Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun rose over the horizon at the blue mountain quarry, illuminating the dark stone and the silent machinery, warming the place up. As the pink sky grew, the first of the engine’s crew arrived at the blue mountain quarry to get the engines up and ready.
The first to arrive was Duncan’s driver, a stout man by the name of Hamish, with his arms covered in faded tattoos and a greying unkempt beard on his face. He whistled softly as he approached the oddly silent shed, wondering why he couldn’t hear any snoring (mainly from Duncan) or any sleep mumbling (also mainly from Duncan).

Approaching Duncan’s footplate to start firing the engine up, he was surprised to see a shortish figure curled up uncomfortably on the metal flooring, snoring softly and grumbling to himself. The man didn’t exactly look homeless, he didn’t look overly scruffy nor dirty, except his long black hair looked a little greasy but no one was perfect.

Hamish frowned and grabbed the broom from the wall, going back over to the engine before beginning to poke the naked man. “Oi.” Hamish grumbled, continuing to poke the man who still had his eyes closed but was starting to sound aggravated.
“Stop pokin me…” the man scowled before a final poke got him sitting up and snarling at Hamish. “Ah said quit yer pokin driver!” He snapped. “Cannae an engine get some damn sleep!”

Hamish stepped back in shock. That face, that voice, that attitude? That was all Duncan! He wasn’t sure what to think until another crew approached, this time it was Peter Sam’s fireman. “Owen! Owen! We got a situation!” He yelled, waking the other engines (humans?) and slowly jogging over to the slimmer man. “I don’t know how, I don’t want to know how, but something is wrong with the engines and I need you to check Peter Sam’s footplate immediately.”

The fireman, Owen, blinked in shock but nodded and immediately did as told. If Hamish was panicked about something, you knew it was bad. He rushed over to his engine and his jaw dropped at seeing a human sat cross legged awkwardly on the footplate of, well, Peter Sam. The man before him was a plumper male, with neatly parted blond hair and an expression of confusion and slight fear. But that face was all Peter Sam.
“Peter Sam?” He asked softly.

“H-Hullo fireman.” His engine - human - said nervously. The other engines turned humans began to emerge from their empty shells, fear radiating off of them as they huddled together behind their once bodies.
Hamish looked to the group of 8 confused humans, the group stood naked and afraid and unsure of what was happening.
“Owen, I need you to call Sir Topham hat and Mr Percival. Tell them what happened and get Mr. Percival here immediately.” Hamish ordered him. “I’m going to get some spare clothes for these guys and try and figure out how my shift became way harder.” And he stormed off to the boxes at the back of the shed to grab some spare and abandoned uniform.

A short while later - after several phone calls - Mr Percival arrived in his car, parking up roughly and stumbling out of the vehicle and rushing over to the shed, spotting the now dressed engine humans all sat on the tracks together.
He looked shocked, his glasses askew on his face. “Oh my!” He gasped as he approached them. “Y-You’re all human! H-How did this happen?”

One of the new humans stood up, a tight smile on his face. “Hullo, Sir.” He said softly, ah it was Skarloey, with his unmistakable deeper voice. “W-We’re unsure of how this happened sir. One minute we were asleep as engines, and the next we’re waking up as,,, uh, humans.” He said, gesturing to the others who looked relieved to see Mr. Percival there.

“It’s not just here either though, Skarloey. It’s all the engines on the island. Every single one of them.” Mr. Percival said. “Sir Topham has been receiving phone calls since before the sun even rose. It’s a troubling situation but, we have some things in order so we should be alright.” But the tone of his voice didn’t sound confident at all. “Th-There’s several inns and hotels willing to accept you guys to stay. I presume you all wish to stay together, yes?” He asked them.

The group collectively nodded in agreement, mumbling softly about it all. They couldn’t exactly say no, unsure of how to take care of their human selves now.
“Good. A-A train and carriage will be here shortly to take you to Knapford Station where you’ll be escorted to one of the hotels there. The staff have been informed about this and they’ll treat you well.” He informed the group, a frown on his face. “We’ve also asked some shops for some clothing donations to, uh, help dress you.” He hummed.

Skarloey sighed in relief, smiling graciously to Mr. Percival. “Thank you so much sir.” He mumbled softly, fear hidden in his eyes. “We’ve never actually been to Knapford Station, since we can’t yknow, travel on standard tracks.”

“I see. It’ll be alright Skarloey. For all of you.” He sighed. “I have to go and see about the other lines under my care, just to see if anyone else has changed. If this is happening to all the engines, Sir Topham and I are checking every shed and every museum.” And with that he gave a tight smile, looking to the humans. “I shall see you all another time. Have a good journey and I will check in periodically.”

And with that, Mr. Percival turned and left, leaving the humans alone and rushing back to his car before driving away quickly with a honk of his horn.

The group watched him leave, wondering how much is going to be different now. They were in unfamiliar territory now and had to step lightly.
Duncan was the second to stand up, a scowl on his face and his long black hair falling across his face like tar sliding down the back of a tar truck. “This is shit.” He snarled and marched forward to Skarloey. “You cannae actually believe that they’ll happily look after us forever.”

“Duncan, please.” Skarloey said, moving to place a hand on his shoulder but his wrist was caught by Duncan’s hand, the man squeezing it hard.

Duncan continued to scowl at the older engine. At the older human. “Dinnae give me that shit. This novelty will wear off and where will that leave us?” He lashed out, his grip on Skarloey’s wrist getting tighter. For once the older man didn’t know how to reply to that.

“That’s enough of all that.” Hamish said sternly, shooting a glare to both of them. Duncan shoved Skarloey away slightly, walking to his own area with a loud grumbling noise. “You’re all worried and it’s understandable. We will get you sorted. Just try to stay calm.” He exclaimed before going back to Owen and the other drivers and firemen.

Skarloey listened to the way Duncan grumbled angrily, how Peter Sam and Sir Handel were whispering back and forth about ‘what if he’s right’ and ‘what will happen to us’. He looked down at his wrist, his pale skin now reddened from where Duncan had squeezed it tightly and how it began to gently throb in a dull pain, indicating that it was going to get worse.
He looked back up, a sullen look on his face.

It seemed that being human was the least of their problems.

Chapter Text

The ride down to Knapford station was quiet and uncomfortable, the group of seven in a carriage that gently rocked from side to side.
The world outside the carriage went from stone to countryside very quickly, Peter Sam and Sir Handel trying to keep themselves distracted as they pointed out all the different animals they saw, a much different life from the quarry.
The rocking was meant to be comforting - something they were all used to on the tracks - but it started to make Rusty feel unwell and he put his head down on the table, a small groan leaving his lips.
“How much longer?” Rusty moaned softly, his eyes clenched shut as the carriage continued to sway.

“Not too long now, hopefully.” Skarloey answered, drawing his eyes away from the window. “I think we’re getting close to the station. Then we’ll be off of the carriage. Are you alright, Rusty?” He asked the Rusty, although Rusty’s head was against the table his cheeks did look pale.

“I feel awful, Skarloey. Almost like I’ve been given the wrong fuel and told to make do with it…” he groaned again. “Like it’s all churning wrong.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “Well, it cannae be fuel. We’re human now, so summn else is all fucked up inside of ye.”

“Duncan, language.” Skarloey reprimanded, ignoring how Duncan rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the sick man before him. “It’s alright Rusty. Once we’re at Knapford we can ask one of the guards or railway staff for help.”

Rusty lifted his head, opening his mouth as if to say something before a brownish liquid spewed from his mouth and onto the table, a horrible gagging noise coming from Rusty as he vomited more of the vile liquid. His hand moved to grip the table roughly as he coughed, breathing heavily and trying not to gag or vomit more due to the putrid taste and smell.
The other engines scrambled about in surprise as they tried to sort it out, Duncan jumping away with a disgusted look on his face as Rheneas immediately stepped in to help, having to take off the work jacket he was given to try and wipe the mess up.

“What was that?!” Peter Sam asked in shock and horror, watching the brown liquid get soaked up by the grey cloth, Sir Handel beside him covering his mouth in disgust as he himself felt his own stomach churning from the smell and the sight.

“I’m not sure! B-But we will figure it out at Knapford! Rusty, are you alright?” Skarloey asked the man worriedly, watching as Rusty’s eyes and nose also leaked with some clear liquid, the man sniffling and coughing slightly, the brown liquid also dribbling down his chin.

“I-I don’t know….” He whimpered and sniffled, moving a shaky hand up to wipe at his eyes. “M-My throat hurts, like it burns almost.” And he looked to Skarloey, fear in his eyes. “Wh-What was that?” He asked, parroting Peter Sam’s question.

Skarloey looked to Rheneas, both of them frowning. “Look, we’re nearly at Knapford, a guard can tell us what happened and we can go from there.” He said softly, trying to soothe the trembling man.

Rheneas gave Rusty a weak smile. “Skarloey is right. We will sort it at the station and get you all cleaned up.” He said softly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright.”

He simply groaned again and closed his eyes, leaning his head against his hand as he tried not to throw up any more, his stomach still churning as the carriage continued to rock and sway, making Rusty feel even worse.

Just like Skarloey and Rheneas promised, they eventually pulled up to Knapford station, the train coming to a shuddery stop and the carriages gently bumping each other.
They helped to carry Rusty’s weight between them, finding one of the railway staff to at least help them or to diagnose the issue if they were able to. The railway staff brought them into the small waiting room, making them sit Rusty down and explain the situation. Once informed, the man then left the room and then shortly returned with two small white pills and a glass of water.

“It sounds like he suffered from travel sickness, more commonly called motion sickness. There’s no real cure for it, unfortunately.” The man told them sympathetically. “The most we can do is to give a few of these pills called aspirin, and a glass of water.”

The group looked defeated as they listened to the man. No cure? Rusty would just have to go every day being sick like this each time he traveled? Being human was a lot more difficult than expected.
“Oh… thank you, sir.” Skarloey said quietly, accepting the medication and water from the man with a frown, the railway staff simply giving a nod before leaving them alone again. How did humans live day to day like this?

He shook those thoughts away and turned his attention back to Rusty, staring at the pills in his hand. “Uh, how does im take pills?” He asked, unsure of how to perform this.

“Oh that’s simple. My driver does it all the time after his shift ends.” Peter Sam said with a slight smile, glad to be useful when helping a friend. “What he does it place them in his mouth and then swallows them down with some liquid.” He told them. “Driver makes it look so easy. Except I’m not sure what water he was drinking that’s called ‘absolut vodka’, I think it’s a special type.”

“Thank you, Peter Sam.” Skarloey said with a grateful smile and moved to bell Rusty take the pills, everyone letting out a small cheer as the once diesel engine managed to swallow the tablets down with the help of the water.
“Alright, everyone out and back onto the platform, we need to wait for our drivers to take us to the hotel we’re staying at.” He announced, taking charge of the group.

No one protested as they followed Skarloey back onto the platform, Sir Handel supporting Rusty’s weight this time as they waited patiently for one of the drivers.
Duncan looked relieved when Hamish showed up, the man waving down the group and approaching. “Driver.” Duncan greeted politely.

He nodded back to Duncan. “Glad to see you’ve made it in one piece. Now, are we ready to go to the hotel? We’ll have to travel by bus to get there as it’s more in the city.” Hamish informed the group, a tight smile on his face.

The engines looked to each other nervously, Rusty letting out a defeated groan. “I’m sorry, uh, Duncan’s driver. But uh, Rusty gets this thing called ‘motion sickness’. His mouth leaks this weird brownish liquid when we travel.” Rheneas explained, unsure of how to describe it.

Hamish blinked in surprise. “Oh dear. Okay so, what’s coming out of his mouth is called vomit. Vomit is uh, your stomachs contents being forced out of your mouth.” He uttered, not exactly certain of how to explain it any better. “So basically, your stomach is about here,” and he pet his own large stomach, “and your stomach contains this liquid that helps to break down food and drink, the same way your fireboxes break down coal. But sometimes, humans can eat stuff that upset their stomach. Or sometimes they smell something gross. Or travel. Hell even if they see something shocking.” He sighed, scratching his beard.

“What I’m trying to say is, the liquid that Rusty threw up is just his stomach acid. It’s completely normal for humans.” He ended the speech, looking at the seven shocked and grossed out engines.

Sir Handel opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “Y-You mean, we all have that gross liquid in us?? And it could spill out at any point in time?”

“Yup. And sometimes if you eat food it’ll come out all chunky.” Hamish nodded, simply wanting to poke a bit of fun and gross the group out; and it was fun for a moment.
Until Rusty vomited down his jacket with a loud and horrid gagging noise, covering his jacket, his shoes, and the platform; earning a handful cries from the group (Sir Handel leaping away with an ‘ew, ew, ew’) and turning the heads of several passers-by.

“Oh bugger.”

Chapter Text

The trip to the hotel went far better than their trip to Knapford Station; sure Rusty still felt awful and was trying not to be sick, but he had a brown paper bag with him this time so at least there wouldn’t be any accidents.
Plus Hamish felt bad about causing Rusty to be sick again and had offered to get them as much aspirin and water as they all needed.

The bus they rode took them all the way to the hotel, the bus stop just outside of the fancy looking place. To be honest, any building looked fancy to the trains.
Hamish lead the group off of the stopped bus and up the path to the hotel entrance, making sure they were all together. “The hotel offered some rooms for you guys, so you should all be good.” He hummed, opening the door for them and smiling.
The reception was large and neat looking, with cream coloured counters and marble flooring. It screamed tidy and expensive, everything the quarry wasn’t. The corners of the entrance way had marble columns that reached the ceiling, and there was doors that lead further into the building, as well some metal doors. Everything was clean and shiny, soft music flowing gently from the ceiling and staff walked around in posh burgundy suits.

“This is… too nice…” Rheneas mumbled in awe, looking at the fancy hotel’s innards. “Surely we can’t be allowed to stay here I-I mean it’s wonderful but it looks far to fancy for us!”

Skarloey nodded in agreement. “It is wonderful. But I doubt Mr. Percival would spend so much money at this place just for us…”

Hamish chuckled softly at that. “Oh don’t worry yourselves about it. The woman who runs this place is letting us borrow it for as long as we need. Her father was a driver for an engine a decade or two ago so she was more than willing to let you guys stay. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled and walked up to the reception with them, ringing the bell gently.

A woman dressed in a posh suit immediately showed up when she heard the bell, smiling brightly at the lot. Her teeth were artificially white and on her head was bleached blonde hair that went down to her shoulders and styled in some Hollywood waves.
“Mr. Percival informed me of your arrival! I’m Miss. Dalton, owner of the Knapford Hotel.” She chirped and left the reception desk, moving over to shake Hamish’s hand, her smile wide and large, almost plastic looking.

“My father was Mr. Harry Dalton, probably sounds familiar to you, Sir Handel. Please, come right this way, I managed to get some of the larger rooms for you lot, free of charge.” She said, going business mode as she lead them to a large elevator, and ignoring Sir Handel’s ‘huh’ of confusion. “When Mr. Percival rang I was more than happy to help you guys out. Especially since you helped my father out a lot, plus I couldn’t leave a group of people in need stranded.” And she pressed a few buttons, the doors closing the lift moving.

The lift moving caused Peter Sam to make a noise of discomfort, Skarloey and Rheneas grabbing the railings whilst Duncan made sure to steady both Rusty and Sir Handel.
“It’s-It’s very kind of you Miss. Dalton,” Skarloey spoke, nervous of the thing they were moving in.

“The pleasure is all mine! Like I said, you helped my father out in more ways than you think! Now, this places serves breakfast, lunch and dinner so I shall have some waitstaff go to your rooms and ask what you would like for your meals to ensure you’re fed.” And Miss Dalton gave another brilliant smile, the lift coming to a stop on the 7th floor.
She exited the lift, the group following her and awing at the decorations of the place. “Please, just down this hallway.” She hummed.

Miss Dalton walked them down the hallway happily, her heels clicking against the marble flooring as she walked. Soon she stopped at a door and scanned a card against it, opening the door. “This is room 712, complete with an emperor sized bed, 2 showers, 2 baths, 2 toilets, a small balcony and even a small dining area.” She commented proudly, allowing her guests inside who stared in awe at the place. The carpet was a soft and gentle cream colour with the walls a nice brown colour to complement it and make the room feel cozy. Against the wall sat the large bed, complete with several plush pillows and blankets; beside the bed sat the dressers and across from them sat the wardrobes and dining area.

“Woah….” The engines said together, flooding the room slowly to look around at the interior more. This was all so new to them. They had never seen anything like this before and it was beautiful; a different kind of beauty to the countryside and the quarry, but still beautiful.
It all looked so pristine yet so homely.

Rheneas was the one to put his thoughts together. “Th-This is really nice, Miss Dalton. It’s-It’s wonderful. Too wonderful. We’re from the quarry and-and, uh, we don’t really deserve this!” He mumbled. “It’s amazing! Truly! B-But uh-“ he added quickly, unsure of where to go from there.

She waved her hand. “Oh please! You deserve this and more! Now, who would like to sleep with who? We have more rooms to give.”

“Oh.” Sir Handel frowned. “We… We aren’t staying together?” He asked her softly.

Her smile faded and turned to a slight frown. “Well, you can if you wish to, but I’m not sure how comfy it would be for all six of you to share one bed.” she said, soon sighing as she tried not to stare at Sir Handel’s bad attempt at puppy dog eyes. “You may stay together if you wish, but if you want more space please tell me.”
And she looked to Hamish, handing him several keys for the group. “I need to go, please ask for me if you need me. I’ll always be around.” She informed them, giving them one last brilliant smile before leaving and closing the door.

The group gave a small cheer together as they got to sleep in the same room, glad to not be apart from each other. Hamish rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head. “Alright alright. Enough of the celebrations, settle down.” And he held up the keycards. “These are to get you in and out of the room. Keep them on you at all times. Try not to lose them.” He said firmly. “Now, I need to go. Someone tomorrow will be round with some clothes for you to try on. Be on your best behaviour.” And gave them a smile. “Have a good afternoon, alright? If you need one of us just go down to the front desk. The left we went up in, the box with the metal doors is easy to use. Press the button that has a G on it and to come up pressed the button with a seven on it.” And he gave them a wave before also leaving.

They soon looked to each other, a soft silence falling over them before the six developed small and cheeky grins, eager to use being alone to their advantage now.

Chapter Text

Finally left alone and to their own devices, the engines started to investigate their new home; after all, it belonged to them indefinitely so they might as well be able to do what they pleased.
It was all so human and so unique that they all wanted to take part in the exploration of the room. Duncan and Peter Sam immediately went snooping through the draws and wardrobes, opening them up and seeing what was in them (nothing) whilst Rheneas and Skarloey marvelled at the framed photographs hanging from the walls, seeing if they knew any of the locations.
That left Rusty with the bed, gently running his hand across the soft surface but just too nervous to mess up something so clean and pretty

“Woah! I can see my reflection!” Sir Handel said in awe, standing in front of a mirror in the bathroom that he had wondered into out of curiosity, causing the group to instantly become just as curious. “Do I really look like this?” He asked, staring at what was shown to him.
He was slim - one might say skinny - with short choppy brown hair and deep blue eyes, which looked similar to the colour of his livery. Sir Handel moved closer to the mirror, taking in his facial features. “Have I always had a nose like that?” And he ran a finger down it, staring in awe at his human features.

“Ooo I wanna see what I look like!” And Peter same joined him. “Wooaahhhh…. I look so different from you….” He muttered. His face was a lot rounder than Sir Handel’s his cheeks soft to the touch, and his hair was blond and longer with it being more styled. “This is so weird!” He gasped, marvelling how he was more plump than Sir Handel.

Now everyone wanted a turn with the mirror, all eager to see how they varied from one another. Sir Handel and Peter Sam moved to the side to let Rusty have a look at himself, tilting his head to the side. “Huh, I think my hair matches my livery…” he hummed, moving a hand up to fiddle with the chin length hair; his hair was a brown-ginger colour that flicked outwards towards the bottom with a slight fringe. He leaned in close like Sir Handel did, marvelling at his pretty green eyes. “I think we might have similar eye colours, Peter Sam.” He hummed, smiling brightly and then staring in surprise at his teeth.

“Move it ya skinny fuck.” Duncan huffed, gently shoving Rusty out of the way to get in one the action. He frowned as he viewed his reflection, unsure of what to think; his long black hair covered a lot of it and he grumbled as he moved it out the way. He just looked human. He didn’t give a damn about his features, even if his frown looked angry. “Am I really always this angry?”

That earned a laugh from the other 3 as they all started comparing features with each other, bewildered at how similar yet so different they could look. That left Rheneas and Skarloey to talk with each other in the other bathroom, both sharing the mirror as they talked quietly. “Your nose is more pointed than mine.” Rheneas hummed softly. “I also think my face looks rounder than yours.”

“Mhm. We have similar eye colours though, they’re both brown. But my hair is black like Duncan’s whilst your hair matches your eyes.” Skarloey hummed, having to run a hand through his hair to keep it off of his forehead and away from his eyes. “I need to find something to stop my hair touching my face. It’s uncomfortable.” He huffed.

“Maybe we should cut it?” Rheneas suggested and then sighing softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. “I did hope we’d look more like siblings though… I know siblings can look different but I still hoped that we would look more similar.”

“Mhm. But I suppose it’s becuase we aren’t twins. I suspect that Talyllyn would look exactly like me, and then your twin Dolgoch would look exactly like you.” He chuckled softly. “I think we look similar enough to look like brothers.”
And Skarloey moved to wrap an arm around Rheneas’s shoulder in a comforting way, enjoying how close humans could get with each other. As trains the most he’d be able to do was to touch buffers, at least now he could give his brother more comfort than ever.
Their bonding moment was brought to an end after Peter Sam began to yell for them.

“Hey Skarloey? Why doesn’t Rusty have a stick part like us?” He called from the other bathroom. “Sir Handel said we should check what’s in our pants and so we did and Rusty doesn’t have a stick!”

The two gave each other a look, Rheneas more annoyed this time. “I’m not entertaining this tonight.” He grumbled and pulled out of Skarloey’s hold. “Let’s not do this tonight! Put your sticks and non-sticks away and let’s just try the soft square out!” He called back to them, exiting the bathroom and continuing to scold the other four engines for their ‘inappropriate behaviour’.

Left alone, Skarloey studied himself further in the mirror, a frown on his face. He could see every wrinkle, every imperfection and he sighed softly. He just looked old and worn out and it showed, his under eyes were dark and his eyes looked dull and weary. Being human must be awful, waking up and being reminded constantly like this.
He looked down at this wrist, moving back the fabric and seeing how his injury wasn’t going away; Duncan must’ve had a strong grip to cause this.
With a sigh, he covered his wrist again and left the bathroom, watching how Rheneas scolded the other four like naughty children.

Skarloey passed them all and crawled onto the bed, letting out a soft sigh as he practically sank into the soft duvet and pillows. “Everyone on this right now this is amazing…” he hummed, feeling his body relax into the plush material.
Excitedly everyone got on, finding their place on the bed as they curled up, shifting around to ensure they all fit; no matter how ridiculous it looked.

“I like this bed… I think she called it a bed...” Rusty mumbled softly, using Rheneas’s thighs like a pillow. “The material is super soft. If humans have these why would they ever want to leave them?” He asked quietly.

“Mhm. I could get used to this…” Duncan grumbled, laying happily on his stomach, his face buried into a pillow as Sir Handel laid across his back.

“I hope the other engines get a nice soft bed to sleep on too… at least I hope they’ve found enough rooms for everyone.” Skarloey sighed. “Mr. Percival did say that every engine on Sodor was afflicted by this.”

After a brief pause and realisation, Peter Sam shot up in alarm, scrambling off the bed and not caring as he accidentally elbowed and kicked his friends, moving to grab a keycard quickly with his hands fumbling as he trembled in fear.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” He chanted in panic, moving to the door quickly.

“Peter Sam! What’s wrong?!” Rheneas asked and also got up, the others now worried as they sat up, a few getting off of the bed as well.

“I-I need to talk to Mr. Percival now! It’s-It’s an emergency!” He said, not caring how the sun outside had begun to set, casting orange rays through the glass and into their room.

“What is the issue Peter Sam? Why do you need Mr. Percival?” Skarloey asked, moving to approach the man who opened the door roughly and quickly.

He looked back at them, horror on his face as his eyes began to go shiny and watery, clear liquid dripping from them. His bottom lip trembled as he opened his mouth to reply. “Th-There’s an engine-! But turned into a boiler-! He’s trapped under dirt-! At-at-“ and he let out a sob, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself so he could speak clearly, his thoughts all over the place.

“Smudger never left the Mid-Sodor Railway!”

Chapter Text

When Smudger awoke, it was dark and cramped, with no air to breathe and no light to see. Each time he opened his mouth and breathed in, no air would enter but only a thick crumbly substance, filling his lungs to the brim. Dirt. He was breathing in dirt. He could taste it on his tongue. He tried to open his eyes but they were met with the same fate, the mud falling into his eyes and blinding him.
Moving was worse. The dirt would compact around him and each twist caused the dirt to tighten and fall into the new gaps, trapping him and compressing him. Smothering him.
It felt like the dirt and mud was squeezing his frame (or was it body? Everything just felt weird and wrong), making it impossible to think or do anything, making the blood stop flowing to his limbs or brain.

He refused to go out like this. He refused to be immobile any longer. He would not be damned to eternal subordination towards the dirt.

He wriggled a hand (a hand?) trying to free it enough to start clawing his way out shovelling dirt and rocks aside as he struggled to climb to his freedom. How far down was he? Was he only a couple feet under or was he deep deep down? Did they purposely bury him to ensure he’d never move again?
Smudger continued to claw upwards, his new limbs moving awkwardly with him as he went up. Or at least what he thought was upwards. Perhaps he was digging downwards, making a deeper grave for himself, clawing his way into the fiery scrapyards where all the other bad engines go.
He was all turned about with no sense of direction.

Panic began to settle in for Smudger; the fear and terror of not being able to breathe or break free from his early grave. The deep dark fear of being left behind and forgotten all over again, for all those many years. The idea of everyone moving forwards once again and he was stationary and stuck; unable to move for always and always and always.
He felt himself growing dizzy, his brain being denied the oxygen it needed to think and to do anything. He would not die like this. He couldn’t die like this.
Tears welled up in his sore eyes, the dirt irritating them and making everything look blurry. He was seeing double and hearing things now; unable to tell real from fake, truth from fiction. What memories were real and what were fictional? He couldn’t remember anymore.

With a last ditch effort he shoved another chunk of dirt out of his way and paused, still losing oxygen but he could feel a breeze on his hand. He could feel wind! Fresh air! He scrambled to shove the rest out of his way and finally breached the surface, coughing up the dirt and eventually vomiting in an attempt to free his airways, covering the ground in a warm and dirt filled liquid.
He continued to cough and gag, vomiting up anything and everything, not caring how liquid dribbled from his nose and eyes or how the liquid burnt the back of his throat. He reached a hand up to wipe at his eyes, trying to free them from dirt as well.

Smudger then finally took his first actual breath, panting heavily as he was no longer throwing up like he was. He could actually breathe and it felt amazing. He looked up, seeing the stars and the moon and some clouds rolling in. He was free. He had done it. His spiteful ass had freed himself from his makeshift grave.
He moved to lay down, coughing once or twice between each deep breath he took. Thinking more about it, it did hurt to breathe - like something had broke in his chest. He felt cold and alone, unsure of where he stood in the world right now.

After a while of laying on the cold ground -which could’ve been anywhere from a few minutes to a few solid hours- Smudger gained the strength to sit up and finally look over himself, and that’s when he spotted it. Where his human legs and feet should’ve been sat nothing. From his knees down it was gone. Smudger began to panic again, feeling the terror and horror build up in his chest as he began to hyperventilate.
His knees were a horrid mess of healed jagged cuts, as it someone had hacked away at them and left them to heal as they were; they weren’t painful (fortunately) but they were so jarring to look at after being buried alive and Smudger couldn’t hold in his horror anymore.
He began to scream loudly, the fear and terror and panic all finally bubbling over in grand finale of horrified wails and cries, the man unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him.

He thought this torture would end once he had clawed himself out of the dirt that held him, once had had cleared the surface and freed himself. Smudger thought everytbing would get better. It could only get better. But it seems that Lady had other plans for him; much worse plans. “Things were supposed to get better damn it!” Smudger screeched in resentment, tears streaming from his eyes. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” He sobbed, unsure of where to go from here and what to do. What could he do?

Smudger continued to cry, hunching over with his hands covering his face as his greasy and matted long hair draped around his fallen head. It just wasn’t fair! He hadn’t done anything that had to deserve this!
He let out a deep gasp, finding it difficult to breathe once again, unsure if it was from all the crying or any dirt left in his lungs.
He wiped at his eyes a final time before gently shuffling forward, unable to see where he was in the darkness but determined to get away from this hellish place, no matter the cost.

Trying to move without legs was difficult, as Smudger found out; he had moved to far to the left as he was shuffling and fell down a drop, unable to stop himself without legs. He let out several pained grunts and cries as he rolled and slipped roughly down a dirt slope, soon coming to a rough stop at the bottom with a loud thump sound as he head hit one of the rocks at the bottom roughly. Smudger stayed laying face down with a soft groan of pain, his head aching and painful as he attempted to slowly lift himself up with his arms. He could feel a warm and wet liquid dribbling down the side of his face from where he hit his head but he paid that no mind.

Digging his fingers into the rocky and muddy terrain Smudger began to slowly drag himself along the ground, gritting his teeth as the brittle and sharp stones scraped harshly against his thighs and stomach, causing him more pain. There was nothing he could do about that as he pulled himself along and eventually found some of the old and rusted tracks, using them as a guide to finally escape.

This continued for hours, Smudger’s stomach and thighs torn up and bloody from the wounds sustained from having to drag himself for miles. His fingers were also cut up and raw, covered in opened blisters and cuts whilst his nails became cracked and bleeding too, causing him pain every time he buried his fingers into the dirt to move.
At one point it had begun to rain, making it more difficult for Smudger to get a grip on the ground as it became wet and soft, forcing the man to use more of his upper body strength which wore him out more.
He let out ragged breaths, finding it difficult to breathe now that he had no energy left and eventually collapsed by the rails, unable to go any further.

The adrenaline wore off and Smudger began to shake gently as his body heat left him, the cold and wet finally seeping in. He just couldn’t go any further, no matter how much more he wanted to go his body just wouldn’t cooperate with him. He let out a shallow breath, vision going blurry once again as he found himself growing tired. He needed to sleep. He didn’t want to be out in the rain, out in the cold, but he had no choice. To him though, anything was better than whence he came.
He felt his eyes slipping shut and the man went limp, finally giving into his exhaustion and simply laying still like a butchered deer by the side of the tracks.

As the sun began to rise over the island of Sodor, a small search team was sent to the ruins of the Mid-Sodor railway to look for the supposed missing engine that Peter Sam had informed them about.
They had taken Rheneas’s engine and a narrow gauge break van with them, going over the tracks gently due to the downpour they had during the night

and how old some of the tracks were. With them was also Harold the helicopter, the now faceless helicopter trying to see if they could spot anyone from a better vantage point. There was a radio connection between the engine and the aircraft to ensure there was no miscommunication.
Mr. Percival was in the cab with Rheneas’s driver and fireman, a guilty frown on his face. It was his fault this poor engine was out here. He was in charge of the narrow gauge engines and he failed to make sure all of them were safe.

“If only I had asked sooner, then this poor engine wouldn’t be stuck out here as a human…” He muttered, looking out over the landscape for any sign of a human. The engine turned human - Smudger, as Peter Sam had called him - would most likely stay close to the tracks; but which set of tracks was the real question

The driver, a slim and tidy man by the name of Dafydd, frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known at all. Peter Sam and Sir Handel most likely never said anything as they most likely never thought about it till now.” He comforted. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Percival. What you’re doing now is more than enough.”

“But if I had asked sooner, questioned them about it more…” and he trailed off into silence, unable to shake the guilt off. There was an engine out there trapped and alone and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Look, Dafydd is right. You couldn’t have known and let’s leave it at that. You have all the time in the world to make it up to him now so let’s focus on that.” Theodore, the fireman, said firmly with a frown on his face. “We have bigger issues to worry about right now.”

At that Mr. Percival nodded grimly, continuing to look around for any sign of life or at least a sign that they were getting close.
Eventually, the pilot of the helicopter radioed down to them. “We’ve spotted a body a mile or two from your destination. They’re laying next to the main line so there’s no need to switch tracks. However, we are unable to land due to the rocky and uneven terrain so it’s up to you guys.“ The pilot informed them.

The trio let out a collective sigh of relief, the driver speeding the engine up slightly so they could reach their destination further and get Smudger warm and dry.
Once the body was in sight, Dafydd put the breaks on and he and Theodore jumped out of the cab, jogging over to the body.

“Oh my god!” Came Theodore’s horrified gasp. “We need the paramedics badly! Tell the pilot to send down the stretcher and the paramedics!” He called out to Mr. Percival, both Dafydd and Theodore checking Smudger over as gently as they could.
Mr. Percival also got out of the cab, taking the radio with him and rushing over to the horrified duo, his face paling and his eyes widening. “Dear God…” he whispered and spoke quickly into the radio. “Call Knapford Hospital immediately and tell them to get a hospital room ready asap and send down the rescue team if you can! He needs to be airlifted to hospital immediately!” He said to the pilot.

“Affirmative sir!” The pilot replied and so the rescue mission began. Two paramedics and a basket stretcher were lowered down to where Smudger laid, the helicopter keeping steady as the people loaded the injured man gently into the stretcher, covering him with emergency blankets and strapping him in before the stretcher was gently hoisted into the helicopter with one of the paramedics with it, the second one still on the ground and waiting for the narrow gauge controller.

Mr. Percival looked back to Dafydd and Theodore. “I’m going to go with them to the hospital! Do not tell anyone else that Smudger has been found!” He yelled over the sound of the helicopter rotor blades. “Once Smudger is in a stable condition we can inform the others and let them see him!” And he went back to the paramedic, getting strapped in and then lifted into the helicopter and leaving the driver and fireman alone as they watched the aircraft leave in a hurry.

“His-His legs were just gone Theodore-! I’m-Im-“ and Dafydd sat on the tracks in shock, staring at where Smudger had been laying. If the man hadn’t been breathing he would’ve thought the poor bugger was just a corpse.

“Shhh I know, I know. It’s-Its gonna be tough.” Theodore frowned, his face pale from what he witnessed. It was gruesome and horrible. “Let’s get back. The longer we stay here the worse it’ll be for everyone.”

“But his wounds, Theo, they were so bad and-and his lips were going blue! What-What if he…” and Theodore shushed him, shaking his head. “Let’s not think about that. If this Smudger guy dragged himself all that way in the dark, then he’s a spiteful guy. He will make it through this, alright?” He told him, earning a nod from Dafydd.

The two made their way back to Rheneas, both somber as the image of Smudger’s broken body replayed on a loop in their heads. Although Theodore spoke confidently, he had no clue if that engine was actually going to make it. All they had now was hope that the man didn’t give up.

Smudger had to make it. He just had to.

Chapter Text

The hospital was in full swing when Smudger was brought in with the paramedics; nurses and Doctors immediately moving the man onto a proper hospital bed and then hooking him up to fluid and nutrients. The nurses chatted quickly about visible issues they could see, drawing up conclusions and asking for tests and scans to be done. Once the fluids started flowing, they whisked him off down the hallway and through some double doors as they took the man further into the hospital to get treatment.
Mr. Percival stayed behind to talk to one of the main doctors about the situation, leaving Smudger in the care of the staff.

Several slow and tedious hours later, Mr. Percival and the senior doctor assigned to the case began to talk quietly in said doctor’s office. “This is all very new to me as well, Dr. Ramesh. I mean, I didn’t know this guy existed until yesterday.” He said with a sigh, still feeling the guilt heavy in his heart. “I know you’ve been informed about the engines becoming humans, but none have become human with limbs missing.”

“I understand, sir, but my doctors and nurses are giving him the best care. We did many x-rays and scans and such. His injury list is also very long.” And he frowned, handing Mr. Percival a clipboard with all the paper documents attached.
“It appears as if he had been buried alive and somehow freed himself before dragging himself across the ground. It looks like foul play, but due to the fact that his amputation injuries look years old and the fact that he came from an abandoned rail line, it seems he just ended up in the dirt.” And he sighed. “It’s very difficult to understand.”

Mr. Percival frowned and took the clipboard from Dr. Ramesh, beginning to read through the paper slowly. “Oh dear, oh dear…” he mumbled, eyes widening at the sizeable list before him.
“Broken ribs? A fractured arm? A head injury? I just-!” And he put the clipboard down on the table, trying not to be sick. “It’s just awful, Dr. Ramesh. I-I feel like I’ve failed as a railway owner.”

“Mr. Percival, it is not your fault. You didn’t have any clue he was at the Mid-Sodor railway. You weren’t the owner until the Skarloey railway became the main focus and then the Blue Mountain Quarry.” And he frowned. “He will need extensive care though as his injuries are extreme. We’re not even sure if he’ll actually make it through the next few nights, Mr. Percival. He’s woken up from time to time, but it’s for a minute or two before he slips back into unconsciousness.”

And Dr Ramesh gave the railway owner a weak smile. “Going back to Mr. Smudger’s injuries, we are all surprised at how much spite he had to dig himself out of the ground and then drag himself for miles alongside tracks; it’s like he had a sudden burst of energy to keep going. Unlike the other nurses, I’m certain he’ll pull through.”

“I see…” and he sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face tiredly. “I won’t inform the others about Smudger until a week has passed. I don’t want to get their hopes up just to have his body give up.”

Dr. Ramesh gave a small smile, picking up the clipboard again. “I think you should tell them. At least let them know that Mr. Smudger has been found but that we aren’t accepting visitors just yet.” He told him softly. “I think it will give them some peace of mind.”

He sighed once again, slowly putting his glasses back on and looking to the doctor. “You’re right. It would make them feel better knowing that he was found.” And he grimaced. “I guess I’m just worried they’d act irrationally, try to break in to see. Or perhaps blame me for Smudger’s grievances. Worse yet, they blame themselves…”

“It’ll be difficult, Mr. Percival, but you and your engines will get through it. You’ve been in difficult situations before and you’ve managed to keep them together. I’m certain you’ll be able to do so again.” He comforted before standing up. “I will call if anything changes with Mr. Smudger’s condition. Now please, go home and get some rest. You need it. Mr. Smudger will still be here when you wake up. He is in good hands.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, unprepared to make the phone calls to the drivers, set up a small meeting with the engines, inform Sir Topham Hatt that they’ve failed an engine on their island who they were meant to protect. It would be a rough couple of days and a difficult few phone calls and talks.
With that Mr. Percival stood up on unsteady legs and gradually left the office, a disheartened look on his face as he exited the hospital and trodded down the road; unsure of what his next moves were.

Back in the closed off hospital room, Smudger slipped in and out of consciousness every couple of hours; being awake just long enough to see shadows moving around him, several bright lights illuminating everything, the sound of beeping and whirring, the occasional feeling of something lodged down his throat, the sterile smell.
It was all so suffocating. It was all so loud. He felt like he was buried all over again.

Eventually he just stopped opening his eyes, finding that each time he did it never got better, staying blissfully unaware in his dream state. Nothing hurt like this, it felt like he was simply floating. He could hear everything around him but so much more muted, like it was in the distance or he was underwater. It was peaceful.

He didn’t want to wake up.

As he breathed, he began to smell the familiar smell of smoke, like from one’s funnel. But the smell of roses and then a more homely smell of fresh baked goods filled his senses. It was smokey but comforting, as if it came from his past, but still had that sense of unfamiliarity to it.

“Smudger,” a gentle and hushed feminine voice whispered to him, “I need you to wake up.”

Chapter Text

Smudger opened his eyes with a loud gasp, sitting up to a bright and blank white room. He closed his eyes again, groaning softly as he was momentarily blinded by how bright it was (it basically a flash bang). He squinted as he finally looked around and saw nothing in all directions, but as his eyes focused and grew used to the brightness he spotted a woman simply stood there.

She was dressed in a posh suit; the suit jacket a red violet colour as well as the long matching skirt. The jacket had black and gold accents on it, making her look regal. Upon her deep coffee coloured head sat long blonde braids that faded to a pastel pink colour, and two gorgeous gold eyes stared at him. “Hello Smudger.” She said softly, voice flowing smoothly like fresh honey. “I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.”

He shuffled back in slight fear, using his arms to propel him backwards. “Who the hell are you?” He asked her, unsure of whether to fight or flee. Sure she was pretty, but where they hell were they and why was he alone with her?

“No need to be scared. You may call me Lady.” She hummed. “And welcome to your inner mind, the part you can’t actually access.” She chuckled and tapped the side of her head with her finger before she smiled at him and approached him. “Let’s help you up and I’ll get us a table, we need to talk.”

Smudger gulped again and looked down at himself again, marvelling at the fact he had legs this time. “Who the hell are you?” He asked once again, but less venom in it this time. He said nothing as she helped him up and onto his feet, steadying him slightly.

“Im Lady.” And she gestured to a stark white circle table with two chairs by it. “Please, Smudger, let’s talk.” And with that she lead the man over to the table, sitting him down on one of the chairs before sitting opposite him in the other chair. “I know you have questions for me.”

“Yeah I have questions, Lady! What the hell is this? The fuck you mean you’re in my mind?” He asked her, scowling at her slightly. “How the hell did you even get here? And you say ‘Lady’ like I’m supposed to know who the hell you are!”

She sighed softly. “I feared you may not know me nor have heard of me. I control the magic to this world. I created those with faces to spread joy upon Sodor and further, and I keep the magic safe. It has been a while since I last revealed myself to an engine, let alone a human engine.”

“Magic and all that doohickey stuff ain’t real, Lady.” Smudger snorted, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s just some sleight of hand bullshit.” And he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Perhaps so, Smudger. But when I created those with faces, I created as many as I could until they had enough magic themselves that more would pop up. I’ve only revealed myself to the odd few. Thomas was the first one I revealed myself to, willingly, followed by his friends and-“ And she let out a sigh at his confusion. “You don’t even know Thomas jeez why am I having this conversation….” she muttered and looked to the side, trying to think of an explanation. “Look, I’m essentially a Goddess. I control the magic on Sodor, I give life to those below me.”

He looked at her like she was crazy, like she had escaped a psych-ward and now they were stuck together. “Right…” he drawled out slowly, scepticism in his eyes. “And I need to believe you becuase…?” And he stared at her expressionless face, her eyes vacant and dead.

“You’re dying.”

An icy feeling pierced Smudger at that moment, the man going rigid as he gaped at her in disbelief at shock. He seemed to go through the five stages of grief all at once before landing on denial, shaking his head slowly as if it was all a weird dream or some fucked up prank.

“You are dying, Smudger.”

His head shaking sped up, his eyes wide as he began to tremble from the shock of it all. “No way. No way in hell.” He stammered, wanting this to be a weird dream. “I am not dying! I’m not! That’s crazy!”

“But you are, Smudger,” and she frowned, trying to at least convey some sort of human comfort towards him, “and you need to deal with the fact you are dying.”

He sat there in shocked silence, unsure of what to do or say to the woman before him. “So… So you’re just gonna drop it on me like that? No apologies or no easing me into it?”

Lady’s frowning face went back to the emotionless one from before. “I am that of a Goddess, Smudger. I have given life and I have taken life. I have witnessed multiple births and deaths of the same person, I’ve witnessed all different universes of them.” And she stood up, placing her hands on the table and leaning across it slightly to stare into his wide green eyes. “I have witnessed the birth and death of this very universe, Smudger, too many times to count. I have no time for easing those into a false sense of security.”

Smudger looked away from her, face scrunching up from a range of anger, sadness, denial and many more emotions swirling around his mind. “So what? This is it? I die?”

“No.” She hummed, moving back to sit down once more. “You need to wake up.”

“Wake up? Back to that shit show with the bright lights and the beeping noises and the horrid feeling in my throat?” He asked her, quieting down. “Back to where I don’t have legs?”

“You don’t have a choice Smudger. I can’t let your story end here. Not after your grand entrance due to spite. You’ve come this far, why give up?” Lady asked him.

He shot her a crazed glare. “You kidding me?! I went through torture to get out of that shit show! I had to claw myself out of the dirt! I had to drag myself across the ground to get out of there!”

She tilted her head to the side. “Your story doesn’t end here, Smudger. It’s too early yet.”

“Oh shut it!” He snarled at her, baring his teeth in displeasure. “I’m not taking advice from you. I’m not going back to that place!” And Smudger stood up roughly and knocked the white chair to the floor, not noticing how it sank into the white floor like a log in a marsh.

“You can shove your high and mighty bullshit up your ass!” He snapped and turned and stormed away, grumbling angrily to himself.

Lady let him go, watching as he stomped off into the white distance. “You’ll only end up here again, Smudger, unless you wake up.” She called out after him, contemplating Smudger and how this would be a repetitive circle of endless arguments. Smudger didn’t answer her, walking further till he became a small and dark speck in the white room, like a singular star in the night sky.

The words still echoed in his head, the detached way she informed him, as if talking to a mere bug;

“You’re dying”

“You are dying, Smudger”

Chapter Text

Mr. Percival sighed softly from within the meeting room (simply an empty room where the guards would come and eat) at Knapford station, staring down at the paper folder in his hands which contained all the medical information about Smudger so far. It was rough, and it would be rough; especially for Peter Sam and Sir Handel. After many talks with Dr. Ramesh and Sir Topham Hatt, they had all decided to inform the engines about why Smudger is in the hospital and what is wrong with him, that way there wouldn’t be no unanswered questions.

From reports from Skarloey and Hamish, Peter Sam had been a complete wreck for those three days since informing him about Smudger. The engine would cry, not understand why clear liquid was running from his eyes and nose, and then cry some more in confusion. Him crying caused Sir Handel to start crying, the engine angry and perplexed as to why he couldn’t cheer his friend up.

He looked up when he saw the engines enter the room, still in their borrowed work clothes from three days ago (which Mr. Percival would sort out) and all frowning; Peter Sam and Sir Handel looked the worst out of the group. The duo had pink puffy eyes and had blotchy red cheeks, as well as red noses. They looked a mess.

“I’m glad you could all make it.” Mr. Percival said softly to them, watching them sit in the several chairs he had carried in for them. “I understand that these last few days have been rough for you lot and I get why. It’s been about Smudger and if he’s alright or not, or if we even found him.” He started, clearing his throat. “I come with good and bad news, regarding Smudger.”

The group stared at him with gloomy expressions, worried about what they’d hear from this meeting. They didn’t want it to be too bad.

“Let’s start with the good news.” Mr Percival said quickly, not wanting Peter Sam or Sir Handel to start crying again. “Smudger has been found on the tracks by the Mid-Sodor Railway.” And he listened as the group let out sighs of relief, Peter Sam and Sir Handel moving to hug each other tightly as they tried not to cry from relief. He let them have their moment to comfort and support each other, overjoyed that they were so supportive of each other.

After a moment, he cleared his throat again to get their attention, smiling sadly to the six engines. “There’s some bad news as well though. Smudger was found to be very injured. He is currently in the hospital receiving the best care we can, but we can’t allow you to see him yet as it’ll be upsetting for all of you. So, for the time being, you will get weekly updates.” And he coughed slightly as he handed the folder to Skarloey. “If you would like to read that out, it’s Smudger’s medical files that Dr. Ramesh put together with definitions of the words.”

Skarloey hesitated as he took the folder, holding it in his hands. To Skarloey, it just felt so heavy; weighing him down and dragging him down, down, down. He opened it up, the many words staring at him as he gulped and then slowly began to read it out to the group.

“Smudger was found with several… lackeratons… to his stomach and legs and hands…” he said, moving to find the definition and pronunciation. “Oh, La-suh-ray-shn. Laceration. Cuts. Smudger was found with several deep cuts to his stomach, legs and hands.” He mumbled, listening as the group gasped in surprise but Skarloey didn’t stop reading, unable to tear his eyes away from the folder. Each sentence he read out seemed to get worse and worse; the group going pale, gasping here and there and also covering their mouths from time to time. As he read further, he soon stopped, the words dying in his throat as merely stared at the words on the page, unsure of how to progress or even what to say.

‘Smudger was found without legs’ , the paper said mockingly to Skarloey, as if some twisted prank aimed towards them.

He gulped and slowly closed the folder, shaking as he handed it back to Mr. Percival. “Thank you… Sir…” he said quietly, voice wavering. “I think that’ll be enough for us, now.” No one argued with him about ending it early.

Mr. Percival nodded his head in understanding and took the file from Skarloey, sighing softly. “It’ll be difficult for all of you, but I know that together you’ll make it through. For now, you may return to the hotel and calm down from this all. Tomorrow I shall have one of your drivers come by with some clothes for you to wear.” And he gave them a tight smile.

With that, Skarloey bobbed his head in return and opened the door to the office room, ushering the other engines out slowly. It would be a long day and night for them, the group filled with new emotions and feelings as the filtered out and onto the platform, the grey skies mimicking their inner turmoil.

Once the engines had left and closed the door, Mr. Percival removed his glasses and rubbed his face gently, sighing one last. This opened a whole new can of worms and just simply made everything much more complicated; they hadn’t even started looking for Smudger’s engine body as the bad weather made the rails and the hills unsteady, meaning no one could go and investigate due to it being dangerous. It was a mess. Like he had been feeling these last few days, Mr. Percival had felt awful about it all and wasn’t sure how to move on. He had failed an engine - failed to even know about them - and thus this poor engine had to suffer. He had caused Smudger to suffer.

Putting his glasses back on, he stared dejectedly at the folder he had placed on the table and frowned, wishing things would be easier on everyone. 

Chapter Text

The engines had remained gathered in their hotel room after that meeting with Mr. Percival, the group remaining huddled up on the bed and refusing to move for the rest of the day and night. The hotel food that was delivered to them mainly remained left untouched, the few who are not eating enough to do the unrest in their stomachs; they all felt sick and tired.

All the engines slept peacefully, the group of six all curled up on each other and snoring away happily; Skarloey was on his back in the centre of the bed with Rusty’s head on his stomach and Sir Handel laying across his legs, Duncan was shoved up beside Skarloey with Rheneas tucked up against him whilst Peter Sam laid all curled up in a foetus position next to Rusty and Sir Handel.

Duncan was the first to awake the next day to a gently knocking at the door; the man grumbling softly as he opened his eyes, having to blink away sleep as he did. He sat up and gently shoved Rheneas off him, passing him off to a still sleeping Skarloey as he went over to the door and unlocked it, glaring tiredly at whoever was there.

His glare lessened when he saw it was his driver - Hamish - standing there with bags of clothes. “Morning Duncan. Anyone else awake?” He asked the engine quietly.

“Nae. Just me. Everyone else be asleep.” Duncan grumbled back and looked to the large bags in the man’s hand, wondering what was in there and what they were actually for. “Whatcha got there, driver?”

“Just some clothes and shoes for you guys to wear. You can’t keep wearing the work clothing, it won’t be good for you.” He said softly. “Anyway I’ve left instructions in the bag on how to wear these clothes and shoes so you should be alright. I’ll just leave them in the doorway and let you go back to sleep.”

“Good. What time is it anyway?” Duncan asked him, moving a hand up to rub some sleep out of his tired eye and letting out a loud yawn.

“Oh, it’s only six in the morning.”

Duncan gaped at him, soon forming a scowl as he glared. “I’ll take tha clothes in and ye can fuck right off.” He huffed and took the bags roughly from Hamish and dumped them in the room. “Now ye can fuck off.” And he grabbed the door roughly, his glare lessening at the man before him. “Thank ye though, driver.” And he closed the door before going back to the shared bed and having to shimmy under Rheneas, promptly falling asleep once again.

Not too long after - the time nearing a more respectable nine in the morning - did the other engines begin to awake slowly, mumbling as they cracked their eyes open and yawned, the ones who could sitting up and rubbing their eyes or scratching their heads. The gold sun poured in through the windows, warming the room up and slightly blinding those who were awake. Everything was just a bit too bright.

Peter Sam was the first one off the bed, shuffling to the bathroom to do whatever he pleased (a day ago his driver had told them all to at least go toilet and wash their faces when they wake up, with an awkward explanation to what going toilet was) and get himself ready for the day. The noise of the water pouring into the sink was enough to prompt Rusty to get moving, the diesel engine yawning as he climbed off of the bed and simply stretched, groaning as his back released a gentle crack sound.

With two engines beginning to move, the others followed shortly after, getting themselves up and awake for the day but it was Rheneas who noticed the bags by the door first. “Oh! Did we get given a gift?” He asked, approaching the bags slowly and suspiciously.

“Huh? Och nae! It’s clothes fer us!” Duncan snorted, going over as well. “Driver got em fer us to wear. Says we cannae keep wearing work uniform.”

“Oh how interesting!” Rheneas hummed, grabbing a bag and dragging it towards the bed whilst Duncan took the other three bags and carried them over. The duo decided to dump the contents onto the bed, watching all the different clothes and shoes spread onto the bed and fill it up. The thought of Smudger immediately put to the back of everyone’s mind so they could enjoy this rare treat.

Rusty spotted the note and grabbed it, lifting it up to read out. “In these bags are clothes and shoes for you to wear. Shirts go on your top half, trousers on your bottom half, underwear go on underneath the trousers, shoes on your feet, etc…” he hummed, turning the paper over to see if anything was written on the other side. “Feet sound so gross.” And he walked away to place the note down on the table before joining the others at the bed.

“I suppose we’ll all be different sizes and such, so it’s just a matter of trying it on.” Skarloey said to them with a frown. “If it doesn’t fit, don’t force it, and if it’s too loose, take it off for someone else to try.”

They all nodded but no one moved, unsure of where to start or if to start at all. This was all so very human to do. Engines didn’t need to worry about clothes or shoes, they didn’t wear them it didn’t matter. Apart from the occasional ribbon, engines didn’t wear clothes. 

Rusty gulped and decided to be brave by making the first move, rummaging awkwardly through the clothes before finding the underwear (fortunately marked ‘underwear’) in the plastic packaging before he really started to get into it. He shoved clothes around before grabbing an orange shirt and a brown waistcoat, marvelling at it all. He couldn’t see any trousers he liked, as they all seemed to be black or grey, but he perked up when he spotted brown. He grabbed it and pulled it out, face going from a smile to a confused frown. “Are these trousers?” He asked them all, holding the item up. The item he held up wasn’t trousers at all. It was a long brown skirt.

“It was in here so I assume they’re a different type of trouser.” Skarloey suggested, unsure of it himself. “Go try them on Rusty, we’ll get our items sorted shortly.” He told him, giving the man a smile as the others began to rummage around as well.

With a smile, Rusty did just that, going off to a secluded corner to undress. Once stripped down he soon figured out how to put the long sleeved shirt on with some difficulty and it seemed to fit well; it was just the buttons he struggled with but got there in the end. After that he put the waistcoat on which also fit nicely but this time the buttons were a lot easier and boy did he look stunning. Next was the underwear which went on easy enough but then it came time to the skirt. He held it up to really look at it, taking in every detail. ‘Such an odd pair of trousers’ Rusty thought to himself, unsure of humans and their fashionable taste. He shrugged, shoving that thought to the side, as he stepped into the skirt and pulled it up to his hips, humming softly as he trudged off to find a mirror to make sure it looked correct.

Rheneas had favoured himself a neat black button up shirt - similar to what Rusty had picked - and then a simple vermilion coloured coat and black trousers to match, the engine looking splendid once he actually figured out how the zips of the jacket worked. He brushed off any imaginary dirt and studied himself happily, proud that he actually looked nice, and glad that he managed to find something so similar to his livery.

For Peter Sam it was a bit of a struggle; he wanted some nice clothes but he was more plump than the others and feared that nothing would fit him properly. He picked up a few clothes before putting them down and in the end grabbed some dull red shorts and a long dark green coat with a simple black t-shirt, carrying his items off to go and see if they fit. He wanted to look nice like everyone else was going to look.

“Fer Fucksake why is everything so ugly?” Duncan huffed, ignoring the gentle scolding of Skarloey, as he tossed clothes aside to go digging for something nice. Or at least as nice as everyone else’s clothing. Not to toot his own whistle but Duncan also liked looking nice. In the end he simply gave up and grabbed a pair of black jeans and a black vest top. He had given up trying to find something else. He hated this shit. “Fucksake…” he grumbled and stormed into the second bathroom to change.

That left only Skarloey and Sir Handel to get changed, the duo also struggling a little bit. The desire to find something that matched their paint work was too much to handle and in the end they ended up helping each other to find something crimson and something blue. “Would this work?” Skarloey asked, holding up a blue turtle neck jumper for Sir Handel to see.

The man immediately perked up and nodded, taking it happily from Skarloey. “Thank you Skarloey!” He chirped to the older engine and placed it beside him before handing Skarloey several red items of clothing, all different shades and all different types. “I hope something there works for you.” Sir Handel said softly, taking the jumper and a shirt and a black pair of full length dungarees and immediately moving away to get changed.

Skarloey watched him go and turned his attention back to the many red articles of clothing he now had, taking a moment to look over each of them slowly. This was all so new. As trains they didn’t have to worry about looking nice as their railway owners usually did it all for them, but now as humans they had to look after themselves. He sighed and placed the t-shirts to one side as he studied the other pieces of clothing, listening as his friends helped each other and showed off their outfits all very happy that they got to choose something.

He found a simple but neat crimson button up shirt and some brown slacks, pairing the two items with a black bomber jacket and marvelling at the sheepskin fur on the collar, cuffs, and hem. It looked very smart. With a smile, Skarloey finally went and got himself dressed.

A short while later, all the engines were dressed and freshened up; the group looking stunning indeed. They had even managed to find a garish mustard coloured turtle neck for Duncan. The group of six compared clothing and Duncan frowned. “Why is my clothing so much tighter compared to all ye’s clothing?” He asked, pulling at the turtle neck which hugged his body well. They hadn’t yet been introduced to the types of clothing that was available.

“I’m not sure. But I must say you do look stunning.” Rheneas said brightly, the group looking to Duncan’s more muscular build and how the clothes fit him well. A little too well.

Peter same nodded his head. “Yeah! You look real good!” He grinned, moving over to nudge him happily. “I like that they had clothes that match our livery though!”

“Mhm. I just feel awkward. You lot got clothes that are a little baggier.” Duncan hummed, relishing in the praise though. He did like how they seemed to marvel at him. That delighted Duncan a lot.

Rusty also chimed in with a smile. “I mean, these trousers are definitely baggy. I’ve never seen trousers like this though but they are very nice!” He hummed, looking at the brown skirt. “Let’s get some socks and shoes on and we can wait for one of our drivers downstairs.” He told them.

They all nodded and took a moment to find shoes that fit. Some were boots and some had laces but they all looked very nice. Rusty, Duncan and Peter Sam went with boots whilst Skarloey, Sir Handel and Rheneas went with lace up shoes. With a bit of struggle and help from each other, they had managed to get their shoes on and took a keycard each before leaving the room to go downstairs.

Another ride in the awful metal box and they flooded into the reception area to wait happily for a driver. Skarloey kept an eye on the other five as they sat on the benches provided and chatted excitedly to each other about their new clothes and what the day would bring for them all. Skarloey himself felt a tad nervous, unsure of what the humans would think of them now but he perked up at seeing Sir Handel’s driver enter the building (a younger man by the name of Daniel) as well as his fireman (a tall man named Pete).

“Hey hey hey! You lot are looking all spick and span!” Daniel said cheerily and went over, clapping Sir Handel on the shoulder and smiling. “Pete and I aren’t staying long with you lot, as we still have work to do, but Mr. Percival gave us some money to give to you and we’re here to escort you to the town till around five and then one of us will take you back to the hotel.” He explained.

“Oh Rusty! You’re wearing a skirt.” Pete pointed out, causing the group to look to Rusty.

“Oh!” Rusty said and looked down at the brown skirt that sat on his hips. “What’s a skirt?” He asked in confusion.

“A skirt is that.” And Pete pointed at the skirt. “There’s no holes for your legs.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

The engine frowned. “Is that a bad thing…?”

Daniel butted in after shoving Pete aside. “Course not! But uh, only women really wear skirts.”

The engines who only grew more confused began to talk to themselves and to both Daniel and Pete. “I thought clothes were for everyone?” Skarloey questioned.

“Obviously they are but I guess skirts are for women now. Whatever that means.” Duncan huffed.

“Well what’s the difference between a man and a woman anyway? Cant they all wear the same clothes?” Peter Sam piped up.

“Does that mean men can’t wear trousers? I saw a lady wearing trousers once!” Sir Handel refuted.

“Maybe it’s a weird human custom. Perhaps it depends on the colour?” Rheneas suggested.

“Should I go and change?” Rusty asked quietly.

“Alright! Quieten down guys!” Daniel sighed loudly, calming the group. “Rusty, you don’t have to go and change, don’t worry, you look great. We will talk about this another day. Let’s just get you into town so you can go look around.” He said, giving them a bright grin. “You can spend your money on whatever but remember to look after it!” He told them. “You each get £100 to use.”

They nodded and after some prompting by Skarloey, they followed after the men, heading towards the doors. Skarloey watched as Rusty tripped a bit and then corrected him, his eyes seeming to be gold now. He simply assumed it was the sun, after all, it made Peter Sam’s hair glow as well.

Skarloey didn’t notice Rusty staring at everyone, the gold eyes glimmering.

Chapter Text

Back in the white landscape of Smudger’s inner mind, Lady sat happily at the table she had produced and sipped her tea slowly as she watched the other engines mill about their day through the eyes of one of their own. Her eyes glowing gold as she hummed softly.
At hearing Smudger return she said nothing and listened as he let out another cry of frustration, the man essentially stuck in a loop. Every direction ended him back at the table.

“Your friends know how to dress to impress I must say.” Lady told him politely, sipping her tea again and soon coming back to the present, the glowing stopping as she turned her attention to the angry man. “Perhaps when you wake up you can join them.”

He grit his teeth and marched over to the table, slamming his hands down on it and snarling at the woman before him. “The fuck do you mean ‘friends’ you witch? I don’t have any friends!”

She sighed, undisturbed by his anger and placed her tea cup down, resting her elbow on the table and resting her cheek against her hand. “You don’t? That’s a shame. These people seem like they’d definitely be up your alley.” It was almost like a cat and mouse game with Lady, and Smudger knew it.

He squinted his eyes at her, moving to sit down in the chair opposite her. “What’s your game, Lady?” He asked her straightforwardly, wanting to understand just why him.

She shrugged at him, moving to clasp her hands together and place them on the table. “What can I say, Smudger? It’s an interesting case. First you engines all turn human - which I had nothing to do with - then you wake up and you’re straight into a coma. It’s all so interesting. More interesting than I’d like to admit, actually.” And she leaned forward. “Engines don’t go into comas, Smudger.”

“Oh so this is some sick experiment you want to do? Oh sure that’s nice,” and he looked away angrily, crossing his arms, “bitch.”

“Now, now, Smudger. It’s a bit more than that.” And she smiled sweetly at him. “Sure I’m interested - engines don’t just become human - but it’s much more than that. As much as I’d love to see you, yknow, ‘expire’ as they say, I do have much bigger plans in mind.”

“You’re speaking in riddles constantly! Just say it straightforward woman!” He snapped at her, growing frustrated and upset all over again.

Lady laughed gently at him, moving a hand up to cover her mouth as she did. “My my! You’re very feisty!” She giggled. “As much as I’d love to tell you, it’s not your time yet Smudger. I need you to wake up first.”

“I am not waking up.”

She shrugged again, sitting back in her chair and sipping her tea again. “That’s on you then.”

Smudger stared at her, unsure of what to make of the Lady before him. She was confusing. She was simply toying with him like a cat playing with a mouse, like an orca playing with a seal. Predator and prey. And currently, Smudger was the prey backed up into a corner.
He slumped back into the chair, the anger fading from him quickly and confusion taking its place. “What do you want with me?”

“As I’ve said multiple times. I need you to wake up Smudger.” She said firmly and raised her hand, a grandfather clock rising from the white floor a good distance from them; the wooden antique clock a stark contrast from the endless white. “You have a couple months left till you’re truly gone. Does death not scare you? The fear of not knowing what comes after?” Lady asked him, the ticking noise beginning to fill the air.

He stared at the clock before turning to her, swallowing gently and unsure of what to make of all these. Sure, he had thought about death, felt close to it after the landslide but still, death scared every engine. “I try not to think about it. Been close to death myself.” He mumbled.

She nodded at that. “Mhm. So have I. So have multiple others. Sure, for me, I’m a god, I can’t technically die, but you engines are much more interesting.” And Lady smiled, the ticking noise growing louder. “You’re born to do work and a lot of you die during work. Those who make it to the scrapyards are much more interesting. The way they pray and then vanish before the claw even gets to them! The terror in their voice, their quick whispers, the deafening silence that follows.”

He gulped, beginning to sweat as he struggled to make eye contact with her. “Why… Why do they vanish… before the claw gets them?” He asked quietly, licking his dry lips.

“Because I give them an easy way out, Smudger. I am merciful. No one wants to get crushed and thrown into molten metal, screaming as the feel their metal body heat up and melt around them, the hot liquid flowing into their mouth and melting their face.” She sighed. “I let them pick and they always choose to vanish when it’s their time. No one likes to stick it out to the end.”

The ticking sounding much much louder now.

“What happens after we die? Do we all go to the same place?” He asked softly, trembling from what she told her. He finally realised he was dealing with someone who was far more powerful than any thing he’s ever met.

“Why would I tell you that? In a couple of months you can find out for yourself.” And another cup appeared before Smudger. “It’s lemon and ginger. I thought it might help you to relax a bit. Your heart rates gone up and I’d rather not experience a blackout.”

The ticking noise was deafening.

“What?”

“Oh don’t worry. Just drink it.” She hummed and sipped her own tea, Smudger eventually mirroring her and sipping the tea slowly. It wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t too cold. It was odd. So many thoughts swirled through Smudger’s head, so many memories and thoughts that he couldn’t separate from real or fake; faces of those he once knew obscured and faded and voices muffled and muted. It felt like he was drowning.

The thunderous ticking noise began to make things tremble.

There was silence between the duo, Smudger placing his cup down shakily as he licked his dry lips once again, unable to make eye contact with her. “So what now?”

“I’ve given you your options, Smudger. It’s up to you to choose one.”

The clock went silent.

Chapter Text

Skarloey was lost in thought all the way to the town centre of Knapford, the man hardly talking or taking notice of his friends as they were ushered towards the large town square by Sir Handel’s crew (the two men desperate to get back to work).
He thought about the money they were given - they said that one-hundred pounds should be enough for each of them for a few days - and how they were supposed to just go about and do whatever all day. To Skarloey it all seemed so wrong. He was used to taking orders and being told what to do, so this was all backwards and wrong. He was an engine. He was made for orders.

‘But you’re not an engine anymore.’ A voice whispered in the back of his head. Skarloey couldn’t argue with the voice. He was a human and he hand to deal with it, whether he liked it or not. He heard a few of his friends gasp and he looked up, finding his jaw dropping in time with the others.

The town centre was absolutely gorgeous to Skarloey. There was a large fountain in the middle of the town square, with marble statues of women holding vases and water pouring from the vases and into the water below. They sparkled and glimmered in the sun, the water reflecting on them.

The engines were all enamoured with the delicacy and intricacy of the statues and how alive and angelic they looked for something non-living.
They were pulled away by Daniel clapping his hands twice to get their attention.

“Alright guys! Pete and I have to go back to work now. Skarloey, you’re in charge. You each have money, go do whatever you want. Be polite, don’t draw attention to yourselves, and do not go anywhere by yourselves. You gotta be kind and respectful.” He said sternly to them, like an adult telling off their children. “You will be here at five o’clock understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes sir’ left the group and Daniel sighed in relief. “Good. We will see you later. Have a good day and enjoy yourselves! Don’t forget to eat and drink!” And he gave them a bright grin before dragging Pete away, leaving the group of six alone and to their own devices.

They soon looked to Skarloey, as he was now the de facto leader. He looked back and simply shrugged, a frown on his face. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know where anything is.”

The group deflated slightly before Peter Sam perked up. “Maybe we should get something to fuel up with? He suggested to the group. “I’m sure we’d need the energy for today.”

“Oh that’s a good idea Peter Sam!” Rusty chirped happily. “Hopefully they’ll have something for us all to fuel up with. The food at the hotel is nice, but I’m not sure if I can stomach any more of that ‘toast’ stuff they keep suggesting.”

Skarloey nodded, smiling to them. “Then it’s decided. We will find a place where we can sit and fuel up together. It’ll be interesting to see what they offer.” And he looked around. “I’m not sure what the places will be called, but just look for any signs that say ‘drinks’ on it and we can go from there.”

With a new task in mind, the group began to walk through the town together, keeping an eye out for somewhere they could all sit. They walked slowly and marvelled at the buildings and other smaller structures, admiring what humans could make and create. It was all very interesting.

“Oh what about that place? It says ‘cakes, coffee and refreshments’. Maybe we should stop there?” Sir Handel suggested, pointing to the building that had a neat pastel blue sign and the building was made of red brick.

“Good shout.” Skarloey hummed, leading them towards the building.

Skarloey opened the door and entered first, the bell above the door letting out a ring as it opened. No one even looked up at them, the people inside engrossed in their own business. As the first inside, Skarloey could see people reading, having conversations with each other, and some even pressing small buttons on weird devices. Humans were so strange.

Someone in a pastel blue shirt and name badge (the badge reading Geo) approached the group of six, smiling brightly. They wore a white lanyard that held a card and a few pins on the straps. “Hello, welcome to Cafe Blue Jay! Table for six?” They asked politely, smiling to the group. Their blonde hair was tied back into a short ponytail, as the sides were shaved.

“Oh uh, yes please.” Rheneas answered, giving a nervous smile.

“Great! Follow me!” Geo chirped and lead the group into the cafe and towards a large booth, gesturing them to sit down. “I’ll get you some menus and you can see what you like the look of and then I can be back to take your order.” And they left to go help someone else, leaving Skarloey and his friends alone.

“Welp. Ye heard them. Get movin.” Duncan huffed, ushering them into the booth. Skarloey, Rheneas and Sir Handel sat on one side whilst Duncan, Peter Sam and Rusty sat on the other side. They were quiet, simply studying the inside of the building. It was still weird for them to be inside a building like this, as they could never whilst they were engines and if they did it was the result of a horrific accident.

Just like the staff member said, they soon returned with six menus for the group, placing them down. “Flag me down if you need anything.” Geo smiled and left once more.

Sir Handel grabbed a menu first and began to look at the items they sold, marvelling at the list of items. “Cold drinks. Hot drinks. Soft drinks. Fizzy drinks. Cakes.” He mumbled. “I don’t know what they mean.”

“Oh you can get ‘tea’? It’s under hot drinks so I assume that’s like a fancy water?” Rusty pointed out after grabbing a menu for himself.

“I like the sound of these cakes…” Peter Sam mumbled, staring at the long list of different cakes hungrily. They all sounded so yummy! Chocolate, red velvet, carrot, vanilla, the list was endless!

As the group discussed what they wanted and what they thought would taste best, Duncan flagged down the server again and they stood there happily, small notebook and pen in hand as they smiled to the group. “Who wants to go first?” They asked.

“I’ll have tha Irish Coffee and tha coffee cake.” Duncan hummed, placing his menu down. He watched the server purse their lips but didn’t say anything else and scribbled it down.

“Uh, can I get the white hot chocolate and the chocolate fudge cake?” Peter Sam asked quietly, a little nervous about it.

Sir Handel went next. “I’ll have a Fanta and maybe the Victoria sponge cake.”

“Oh I’ll also have Victoria sponge cake, but can I get a tea?” Rheneas chirped.

“Tea for me as well but I think I’ll get the scones please.” Skarloey added.

All eyes turned to Rusty and the diesel smiled nervously. “I’ll have the, uh, carrot cake and then I will have… uh…” and he looked to the menu again. “The latte please.”

Geo scribbled it all down and gave them all a smile. “Alright! I’ll go get that sorted for you, it won’t take too long.” And they took the menus back from them, leaving quickly and leaving the group alone.

Rheneas smiled. “I’m going to grab a book to read. Anyone else want a book?” He asked, pointing to the wall at the back that was filled with books.

“Oh! I’d like a book to read!” Peter Sam chirped happily.

The others shook their heads and Rusty stood up. “I’m going to ask if there’s a toilet nearby.” He said, smiling politely to them and leaving as they discussed what books they wanted and what their food and drink would taste like.
He walked up to the counter, seeing the blonde server and he smiled nervously. “Um, excuse me? Is there a toilet nearby?” He asked quietly.

“Hm? Oh yes! There is!” They said with a smile. “So the toilets are through that door there and up some stairs. There you’ll find male, female and disabled toilets. If you want the disabled toilets you can ask me for the code if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“More comfortable?” Rusty asked them in confusion, tilting their head slightly.

Geo blushed from embarrassment, covering their mouth with their hand for a moment. “Oh! Oh I’m so sorry for assuming! I just saw you in the skirt and assumed you were neither male nor female! Again I’m so sorry!”

That perplexed Rusty even more but also intrigued him. Humans could pick their gender? This was all so new. On the railway their owners strictly decided their names and usually engines were ‘male coded’, so many got male names and male pronouns. But this made him curious.
He could choose his own gender?

“No no, it’s my fault I’m sorry.” Rusty said, attempting to calm the person down. “You said we can… choose? Our ‘genders’?”

“Kinda? It’s more like what you feel inside and if you fit the binary. I say just Google it all. You’ll have better luck finding out what it all means.” They smiled, their cheeks pink. “But like I said, toilets are through that door, upstairs, and the code to the disabled toilets is 3438.” And they moved away to speak to another customer, leaving Rusty to think it over alone.

Humans were very curious indeed.

With that, Rusty left to go upstairs and to the toilets. Back at the booth Rheneas returned with three books for them to read, hoping they’d like at least one of the literature pieces before them. From what he read, one seemed to be a ‘murder mystery’, one was about ‘romance’ and the last one was a ‘horror’.

Whatever that meant.

“Hopefully we’ll like one of these.” Rheneas said happily to Peter Sam, showing him the books he has scored. “I’m interested in this one.” And he held up a black book titled ‘Letting in the Ghosts’. “The back says it’s a ‘murder mystery’ with some unexpected ‘twists’.” He hummed.

“Ohhh that sounds good! I think I’ll go for this one.” Peter Sam chirped, picking up the book with a large title reading ‘Chocolates and Forget-me-nots’. “It sounds sweet! The back says it’s a ‘heartwarming modern romance’ so I think it’ll be good to read! Something new!” He grinned.

A short while and Geo returned with a large tray of their food and drinks, placing them down in front of who ordered what as well as a small pot of sugar cubes and a small cup of milk. “And thats your lot! Please enjoy!” They chirped and left quickly, letting the group marvel at what they ordered.

Sir Handel grabbed the bottle and studied it gently before twisting at the cap, jumping slightly as it made a hissing sound. How odd! He opened it all the way and sniffed it gently before taking a small sip. At first he spluttered and nearly spat it out, not used to the carbonated drink; the fizzy drink making his mouth feel all weird for a moment.
He soon tried again, still not sure about the fizzy, but he did enjoy the flavour of it.
“It’s… it’s weird….” He said, putting the lid back on.

That got the other’s interested in their own drinks and they each began to taste what they ordered. Rheneas found he needed sugar in his tea whilst Skarloey could handle it without sugar, Peter Sam found the hot chocolate to be really sweet in a ‘good way’, Rusty found that the latte was fine as it was, and Duncan declared here had found his newest ‘favourite’ drink.
Overall, they were all happy to be sat there drinking. Soon, Duncan looked to the cake before him.

“Might as well.” He snorted and used the fork to take a bit of the cake, eating it and nodding. “That’s good. Tastes like my drink almost.” He hummed.

That prompted everyone else to try their cakes, each of them unable to complain about their food choices. The cakes were good and this was their first time trying them. Who needed anything else when they had cake to enjoy?

The group stayed there happily, simply eat, drinking, reading books and just enjoying each others company.
Rusty hardly listened as Sir Handel and Duncan argued about romance vs horror, in his own thoughts for a moment about what Geo said early. He pushed the Battenberg cake around on his plate as he thought about it more; he would need to search up about the gender binary and figure out where he sat. Talking to Geo opened a lot of new doors for Rusty, and he was scared.

He was snapped out from his thoughts by Sir Handel asking him a question. “Settle it for us, Rusty. What sounds more interesting, a dark and twisted romance, or a light and funny horror?” He asked.

“Oh, probably the romance one.” He said, smiling as Sir Handel let out a dramatic sigh and Duncan let out some loud laughter, having obviously won whatever argument they were having. He shook his head, trying to wipe the smile from his face. Tomorrow, he’d start his own research.

Chapter Text

At Knapford hospital a small section in the left wing had become private, patients already there had been moved to different wings as of now this area was reserved for Sir Topham Hatt and his engines turned humans which had shocked and intrigued several of the doctors around. Each doctor and nurse were equipped with a file about the engines repairs and various rebuilds as well as a photo of their human form.

Currently in the hospital Smudger was their main priority, a small group assigned to do hourly checks, reposition him, clean him, and give him medicine and fluids and nutrients.
Recently another engine had arrived, the man being wheeled in by their driver.

“honestly lad! I can walk! I’m not fragile!” The old man laughed, his hands placed gently on his lap as he was wheeled over to an empty hospital bed, a mere wall to keep him away from Smudger and to keep the injured engine out of view. He was slim and old with long but thin grey hair upon his head and was wearing a hospital gown and a matching hospital bracelet, the man looking around the place in wonder.

“I know, Stephen, but considering the fact you were built in eighteen twenty-three, and you’re still walking and talking, Sir Topham Hatt got nervous that you would get injured so suggested we put you here for the time being.” His driver, Stan, explained gently. He wasn’t about to mention that they also wanted to take a closer look at how trains as humans worked and if there was any differences.

Stephen let out a sigh as a nurse helped him into the bed. “I know I know. But I’ve survived this long! Surely I can keep it going!” He laughed, letting the nurse prop his bed up and place the blanket over his lap. Stephen looked very small and very old in the hospital bed. “Come visit me soon, alright?” He said to his driver softly, giving the man a soft smile.

Stan gave a shaky smile in return, uncertainty clear on his face. “I’ll see what I can do, Stephen. Enjoy your stay.” He said softly, turning away and slowly walking away as the nurses closed the door behind him, leaving Stephen alone once again.

In the next room Smudger was being checked over by a nurse and a doctor, the duo checking his vitals and taking notes of his healing body and whatever the screen in his room said.

“His heart rate seems to have stabilised for the time being, and the lacerations on his stomach and thighs are healing quite nicely.” The doctor said, gloved hand gently touching the gauzed wounds and healed scrapes. “His head injury is also healing well, the skin is stitching itself back together with the help of the staples and the hair is growing back too.”

The nurse nodded and scribbled each part down, making sure to add her own notes from what she could see. “From the old scars around his neck and the scar tissue inside his airway it appears that his respiratory tract had been removed and then sewn back in, likely based on when he was turned into a generator his funnel was removed…” he muttered, concerned about what this could mean for those who were overhauled and rebuilt.

He sighed and looked to the nurse with tired eyes, unsure of how much more disturbing facts they were to learn. “We need to check the wounds on his legs and then his hands and then we should be done for the checks. Afterwards we need to refill his nutrients bag, IV fluid, and send another nurse in to give him a wash.” He mumbled, moving to rub his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. “Let’s continue.”

With that the doctor moved to pull the covers back slowly to reveal his amputated legs, the jagged scars still a sort sight to look at. They were simply disturbing and upsetting for any medical professional, even those who had been in the field for a long time.

“His amputation wounds remain much of the same, too old to heal. However, once Mr. Smudger awakens we can begin to assemble physical therapy and rehabilitation for him so we can move forward with prosthetics.” And the doctor licked his dry lips, covering Smudger’s body with the blanket again. “Due to the nature of his wounds and the fact he most likely received then when his wheels were removed, we can logically explain that the people who removed his wheels did not do it professionally but they did it rushed.” And he let the nurse write down the final line before he got to work on change his IV bag and nutrients bag, making sure everything was in order before he left with the nurse, closing the door and leaving Smudger alone for the next few nurses who’d be coming in wash him.

He walked silently with the nurse, a frown on his face. “Janelle, can you drop that file off at Dr. Lee’s desk and have him take a look? I’m going to get started on reviewing our newest patient.” He softly to her.

“Of course, sir.” Janelle nodded politely, leaving his side and exiting the hospital wing. She began to walk down the hallway, finding the curved desk and then placing the file on it before she pulled her mask down and gave the man a grimace. “For you to review, Dr. Lee.” She hummed to the stationary man in the chair. “Dr. Deshmukh said it’s vital you look at it so we can progress forward.”

The man, Dr. Lee, nodded back and picked up the file, beginning to flip through it. He had just finished med school so having the entire file about an engine turned human on his desk was not something he expected. Especially with the amount of injuries present. “Jesus Christ…” he sighed, both in horror at the injuries and in disbelief that this is what years of schooling came to. “Thank you, Janelle. I’ll pass this on to the head nurse and also one of the lead doctors. They’ll want to see it.” And he typed a few things into his computer, grumbling to himself as Janelle left.

“I should’ve gone into law like my parents wanted but no, I decided to rebel and go into medical school.” Dr. Lee muttered, soon standing up with the file and heading down a different hallway and towards some offices to hand the file over to head nurse Nguyen.

With several nurses and doctors occupied with Smudger’s recovery, Dr. Ramesh was talking to Mr. Percival and Sir Topham Hatt about Smudger and what this may mean for the other engines. It wasn’t good new by any means.

“What we mean by this, is that injuries received by a train appear to have affected their human forms.” He started off slowly, holding the file of Smudger. “Such as Mr. Smudger having his wheels removed as a train means that he is now an amputee and is missing his legs. However, this extends further.”

And he frowned, knowing what came next would upset both railway owners. “You said that an engine explained what Mr. Smudger looked like as a generator, and that Mr. Smudger was without a funnel. We concluded that a funnel would be their respiratory tract as from the scar tissue inside his airway, it appears that it has been removed and then sewn back in, likely a fact that a human cannot survive without a respiratory tract. So whatever made him human, replaced it for him.”

Both Sir Topham Hatt and Mr. Percival looked alarmed and upset by this fact, now worried what this meant for the rest of the engines.
Dr. Ramesh wasn’t finished and he tapped his paper. “From reading every engines files, we are now worried what this means for those who have been rebuilt and have had overhauls, which is why we asked you to bring in Mr. Stephen. He is older, yes, but he’s had a rebuild and as he’s older we are worried for his health and how this will affect him. We also request you to bring in Mr. Henry if he takes a turn, but as he is younger we aren’t too worried for the time being.” He hummed.

“Oh my… I didn’t realise how bad this could be for my engines…” Sir Topham Hatt muttered, worried for his engines and what could go wrong. “Do you know if they’ll be alright? Will anything go wrong?”

“Judging by how old these wounds look, Mr. Smudger‘s body shouldn’t reject his respiratory tract. We are hoping this is the case for anyone else as I have already assigned a doctor and two nurses to get started on Mr. Stephen.” Dr. Ramesh explained, a frown on his face. “Nothing should go wrong as long as all your engines remain safe and cared for in their human forms. Going back to Mr. Smudger, he will need some form of therapy as waking up human without legs is most likely going to cause some deep issues for him. I suggest looking into therapists covered on the NHS for him, as this is a serious case.”

The man nodded, a grimace on his face. “Thank you, Dr. Ramesh. I will look over my engines and send the older ones in for you to have a look at and to make sure they’re alright.” Sir Topham Hatt said before he stood up. “I thank you for bringing this to our attention but I need to go now. Ring me if you need anything at all.” And with a small nod, he turned and left the room. He still had a railway to run.

Mr. Percival turned his attention back to the doctor and sighed. “Like he said, thank you for bringing this to our attention. We are really worried about our engines, especially now that they’re humans. As engines if anything happened a simple fix up was easy enough and they’d be on the tracks the next day, but an injury as a human? We wouldn’t know what to do.” He explained, nervous for the future of his engines. “We aren’t any closer to figuring out how to turn them back either.”

“I may not know much about Sodor, Mr. Percival, and I may not believe in a lot of things, but I know for a fact that this place can have magical consequences. Trains with faces, other vehicles with faces, unexplained sightings of ghosts, and much more.” Dr. Ramesh said softly. “Whatever made them human, can surely turn them back. You must give it time. Rome was not built in a day and neither was Sodor.”

Mr. Percival opened his mouth to reply but a nurse barged in. “Dr. Ramesh, Mr. Smudger just went into cardiac arrest! One of the nurses is performing cpr whilst a defibrillator is brought in!” She said quickly, causing Dr. Ramesh to stand up. “Mr. Percival, I advise you to leave and we shall continue this another time.” He told him and left the room after the nurse, leaving Mr. Percival alone in the office.

He stood up, a worried frown on his face as he watched the two medical professionals rush down the hallway and out of view. He hoped things would be alright for Smudger. He grabbed his briefcase and his hat - putting it back on - before exiting the office and heading towards the front desk to leave, worried about his engine.

He prayed to whatever was listening that Smudger would make it.

Chapter Text

“Doctor! The patient is crashing!”

“Shit! Get the defibrillator again! Who’s currently doing c-p-r?”

“Nurse Janelle-“

“Tell her to keep it up whilst we get the defibrillator-“

“This is the second resuscitation today, doctor, surely it’s time we-“

“No, Mr. Percival said to keep going until he wakes up.”

“But Dr. Ramesh, it’s hurting him-“

“We do what Mr. Percival says, Janelle-“

“Dr. Ramesh he’s crashing again! We already have the defibrillator-“

“Keep it going until he wakes-“

“Sir, please, can we-“

“No we-“

“Sir-“

“Smudger.”

The engine sat up with a harsh gasp, panting as he looked around the plain white area he had been in for the past few hours (at least to Smudger it felt like hours). He calmed his breathing as he slowly looked up at the worried woman in front of him, Lady moving to crouch down before him.

“Smudger, this isn’t good.” Lady said softly, a frown on her face as she held her hand out to help him up. Smudger took her hand, pulling himself up with her help as they stood staring at each other.

She sighed, letting go of his hand and crossing her arms as her eyebrows furrowed at him. She looked disappointed instead of worried this time. “I’ve indulged in your little ‘tantrums’ long enough, Smudger. But to watch you crash? Have a black out? It’s not going to fly anymore.”

He scowled at her. “Tantrums?” He asked with his fists clenched at his side, deciding to ignore the part about ‘black outs’ as that meant nothing to him. “You think this is a tantrum? It ain’t no trantrum!” He snapped angrily. “You think I wanna wake up to that world of pain? To see my ruined body?”

“You have to wake up at some point, Smudger, that is the literal point.” Lady hummed, her face relaxing but her eyes remained cold. “You are dying Smudger, there’s not much I can do when you’re dead, is there?”

“So what if I’m dying, huh? What difference is it gonna make?” And he turned away from her. “At least I’m dying in peace like this. There’s no pain, no fear, no nothing.”

She uncrossed her arms, placing her hands on her hips as she stared at him. She had never met an engine so stubborn before. Sure, Diesel 10 was stubborn but he was also blood thirsty. Smudger was just stubborn and angry. Letting out a sigh to calm herself, she let go of her hips and looked to him.

“I get it, Smudger, I do. I really do. You’re scared and you’re waking up in a world that isn’t the one you recognise. You’re backed into a corner without allies and your fight or flight has kicked in. You’re in unfamiliar territory and you’re injured.” She said slowly. “But I can promise you Smudger, that no one outside of this wants to see you suffer. The humans looking after you are doing the best they can to ensure that you stay alive, no matter how unethical it is.”

Smudger didn’t say anything, staring holes into the ground angrily. He wouldn’t indulge her in this silly lecture.

“I also know that you’re scared of dying Smudger, as you don’t know what comes next. I’m sorry I can’t tell you what happens after death, but I can tell you what happens after you wake up. I promise you, Smudger, it’s not as scary as you truly think.” Lady finished up, a frown on her face.

A silence washed over the two of them as they stood opposite each other, letting the words sink in. Time passed by slowly, the grandfather clock in the distance ticking away quietly but filling the air with a repetitive ‘tick, tick, tick’. Smudger began to shake gently and he swallowed, finally opening his mouth.

“I don’t think I’d be able to wake up and face it all…”

He whispered softly, as if scared to come to terms with his fear. Unable to face what was his reality.

She let out another soft sigh, moving to cross her arms again. “I want to try and help you. I think if we-“ and she stopped mid sentence as the place began to shake, as if an earthquake was happening. Smudger looked up in alarm as the room began to shake, Smudger himself feeling off about it. The hairs on his neck and arms stood up and his stomach dropped as the feeling of impending sense of doom filled his chest for a split second.

He looked up slowly to Lady, his eyes wide with fear and alarm. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing left.

“Smudger-“

Lady began to speak but it was too late, with a sudden deep breath Smudger dropped hard to the floor, the world around them going dark once again.

“Smudger! Smudger!” Lady hummed loudly, shaking the man awake and helping him to sit up. The man looked around all confused, blinking his eyes slowly and remaining sat on the floor with Lady kneeling beside him.

He looked into her eyes, fear and uncertainty in them. “Lady… What was that?” He asked her with a shaky voice.

She frowned as she let him go, her hands on her thighs. “That, Smudger, was a black out. They seem to finally be affecting your inner self this time though.”

“A black out?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. He remembered that she said something about that earlier.

“The medical term for humans is ‘cardiac arrest’. It’s where your heart stops and your brain is denied oxygen.” Lady explained softly. “It means that you’re actively dying Smudger and each time you’re brought back it’s because the doctors are using a machine to restart your heart.”

Smudger moved to stare at the white floor, taking this all in for a moment. “So I’m dying, and that’s that? I have some weird machines keeping me alive?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you could be awake and not dying so we don’t have to rely on machines.” And she stood up, looking down at him. “I’ve said enough. I’ve given you your options so clearly and yet you throw them away constantly.”

“Oh so that’s it? You’ve given up on me, huh?” He asked her, quickly becoming enraged as he watched her begin to walk away. He stood up on shaky legs, shooting a glare at her.

Lady turned to face him, a lifeless smile on her face. “Oh I haven’t given up Smudger. There is physically nothing I can do to help you anymore. I’ve give you all the advice I can and I’ve done by best to persuade you, yet you remain stubborn.” And she raised both hands up to her chest.

“You have a choice, Smudger, like I’ve told you so many god damn times before. You can either wake up,” and she put her right hand to the side, “or you can die.” And she put her left hand to the side, standing before him with her hands out to her sides as if holding imaginary scales.

Smudger glowered at her, his hair covering most of his face. He didn’t know what to say in response. Realistically what could he say? He was simply going in circles and was dealing with someone who was neither human nor train, but something far greater than life itself. 

He watched as Lady put her arms back down, continuing to stare coldly at him. Looking at him like he was simply dirt beneath her shoes, like he was a small twig on the tracks. Something she could effortlessly mould and break.

It filled him with slight fear that he was before a creature that held so much power. She opened her mouth a final time to speak to him, beginning to turn away.

“You have a choice to make Smudger, and by god I hope you make the right choice.”

Chapter Text

The days began to pass slowly for the gang since their introduction to different foods and drinks in the town, as well as the now shoved away thoughts of Smudger and his injuries. With the group unable to work like they used to (and unaware it had been two weeks now) they had began to grow angsty and so remained isolated in their hotel room when they felt as though they didn’t want to venture out.

For Rusty it was suffocating to say the least. He felt trapped within the hotel room, having paced the room several times as he jittered away. Everyone else was either lying around or keeping themselves entertained in a dull manner.

He watched as Rheneas and Sir Handel people-watched from the window, mumbling quietly to each other as they pointed new things out. Peter Sam lay asleep under the covers - which he had started to do more of now - with Duncan next to him on top of the covers. Skarloey was also dozing but with a few brochures on his stomach, he had taken them from the reception area to learn to read better and to see if there was anything they could do.

Rusty felt himself shiver and moved to the door, putting his shoes on and grabbing a key card. No one noticed as he slipped away quietly from the room, closing the door behind him and trekking down to the reception. He made a quick comment to the lady at the desk, informing her of his whereabouts if his friends happened to ask before he left the building, leaving it behind as he walked down the road.

Making it into town after a gruelling bus ride (he still hadn’t gotten over his travel sickness), he walked around slowly. He still had some money in his pockets as their drivers and firemen kept them topped up with it so he knew he would be able to keep him hunger and thirst topped up as well as be able to catch a ride home.

At least he wouldn’t be trapped out here.

He looked around, walking around slowly like a tourist of sorts. ‘Although technically I am.’ Rusty thought quietly to himself. ‘I may live on Sodor but I’m not a human.’ He shook his head slowly, dispersing those thoughts as he wandered through the streets.

Soon he spotted a new building. It was big and grand but old fashioned looking, the words on the sign reading ‘library’. It piqued Rusty’s interest and he made his way towards the door and entered it quietly, making sure the door shut softly behind him.

Rusty looked in awe at the place inside, unable to comprehend it. It was three stories tall of just book. Books lined every visible wall and each table had what appeared to be a flat tv. It was amazing. Something out of a dream. He took a few cautious steps, the place completely silent as he gawked.

Soft footsteps approach and he looked up to see an older gentleman smiling at him, the man’s neat beard and moustache making the man look friendlier. “Hello, and welcome to the Knapford Library. Is there anything I can help you with?” The man asked in a soft yet chirpy voice, a name tag on his lanyard reading ‘Alistair’.

“Oh uh…” And Rusty trailed off, unsure of why he was even here. He went quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say before remembering a conversation. “Yes I’m uh, I’m trying to find information about gender…”

“Oh I see, yes I can help you with that.” The man nodded, continuing to smile. “I think for the best results, the internet can provide that, but I know of a few books.” And Alistair guided Rusty to a free table that had a computer on it, sitting him down. “I’ll grab you some books, alright? Feel free to use the computer for as long as you like.” And just as quickly as he arrived, he left, leaving Rusty alone at a computer in an all new strange world.

The diesel tried not to let that interaction jolt him too much as he turned his attention to the device in front of him. He stuck his tongue out slightly as he pressed a key on the keyboard, jumping slightly at the clicking noise it made. He spotted the mouse, poking it gently and perking up as it moved a pointer on the screen.

“You got this Rusty.” He muttered to himself. “You always know what to do.” And he moved the mouse awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the pointer and clicking on the bar that said ‘search’. “Okay Rusty, we’re getting there…” he mumbled, letting go of the mouse and turning to the keyboard.

Reading was completely different to writing. They could read (sort of), but writing meant trying to spell, and he wasn’t sure how good he was at that. “Gender. Gender. Come on Rusty, just spell gender…” he grumbled, handing moving to the keyboard as he slowly began to type (he still wasn’t sure about the noise it made).

He slowly began to type, frustrated that he made a few mistakes but this ‘computer’ seemed to know what he meant and threw up several links about gender, identity, and sexuality.

Interesting.

He looked up when the man returned with some books, thanking him softly and turning his attention to the screen. Alright. He clicked a random link and grabbed a book, settling down to get through this. After all, a few minutes of light reading into this and Rusty should be good to go.

Hours later and Rusty was still in the library, two books already read and placed to the left of him with a third in his hands. At one point he had asked for a piece of paper and a pen, writing a few words down onto it for remembrance. His eyes felt sore from staring at the bright screen and his back hurt from behind hunched over as he did his research.

Finally, Rusty put down the book and rubbed his sore eyes, sighing softly. He could see the sky changing colours through the window and thought he had been there long enough now. He looked at his sheet of paper, taking in all the notes and scribbles and sighed. It had been very informative and helpful, letting Rusty think things over.

‘Agender is defined as not having a gender. Some agender people describe it as having a “lack of gender,” while others describe themselves as being gender neutral.’ He mentally read over from the paper, reading it again and again to really keep it installed in his mind.

“Agender.” He muttered. “Agender. Gender neutral.” And he looked under it, having done a whole thing on pronouns which was a whole new topic of its own (it was the most interesting thing he had ever read and was determined to show off his teachings to the others.).

“They. I go by they.” They hummed, appreciating how to felt to be that.

As engines, gender and identity never existed to them. They were given names and pronouns but they never really understood what that all meant, but humans were so much more complex and unique than Rusty had first thought. The hours they spent researching this topic lead them to believe that everything could be so much more complex that they ever gave them credit for.

They nodded, closing the computer tab and shoving the paper into their breast pocket. They loaded the books into their arms and walked over to the return trolley, placing the books down onto it before turning and leaving. Rusty exited the library, letting out a soft sigh as a slightly cool breeze hit them.

It was time to go home.

As they made the trek back, they stopped at a bakery that was still open and decided to buy some sweet treats and drinks for their friends, almost like an apology for leaving them alone all day.

Their journey to the hotel was quiet, with Rusty distracted by the thoughts of everything they read about and learnt. They felt tired but invigorated, like a new door had been opened for them. Rusty entered the hotel, waving to the lady at the desk as they entered the lift. They arrived on their floor and walked to their room and then entering, smiling to his friends. “Hi everyone.” They chirped happily, placing the bag on the table as they moved inside more.

“Rusty!” The group chorused excitedly, glad to have him back home. “Did you have fun?” “What did you do today?” “Did you buy anything nice?”

They laughed as they took their shoes off, moving to lay down on the bed. “I went to this place called the ‘library’. It was a massive room with books all over the walls right up to the ceiling! It was amazing. Really pretty to look at.” They hummed. “I went there to do some research into this thing called ‘gender’.”

“Gender? What is that?” Skarloey asked him, a smile gracing his features. He was just happy that Rusty was home safe and was eager to let Rusty have the floor.

And so Rusty told them everything they had learnt about gender, identity, and pronouns. They explained the different genders and pronouns, and how ones gender was completely different to a set of pronouns. The others listened eagerly, excited to learn a new human subject and the ideas and examples around it.

By the end of the discussion, the group were pleased with their new knowledge and they dug into the sweet treats Rusty had brought home.

With everyone distracted, eating and talking, Skarloey sat by Rusty. Rusty was one of Skarloey’s best friends (besides his brother Rheneas) and he knew this wasn’t just some random research. “Thank you for discussing that with us Rusty.” He said softly. “It was very eye opening. I didn’t know humans could be so complex with it all.”

“Thanks Skarloey.” Rusty hummed, nibbling away at their brownie. “I’m glad you all enjoyed it. I’m sorry if I explained anything wrong.”

“It’s quite alright Rusty, you did very well… but it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it?”

Rusty said nothing, slowly eating their food as their stomach churned. “You’re right.” They said after a brief period of silence. “It does go deeper than that.”

Skarloey sighed softly. “You know you can tell me anything, Rusty. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. You’re my best friend too, Skarloey. After our trip to the cafe last time, the blue jay one, a worker had said something to me. They said something about gender and I guess it had just been on my mind subconsciously so I knew I had to find out about it.” Rusty shrugged. 

“I see…”

“I’m agender, Skarloey. Gender neutral. I go by they/them now.”

Skarloey gave them a soft smile, moving to place a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, Rusty. I’m glad you found yourself.”

And Rusty gave Skarloey a bashful smile, soon looking to the floor as they ate their brownie, still smiling at the acceptance Skarloey had given them. Skarloey squeezed Rusty’s shoulder tenderly, so many words that could’ve been said but Skarloey knew that Rusty didn’t need an essay of words right now.

“I’m proud of you.”

Chapter Text

With Rusty’s lesson of identity and gender the gang were in a much lighter mood over the next few days, having something new they can discuss and talk about made them much happier than before and all tensions seemed to ease up.

They were still in their hotel room, having no desire to go into town as they chattered away to each other. The air seemed lighter. Perhaps things were looking up for the group.

A knock on their door quietened all talk as Skarloey stood up, heading to the door and opening it. He gave the man a smile, opening the door more.
It was Duncan’s driver, the stout man entering the room and smiling to the group.

“Alright lads, I’m off work early and I’m bored as the others are still working. Would you like to get out of the hotel room and experience the pub life?” Hamish asked them eagerly, grinning brightly to them all (he thought this was one of the best ideas he had).

The group looked to each other before looking back to Hamish, Sir Handel speaking up first. “What’s a pub?” He asked, speaking for the group.

“It’s a place where you can get food and alcohol. It’s every man’s dream!”

“But I’m not a man?”

And Hamish waved Rusty off, overlooking what he said. “Figure of speech! Just means that everyone loves it. I think it’ll be good to get you out of this place and just go somewhere for food, drinks and some music.” He hummed. “Whaddya think?”

The group looked to each other again, silently confirming it with each other before Skarloey spoke up this time. “We’ll go. It’ll be good for all of us to get out and experience new things. Especially that thing called ‘alcohol’.”

Duncan nodded, standing up first. “Like Skarloey said. We’ll go. Dinnae expect us ta enjoy it.” He huffed, moving to grab his jumper to put on.

The others soon also put on shoes and coats and jackets, an unspoken eagerness in the air as they filed out of the hotel room and followed after Hamish. It would be something new and exciting to try, something very human.
They didn’t care about the uncomfortable bus journey, nor about the walk across uneven cobblestone pavements, as they round the corner and to a pub.

The pub was big, painted a deep green with stone walls, and a large name sign reading ‘The Knapford Arms’.
Hamish lead them inside, loud music playing in the pub as several older and younger men and woman drank and ate and chattered happily to each other.

It was so human. Maybe too human.

Skarloey and his friends shuffled after Hamish awkwardly, trying not to make eye contact with any of the patrons as they were lead to a spare table large enough for them all.
Sir Handle sat down first, nervous as he looked around and then focused on the table before him. The others soon joined him, sitting down at the table with Hamish.

He smiled at the group, a grin on his round face. “I’ll get a round of alcohol and see if you like it, if not there’s always bottles and cans to choose from.” Hamish said happily to them, eager to let them experience this.

Skarloey gave Hamish a slight smile, feeling a bit awkward. He felt like someone was watching them, scrutinising them almost. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it, Duncan’s driver. Just get anything and we’ll give it a try. We can’t be that fussy.”

“If you’re sure.” Hamish snorted, knowing full well they could be fussy even as engines. “I’ll be right back.” And he got up, clapping Duncan on the shoulder as he headed over to the bar.

He left the group alone, the six looking to each other nervously. Rusty leaned in first with a frown on their face and worry in their eyes. “Is it just me, or do you guys get the sense that we’re being watched?”They asked in a hushed voice, their eyes darting around the place.

“It’s not just you, Rusty. I sense it too.” Skarloey muttered, also frowning. It was weird.

“Mhm. I’m sure it’ll be alright guys. Maybe whoever’s watching us is just curious?” Peter sam suggested in a soft tone. “Maybe it’s cause we’re new and they don’t know us?”

That got a soft murmur of agreement, the group slowly relaxing and trying to shake off the weird feeling. Maybe it was just them being new. Perhaps they were overreacting and overthinking it all.

They perked up when Hamish returned with a tray of tall glasses, each filled with a dark drink and a whitish pale top. “I got some Guinness. You better like this it’s good.” He teased as he set the tray down, placing a glass in front of them. Hamish sat down at the table, raising his own glass. “Drink up!”

Each took a glass and took a sip, pulling the glass away quickly with faces of disgust and confusion.

Hamish laughed loudly at them and shook his head, taking a swig and placing his glass down on the table. “Not to your standards?”

“Mate… that tastes like piss…” Duncan grumbled. No one brought up how he knows what piss tastes like, most likely a figure of speech.

Peter Sam shook his head in disgust, pushing the glass away. “It’s a no from me!”

“Yeah that was gross!” Sir Handel chimed in, sticking his tongue out as he looked at the drink before him.

Rheneas placed his now half empty glass down, a sheepish expression on his face. “I don’t mind it?” He said more like a question as he bashfully grinned.

With that, the small group started to bicker about wether it tasted good or bad with Hamish laughing the entire time. He soon got up to get them other drinks more to their tastes and even just to try. He’d find them something.

Many hours later and the group were pleasantly buzzed and yapping happily. Hamish had left an hour or two earlier due to needing to be up for work tomorrow at a decent time (“just because you’re humans now doesn’t me I can stop working” he had said).
Most of the patrons had left by then, leaving the pub near enough empty but the group didn’t notice, drinking their chosen drinks happily. It seemed as though the pub would close soon though with Skarloey and his gang and a trio on another table

Rusty soon stood up, swaying slightly as they brushed imaginary dirt off their skirt. “I-I think I’m gonna go to the toilet.” They slurred, giving them a grin and being completely unaware of the man glaring daggers at them from behind. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And as Rusty turned to locate the toilets, a drunkard yelled out to him.

“Oi! Don’t look at me funny like that!”

Rusty paused, as well as the others, and Rusty turned to look at the flushed balding man sat at a table with two other friends. “Huh?”

The man continued to scowl at Rusty. “Yeah you! You looked at me funny! You fuckin weird cross-dresser! You wanna go? You wanna fight little queer boy?” He yelled at him.

“What? I haven’t even looked you till now!” Rusty replied, unable to stop their voice from getting loud as he was insulted.

“Yeah leave Rusty alone you weirdo!” Peter Sam chimed in, also standing up.

The man soon stood up too, swaying and glaring at them. “Oh you wanna go too? I’ll knock your fuckin teeth in homo!”

As the other engines stood up, ready to verbally defend themselves and their friends, the young bartender intervened, a frown on his face.
“If you’re going to argue you need to leave.” He said loudly and sternly to the lot, his green hair almost glowing under the pub lights, the light also catching his multiple lip piercings. “Take this outside. We will not tolerate that type of language. All of you out.”

As they complained and whined, arguing with the bartender about it all, the man threw a swift punch at Rusty, causing the engine to stumble back into his friends.
He didn’t get any further before Duncan flew at him, slamming his full body weight into the drunkard and forcing him out the front door and into the streets.

The other engines and men flooded after Duncan, watching as he exchanged punches with the balding man. The other two men turned tail and stumbled away quickly into the night.

“We’re taking Rusty back to the hotel.” Skarloey said hurriedly to Sir Handel, Peter Sam and Rheneas supporting the engine’s limp body. Rusty wasn’t unconscious but in shock, eyes wide and distant.

“I’ll-I’ll try to calm Duncan down.” Sir Handel said, hearing another thud sound as someone threw a punch; by the sound of it, Duncan had thrown the punch.

Watching his friends leave, Sir Handel turned his attention to the two fighting men, watching as Duncan shoved the man to the floor. Sir Handel stood dazed, unsure of what to do or how to stop it. The street was empty and quiet, no one else around, the pub looked dead, the lights all turned off. Everything was too loud and too quiet at the same time, and Sir Handel could only stand and sway, listening to each smack as Duncan struck the man repeatedly.

Duncan sat upon the drunkard, overpowering him completely as he swung wildly at his face, hitting the target each time and slowly covering his fists with the man’s saliva and soon enough blood, watching it run from his gums and nose. It covered the man’s face as well as Duncan and the floor.

He panted harshly, grunting as Sir Handel finally moved to drag him up and off the man. “Get off me!” Duncan snapped, flailing his arms and knocking Sir Handel off, causing the man to trip backwards and fall onto the ground.
He paid no attention to the engine in blue as he gave a swift and hard kick to the drunkard, forcing the man to roll onto his front.

He stared down at the man as he tried to rise, eyes wide with rage and hatred. He knelt down and grabbed what little hair the man had, raising his head up before Duncan slammed it violently onto the cobblestone, hearing the man cry out in pain before repeating the action over again and again.

The cries soon stopped but Duncan didn’t, blinded by his fury as he pummelled the human’s face into the stone repeatedly. He could only hear his pants and the blood pumping in his ears. He couldn’t hear how the solid sounding cracks and thuds became that of a wet and pulpy thump, covering the cobblestones in a mess of blood and tissue.

Duncan’s breathing got heavier and his assault got slower, his body shaking as he attempted to keep going before finally giving up, letting go of the man’s hair and hearing the slushy thud sound as the man hit the ground for the last time.

He remained kneeled as he heaved as gasped, blood covering parts of his body as well as the ground. He looked back when Sir Handel finally spoke.

“I-I think you got him…” Sir Handel muttered, eyes filled with terror as his face went pale. “We-We need to go. Fuck Duncan we gotta get outta here.” He said quickly, moving over to grab his shoulder roughly.

He looked up at Sir Handel before slowly craning his head back down. With the last of his strength, he managed to flip the man onto his back and stared at what remained of the man’s face.
It was completely mush and bleeding heavily. Duncan could make out one eye and a few teeth, noting how his tongue lolled out and his jaw seemed off.

Duncan stood up, legs shaky and body swaying and trembled. He sobered up real fast. He stumbled back slightly, eyes focusing on what happened.

On what he did.

“Let’s go.” He mumbled, taking a few more steps before turning and running off with Sir Handel trailing behind him.

A figure on the corner watch the duo leave before also turning and leaving, letting the man lay broken and bloodied on the ground. He’d make it. Maybe.

Back at the hotel, Duncan was the first to enter the room, sweaty, damp, and covered blood. It had began to drizzle, so it removed some of the blood but not all of it.
They looked up, wanting to ask what happened but he silenced them all with a weak glare and he shuffled off to the bathroom to clean up, the silence suffocating.

Sir Handel entered next, his face as white as a sheet and his eyes wide. He shook as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, staring off into the distance.

Skarloey approached, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him jump. “Sir Handel…” Skarloey mumbled softly. “What happened?”

“We… We discovered how fragile humans are…” he mumbled, refusing to say anymore as he undressed and climbed under the covers, pulling the duvet right over his head.

Trying to hide away. Trying to hide from what he witnessed. From what he didn’t stop.

From what he could’ve prevented.

Somewhere in the depths of Sodor, a sinister plot was being put into action.

“And you’re certain you witnessed this event?”

“Yes, Oh Chosen One. He managed to near enough kill a man by himself, unaware of how much strength he had and how weak us humans are.”

“I see. This is good. Keep an eye on them for a bit longer, and then you can strike. We need them alive to complete our ritual.”

“As you command, Oh Chosen One.”

Chapter Text

After hiding themselves away for a week, dodging talks with their drivers and firemen - and even with hotel staff and management - Rheneas’s fireman, Theodore, finally cornered them, his hands on his hips as he glared the group before him.
“I dinnae care what’s gotten into ye, but this ain’t healthy. Now get yer clothes on and scram!” He snapped at them, not harsh but very stern, his accent heavy. He was tired of them pretending they had more important things. Being hidden away for a week wasn’t good for anyone’s health.

“Ye need tah get outside and get some fresh air!” He continued, moving to cross his arms. His eyes darted to each engine, watching as they avoided eye contact. All except Duncan.

Duncan stood, scowling at him. “And what are ye gonna do if we don’t?”

Typical.

“Ye dinnae wanna find out lad.” He spat back. It was a silent stand off before Duncan finally yielded, looking away with a grimace at a very recent memory.

Theodore nodded, happy they agreed. “Good. Now get dressed and get the fuck outta this hotel. Go to a park, a cafe, just something!” With another nod he turned and left the room, slamming the door and leaving the group to get themselves dressed.

A silence covered the group after the door slammed and Peter Sam broke that silence, a frown on his face and nervousness in his eyes. “So… where are we gonna go?”

Thats how the group found themselves in another carriage, rocking along the tracks with Rusty clutching a brown paper bag just incase their stomach decided to rid of its contents.

Skarloey and Rheneas had looked at a few brochures and they decided to head to the Crovan’s Gate where they’d get another train to Glennock, along the Skarloey Railway. They had plans to relax in one of the parks there and just get some fresh air.

“Hopefully some fresh air will do us good. Especially the mountain air. We haven’t been back to that railway in a while.” Rheneas said with a small smile. “Maybe the old scenery will make us feel better.”

Peter Sam nodded. “Or bring back memories. Like when Sir Handel didn’t warn me about the trucks.” He said, turning to him with a pout.

“Hey! Don’t blame that on me! It’s not my fault the trucks don’t like me!” He huffed, crossing his arms in annoyance.

“And then Sir Topham called you an idiot.” Peter Sam snorted softly.

That got the others perking up. “What? He called ya an idiot?” Duncan asked eagerly, a smirk forming on his face.

“Ugh not directly.” Sir Handel grumbled leaning his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “He came to scold us and Peter Sam was saying ‘why didn’t you warn me’ and I was like ‘I didn’t think-‘ and Sir Topham Hatt interrupted and said ‘you never do’.”

That story got a laugh from the others and Sir Handel felt himself smile. It may have been an embarrassing story, but to hear the others laugh was nice.

“It’s not as bad as when Duncan took a dip in some mud…” Rusty giggled softly, remembering the whole dunking Duncan incident a little too well

The Scottish man rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah we all remember that.” He grumbled softly, a small smile forming on his face as the others laughed.

The group continued to chatter happily to each other about memories of their time working together on the railway, continuing to talk as they got off at the platform and switched trains, making their way to Glennock parks.

They sat in pairs on these coaches, used to these types of rails as they rocked along, taking in the gorgeous scenery of wild flower meadows, forests, lakes, and old castles.

“Oh I’ve missed this view…” Rusty said with a soft sigh as they stared out the window, green eyes sparkling when the light shone through the window.

“Mhm. Glad tah see that Covertcoat… uh, Covertcoat’s body… is keeping this place running.” Duncan said, taking a quick glance outside before closing his eyes again. “I’m glad her railway agreed tah help us. I also think they said some other narrow gauge engines are on loan with us.” He hummed as he tried to remember those engines he worked with.

Rusty sighed. “I do miss the Skarloey railway… it’s nice working at the quarry, not having to deal with particular passengers, but I miss getting to roll along the mountains.”

“Mhm. I don’t have much of an issue on Crovan’s gate, but ugh the people can suck. Not to mention when the bigger engines are waiting for you and they get stroppy.” Duncan huffed. “Feeling less sick, ay?

The redheaded engine blinked and then tilted their head to the side. “Yes… do you think it’s the fact I’m used to these rails?”

Duncan thought it over. He was tempted to call Rusty stupid for thinking something like that, but he found himself thinking deeper about it. He hadn’t been back home to Scotland in decades, but he had a good hunch that if he was back on his own lines he’d be able to find his way around with his eyes closed.
“I think…” he started off slow, opening his eyes to look at Rusty.

“I think yer probably right. I mean, I ain’t been home in years but I’d still be able tah find mah way around.” He explained. “It’s familiarity. That’s why our coats are the colour that they are. They’re given or chosen, and we grow so used tah it tha’ any other colour feels wrong.”

Rusty nodded their head before chuckling softly. “I think that’s the best example you’ve ever used.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, a scowl formin on his face face but his eyes held humour. “Oh good. I’ll know not tah use tha’ from now on.”

And he closed his eyes once again, a smirk forming as Rusty gasped and then began to a small humorous rant about Duncan’s behaviour and attitude.

As the train soon pulled up at Glennock station, the group of six exited the carriage and exited the platform, walking down the street of the small area. There were several houses, and a small cafe. It was quant and humble, but so familiar that all the engines felt themselves relax.

“Let’s find us a park.” Sir Handel hummed, looking around the place with his hands on his hips.

Peter Sam rolled his eyes. “Maybe the massive sign saying ‘Glennock Park’ could give us a hint.” And he pointed at the large sign stood before them.

Sir Handel shot him a look. “We could’ve figured it out ourselves.” He huffed.

“You wouldn’t be able to figure out how to pour water from a boot with the instructions written on the bottom.” Duncan grumbled, walking past him with Skarloey and Rheneas stifling a laugh at the insult.

“I think he just ridiculed me.” Sir Handel gasped to Rusty and Peter Sam, following after the three engines. “I think he slandered me.”

The group walked slowly down the path, taking in the nature of old run down field walls, crooked trees, and blooming flowers.
Skarloey smiled softly as he walked ahead with Rheneas, turning to look at his brother. “Spring is always the best time of the year.” He said, noticing several pink flowers blooming.

“Oh really? I happen to think autumn is nicer.” Rheneas replied, looking up at the sky through the trees. “Spring is nice but it makes me feel old. It’s always the new beginning.”

“Suppose that’s why humans apply it with life then.” He sighed. “New beginnings, baby animals, blooming flowers, all that good stuff. It’s so… I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s just unique. It’s so… human.”

“Mhm. Just like we are now. Humans who can’t even figure ourselves out.” Rheneas chuckled softly and shook his head. “God this is a mess. If someone told me a year ago that I’d become human, I’d ask Mr. Percival to remove them immediately.”

Skarloey chuckled in return at that. “I think I’d do the same. It’s weird. We’re just like everyone else now. Just a little speck on this planet.”

The two then chuckling between themselves as Peter Sam and Sir Handel sprinted past them, rushing over to a statue in the middle of the park, the duo rushing towards a statue in the park excitedly.
“Guys it’s the Proteus statue that I found!” Peter Sam said excitedly, looking up at the bronze figure of a railway legend.

“So we can see.” Rheneas laughed, and shaking his head gently. “I remember you finding this statue. I think we were all there for the reveal…”

He smiled proudly and put his hands on his hips. “I should think so! It’s so cool! Proteus must’ve been the most well loved engine ever!”

The others soon gathered around, sitting at the base of the statue and relaxing, letting out soft sighs as the warm sun and gentle breeze brushed their bodies.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a brief moment before Skarloey spoke up, looking at Proteus.

“I’ve always wondered what happened to him.” Skarloey said softly. “They always spoke about how he was so magical and so kind… but to just disappear without a trace…”

“It feels odd doesn’t it? How an engine with so much impact could just disappear.” Rusty added where Skarloey left off, getting a murmur of agreement.

Duncan sighed, crossing his arms. “I dinnae wan’ tah speak ill of tha dead, but why does it matter what happened tah him?” He huffed, getting a small gasp from Sir Handel. “We’re all gonna be dead and buried one day, Proteus just got a head start.”

“Humans, get dead and buried, Duncan. Proteus is an engine. We’re engines.” Skarloey told him with a frown, as if scolding him.

“And? Who’s tah say this freaky shit didn’t happen with Proteus?” Duncan shot back.

Peter Sam looked to the grass, deep green eyes trained on a single small ant that traversed its larger landscape. “I’ve been thinking… what happens after we die?” He asked quietly. “Engines or humans, what happens?”

The others paused at his question as it sank into them. It was a deep question, probably beyond their knowledge of humans. They were engines after all.

“Probably nothing. End up in a ditch. Dead.” Duncan huffed and rolled his eyes. “Nothing else then.”

“Maybe it’s like the idea of engines being melted down to make new engines? Maybe humans die and come back as new humans.” Rheneas suggested, giving them a soft smile.

Sir Handel nodded, moving to hug his knees to his chest. “What if it isn’t? What if we’re all punished by an evil engine for our engine sins?”

Skarloey frowned. “What sins could us as engines possibly do? It’s not like we control what we do-“

“Oh so we’re puppets for the sins!” Duncan said, letting out a laugh.

“I didn’t say that!” He said with a scowl. “If you’ll let me finish, what I was saying was that if we were to be punished for some weird engine sins, there’s nothing bad we’ve done.” He frowned. “As engines, we don’t have a sense of morality, we can’t do anything good or bad as we cannot physically do good or bad.”

Peter Sam just looked more confused and he sighed. “I don’t understand Skarloey…” and he shook his head. “Not knowing what happens makes me scared. As an engine, it doesn’t bother me as one day I’ll be too old to work and then just stuck in a museum… being human must be scary. You grow old and then just… cease…”

“Well maybe humans know what happens after you die.” Rusty hummed, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a supportive smile. “We can always ask.”

None of this made Peter Sam feel any better and he looked even more dejected. “…What if even humans don’t know?”

Silence followed and they sat, unsure of what to say next. What if humans didn’t know? Humans who built things larger than life, traversing the stars and oceans, and yet what if they couldn’t figure out death?

“That’s it. No more talk about death. It’s making us all sad!” And Rheneas stood up, crossing his arms. “I’m going to buy us something to play with so we can all have fun. There’s no point spending this nice all all sad and down. I expect to see you all ready for football! Three Vs Three!”

That earned a loud groan from the group but the mood instantly shifted, getting lighter. “Alright Rheneas, you’ll be captain and I’ll be captain.” Skarloey laughed. “Go get a football and when you’re back we can sort teams.”

Rheneas gave a smile and turned and left, heading back to the shop he saw, leaving the others to discuss who’d they want on their teams, which turned into an argument between Sir Handel and Duncan with Skarloey as the referee.

Rusty rolled their eyes, allowing a ladybird to crawl on their finger and they lifted it up, watching the red bug crawl around slightly. “Maybe the greatest thing about death is its mystery.” They said quietly to Peter Sam, showing him the small creature. “Perhaps it’s best that it stays a secret.”

The bug flew away and Peter Sam watched it disappear before he sighed, giving Rusty a small smile. “Yeah… maybe you’re right Rusty.”

“Maybe it should stay a secret.”

Chapter Text

All was muted within the stark white hospital room, the occasional loud beeps and soft whirs from the many machines filling the silent area, giving it some sort of life.
The dull light above flickered from time to time, throwing the world into darkness for brief moments before illuminating it once more. Movements from outside the room visible through shadows under the door frame, noting how it was still lively outside, despite the dead feeling from within.

The numerous wires protruding from the machinery dragged across the floors and connected to its pale, lifeless, host upon the bed.
His chest rose and fell with each forced bit of oxygen, keeping his broken body alive for now.

A soft groan filled the air, followed by another, and then a rough gasp.

Machines suddenly beeped wildly and flashed angrily, crying out loudly as their host tore away at the wires, yanking them from his arms and chest. The tube down his throat soon being torn out and tossed away, the machines continuing to scream.

The noise was almost too much as their host went collapsing from the bed and onto the solid ground with a hard slap. The door soon opened roughly, the light illuminating the creature upon the floor, the beast looking up at them, his long, oily, black hair cascading down over his face and across his gown covered back and shoulders.

The bright light above soon turned on and the mortal covered his face with an arm, the room going silent as the machines finally went dead. Two soft hands gently held the injured man and gently voice filled the room.

“Hello Mr. Smudger. Let’s get you back onto the bed and sort you out. You’ve made yourself bleed.” Dr. Ramesh said softly, two nurses bringing in a hoist and sling to help the injured train back into bed.

Smudger slowly blinked, moving his arm from his face and looking at the taller and stronger man before him, taking in his features. His smooth head, deep skin, warm eyes and wide nose, his smiling lips. It made something curl with disgust inside Smudger.

It was too human. Too friendly.

Too full of life.

Smudger had grown to despise that.

“Wh… where?” He spat out, slurring his words as Dr. Ramesh moved away, the nurses laying Smudger gently on his back and onto the sling, the hoist lifting him up and back onto the bed.

“You’re at Knapford Hospital, Mr. Smudger. You had quite a nasty accident.” He hummed softly, not wanting to talk too loud and spook the engine turned human.

“I’m Dr. Ramesh. I’m in charge of looking after you and taking care of you.” He said with a small smile.

Smudger was sat up in the bed - the in-situ sling left under him - against the pillows, his hand moving up awkwardly to move the hair from his face. His movements were slow and janky, the man trying to regain proper movement again.

“Ah, that too will come back in time. With extra care and lots of physiotherapy you’ll be back to full health in no time.” The doctor smiled at Smudger, sitting on a chair nearby.

Smudger watched him intensely, eyes following the man. “Wh… What do you need?” He grumbled out slowly, tone accusatory.

He gave Smudger a sad smile. “Just to make sure you’re okay. Your hand is bleeding from where you yanked the IV drip out. May I bandage it up?” He asked him.

He paused and then stared down at his hand, noting the red liquid running out of the small hole and across his pale skin. It was wrong.
“What is that?” He asked Dr. Ramesh quietly, his eyes unable to look away from it.

“Ah, that’s blood, Mr. Smudger. Humans have blood.” Dr. Ramesh explained softly.

“But I’m not human.”

A pause.

“Well, you are now.”

Smudger blinked. “Oh…” he mumbled, turning his attention back to the doctor. “What does… blood do?”

“It keeps us humans alive, Mr. Smudger.” Dr. Ramesh chuckled, moving to grab his hand, cleaning the wound gently and applying a small bandage. “There. Hopefully the bleeding will stop soon.”

“Mhm.” Smudger hummed, moving to look at his hand again, the white bandage sitting on his skin. It felt weird.

An awkward silence filled the room. Awkward on Smudger’s part, and simply quiet on Dr. Ramesh’s part.

The doctor broke it first, giving Smudger another kind smile. “Now, I need to make some calls, dinner will be served shortly. Is there anything you’d prefer?”

He shrugged at the question, staying quiet as his mind filled with many many thoughts and questions and demands.
It was too weird being human. He felt wrong, sick almost. As if his firebox was all twisted.

… or at least whatever a firebox was on a human…

The room went quiet as he was left alone to stew in his mind, the questions soon turning to a mix as he became dull, eyes hazy as he stared down at his bandaged hand.

—————

Dr. Ramesh said nothing as he lead Mr. Percival down the many hallways of the hospital, going to the now secluded wing that was for the human engines.
Nurses and doctors rushed passed them with files and folders, giving and receiving orders as they tried to get everything under control.

“You are too nervous.” Dr. Ramesh chuckled softly, looking to Peregrine Percival as they walked. “You need to relax. It has been several hours and Mr. Smudger is still awake and fine and is even speaking.”

Mr. Percival grimaced slightly. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” He said softly. “What if Smudger hates me? It’s my fault he’s been left there for so long. I could’ve helped him! Restored him! I’m a failure of a railway owner…”

“You are a good railway owner, Mr. Percival. You coming to the hospital every day to get updates on Mr. Smudger shows that. You love your engines, even if they do not belong to you.” He said firmly, stopping in the private hospital wing to place a hand on his shoulder. “Do not give up hope yet, you and Mr. Smudger can come to an understanding of sorts. It’ll be tough, and he will be angry, but he will be angry at the world and more so at himself. Do not worry.”

“But all I can do is worry. First our engines become human, then mystery injuries appear, like that man who’s face was all smashed in, and now some of Sir Topham Hatt’s engines are becoming ill! Just yesterday you said Henry was going to undergo surgery.” Mr. Percival mumbled.

“It is a scary time, but you must remain strong, for you and your engines.” And Dr. Ramesh let go of Mr. Percival’s shoulder, moving to knock on the door. “Mr. Smudger, it is Dr. Ramesh, I have a guest with me.” He said loudly, opening the door.

Smudger sat upright on the bed, the IV drip back in and the wire pads reattached to his chest. His hands grasping a Rubik’s Cube as he fiddled with it. He looked up from the cube, hands lowering it to place it on his lap. He didn’t say anything, eyeing Mr. Percival with suspicion and slight fear.

“This is my good friend. He’s a railway owner and he’s here to talk to you.” And he left, leaving the two alone in the awkwardly silently room.

Mr. Percival moved to sit in the chair, eyes to the floor as Smudger watched him cautiously. He wasn’t sure what to say or where to even begin. What can you say to someone who you were meant to look after and failed at doing so?
The silence persisted more than what was comfortable, turning the awkward air into something worse.

“Who are you, exactly?”

Smudger asked Mr. Percival, the silence broken by him. Was this someone he knew? No it couldn’t be. Smudger wasn’t introduced to many humans.
A new thought made him tense up. Dr. Ramesh said that he was a railway owner… was this his old railway owner?

Mr. Percival raised his head and gave a weak smile. “I’m Mr. Peregrine Percival. I own the Skarloey railway and all the other abandoned connected pieces.”

“So you aren’t Director Johnson? Th-The one in charge of the Mid Sodor Railway?”

“Smudger, it’s been over 60 years since then, Director William ‘Leeway’ Johnson is buried at Arlesburgh cemetery.” Mr. Percival said softly.

“Oh…” he mumbled lamely, unsure of what to say next to the man. What was there to say?

Peregrine frowned once more to the engine, soon clearing his throat slightly. “Smudger there’s, uh, there’s also no more ‘Mid Sodor Railway’ either. It’s been closed down since 1947. The lines abandoned. The only thing similar is the Skarloey Railway which still runs.”

Smudger scowled at that, body trembling. “Is-Is my body still there? At that blasted shed?”

“Apparently so, from what we can gather. We’re making plans to traverse there and begin digging, however, the old tracks make it difficult to bring supplies up.” Peregrine answered honestly. “We have someone with an old map and old photos mapping out where everything should be.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Should be? What do you mean ‘should be’?”

He frowned. “Multiple landslides hit the area hard, especially in 1966 where half the mountain came crashed down due to harsh weather conditions. There’s no sheds there anymore, simply hills and grass.”

“I see…”

“Smudger, I didn’t mean-“

“I don’t want yer damn pity!” Smudger snapped, scowling at the man before turning away quickly, staring to the floor. “Can yer do one thing for me, sir?”

Peregrine frowned, hands clasped on his lap. “Of course, Smudger.”

Smudger trembled, eyes shifting to the hospital sheets as he glared at them, hands grasping the soft fabric. “Once you find my body… if-if you can’t fix me up, just scrap me.”

“Smudger-“

“Just scrap me damnit! I don’t want to live a life without wheels! I can’t go through that again!” He cried angrily, eyes filling with tears. His hands moved up to quickly rub and claw at his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears.

The room soon went quiet once more, the only noises were the hustle and bustle outside the room and Smudger’s laboured breathing. Mr. Percival sat quietly, letting the engine lead the conversation. Although Smudger didn’t raise his head again, the long black hair falling around him and his hands obscuring his face, Mr. Percival knew that Smudger was crying from the way his shoulders shook.

“Just promise me, sir, promise that you’ll scrap my worthless body… just promise me this one thing…”

“…I promise, Smudger.”

Chapter Text

The air was cold as the small cloaked group descended upon the scrapyard, the yellow glow from the light poles running across their burgundy capes.
The dark clouds whirled over Sodor as the winds blew, their footsteps quiet across the ballast that littered the floor. Aside from their silent footsteps and soft breathing, It was eerily quiet, the silence broken by the occasional squeaking of metal as old objects moved and rats scurried across them.
They were the only ones here, after all, many abandoned scrapyards littered Sodor.

And many items lay in these scrapyards.

However, They were looking for one specific thing though.

They were in search of an engine, any engine would do. Originally, they had eyes on a very specific tank engine, but plans fell through, they couldn’t find his frame.

No frame meant no plans.

The one in front of the group soon stopped and raised their hand, the many others coming to a stop as well.
Before them - singled out on the ballast and looking worse for wear - sat a small tank engine, the engine was rusted and old, its eyes closed as it slept peacefully on its own grave.

Whatever colour it was once painted no longer mattered, the years of disuse and neglect battered it down to a horrid brown-orange rust colour, holes beginning to litter its body.
Although rusted and damaged and old, it was still alive to serve its purpose.

And that’s all it needed to be.

The cloaked leader turned to their group. “Get started immediately. I fear the weather will turn if we don’t start it now!” They whispered, ushering the group to begin.

They wasted no time, using spray paints to colour the ballast around the train, drawing large circles and small symbols with the paint.
The constant sounds of shaking and spraying and the sounds of crunching ballast awoke the sleeping engine. It’s eyes blinked slowly, regaining focus before staring in confusion and worry, watching as the people worked on their symbols and writings.

The leader stepped forward towards the engine, arms open as a smile formed on their face, eyes hidden by the hood. “Greetings, my mechanical lamb.” They said, their voice aloof as they studied the pile of sentient rust before them.

The engine glared at them warily, a frown soon forming on its face. “What do you want?” They asked, voice hoarse from disuse yet filled with distrust.

“You have been selected to help me, the Chosen One, in my quest to become that of a divine entity!” And they took a step forward. “I only wish that you could stick around to see my ascension to Godhood, as you witness I, the Chosen One, High Ruler Ichor become a God!”

“What a load of rubbish.” The engine grumbled, eyeing the humans as they finished their work, moving to stand behind their leader.

It was soon quiet, the creaking of metal and the soft breathing of humans and the engine filled the silence.

There was a sense of dread in the air.

The human moved first, standing to the side and grinning. “Failure to cooperate will come at a high price to you.” And they gestured their hand forward, two of their followers stepping forward, one with a blow torch, and the other holding the metal barrel of butane gas.

Ichor grinned at the fear on the engines face. “I just need you to beg to your goddess, I know you believe in her, just beg to be human and we won’t have to hurt you too much.”

“I… I’m not…” the engine stuttered, eyes wide as they stared in horror at the device.

The blow torch turned on and the people approached the engine’s face, the flame getting close enough to begin to heat the metal. The engine clenched their eyes shut, beginning to whimper softly. “Please…”

“Start begging.” The leader grit out.

The engine did as told.

“D-Dear Lady, Goddess of Sodor and bringer of Life! H-Hear my cries and pleas!” They started, eyes still closed as the flame remained on them. “I come to you as an engine close to death, please, release me from my metal cage and turn me human! Make me human! Please!”

They cried, the blow torch singeing their grey face just slightly before it was slowly moved away. They opened one of their eyes nervously, eyeing the humans as they slowly backed away.

The air was quiet once again, the engine simply whimpering quietly as the scrap metal around them creaked and groaned.
Soon a gush of wind blew through, knocking the engine’s frame and billowing the group’s cloaks. The wind grew stronger, rattling hanging chains and knocking over metal.
The group grew nervous and frightful as the sound of a high pitch whistle flowed with the wind and the smell of smoke followed after. Ichor merely grinned wider, their excitement visible as they raised their arms hands out towards the sky.

The wind soon took on a gold hue, beginning to wrap around and surround the engine - a few of the group gasping in fear and shock as they stepped back - the gold glow looking like moving sand, sparkling and glimmering.
The whistling got louder and became ear piercing, echoing around and shaking the metal around them, the ballast at their feet being blown away.

(A good Lady always respected an engine’s final wish.)

With a final whistle, the gold dust shimmered out, leaving behind a metal husk. On the cab sat the stunned engine, the now male human raising his new hands to stare at them in horror, shaking as he turned them to look at the back of his hands. His head rose slowly to look at the leader of the group, his doe brown eyes widening in fear

“What have you done to me?” He whispered in horror, dread soon filling his stomach as Ichor approached them.

“What had to be done, my sacrificial lamb.” Ichor crooned at them, grabbing his hair roughly and pulling him to his feet, ignoring his cries of pain. “Now! A sacrifice worthy for our plans!” They cried, the group cheering as a jewel encrusted dagger was handed to them.

“With this knife, I shall spill the blood, and with this body, I grant thine eternal life.”

And with that, the blade sliced through his neck like it was butter, splattering bright red blood across the grey ballast and down their naked torso. He let out a guttural gasp, unable to breathe as their blood spilt from their fresh wound.
He gasped and spluttered, mouth opening and closing, and his eyes soon glazing over as his life drained.

“Begin the chants.” Ichor ordered, dropping the dying man to the ground as the group left the summoning circle, gathering around at the symbols they drew, placing their palms against the circle’s edge and beginning to speak in hushed Latin.

The circle turned from white to gold and started to glow, Ichor turning their attention on the slowly dying man as he made several pained gurgling sounds, his brown eyes trained upon them.
As he took his final shuddering breath, the glowing stopped, and the heavens began to cry.

“Let’s go, before we get caught.” They said to their followers, the light rain beginning to soak their clothes. They turned and began to walk away as the group scurried away from the circle and corpse, following Ichor out of the scrapyard and into the night once more, the horrible scene behind them left untouched.

For the crime scene would be undiscovered for weeks yet, after all, no soul ventured out to these parts, only the brave warriors do.