i art and write :D

~

The following day, James left Kildane Sheds as quickly as possible to Tidmouth Yards to meet up with Edward, who he'd managed to get a space at Tidmouth Sheds for the night and pick up the Honeypot coaches.

When James pulled into Tidmouth Yards, he was about to head for the carriage sheds when he saw something blocking his path. "What the…" His path was blocked by a goods train—a weird one at that. There were odd large boxes randomly placed within the trucks, which were full of stone. The bright red medium-sized tender engine could care though. This train was in his way. But as he was about to switch points, Diesel came roaring into the yard. “‘Ey! Don’t touch those trucks, red rusty! That's my train right there."

Of course, James thought. He knew the shunters at Tidmouth well enough to know that they wouldn't leave this sort of mess. "What're you doing here? You work at Vicarstown, not Tidmouth," he scolded.

"I need to show Sir Topham Hatt something really special," Diesel replied smugly with a snicker. "You better not move them. I'm going to need them in a moment." With that, Diesel laughed as he rolled away, his wheels whirring as he headed to the platform of the Fat Controller's office.

James groaned and rolled his eyes. "Ugh! I don't have the time for this," he exasperated. He backed away and switched over to the line where the oddly placed train started. As one of the yardmen coupled him up, Edward appeared from the roundhouse that was Tidmouth Shed.

"Guid mornin', James!" exclaimed Edward as he left the roundhouse. "Whit've ye got?"

"Some goods train some-engine left. I can't get to the coaches with this in the way," James replied. With a whiff and a puff, he tried to pull but the small train wouldn't budge.

Meanwhile, in the south area of the yard, the Fat Controller walked out of his office with a clipboard in hand. Today was the day before The Great Railway Show, and Sir Topham Hatt II needed to look for the final contestant he planned on taking. He looked around, hoping to find them but only saw Donald heading in his direction.

"Hold it right there, Donald!" he exclaimed.

The navy blue tender engine came to a halt. "Is thare a problem, sir?"

"Have you seen James? I need to speak with him."

"I saw him up near the carriage shed, sir."

"Good. I need you to take me there then."

"O’ course, sir!"

The Fat Controller quickly climbed into Donald's cab. With two whistles and a puff, Donald backed down the track.

James struggled to move the train. "Oh, come on!" he huffed. He blasted his whistle as loud as he could and continued to pull.

Edward was about to move forward when he noticed something odd. He frowned. His eyes could've been playing tricks on him but those big boxes…

Are they moving by themselves?

"Uh, James?" called out Edward, right as an engine stormed by. "Those boxes. They're movin’ by thaimselves!"

The noise of rails rattling had muffled most of Edward's sentence, only allowing James to catch on to the last bit. "Yes, I'm moving them by myself! Just-"

The trucks bashed against him.

“Shit!” Frightened, James accidentally released his brakes, making it easier for the “trucks” to push against him. "Hey, stop! Stop!" he yelled as he slipped and was pushed back.

Edward hollered out as he rushed towards him. "James!"

Donald arrived with the Fat Controller, who peaked out of the engine’s cab to see James being pushed. "James?" he hollered as Donald popped open his smokebox door to see the same thing.

The navy blue six-driver gasped, realizing that something wasn't right. Shutting his smokebox door, he quickly moved forward, away from the area right as Norman passed by. "Norman, stop!" he hollered.

Diesel rushed back and exclaimed, "My surprise!"

Edward saw Norman coming right after, immediately pulling on his brakes. "James!"

James and Norman screamed as they collided.

~

Edward was pulling the Honeypot on the Main Line, enjoying the scenery of the Island of Sodor, and chatting with the coaches. The Honeypot coaches enjoyed his company. It was only April yet the breeze felt warm and inviting as he went from station to station. It felt just like the old days when he was a really useful engine. He had just completed the delayed run up to Tidmouth and turned around for the next trip, having just left Knapford and heading to Crosby.

"For an engine pulling coaches for the first time in years, you're doing wonderful, dear!" praised the brake coach.

"R-Really?" Edward asked timidly.

"Absolutely!" confirmed the first coach. "You did say you were an Express engine."

"I did. I-I’m still rusty!" he insisted, only for the Honeypot coaches to reassure him that he was doing just fine.

As he and the coaches continued their trip to Crosby, James approached them from the other direction, having just passed Crosby. Edward was fully engrossed in his conversation with the Honeypot coaches that he didn't hear or see the other engine until…

"Edward!" James fumed loudly and quickly braked to a stop.

"James!" exclaimed the Honeypot coaches. Edward gasped, startled, and braked harshly, coming to a nasty stop.

"I can't believe it,” huffed James as his boiler bubbled furiously and he backed down on the line to see Edward's startled face. “But Philip was right! Engines like you cause nothing but trouble! 

The Indian-red engine looked down. The lack of attention and respect broke it for James.

“You won't even look at me! Who do you think you are? And what are you doing with my coaches?"

"Your coaches?" exclaimed the Honeypot coaches in unison, offended as Edward looked away with a guilty face.

"We aren't even the slightest ‘your coaches’!" exclaimed the first coach.

"We are Molly's coaches!" followed the second coach.

"And even then, we're our own coaches!" followed the third. "Aren't we all?"

"Quite right!" they all chimed.

"And what was so important that you needed to do?" said the fourth coach.

"Warranting it necessary to leave us in a siding in the middle of nowhere!" said the fifth coach, the brake coach.

"It was Maron!" hissed the fourth coach.

"But still!" argued the brake coach.

The rest of the coaches glared at James, who was absolutely humiliated and stunned. "I-" He was beginning to lose his words. "I just needed to do something!" he scoffed, giving off a defensive tone.

The Honeypot coaches huffed at James. "Come on, Edward. Apologies for his behavior," said the first coach, with a stern tone aimed at James, to the foreigner, who had stayed relatively quiet. "Let's get going. We don’t want to delay any further."

Edward said nothing, still avoiding eye contact. He left James behind with two solemn whistles, quite the opposite of his typical bright whistle.

The tone struck James. Yes, he was upset with Edward but he hadn't intended to upset him as well. "I just wanted to look my best for the show," James said quietly. He followed Edward, backing down the track and quickly catching up to him.

"I just wanted to be part of the Great Railway Show," he mumbled meekly after a moment of silence.

"Eh?" asked Edward, caught off guard by the engine going backward but still refused to look at James straight in the eyes. "I thoucht-"

"I lied!" he exclaimed. "I was upset with you earlier. I'm sorry."

“For? W-Wis it because… I bumpit ye this mornin’?”

“...Yes?”

“Whit dae ye mean '...Yes?'” Edward huffed harshly, feeling hurt. “Ur ye mad at me, aye o’ naw?”

“No. I was mad because you’re…” He looked away, feeling silly. “...you’re red.”

Edward frowned but his eyebrows shifted his expression from offense to questioning. A sign to keep talking.

“Because… I thought…” James paused to word what he wanted to say properly. “I thought that I would have strong competition for the Best Decorated Parade!” He let out a sigh. "It's not like I'm participating anyways."

"W-Whit? Why?" he asked, flustered. "Did somethin' happen?"

"It's silly."

"No' if it's makin' ye upset."

He looked back at the other engine.

"Ye gettin' mad b-because I'm red is… silly. I-I think there’s more than w-whit ye're lettin' oan," said Edward with a hint of genuine warmth and comfort in his tone.

James stayed quiet and continued to look over at the engine as he thought about it. As they neared Crosby, James went into the tiny yard and used the turntable. Once he pulled in next to Edward, he finally spoke. "My sister was chosen for it instead of me."

"A sister? Y-Ye huv a sister? I huvnae seen another ye around."

"No, no! There's an engine who I consider a sister of mine."

"Och!" Edward's eyes perked up. "T-Thon's very lucky o' ye. Ye must be close wit' everyone else."

"Somewhat."

"Eh?"

James gulped. When they both left Crosby, he mustered the courage and asked, "Can I be honest with you?"

Edward was startled. "Uh… S-Sure," he replied.

James let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not that well-liked because of how I am. Unless I do my jobs with no fuss, that is."

"Why?"

"I'm not a very bearable engine," he scoffed. "Look at who's coming down the tracks, oh my, it's him! That's James, oh dear!" he sang in mockery, fully aware that the coaches, passengers, and crews were listening, especially the crews. It transitioned into laughter that dwindled quickly.

"Y-Ye cannae be thon bad o' an engine," hummed Edward. Then, he has an idea. "We got aff oan the wrong track. Start over?"

“Hm?”

“Us. S-Should we start over?”

James quickly hummed in agreement.

"I'll go first! Edward. Ma name’s Edward. Class 21 frae the Furness Railway. Preservit by the Furness Railway Trust. Ye?"

James didn't respond.

"Is somethin' wrong?"

"You're preserved?"

"It’s… some story," replied Edward, the hint of sadness going unnoticed as he quickly covered it up with a sly smirk. "...stranger."

"Och!" James puffed up proudly. "James, the North Western Railway's number five, at your service!" he exclaimed.

The Honeypot coaches groaned, which James had fully expected. What he didn't see coming was hearing laughter from the other red tender engine.

"What?"

"S-sorry, sorry! It’s jist-" Edward laughed a little more. "Y-Ye're a very funny engine!"

"Huh, I do have a thing for humor," James remarked smugly as Edward's laughter subsided.

"P-Pleasure to meet ye. Bytheway, s-sorry I took yer coaches. I should've askit first."

"It's alright. If you had asked later, the Honeypot would've been very late, so, if anything, thank you for doing that."

The preserved red engine became flustered. "Och, w-well, ye're welcome. B-But it was nothin'! I wis built for-!"

"Darling, don't be so modest!" exclaimed the first coach.

"Remember what we said!" followed the second coach.

"For an engine out-of-service for decades, you're doing wonderful pulling a stopping train!" piped the third coach.

"What are you?" James blurted out before his eyes went wide, realizing what he said.

"James!" scolded the coaches before muttering.

"Sorry, but at this point, I have to know! You said you're a preserved Class. I was friends with all the 21s, and I don't remember seeing you. You look similar to them though."

"I wis left in a sidin'," replied Edward.

"What?"

Letting out a sigh, Edward replied, "It's a short story. We huv time."

"You have all of my attention!" James exclaimed proudly.

The preserved red tender engine couldn't help but smile warmly. As they neared the Wellsworth Suspension Bridge, Edward hummed thoughtfully.

"It’s nineteen-fourteen. A railway wis lookin' for an engine s-someane could spare. The North Western Railway."

"This very railway?"

"Mhm, b-but they learnit aboot my behavior issues. They immediately rejectit the offer. T-they, the board, had enouch." Edward's warm brass eyes rose up and stared off into the distance. "I wis withdrawn and left in a sidin'. I-I stayit thare and watchit everyane else work until I wis found by ane o' my sisters. In yon early days o' the Amalgamation. She broucht the rest o' thaim in secret. But they, the board, found oot. I was relocatit again"

"So how did you get preserved?" James asked.

"A g-group o' campers. They found me. I didnae ken where I wis. I wis in Scotland. Then the Furness Railway Trust rescuit me. I-it took aboot a year but they restorit me. I steamit the first time this year."

"...what did you do for that to happen?"

"I-I wisnae a very nice engine," Edward reluctantly replied. "I’m the oldest o' my siblings. I wis… I wis overprotective o' thaim."

"But that's normal," said James, confused.

"No' me. I wis m-more aggressive than others…"

James eyed him wearily. "So… you pushing me earlier today wasn't you being aggressive?"

"Naw, naw!" he replied, offended. "The ship. I wis tryin' tae get oan the ship. T-thon didnae go sae well."

"Oh, right… Wait, then what are you still doing here?"

"I-I got lost at the junction. O-Oan the other side o' thon hill. Gordon’s Hill? Sae much goin' oan sae I went back tae Maron. I thoucht I could fine some-engine tae guide me."

James winced, realizing his behavior earlier hadn't made it any easier. But then he had an idea. "I can take you tomorrow! By the time we get to Vicarstown, it'll be dark."

Caught off guard, Edward gasped and for the first time, he made eye contact with James. "Really? But yer jobs?"

"My first job tomorrow is the Honeypot, so I can take you along with me and I'll drop you off at Vicarstown Station! There are no junctions after that station. Just go straight ahead and you'll find the Vicarstown Drawbridge, which leads you to the Mainland!"

"Och, thank ye, James!" exclaimed Edward, before gasping again. "Jobs. Thon's it!"

"What's it?"

"Ur ye a mixit-traffic engine?"

"Um, yes? Why is that?"

"Y-Ye could enter the new competition! The Mixit-Traffic Challenge! P-Pullin' passenger trains. Pullin’ guids trains. Headin' trains tender first. It's where smaller tender engines go tae compete!”

"I'm not small!" James scoffed.

"I-I ken! Ye get whit I'm sayin'? If yer controller hasnae chosen an engine, ye should ask him."

James hummed. A competition for engines like him? Now that could work! he thought as they stopped at Maron. By then, the sun had set and the night sky began to consume the dwindling sunlight.

~