Chapter Text
It was the same thing year after year ever since that night, that damned night.
It was supposed to be an easy job—they just had to deliver a supply of coal trucks to a station a few towns down the line to restock… whatever it was that needed restocking; these days, part of James regretted not having paid attention to what it was for.
Not that it mattered, did it? The coal never reached its destination—at least not through his hands.
Years have passed since then, but each time, he seemed to remember more details than the time before: the cold of the first days of winter, the crescent moon in the distance, partially obscured by thick clouds, the tall grass and bushes next to the signal house, and, above all, that green signal that always appeared too bright to him.
He was distracted for just a few moments, but when he looked back, there it was—the night express heading straight towards them, its headlight shining even brighter than the light at the junction. They tried everything: they slammed on the brakes, shut off the steam valves, and the other man stopped shoveling coal into the firebox… But it wasn’t enough, because, of course, it never was.
James felt the weight of the cars pushing the engine forward, as if they were chanting, 'Come on, come on, come on! Here we go!' while laughing at him. Meanwhile, the express continued to race down the track at full steam, as if indifferent to their presence.
[Okay… I know how this all plays out…]
James thought to himself as he grabbed the brakes lever.
[I promise that I’ll be ready this time!]
He braced himself for the impact, closing his eyes and accepting his fate—there was no point in trying to escape it. But he never felt that impact, because something—or rather, someone—grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from the controls, leaving him just a few inches from the opening on the left side of the cab.
“Hector!? What are you—”
“Sorry, kid, but I’m not going to let the passengers get hurt—not on my watch!”
“I’m not a passenger! I’m—”
“You’re MY passenger.”
“No, Hector!”
James shouted, trying to get back to the controls, but Hector shoved him harder this time, forcing James to grab the sides of the opening to keep from being thrown out. He felt the air cutting into him like tiny blades as his hair and scarf whipped against his face; the 'laughter' of the trucks grew louder and louder as he held on with all his might.
[NO! I’m not going to mess this up again!]
His younger self made the decision as he tried, once again, to go back inside, with time seemingly slowing down as he felt Hector’s hand on his chest, preventing him from going any further.
“It’s okay, James, none of this was your fault. You did your best, and I’m terribly proud of you! But the next part is something I have to do on my own…”
[No, no, no, I hate this!]
“I hope you’ll understand… See you later, kid.”
James felt his eyes fill with tears as the pressure on his chest increased; his fingers lost their grip as he was shoved out of the cab—his body slamming violently against the ground and the thorns of the rose bushes beside the tracks digging into his arms and face. All he could see next was a blur of dark shapes and lights merging into one another, while the thunderous sound of the collision exploded in his eardrums.
His vision started to grow blurry and fade, until…
[YOU COULD HAVE DONE BETTER]
-----xXx-----
“AAAH!”
James screamed as he woke up and sat up in bed, gasping and sweating. He looked around to get his bearings: bed, window, dresser, mirror, bookshelf, desk, his crimson red North Western coat hanging on a hook by the door. He took a deep breath and gripped the sheets as hard as he could, feeling his fingernails dig into the fabric—he was in Sodor; he wasn’t there anymore.
It was just a dream.