i art and write :D

~

Edward was heading back to Maron after he had nearly veered off the Main Line again, this time at East Maron Junction until the signalman there stopped him. Afraid that it would happen again, he, along with his crew, decided it was best to go back to Maron and see if he could find another engine on his way there or at the station. He headed down to the next station, Cronk, and used the turntable so he could be turned around before heading back.

Finding an engine on the way back was easier than actually getting the help he needed.

Leaving Cronk, engines big and small stormed by with goods trains and passenger trains. As they did, he felt nervous and overwhelmed, not used to engines storming by. He tried asking or grabbing their attention but they seemed far too busy, ignoring his pleas for directions. Just a few moments ago, a grand green tender engine stormed by with a long train of goods with no time to waste.

"M-Maybe I can find James again," he piped up. And as he got closer to East Maron Junction, his eyes perked up. James was rapidly approaching him, coming from the south track that traveled up and over Gordon's Hill.

"James! I-!"

"I'm busy!" hollered the red medium-sized tender engine as he stormed by without slowing down.

"But I jist wantit tae ask-!" Edward sighed as he heard the chuffing quickly subside. "... nevermind," he murmured. His crew patted his cab to console him as they continued their journey to Maron.

When they arrived, Edward came across a set of five honey-yellow coaches sitting on a siding at the station. He stopped, immediately recognizing them.

"James' coaches," he muttered to himself, unaware of who they actually belonged to. "He…" Edward slowly approached the siding. "...abandonit his job?"

"I'm afraid so."

The other red medium-sized tender engine froze. "W-Who?"

"Us, darling! The coaches."

Edward quickly got closer and finally, the face of the first coach came into view. "Och!" he piped up, blushing with embarrassment. "I'm s-sae sorry! I couldnae see you!"

"Ah, very well," said the first coach. "Don't worry, dear."

A quick, soft hum of happiness slipped from him. "Why ur ye all there? Oan a sidin’? Where's James?"

"That red engine canceled our trip and rushed away!" huffed the brake coach.

"I just saw him," said Edward. “W-Why wis he rushin’?”

“We don’t know!” they all exclaimed.

Just then, Edward had an idea.

~

It's been a week since Glynn disappeared, along with the numbers across James' face. No official word had been made about the coffee pot. The other engines quickly found out about the old red coffeepot's sudden disappearance the day it happened. The realization hit them hard, whether they showed it or not.

Yet Sir Topham Hatt II didn't say anything. None of the other engines asked. James was afraid to ask. Afraid to hear the possibility that Glynn was scrapped.

His red paintwork was dull and there were many chips missings and scratches on it, recalled James. Those must've been signs that he was going to be scrapped.

"James!"

It was a nice color he had. I've never seen a red engine before! Well, not as red as Glynn. Those other red engines were much duller-

"James!" hollered Clarabel once again.

James snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"The station!" exclaimed Annie.

"Stop!" the sister auburn coaches exclaimed.

James looked ahead and gasped. He snapped his brakes on and screeched to a stop. Annie and Clarabel bumped into each other harshly, buffers banging into one another and against James when he stopped at the station. He overshot the platform by a few centimeters, but that was the least of his worries.

Complaints were muttered and exclaimed as the passengers got off the train.

"What is this nonsense?" exclaimed a small woman. James winced. She was so small yet extremely frightening.

"That other engine was much more responsible!" yelled a tall woman. "Bring that one back!"

James down at his buffer beams, holding back any noise. But he can't be.

"This is such a simple job," said a gentleman sternly. "Does this thing not pay attention?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," replied the small woman. "Look at its eyes."

James froze. His eyes went wide open. He quickly looked away, trying to hide them.

"With eyes like that, it's probably blind," muttered the small woman bluntly. She gave James a quick look down before leaving.

Annie and Clarabel were cross. Sure James should've been paying attention but that was uncalled for. The small woman had crossed the line.

"Don't listen to them, James," said Annie in a comforting tone as passengers left and boarded.

"It was an accident," reassured Clarabel. "You're getting better at it! Right, Annie?"

"He is, Clarabel!" replied Annie.

But they didn't get a response.

"James?" they asked worriedly.

"Hm?" James replied. "Oh, sorry. You were saying?"

"Did you not hear what we said?" asked Clarabel.

"Is something the matter?" asked Annie.

"No! Nothing's wrong!" he exclaimed a bit too quickly.

The sister auburn coaches hummed, unconvinced.

"Alright then," said Annie.

"Let's continue now!" said Clarabel enthusiastically.

Right as Clarabel finished, the guard blew his whistle and James was off, down the Ffarquhar Branch Line. The branch that once belonged to Glynn.

James had been ecstatic when he was first told he would work on the line. It was only for trial but it was still something to be excited about. He was able to pull passenger trains, something so unheard of for a goods engine.

Now, he wasn't so sure. He was still trying to time his stops correctly, almost getting them right quickly. James would either overshoot or undershoot the station. Thankfully, the station masters had been kind and understanding.

He wished the passengers were as well.

"The passengers," he mumbled.

"What about the passengers?" piped up his driver, Fred Quill, nonchalantly.

"Nothing, Mr. Quill!" exclaimed James. "I didn't say anything!"

Fred hummed. "If you say so, chap," he said, patting James' cab. "If you want to talk, just let us know."

James didn't reply.

…

"What's gotten into you, chap?" asked Fred. "You've been quieter than usual."

James and his crew had arrived at Tidmouth Yards just a few minutes ago for a rest. The morning rush hour was over, much to their relief. Fred had climbed out of James' cab with George and walked to James' front buffer beam to confront the engine. They were concerned for their engine.

"Than usual?" asked James. He became tense, feeling the metal pipes heat up but stiffen. His boiler felt dry as the moisture vaporized quickly. "I-I just don't know Annie and Clarabel that well, that's all."

"You can't hide it, James," said Fred. "Is this about what they said?"

James' frame was slightly shaking. He popped his smokebox door open and away from his crew. "About what?"

"You know what I'm referring to."

George approached James and patted the engine's black running board, slightly flinching at its searing hot heat from the sun. It was only the near end of spring. "Don't mind those passengers, James. They'll say anything to get under your skin." He paused looking at James quizzically. "Well, paint but you get the idea."

"I know, I know," mumbled James with a pout. "But what if that lady was right? What if there is something wrong with my eyesight? What if-?"

"Calm down, James! Calm down!" exclaimed George, patting James' running board once again.

Fred rushed forward, climbed onto their engine's running board from the steps on James' left side, between the first and second set of driving wheels, and carefully walked towards James' smokebox. He petted James' smokebox. "Easy there, chap. There's nothing wrong with you."

"How do you know?" he exclaimed. His voice croaked and broke. He was ready to burst right then and there.

But then a high-pitched whistle rang nearby. It startled James, making him nearly shake off his driver. Fred held onto James' handrails for dear life.

"Oh, hey, it's Edward!" exclaimed George. He pointed in the direction of where the whistle and sounds of steam being chuffed were coming from. "Why don't you hang out with him?"

James suddenly puffed up. "I'm not a child! I'm an engine!"

"There he is," joked his driver. "But no, seriously, go talk to him. You know him the most, don't you?"

"I do," replied James. He hummed. "I haven't been able to talk to him in a while either."

"It's settled, then." Fred patted James' smokebox before carefully trudging off the black medium-sized tender engine. "We'll be on our break. See you later!"

"See you later!" exclaimed James as his crew walked away and towards the workroom. Right as they left, Edward was there, in front of him on the next track over.

"Hello, James!" greeted Edward. "How ur ye doin?"

James' mood dropped. "Decent," he muttered and looked down at his running board.

Edward peered at the black medium-sized tender engine. "Whit's the matter?" he asked. "Did somethin' happen?"

James gave a long hum in response. He wanted to tell Edward but he wasn't sure. Can I really trust him? he thought. I know him the most though. He looked up to meet Edward's concerned face and straight into his eyes.

Maybe I can trust him.

"James?" asked the blue medium-sized tender engine. James had stayed quiet and was only looking around. It concerned him even more.

With a heavy sigh, James began. "I've been having trouble stopping at stations properly. I keep overshooting or undershooting them."

Edward only hummed. A sign telling James to continue.

Thankfully, James picked up on it. "The passengers have been complaining about it which I don't blame them but…" He took a deep breath to calm down and soothe the tension in his pipes. "One of them said something," he continued, only for his voice to croak and crack. Not again. His frame felt tense so suddenly as his eyes burned from the boiling water and hot steam.

The other engine was about to interfere when James spoke up, with a bit of sniffling here and there.

"Something about my eyes," said James. But then he froze, staring at his black running board in a confused realization. "None of you have said anything about them."

"Whit dae ye mean?" asked Edward.

"The color! How mismatched they are!" James suddenly exclaimed, catching the attention of the yardmen in the area. "They're so… weird! Don't they bother you?"

The blue medium-sized tender engine was stunned. He was speechless at the sudden burst of his friend.

"Well?" James exclaimed again, raising his voice in desperation. "They're horrible, aren't they? I probably overshot those platforms because of poor eyesight!"

"Poor eyesicht?" Edward hummed before flipping his smokebox door open to his right. He squinted, spotting a labeled truck far away. "Ye see thon truck over there? The brown ane wit’ white letterin' near thon building?"

Though he was confused, and slightly offended by the sudden shift of the conversation, James flipped his smokebox door open to his left and quickly found the truck.

"Whit does it say?" asked Edward once James saw what he was looking at.

"South Sodor Grain Mill," James read at his normal pace. He looked quizzically at his friend as he closed his smokebox door. "Why did you want me to read it?"

"I cannae read thon," Edward said bluntly. He shut his smokebox door. "Yer eyesicht is perfectly fine," he noted with a small warm smile.

"But my eyes-!"

"There's nothin' wrong wit’ yer eyes," Edward interrupted.

Confused, James shook. "But they're ugly! It makes me a freak-!"

"I think they're very pretty," said Edward rather bluntly, still smiling.

James froze.

A compliment…?

That was new.

"R-Really?" stammered James as his face burned.

"Mhm," hummed Edward. "Ane is rich brown and the other is lush green. Like a tree! Ye remember the woods we first passit by oan the day ye got here?"

He definitely remembered them. To Edward's credit, the plants in those woods were pretty lush and rich. He hadn't seen an area so green before. A very quiet place with peaceful scenery, in his own opinion.

But are his eyes really as pretty as the woods?

"Ye should be proud o' ‘em," continued Edward. "I have never seen an engine wit’ heterochromatic eyes before. I've seen very few people wit’ ‘em but never an engine. Until ye, that is." Soft laughter took over Edward's voice.

Hold on. "People have eyes like mine?"

"Aye, some people dae, but it's very rare. I've only seen…" Edward hummed, thinking. "Two or three people wit’ ‘em, and they dinnae come here often."

"So it's… unique?"

"Mhm," he hummed again. Seemed like something Edward did often. "It's okay tae be the same like everyane else, and it's okay tae be different frae everyane else."

The phrase struck him. "Is it?"

"Of course!" Edward replied. "Gordon and Henry ur prototypes o' the same class but they're quite different frae ane another. Henry wis basit oan rejectit plans thon were stolen from Sir Gresley, and Gordon wis basit oan the final plans o' the same man, built under his supervision, o' course."

The black medium-sized tender was shocked. He gasped and exclaimed, "Like those big Pacifics in the LNER?"

"Aye! And then there's Emily. She comes frae the Great Northern Railway, and she's the only engine wit' two drivers oan this railway."

"I've heard of the preserved…" He knew the wheel configuration had a name but he didn't know what the name was.

Thankfully, Edward caught on. "GNR Stirling Single."

"Right. Thanks. I've only heard of her, but I didn't know another one had survived." James squinted his eyes as he looked down at his running board. "Emily doesn't look like that preserved engine, though."

"Thon's because she's an A3 Stirling Single, no' an A1 Stirling Single. She wis part o' the eighteen-ninety-four series, built in eighteen-ninety-five." Edward hummed. "I think March wis her build month. No' too sure, though."

"Eighteen-ninety-five?" exclaimed James. "Oh, wow, she's old!"

"Sh!" Edward shushed James hastily. "Dinnae let her hear ye say thon. She'll tell ye thon her sister is much older."

"And when was she built?"

"Eighteen-seventy."

"That class has seen some things…" was all James could say. Eighteen-seventy? he thought. That engine is half a century old at this point!

The blue medium-sized tender engine chuckled. "They certainly have. No', where wis I?" He hummed for a bit, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "Richt! There's Emily, and then there's Glynn. He's an ane o' a kind design and the only ane left frae one o' the North Westerns predecessors." Edward glanced at James. "I have a feelin' he's told ye whit railway he came frae, richt?"

James didn't reply. His face of curiosity was shadowed by one of sorrow and bitterness.

"James?"

The engine in question was pondering at the mention of Glynn. Maybe Edward knows what happened to the coffee pot, he figured.

"James?" asked Edward again, concerned.

"Edward," began James in a bland tone. Or what would've been if his voice wasn't naturally brash. His heterochromatic eyes looked up at Edward. "What happened to Glynn?"

"Glynn?" replied Edward, noting the confusion in James' eyes.

"Yes, him."

"I…" Edward frowned, and his gray face crumpled. "I dinnae ken whit happenit tae him."

"You don't?"

"Naw, I'm…" Edward suddenly cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I wish I ken. If I did, I wid tell ye."

"Has the Fat Director even said anything?"

"Nawthin."

"...Do you think he's hiding something?"

"Pardon?"

"You think the Fat Director's hiding something?"

"Ah, I dinnae ken."

"But he's the director! He has to know what happened to Glynn!" James grew restless.

"Well-"

"Get a move on, Edward!" someone suddenly hollered.

Both engines flung their smokebox doors open to see Henry.

"You're blocking my way! I need to get to that goods train over there."

"Sorry, Henry!" Edward replied hastily. With a swift jerk of his smokebox door, he closed it and quickly moved forward. "Talk tae ye later, James!" he said hastily as he rushed away with a double whistle.

Henry huffed, shot a glare at James, and went on his way.

The black medium-sized tender engine watched the grand green tender engine, still wary of him. Once Henry was gone, James was left by himself to ponder on Glynn's whereabouts once again.

…

"Do you think he's hiding something?"

James felt his driver shuffle his feet on the wooden flooring of his cab. "What?"

"Do you think the Fat Director is hiding something?"

His pistons were pumping loudly, spewing out clouds of steam. Yet, the black medium-sized tender engine managed to catch his driver's hums.

"Maybe," he finally replied after some time.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe, because I don't know what you mean. Why are you asking this?"

"Glynn. Do you think he's hiding Glynn?"

"It's…" Fred paused for a few seconds. "...entirely possible, chap."

"But why?"

"He might be hiding Glynn from the board."

"O-Oh." His fire felt like it had gone out for a split second. "You think…?"

"Well, Glynn could have very well been… scrapped, James."

The silence joined the conversation, uninvited. It was so quiet that the sound of the couplings clanking against one another as he cruised down the Main Line was louder than his pistons.

"...How much is the Fat Director hiding?" asked James bitterly. 

"I don't know, James," replied Fred. "I really don't know."

"Does the Fat Director think I'm not capable l?" he asked, raising his voice.

"What are you on about-?"

"How come I was put to work in the yards first when I arrived?"

The silence interfered.

Fred stood still for a moment before shifting around and bringing his attention back to James' gauges. His engine had a point.

"Maybe…" He tried to muster up a logical response. "Maybe it's how they run things here. Edward's a four-leader, four-driver tender engine. Those specific engines were the most powerful express passenger engines for a while until bigger and better engines came along. Now look at him. He's a station pilot."

"I know that!" exclaimed James. "Most of the express passenger engines on the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway were engines like him!"

"Alright, alright!" Fred chuckled. "But you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't think too much about it, chap," he soothed, patting James' cab. "Maybe it's not what you think it is."

James hummed a pout, which only received a light chuckle from his driver.

"But is it?"

…

"It could be."

"Really?"

Purple eyes looked over at him. "I asked him earlier but he didn't say anything. He just left," replied Emily.

A couple of days had passed since the conversation with his crew. The question had racked around his matte black smokebox, pestering him on a day-to-day basis, and went as far as going into the night within his dreams. His dreams were unwelcoming recently, leaving an odd aura within him every time he woke up.

James' lips creased in a straight frown. "Could Glynn have been scrapped?"

"I hope not," she remarked harshly towards the question itself. "Right now is the worst time to have engines being disposed of, and I doubt the Fat Director would allow it to happen. He's been fighting with the board about Glynn's disposition since he became the director."

"Which was…?"

"Nineteen-twenty-three. He's twenty-two years old if you're curious."

The black medium-sized tender engine was gobsmacked. "Twenty-two?" He glanced around before whispering, "No wonder he looks young and old at the same time."

"You saw those gray hairs, didn't you?" Emily chuckled playfully, but James picked up a tone of sadness. "It's what being the director of a railway does to you. Especially when it's so sudden." Before James could say anything, she continued, "The previous director, Sir Louis Topham Hatt the First, Sir Bertram's father, was voted off and Sir Bertram was voted in. He was already working as Glynn's fireman before becoming part of the management team the year before."

"So it didn't get passed down to him?"

"Oh no, not in this family. They pride themselves in earning from hard work."

James paused. His eyes wandered around in thought. Finally, he asked, "How do you know all of this?"

"The Fat Director tended to confide with us engines way before he started working here. He would usually talk to me because I'm, well, the oldest." She paused and peered at James, eyeing him suspiciously. "Unless you're hiding something."

"I'm way younger than you," he replied.

"Really?" She eyed him suspiciously again. Before she could say anything else, James continued.

"October of Nineteen-twelve," he bluntly replied.

"Ah, a Nineteen-tens engine! Not older than me but certainly not younger than the big guys. I thought you'd be around their age by a year or two. Gordon's the youngest of-" Emily paused. Her face went blank with eyes wide open.

"What is it?" asked James, beginning to panic.

Her cheeks burned. "...I went off the rails, didn't I? Oh my…" she muttered, feeling embarrassed. "Where was I?"

"How the Fat Director confided in you."

"Right!" Her expression lightened up. "He used to confide in me but that changed when he began to work here. I don't know what made it happen, but he started to confide in Edward more often. I'm assuming it's because he knows him more. He still confides in me every so often. Just not as much as he does with Edward."

James pondered for a moment. "Do you think Edward knows where Glynn is?" he asked, purposely avoiding the mention that he had asked Edward.

"I've already asked. He has no idea about his whereabouts."

"Oh." He looked away with a solemn frown. Where could he have gone?

"We can only hope that he's just in the works and not withdrawn." Her expression changed to a cheeky one. "You might as well get ready to give back those coaches, James."

"Huh!" James huffed, playing right along. "He'll have to beat me to them!"

Emily let out a laugh. "Go easy on him."

Both engines burst out laughing before Emily bid her temporary farewells and both engines went back to work.

…

James knew that Emily was joking around but her words stayed ingrained in his mind. With every day that passed to the near end of May, he grew anxious and tensions began to rise. Just the other day, he heard what he assumed were Gordon and Edward getting into an argument. Thankfully, Emily intervened, though in a not-so-nice manner. She'd threatened both engines to throw them under the truck and even send a truck at one of them if it continued. It was enough to keep them at bay.

Or at least he thought.

The black medium-sized tender engine was going about his late morning business, having come back from pulling a goods train to Vicarstown. He was idling for a few minutes when he heard a loud ruckus on the other side of Tidmouth Yard. The sounds of buffers bashing against something. The Troublesome Trucks are probably giving Edward a hard time, he thought, so he went to investigate. Maybe I can help.

But when he arrived in the area, he began to wish he hadn't checked.

A scream tore from Gordon's smokebox. "Watch it, little Edward!"

Edward was noticeably irritated. James had never seen him like that before. It frightened him, and he wanted to leave.

"My apologies, but I am watching," Edward retorted slowly, throwing emphasis on his wording. "I cannae see ye behind this line o' trucks, Gordon."

It seemed like they hadn't noticed him. Maybe if he reversed very slowly-

"Oh, what absolute nonsense! We know you can't bloody see anything, Edward."

"Knock it aff wit' the language. I'm no' blind." Edward huffed. "Whit ur ye doin' in this part o' the yard, anyways? The Express coaches aren't here."

"I came looking for my goods train. It's not there."

"Which ane? Ye mean thon stone train frae the Ffarquhar Quarry?"

"Yes, that one," Gordon replied sternly. "Where is it?"

"I dinnae ken. Go ask James. He wis the ane who brought it here, and I told him where tae put it."

"And where did you tell him to put it?"

"Near the big station."

"It's not there."

"Did ye check?"

Gordon froze before he fumed furiously and wheeshed at Edward, startling the blue medium-sized tender engine. James was still there, shocked as Edward's face scrunched up in anger and annoyance.

The grand blue tender engine hated what Edward was implying. "Are you implying that I didn't check? Like a fool?"

"Naw, I'm simply askin'." He dropped his voice to a whisper, muttering something as he continued working.

As Edward pulled the trucks out of Gordon's way, Gordon moved forward and blocked the points. "What did you say?"

"..."

"I heard you-"

"I wid'nae be surprisit if ye were a fool!" Edward hollered, spewing each word with anger. "Listen, please git oot o' my way sae I can go lookin' for it, or ye're goin' tae run late."

Gordon wheeshed again. "I don't take orders from museum displays."

"And I dinnae take orders from a git."

"...What?"

"I'm no' repeatin' maself, or are ye sae much o' a fool?"

The grand blue tender engine fumed, wheeshing heavily.

As James continued to watch, he heard a whistling sound, as if something was about to pop open.

As if a safety valve was about to burst.

He froze when he realized what was about to happen.

And it did.

The black medium-sized tender engine just didn't expect to see Edward be the one who reacted. The blue medium-sized tender engine violently sent the line of trucks flying towards Gordon, nearly knocking the larger blue engine off the rails. The trucks closer to Gordon derailed, and their contents flew out, crates crashing onto the ground.

Thankfully and surprisingly, no one was hurt, but everyone present was shocked.

Gordon was startled and wore a face of fear that glared at the shocked blue medium-sized tender engine. The latter could only stare with shock at the trucks, having realized what he had done. While both engines were in shock, their crews managed to get a hold of themselves. Edward's crew had failed to pull the brakes on time and were busy checking the engine's steam pressure, while Gordon's crew had climbed off to inspect what damage had been done to the engine's running board and frame.

That's when they became aware of James' presence. Quickly, Gordon's crew signaled James' crew to just leave before either of the engines noticed but it was too late.

Two other whistles were heard. Emily and Henry frantically approached the scene, coming from the direction James was in. It caught Edward and Gordon's attention. Once their eyes landed on the black medium-sized tender engine, they realized James watched the whole thing, having frightened him.

Emily dragged James away as quickly and carefully as she could, startling the engine, as Henry pulled Gordon away and Edward pulled the trucks back on the rails. Once James was uncoupled from Emily after being moved far away from the accident, he rushed away and went back to work.

…

Later that evening, James moved into the center berth of Knapford Sheds. Edward and Emily took the first two berths to the left and were in the very back of the shed while Henry and Gordon took the last two berths and right outside, leaving James with some decent space from the two blue engines. Henry was scolding Gordon but it was nothing compared to the earful Emily was giving Edward. Not even Sir Topham Hatt II's scolding could compete with it.

"What were you thinking?" James heard Emily huff hastily. "You frightened the poor thing."

"I ken whit I did wis wrong, okay?" He heard Edward reply. "How's Gordon?"

"He's fine." The bluntness was heavy.

Edward stayed silent.

"If you're hiding something, you know you can tell me." Emily's tone changed to a comforting one. "This isn't like you. What happened?"

"I jist miss Glynn. Thon's all."

Emily hummed. James couldn't see her but he had a strong feeling she was giving Edward a suspicious look. "Okay. Good night then."

"Guid nicht."

And then he heard nothing from the two. The quiet never came as he could only hear what Gordon and Henry were saying.

And that's with him being the closest to them. He was right behind the doors of his berth.

"He's so obsessed over Glynn," he heard Gordon say.

"Don't act like you're not either. You're not yourself either," he heard Henry reply.

Guess they overheard.

"Be glad Emily didn't come right for you."

"Well, she didn't need to. I don't need to be told what to do."

"Gordon, we are big metal machines that were made to do as we are told."

"You know what I meant-"

"Yes. Yes, I know." Henry huffed. "I don't like Edward either but he had a point. You should've gotten out of his way he told you."

"You're such a hypocrite, Henry," Gordon sneered.

"Fine, sod off then. I'm only trying to help." With that, Henry released his brakes and backed into his berth. James quickly squeezed his eyes shut. His relationship with Henry was rocky ever since the grand green tender engine lashed out on him. It wasn't his fault the Fat Director chose to buy him over fixing Henry.

Unfortunately, Henry noticed James being right behind the door.

"So, you were eavesdropping."

"Uh-"

"Huh, I thought you didn't like drama," Henry interrupted. "But then again, you did go and let your curiosity get the best of you earlier."

"I was worried," James replied defensively and hastily. "I heard something really loud so I went to check if something was wrong."

"Well, you got your answer so why didn't you leave?"

"I got scared."

"Figures." Henry stayed quiet for a few seconds before asking. "How did it happen?"

"The argument?"

"Yeah. What else could I be talking about?"

"I don't know."

"That was a rhetorical question."

"Oh. Gordon went to ask Edward where the trucks I left for him were because he couldn't find them. He said they weren't there."

"So it's your fault the argument broke out!"

"No, it's not!" James whispered harshly. "I left them where I was told to leave them, and Gordon said that he looked there but he couldn't find them."

"How do I know that you didn't just forget?"

"I didn't!" he exclaimed, unaware of Gordon backing into the shed, Edward waking up from the noise, and Emily shifting in her sleep.

"I know your memory is bad but I didn't think it'd be this bad. The Fat Director made the right call in making you work in the yards first before pulling actual goods trains."

James froze. "What?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know. You had to have known, right?"

The black medium-sized tender engine stared back at him. The look was ominous, and it bothered Henry.

"Right?"

"No. I didn't," James replied. "Who told you? I was never told about this?"

"You mean Edward never told you?"

There it was, and speaking of the devil.

"Whit's goin' oan?" Edward asked, slowly approaching the front of the shed and yawning. "Is everythin' alricht?"

"Is everything alright?" James mocked, swiftly flinging his smokebox door open. "Of course, everything is alright! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Whit-?"

"Why didn't you tell me the reason why the Fat Director put me to work in the yards first before actually doing my jobs?"

"I-"

"You didn't tell him?" scolded Emily, who was awakened by Edward seconds priors. "Edward!"

"It wis an order frae the Fat Director."

"But you went ahead and told everyone else but me!" exclaimed James. "You know, the engine it was about!"

"James-"

"Is that what you meant by ‘naive’? Is that what you meant?"

"No! I didnae-!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I didnae want tae upset ye!"

"So you went behind my back and told everyone like it was some sort of-" His safety valve felt like it was going to burst. "-gossip?" he shrieked. Emily, Henry, and Gordon were startled by the fuming engine. They started going to the back of the shed.

"That's no' whit I wantit tae happen!"

"You lied to me!"

"I-I didnae! I jist didnae tell ye!" To James, it just sounded like Edward was coming up with excuses. The desperate tone was giving it away. "T-There's a difference!"

"I don't want to hear your excuse!"

"James, please-!"

With a loud BAM! BAM! BAM!, one of the yardmen banged on the open wooden doors of Gordon's berth. "What is going on? Do I really need to call in the director?"

All the engines swiftly looked at the yardman with panic.

After a while of a silent response, the yardman sighed. "All of you better get to sleep. This is your only warning."

Quickly, both Edward and James backed toward the end of their berths while the others shut their eyes. Once they did, the yardman was satisfied and shut all the doors to the sheds. The yardman hadn't felt it but the hot air within the sheds was overwhelming and uncomfortable. It would remain so for the rest of the evening.

So much for a good rest.

…

The following day wasn't any better for James. It wasn't any better for anyone.

Unfortunately for Edward and James, Sir Topham Hatt II found out about the argument as the yardman reported it once his shift ended the following morning. Edward was already placed on restricted shunting duty in Tidmouth Yards, so placing James with the blue engine would only allow the chance for a fight to break out. Instead, he sent James to work in Vicarstown for the week and gave temporary berth assignments to the engines.

In the evening, all the engines had gathered in Tidmouth Yards as asked by Sir Topham Hatt II. He was furious with his engine's recent behavior, though he had a sneaking suspicion about what was causing it, and it could very well be his fault.

"I am extremely disappointed with everyone's behavior lately. Picking fights like children in a schoolyard," the Fat Director scolded. His voice boomed around the yard to which the engines flinched at. "What has gotten into all of you?"

No one responded.

"Well?"

James spoke up. "...What happened to Glynn, sir?"

The Fat Director and the other engines looked at James. "Pardon?"

"Sir, w-with all due respect, we haven't seen Glynn in days," replied James, frightened. "What happened to him?"

"Is this why everyone has been acting out recently?"

Four "Yes, sir"s and an "Aye, sir" was the answer he got.

With a sigh, the Fat Director came forward. "I'm sorry to have not told any of you sooner but Glynn has been withdrawn from service."

The engines gasped in shock and, some, in horror, despite knowing that this was the possibility of Glynn's fate.

"So he's been scrapped?" asked Emily softly.

"I…," he paused. "I'm afraid so." But then his voice became stern. "I know that all of you miss Glynn and will continue to do so but the way everyone has been acting is unacceptable. Engines who act out lead to a financial struggle for the railway. And without a financially successful railway, we can't continue to operate this place. This includes every single one of you. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, sir" and "Aye, sir" were uttered again.

"Good. Good night, everyone"

"Good night, sir!" the engines exclaimed without the usual enthusiasm and unity. Whistles were blown at different times and the sounds rang throughout the yards before they left for Knapford Sheds at their own pace.

James was the last to leave, not wanting to be near the others for as long as he could. How could they hide things from me? he thought.

Out of everyone he'd expected to lie to him, James didn’t think that Edward would be the one to do so. Edward was nice and welcoming to him from the moment he arrived, despite the problems that had happened. The Fat Director had said that Edward was reliable and one of the most hardworking engines on the railway.

And that was the problem.

He had taken the Fat Director’s word for it and trusted Edward so quickly when right behind his tender, Edward had been hiding the Fat Director's doubts about him and told the others instead.

So much for trusting him.

Frustrated, he let his mind wander for a bit to something, anything other than what happened recently. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't as his mind landed on one engine.

Glynn.

The red coffee pot had been very welcoming when James arrived at the sheds for the first time. He checked in on him when he noticed something was wrong. Sure he hadn't known Glynn for long but it was upsetting that a new friend of his was now long gone.

Friends.

I miss my friends, he thought as he trod down the tracks and into Knapford Yards.

James dearly missed 10138, 17646, and 17647. He missed his sister, 12555. He missed them all. Hell, he even missed 10138's rather annoying twin sisters, 10141 and 10142. He wanted that last part to be a lie, but he couldn't because it was true.

But did he really want to go back? After that fight with his oldest sibling? The one who had screamed at him for defending himself just that one time? The one who had been the biggest pain in the chassis since his trials after his rebuilds?

No, he didn't. Especially since every other one of his siblings did the same damn thing to him, every single day. Their words haunted his mind every single day. Fifty-Five was the only one who stood by him, and with Fifty-Five was he consistently paired up with, much to his relief.

Fifty-Five had reassured him that there would be a day when he would deliver a goods train to Barrow-in-Furness, just like some of the other North Western engines have.

James could hardly wait for that day to come. To stroll into Barrow-in-Furness and meet with one of his friends, away from the tension happening on the Island of Sodor.

When James settled down in the center berth of the shed, he chuckled to himself. His crew, having decided earlier not to bother the engine and let him be, became concerned by the sound so George promptly asked him, "What's so funny?"

"You remember how I said I would never, ever set foot into Barrow-in-Furness because I want to?"

"I do," George replied. "Very much so. Why?"

"How ironic," he softly sneered, unintentionally giving his crew attitude. "Right now, I want to be there more than ever."

~

Hey. :3 Have +6k more words of Jimmy in his early days on the North Western Railway.

~

"I really wished you guys hadn't said anything," scolded James once they were far away.

"But it's true!" they exclaimed in unison.

"You could've at least helped him get to the Mainland!" reprimanded the first coach. "Now you left him stranded at Maron!"

"The Main Line isn't that difficult to travel! It's fairly easy."

"To you, it is!" said the second coach. 

"That engine is a foreigner," followed up the third coach. "They don't know this railway as well as you do, James."

"Why are you guys so obsessed with that engine?" exclaimed James.

"And why were you so rude to him?" piped up the fourth coach.

"Because-!" James panicked, knowing that "because he's red" wouldn't fly by that easily. "Because what does he have that makes him qualified for the Great Race? He doesn't look fast or strong. The four-leader-four-drivers aren't as great as they once were, you know!"

The brake coach hummed. "Well, he did have a nice shade of red. Much nicer than yours, really."

James' eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched. "Excuse me?"

"You do have a bright color," said the fourth coach. "Too bright of a color."

"But he's still red!"

"Well if it bothers you so much, then how about you and get yourself repainted with a few decorations?" joked the brake coach.

And James had an idea.

He stopped suddenly, making the Honeypot coaches bump into one another before reversing down the line, back to Maron.