last night and was dying for ten more minutes of sleep in the morning, but the other engines were never so easy to trade with.
Golden Eagle would hold it over her head for months, and Green Arrow would almost certainly demand some sort of bribe. Blue Lightning and Silver Bullet would catch onto her plan and spread the news like wildfire.
Maybe she had really gone and done it this time. Pearl was right, Dinah was too forgiving, maybe she had taken her for granted.
The memory of Electra’s teasing stirred up her frustration. She was prone to taking on a fight, and Electra had made it a challenge.
But Pearl was nothing! Greaseball wasn’t interested in her romantically. Control asked them to switch partners and so she did, but she would always pick Dinah if she had the choice, and now she had realised it too late.
She sunk her head into her pillows with a groan. Greaseball had seriously fucked up. It was always moments like these when Greaseball was being harsh on herself that Dinah would be here reassuring her, reminding her how fast she was, how strong she was, how brave she was, but none of it mattered if her coach wasn’t by her side.
She had tried her best to change herself today and it wasn’t enough for Dinah.
There was a knocking at the shed door.
Greaseball waited a moment to see if one of the other engines would answer it. She had already taken her plates off and she didn’t want to get out of bed.
Another knock.
“I’ll get it,” Orange Flash called out. “Green Arrow, if you’ve locked yourself out again!”
Her wheels dragged down the hall and for a moment there was quiet before Orange Flash shouted her name. “GB! It’s for you!”
For her? At this hour?
She didn’t bother with her plating, trudging to her door. Whoever it was could just go away.
“Oh, no! I’m actually here for you!”
That was Dinah’s voice.
“Huh, for me?”
Greaseball winced, stopping in her doorway. She was here for Orange Flash? Ouch. She drew back into the shadows of her doorframe, about to close the door again when—
“I brought you some stew. I heard you were sick.”
Shit. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away, but she had been so sure her plan was going to work that she had forgotten to cover her tracks.
Orange Flash took the container without asking. “Huh? No I’m not. Who told you that?” She popped open the lid, licking her lips. “This smells great. And it’s all for me? Score!”
“Oh, Greaseball, she said…” Dinah trailed off, and Orange Flash turned off to walk down the hall to the kitchen, grinning at her prize. “I’m letting you explain this one, Greasy,” she snickered as she passed.
Greaseball wished she had gotten some warning as she waddled out into the hall. She always felt much smaller without her plates on. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Orange Flash isn’t sick?”
“Nope.” She was past putting up facades and schemes, she didn’t want to be smart or kind right now, she just wanted to curl up in bed. She leant against the doorframe, her gaze cast lazily towards the ground. “I asked her to call in so that I could ride with you today.”
Shame burned at her face as Dinah’s silence hovered. She didn’t know why she confessed— surely Dinah would be pissed she’d gone to those lengths to see her right after she’d been told she wanted space.
She was put out of her misery by the sound of a gentle whimper, her head snapped up to see tears brewing in Dinah’s eyes.
“Oh, Greaseball. To see me?”
She could hardly nod before Dinah lunged in for a hug, letting out a loud wail and throwing her arms around Greaseball.
“Hey! What’s the matter?” She hesitated to hug the coach back.
Her face was pressed in to the crook of Greaseball’s neck, her voice already wet with tears. “You!”
Greaseball managed to manoeuvre a hand around Dinah’s waist to pry her back enough to look her in the eyes. “Me?”
“Yes, you, idiot! What was all that today? Why did you do all of that just to be weird?”
“Weird!?” Greaseball’s face scrunched up. “I was being polite, like Pearl said I should be!”
Dinah laughed, tears running down her pink cheeks. She was a delightfully beautiful mess. “Greaseball, polite isn’t a good look for you! You were so bad at it!” Dinah pulled back enough to wrap her arms around her own stomach as she cackled.
“Hey!” Greaseball’s cheeks grew hot. “I was just trying to—“ she caught herself from complaining by snapping her jaw shut.
Dinah was back, she was here, laughing and smiling. Greaseball didn’t know what the appropriate words were to apologise, to ask her to never leave her side again, to say she didn’t even have to ask because she knew Dinah wouldn’t, Dinah never did.
“Dinah, I—“
A simple ‘sorry’ wouldn’t do this time.
“Greaseball, I’m sorry!” Dinah interrupted. “I never should’ve told you to leave, I never should have avoided you, I should have just spoken to you!” She was crying again.
Boy, Dinah could cry a lot. It was not delicate tear-stains through her makeup, it was snotty and wet and gurgley and so endearing to the engine.
“Hey, doll, don’t cry.” She reached up to hold Dinah’s face, rubbing her thumbs across her wet cheeks. “It’s—it’s—“ the words were stuck again.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if the noise had stirred any of the other engines. She bet Orange Flash was lurking around a corner somewhere to listen in. “Come on, let’s get out of the doorway.”
Tucked under her arm, Greaseball ushered Dinah into her bedroom where they could close the door behind them.
Dinah was the pop of colour her dark room needed. She had already gravitated naturally to her side of their bed, and it made Greaseball’s stomach drop to think she could have ruined all of this.
“Dinah,” she exhaled, trying to steady her thoughts and cobble together something adequate. “I was stupid—“
“No, I was!”
“Dinah, hey, let me talk, please,” she tried, reaching out to grab Dinah’s hands and clasp them tight to her chest. “You aren’t stupid. We all know I’m the dumb one, right?” She tried to laugh, but she was scared she might shed a tear too. “You were right. Maybe we did need some space. I didn’t even notice I always had you until you weren’t here.”
“No I wasn’t! I should’ve just come back to you, Greaseball, I can’t leave you, I could never leave you!”
“Hey, Dinah!” She gave her hands a squeeze, trying to keep Dinah focused and breathing instead of bawling and hyperventilating. She held her gaze, trying to settle her and slow her breathing. “Belle and Tassita were right. I think— I think—“ it was like she was speaking around a hunk of coal in her throat. “They were right. It was good, I can’t keep, y’know, just expecting you to deal with all my shit.” She released one of Dinah’s hands to wipe her eyes with her forearm before she began crying too.
“With your— no!” Dinah shook her head. “You think we need space? Should I leave? Should I go?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” Greaseball pressed, but Dinah was frantic again, even when the engine tried to cup her chin to tilt her head up she was all scrunched in on herself, and it became a two hand job to keep her from collapsing onto the ground. Greaseball was familiar with the responsibilities of soothing a crying dining car.
“Dinah, hey!” She had to raise her voice over the sobs. “Dinah, doll, can I kiss you?”
That had her looking up again, Greaseball hardly would’ve had time to process the question in the time it took Dinah to launch into Greaseball’s chest and kiss her.
Her lips were salty with her own tears but that wasn’t unfamiliar to Greaseball either.
Starlight, she tasted like home. Now she was laughing into the kiss, and for their own reasons they couldn’t stay still enough to keep on kissing.
When they pulled apart, Greaseball held Dinah’s face near hers, their eyes set on one another.
“Greaseball, promise you’ll never speak to me like that again!” Dinah tried.
Greaseball nodded. “I could never.”
“Promise me you’ll never do it again, or I’m never cooking for you ever again!” She was pressing into Greaseball’s palms, eager to lean back in for another kiss.
Greaseball had to push her back with a laugh, distancing herself enough to rest her arms around Dinah’s shoulders. “I promise, and not for the cooking, I promise for you.”
“Greaseball!” More tears as she crashed into Greaseball, wrapping her arms tight around her chest and knocking her back against the wall. Without her plating it took the breath out of her.
Greaseball caught a quick glimpse of the two entwined trains in the mirror, their faces smudged with each other’s makeup.
She clung on to Greaseball like she was scared to let go. It made Greaseball want to cry too.
“I love you, Dinah,” she tried, pulling her impossibly closer. “And I missed you, one day without you and I thought I’d never make it.” She pressed a kiss to her hair as Dinah rested her head up against Greaseball’s neck again. She could feel her lips turn up in a smile, so she continued.
“I love you, Dinah,” she repeated, feeling her smile widen. “I love how you race, how you cook, how you dress, how you laugh. All of it, Dinah. I couldn’t— I can’t imagine—“ it was a feeling inside of her chest that made her engine whir. She couldn’t imagine feeling this way with any other train. “There I don’t know the words. You’re the only one I love, doll.”
“You’re the only one I love, Greaseball.” Her happy voice was warm against her neck, she ran her fingers down the side of Greaseball’s chassis, wriggling in the engine’s arms. She raised her head, her eyes slightly puffy from the crying but all crinkled with her grin. “Can our break be over?”
To answer that question, Greaseball heaved the coach up in her arms, falling back with her onto their bed.
Dinah’s pink and blue hair against Greaseball’s black sheets was a nice sight. It was hard to look at her for any longer than a second before leaning in to kiss her again.
She cradled Dinah’s head with one hand, wiping her tears away with the other as their legs entwined and Dinah reached around to grab her couplers.
When she was out of breath she pulled back, combing her fingers through the coach’s soft hair.
“I was an idiot.”
“You were.”
“I should be smarter.”
“I like you the way you are.”
——————————————————————
Dinah slept the night at Greaseball’s shed and had skipped back to the coach’s shed early next morning with a wide grin on her face.
Tassita’s head fell into his hands where he sat at the kitchen table. “So you’re back together?”
“Mhm!” She hummed.
“It’ll last one week max,” Tassita rolled his eyes.
Pearl clapped her hands to her cheeks, her smile matching Dinah’s as she kicked her legs under the table. “I’m happy for you, Dinah! Did she apologise?”
“Properly?” Belle added.
Dinah nodded, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “This was our first ever official break. I think it’s really made something click.” She propped her elbows up on the kitchen table as she joined the coaches, a dreamy look on her face.
“That was your first ‘official’ break?” Pearl blinked, but she shook away that thought. “Anyway, I might have pulled some strings for you. You should check the departure board for today and see who you’re riding with!”
“Oh!” And Dinah was right back out the shed door.
Pearl might have had a little chat with Rusty and convinced him to pass a message up to Momma and change some shifts around.
“Greaseball!” Came Dinah’s delighted gasp as the shed door rolled open.
“And here we go again,” Belle rested her head down on her arms, groaning. “Well Tassita, we tried.”
Through the front windows, Pearl could see Greaseball pull Dinah into her arms for a kiss that seemed to last a bit too long for Belle’s taste.
“Guys! Don’t be so pessimistic, the whole rail yard has changed now that a steam train is the reigning champion.” Pearl leant back in her seat, arms crossed proudly over her chest. “Now that she’s lost her title, I’m sure she’s realised that Dinah is the only thing she can’t lose. Besides, we had a good talk the other night.”
“You got Greaseball to talk?” Tassita leant in and Belle perked up, keen to hear the story.
Pearl dropped her voice down to a mischievous whisper. “Yup, and she’s completely obsessed with Dinah! All sappy and clingy and lovey-dovey past all that metal, even if she doesn’t realise that herself!”
“Greaseball, sappy?” Belle raised a brow.
Outside, Greaseball was combing a hand through her mullet, a cocky smile on her face as Dinah looked up at her with her regular, love struck eyes.
“‘Clingy!?’” Tassita echoed.
“Yep, practically on her knees for Dinah to take her back.”
“On her knees?” Tassita deadpanned. Dinah was the one swooning outside, a hand on Greaseball’s muscles. “And Dinah still took her back in the end.”
“I guess some things never change,” Belle sighed.
The three coaches had adjusted their chairs to watch the scene out the window.
They looked like they had fallen in love all over again.
Pearl smiled. “Yeah, I guess some things never do.”