Chapter Text
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you smile like that, Duncan," Rusty grinned as a tiny kitten—with her mother's permission, of course, and under the fastidiously watchful eye of a workman—was placed on his bufferbeam.
"Oh, shove it," Duncan retorted, but there was no heat to his words, which were undercut even more by the lopsided grin on his face as he looked down at the little lioness mewling up at him.
This adorable girl had been named Poll, and she was about two weeks old. Her mother, Wick, had wandered near the sheds one rainy night, pregnant and starving, her steps so weak despite her heavy burden. She'd come in soon after the last train had finished, and the moment they saw her, the Skarloey Railway staff had unanimously decided to offer her a home. As such, Sir Handel, who had just finished his run, had been set up with a makeshift bed in his cab so that she could enjoy the warmth of his firebox and the promise of safety that a more confined space offered. Sir Handel, contrarian that he was, had protested the treatment for all of 10 minutes before Wick had mewled at him so pitifully that even he could offer up no further protest.
Now, a full month later, Wick had been immunized and properly fed, as well as given a proper bed and perch. Beneath her watchful eye, five little kittens, all in good health, were now carefully exploring the sheds, as well as acquainting themselves with their noisy metal neighbors. Poll was the oldest, followed by Glas and Hawin, who were twins, and then Foss, with the youngest being Faarkey. All of these new feline neighbors seemed quite pleased with their larger shedmates, and the reverse was also true... at least, for the most part.
"Please don't," Rheneas murmured wearily as Nathan, his fireman, held out Glas, clearly intending to place him on the engine's bufferbeam. "I don't want any of these cats near me."
Out of all of the engines on the Skarloey Railway, the one most opposed to Wick and her kittens sticking around had been Rheneas. Back when it had only been Wick, he had strongly pushed for her to be adopted at the earliest opportunity, but had been swiftly overruled. When the kittens had arrived, Rheneas had once again urged them all to give them up for adoption, but as that wouldn't be viable for another 12 weeks, he had simply insisted that they not be allowed near him and refused to engage with or even acknowledge them. Thus, it wasn't too surprising that his fireman's attempt at letting one climb all over him, as good-natured as the gesture was, had been met with firm refusal.
"Really?" Nathan questioned, surprise written all over his face, but he obligingly passed off Glas to Sir Handel's firewoman, who then placed him on her engine's running board. "I wouldn't have guessed that you didn't like cats, Rheneas."
"Neither would I," came his driver's voice, although his tone was more hesitant, a thoughtful softness to it. "After all, I've seen the pictures; we have some photos dating back to the 1890s of you and Skarloey with cats."
"That's right!" Skarloey chimed in, gaze soft and staring toward his younger self. "If I remember correctly, over the years, we've had Jerome, Tuppence, Sylvia, Morrigan, Danforth, Eliza, Trinity, Piper—"
"Enough," Rheneas abruptly cut in, his voice almost a growl, and his brother immediately buttoned his lip, somewhat taken aback by the venom directed his way. "This conversation is over. I'm taking the first train out, so please get me ready."
With how flat Rheneas' voice was, nobody was quite willing to reopen the conversation. Instead, their eyes did the talking for them, especially the concern in Skarloey's gaze as he stared unwaveringly at his brother. Rheneas, on the other hand, stared steadfastly ahead, obviously more than willing to ignore what it was that his brother was saying. Soon enough, as the cats were returned to their mother and the cleaner keeping an eye out to make sure they didn't escape, each of the engines were steamed up and sent out, off to start their day in uncharacteristic silence.
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Rheneas would certainly have preferred to let the entire matter drop, but alas, he and Skarloey were set to double-head the 4:30 PM train, which meant that he would have nowhere to escape the question that was sure to be on his brother's mind. True to his expectations, that very question was the first on his brother's lips, the moment he'd been coupled up behind him: "So, Rheneas, what was all of that this morning?"
The leading engine let out a deep, deep sigh, part of him wanting to ignore or deflect the question, but also knowing that there was no point to doing so. His brother had an unfortunate way of being incredibly patient when it came to getting the information he wanted out of others, and he would get it eventually, so there was no real point in hiding it.
Thus, Rheneas instead tried to figure out how to formulate his thoughts in a way that made sense. "It's not that I don't like cats anymore," he began, "but I—"
Peeeep! The guard's whistle let out a shrill shriek, and Rheneas couldn't help but make a small noise of relief. "I'll tell you later. Let's go."
The train soon departed, three of the coaches following easily along, and the two engines made their way out into their beloved valley. It was another beautiful day, warm and inviting, and yet Rheneas felt himself shivering slightly despite the warmth of his flame. Behind him, Skarloey was quiet, but the silence between them felt more anticipatory than companionable, the other engine clearly watching and waiting for when his brother would finally crack.
Unfortunately, it had been proven time and again that playing the waiting game until Rheneas could take it no longer really was the most effective way to get him to actually talk about and work through his feelings. Thus, Skarloey, damnably loving brother that he was, who cared for him as genuinely and completely as he did, would continue to do so.
Once they'd passed Cros-ny-Cuirn, Rheneas finally took a deep breath. Now that they were on this part of the line, with no interruptions forthcoming for quite some time, he could stall no longer. "I... how well do you remember Piper?"
"Quite well," Skarloey replied, his tone light. "She was supposed to be the Crovan's Gate stationmaster's cat, but she was unquestionably yours. She loved rubbing her face on your cheek, and your cab was her favorite place to sleep, right by your firebox."
"Right... well, do you remember the day... when..."
He couldn't bring himself to say it, but fortunately, he didn't have to. "I do," Skarloey solemnly replied. "But there was nothing to be done. She had been sick for quite some time, and there weren't any treatments for that sort of condition back then."
"I know," Rheneas whimpered, his misery palpable. "But still, I... all of those cats were wonderful in their own ways. And yet, here I am, after all this time, having to watch them go. People are like that too, of course, but they live far longer than cats. I just..."
With another shuddering breath, Rheneas briefly closed his eyes and willed himself not to let go of the tears that were so very close to falling. "You remember them for how they lived; I can't help but remember them as they died. How many cats have I allowed into my life, only to have to watch them live out their last moments curled up on my bufferbeam? I... I'm so tired of it, Skarloey. I don't want to grow attached to another cat, only to watch them die all over again. And I don't want to get to know Poll, or Glas, or Foss, and have them choose me as their favorite, and trick me into loving them, only for me to outlive yet another wonderful friend. Well, no more. I don't want to. I'm done."
There was a long silence that followed in the wake of his words, before Skarloey finally spoke, his voice soft with understanding. "I understand, Rheneas. It's always hard to lose our friends, especially the ones that have come to mean so much to us." The knowing echo of heartfelt scars contained in his voice was immediately recognizable. "If that's how you feel, then I'll bring it up with the others. After all, a railway is not exactly an ideal place for cats to live."
"Precisely. Thank you."
"That said... it's also been decades since you've had a cat. To me, it sounds more like you're telling yourself why you shouldn't want to bond with one rather than genuinely not wanting to."
"...Tsk."
Damn it. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Rheneas could only curse his brother's perceptive nature. "Maybe, but so what? You said it yourself; a railway is no place for a cat to live."
"No, but we have friends who'd love to have these cats around, I'm sure. Then you'd still get to see them once in a while, and they would be in good hands. How does that sound?"
"Oh, like Piper? Piper, who—and you said it yourself, mind you—was most certainly my cat despite belonging to the stationmaster? Piper, who always liked me best and tried no less than three times to eat my coal?"
Oh no, now he was smiling, and he was quite sure that Skarloey could hear it, given the teasing tone of his reply: "Why, yes, that Piper! The 'little black rascal,' as we called her! The very same!"
"Haaah... she... she really was a good cat," Rheneas replied, swallowing down the tears from earlier. "I... don't think I realized how much I still miss her."
"Well, there's still time," his older brother soothed. "These kittens can't be away from their mother for another few months. If you're still set on letting them go, then we can arrange that. I'm sure there will be plenty of people willing to take them in. And if you change your mind, then that's fine too. Besides, there's no guarantee that any of them will bond with you; remember Danforth? He didn't like anybody."
"HAHAHAHA! That's true!" Rheneas laughed, startling himself with the memory of the hermit-like gray tomcat. "That's true..."
For a few moments, Rheneas let himself bask in the glow of memories, of warm days with furry friends long past, before giving another small sigh. "Well, I suppose you're right. I don't have to make the decision now, and running away from it is no way to conduct myself. But... I still think that I'd like to keep my distance from them for now."
"Perfectly understandable," Skarloey smiled behind him. "We'll take our time and see what happens. In the end, all we can do is enjoy the time we have while we have it."
Rheneas said nothing, but pondered his brother's statement as the familiar fields of Glennock finally came into view. It was true that while he had a tendency to remember their passing first and foremost, he had also spent many years with each of the Skarloey Railway's cats, and made memories with them all. Jerome, whose favorite food was freshly caught fish brought up from Kirk Ronan; Tuppence, who loved nothing more than getting herself filthy by playing near the coal piles; Sylvia, who despite her size, always picked fights with the controller's dog; Morrigan, who had always been the best mouser among them; Danforth, who was as much of a hermit as esteemed St. Machan himself; Eliza, who made friends everywhere she went thanks to her sweet voice and social nature; Trinity, who always accompanied the Sunday church service and seemed to be the Father's best listener; and Piper, his eternal favorite, the little black rascal who couldn't go a day without causing some kind of mischief.
As the two pulled into Glennock and allowed the passengers to board, Rheneas could only smile at the thought of all of the cats he'd had the pleasure of meeting, his heart holding love and longing for each and every one of them.
"Enjoy the time we have while we have it," he murmured, loud enough for only Skarloey to hear the tenderness in his voice. "I suppose you're right about that too."