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Chapter Text

The Traintober prompt list image:

LORAINE'S TRAINTOBER 2025 LIST

Day 1: The Old

Locomotion and Scotsman chat about things.

Day 2: Twilight

Union's career comes to an unexpected end.

Day 3: A Day Out

Scotsman and Gordon share an event at a heritage railway.

Day 4: Heritage

Tornado meets engines who are a part of her heritage

Day 5: Failure

Ryan reels from a horrible encounter.

Day 6: Foreign

Truro feels out of place in the Netherlands

Day 7: Value

Blue Peter questions his value after St Mungo's scrapping.

Day 8: Gathering

The Greatest Gathering is the largest gathering of engines in recent years.

Day 9: Spotlight

Duke of Gloucester's return to the mainline puts a spotlight on him.

Day 10: Experience

Duke of Gloucester has experience to offer.

Day 11: Surprise

Tornado surprises someone.

Day 12: Reunion

The remaining Gresley family members have a reunion.

Day 13: Mainline

Clun ponders on what the mainline means to her.

Day 14: Siding

Duke watches the world go by on a siding.

Day 15: Reminiscing

Scotsman and Gordon reminisce about their siblings.

Day 16: Farewell

Scotsman leaves Australia.

Day 17: Branchline

Thomas and his branchline in the modern day.

Day 18: Bonds

Two pairs of siblings bond over being siblings

Day 19: Purpose

Tornado questions her purpose.

Day 20: Railway 200

Sodor celebrates Railway200.

Day 21: Crowded

A platform ends up becoming way too crowded in preparation of Scotsman's return

Day 22: Boundaries

Duke of Gloucester's boundaries seem to be way tighter than promoted...

Day 23: Rivalry

Clun and Earl of Mt Edgcumbe have a sibling rivalry... Until it wasn't a sibling rivalry any more.

Day 24: Revelation

Truro finds out that Pendennis and Scot were never rivals.

Day 25: Plinth

Truro reflects on being a static engine and being put upon a plinth by both his siblings and the GWR as a whole.

Day 26: Reflection

Evelynn reflects on her time as director and everything that got her in the position in the first place.

Day 27: Reminder

Scot sometimes needs a reminder of why he was saved in the first place.

Day 28: Special Event

Two A1s, an A2, an A3 and an A4 line up alongside each other, marking a historical event.

Day 29: Overhaul

Blue Peter's overhaul to return him to service has been announced.

Day 30: Luminescence | A Natural Phenomenon

Tornado brings a new era with her completion, Lady starts glowing… literally.

Day 31: The New

Scotsman gets a glimpse at the still-being built Prince of Wales.

[Bonus] Day 32: Replacement

Scotsman becomes convinced the replica is his replacement. The replica believes he is replacing Scotsman. Tornado and Evelynn prove them both wrong.

Chapter Text

Locomotion, the museum in Shildon, rarely ever closes down for an entire day. It's open most of the time, with the general public and rail enthusiasts alike sparing the time to visit some of the icons housed under that roof. One of which, for the time being, is Flying Scotsman.

The icon of steam happens to be staying for a few months while the NRM sort out a new day-to-day custodian for the engine. Rumours have been spreading about who the new custodian could be like wildfire. Both through the rail community and the general public. Scotsman happens to be a major public attraction, after all.

Right now, though, the custodian is still under wraps and Scotsman is half awake at best. A few tracks away from the famous engine sits another engine, one more overlooked by history. Though by all accounts, that should not be the case. Locomotion no.1, for whom this branch of the National Railway Museum is named after, is merely watching the large engine try not to fall asleep completely.

"Having trouble staying awake?" they ask, their voice as soft as silk and with a tenderness only older engines who have seen history unfold before their eyes can manage.

"I suppose," the famous engine answers, a curt edge to her voice. She doesn't feel like interacting with anyone at the moment, yet her crew seem to give her a bit of an energy boost simply by existing.

Locomotion watches the large pacific with a sad gaze in their weary eyes. They mourn how such an important engine had been discarded like she wasn't important at all. She is important, so she should be treated as such. The newly appointed NRM director seems to get that, and treats Scotsman with all the dignity and respect she deserves.

"Can I ask you a question, Locomotion?" the younger engine asks quietly after a moment, it having weighed in her mind for a moment. Should she ask, should she not..?

"Of course you may," the 19th century built engine answers, feeling an emotionally charged question coming on. Denying Scotsman the opportunity to ask wouldn't help anything, least of all the A3's current emotional state.

"Did you feel so exhausted when you hit your centenary?" the A3 asks, briefly casting her gaze to the being she practically owed her existence to.

"I can't say I did, but then again, I wasn't being constantly shoved out and about like you are. I'd been static for well over half a century, by that point," the great-great grandfigure of all engines explains, maintaining their soft tone.

"Truro told me he didn't feel as exhausted as I did during his centenary…" Scotsman mumbles, a panicked gaze slowly setting in alongside realisation. "Wh- why me? Am I just that fragile? That weak?!"

"It's okay, Scot," the pacific's driver calls before Locomotion can say anything. The human has noticed something the ancient engine cannot. "Steady on, it's alright…"

"It's not alright, it never was — am I just that useless?! That I can't do anything right?!" the famous engine's voice has gone up a pitch, panic fully settling in as she realises she's the only one who has felt this way.

"Scotsman," her driver calls out again, as soft as before, rubbing a hand absentmindedly over the side of the engine. "I know it's hard. I know you're struggling with a lot of things, but I need you to know that you being this exhausted is not your fault. The NRM pushed you way beyond your limits for the past few years. It is not your fault you are so exhausted."

"You are neither weak nor useless," Scotsman's fireman cuts in, gently rubbing a clean buffer with his hand. "You're an amazingly strong engine and even despite everything that has happened, you do still exist. You are still alive, and that is a brilliant thing. People need to stop taking your existence for granted."

"I-" the famous engine pauses, realising that she is not in private, but in a museum. Something seems to shift and her frames stiffen. A cold air starts to eminate from the A3, along with a rigidity that reminds Locomotion of ice.

"Scotsman?" Locomotion pipes up, finally sensing am opportunity to speak up.

"Hm?" the BR blue engine hums, notably lacking the warmth from earlier.

"Your life has been nothing but hectic, always out on the lines to spread joy and opportunities to people. Not once were you given a chance to rest your wheels - not for longer than five years straight and out of overhaul, at least. Regardless, you never had the chance to enjoy 'retirement', as the humans put it. That's probably a large contributor to why you feel so tired, even though to engines like myself, you're still young." the small engine elaborates, their gaze never leaving the A3 close beside them.

"At least I don't have to worry too much about things like this on heritage lines, or in the museum…" the large engine mumbles, warmth slowly returning to her frames and general mood. "On the mainline, however… I am quite frequently reminded of how old I am."

"For their standards," her fireman quips barely a second after she's finished. "The mainline is constantly trying to update itself and keep the entire country moving, while heritage lines don't carry that same function. They are more for leasure, just like how even the mainline tours are. The only thing that is not for leasure and is still run by older engines in comparison, is the Sudrian Flyer."

"I guess I just miss the days when I was more abled…" Scotsman admits, gaze towards the ground. "It's been a long time…"

"Coming to terms with your new situation is hard, I can understand, but you have the resources needed to adjust well, so make do with what you have. Other engines aren't as fortunate." Locomotion warns, a frown lining their face.

"I know…" the A3 closes her eyes wearily, a sigh escaping her as she pauses to collect her thoughts. "I do consider myself very lucky. The fact I'm still around right now is a miracle. I'm only here because of the generosity of others."

"You sound as if you miss someone in particular," the small engine with the wooden boiler comments, curiously.

"I'm always missing someone. Who it is depends on the day." Scotsman responds, a curt tone lining her voice.

"And who would it be this time?" the famous engine's fireman coaxes, likely already knowing the answer.

"You seem to have a good idea in mind already," the A3 huffs in return, a hint of grumpiness hidden within her dark green pupils.

"It's Enterprise, isn't it?" her fireman guesses, climbing up onto the running-plate once the engine's face shifts slightly in comfirmation.

"It's okay, Scot," he murmurs, gently running a hand over the engine's smoke deflector. He spots her forlorn expression and thinks that perhaps after all this time, she'd never truly been able to grieve the loss of her sister. "It's natural to miss her. From what we've gathered, she was your favourite sister, so of course you're going to miss someone you held that dear to you."

"Who is this Enterprise the two of you speak of?" Locomotion asks, their voice no louder than a soft whisper.

"She's my sister," Scotsman answers in an equally hushed voice, gaze hazy as she recalls the days when her sister still lived. "We used to have lots of fun together, when our LNER still existed, and the first rendition of BR."

She emphasises our when speaking about the old LNER, because it had been theirs. When they were still the newest express engines around. Big, bold and dominant.

"Ah. I don't have any siblings… I never had. I never really bothered, either. There's no use stressing over something I can't control." the older speaks, still in a hushed tone. They couldn't say they wanted a sibling, they are fine as is. They have the replica to watch, after all.

"Having a few siblings is nice, but not too many. It can get quite out of control should too many of a singular type engine run around on a railway." the A3 chuckles quietly, fondly remembering the times her siblings bickered and bantered, taking their personal arguments all across the railway. Especially when it wasn't that bad and the siblings could take a bit of banter.

"I assume modern railways are the same, in that sense?" Locomotion asks, their gaze breaking from the other engine.

"They do get quite hectic when there's a bunch of electrics having petty squabbles left right and centre," the large pacific murmurs, sighing wistfully as her thoughts take her to just a year back. "I suppose that now I have reached the ripe age of a hundred it feels nostalgic to me."

"But you do still have a sibling, do you not?" the ancient engine asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, but he spends half the time fretting over me. Not that I don't appreciate it though, I do need to be looked after, but… Watching others enjoy the same banter I used to, back in the day, it hits quite different."

"I can imagine so," Locomotion offers. They don't say anything else, however, when they hear the famous engine nearby yawn.

Sleepiness slowly grabs a hold of Scotsman, beckoning the famous engine into a deep slumber. It's been yet another day of waiting for a change of custodian with nothing much happening. Her crew smile softly when they realise that their beloved old friend is asleep, before quietly tending to her mechanical needs.

Chapter Text

Union of South Africa sits at Bury Bolton Street station, waiting patiently for her cousin to arrive with the opposite train. It's been a while since she's seen the famous engine. The last time, she thinks, was at Didcot Railway Centre back in 2017. It is now 4 years later and she's currently based here until her boiler ticket expires, which happens next year.

She hears the rhythmic chuffing of another engine approaching and a smile tugs at her lips, recognising the sound.

"Hello Scotsman," she greets, cheerful for the most part. "It's been a while."

"It has…" comes the reply from the other engine, who seems to be struggling with their train.

Union frowns, noting how tired the A3 appears to be. Not once has she seen them so worn out, excluding the reunion in 2013, almost a decade ago. Scotsman had been awfully poorly back then, barely able to stay awake long enough for the photoshoot, which had taken a measley ten minutes.

"Are you unwell, Scotsman?" she asks, worry filling her boiler as her cousin crawls alongside the platform.

"Just tired is all, nothing a few days rest won't solve." the A3 murmurs, their voice husky with sleep.

"Hm, okay— Wait, a few days?!" the A4 shrieks, her safety valves almost going off. "Scotsman, a few days rest isn't normal! You should rest if you're that tired!"

"Union, please, I have these trains to haul…" Union's cousin murmurs, their voice laden with tiredness. "I'll be fine, I promise. I can't let you do all the work around here, that's not what the people paid for."

Union could have sworn she heard a tiny bit of desperation in the A3's voice, mostly when talking about their trains that they're scheduled on. It's almost like they don't want to. Regardless, she can't doubt anything as her signal drops and she leaves the station.

It's a fairly quiet run, but Union's thoughts are occupied by her cousin. She knows they've always been dismissive of their own issues, but this seems to be a stretch too far, even for them. She also picks up on a small ache in her boiler, nothing too severe, just enough to be annoying. She thinks nothing of it, even though her mind casts doubt over her future on the rails.

~•~

Union can't help the feeling that something will go wrong these coming few days. Her cousin doesn't seem like their usual self and her crew are fretting about, moreso than usual. The pang she feels in her boiler doesn't go away permanently either, coming and going at the worst moments. She pulls into the yard where she stays for the night. Her cousin is already there, sleeping. The expression they wear, however, indicates that not all is well with them. They seem distressed. Their brow is furrowed and they almost seem to be glancing left and right, had they not been sleeping.

Their crew merely sits there on their running-plate. The two cast a worried glance between them and Union feels her fire burn with worry instinctively.

"What's going on with them, do you know?" she asks the two humans quietly, slowing to a complete stop.

"It's the NRM," the driver answers, heaving a sigh. "There's a lot of unrest stirring over in York and the director is trying to keep what control he still has. Usually, Scot is the outlet, and it's showing in his schedule. They want to squeeze as much money out of him before their system crumbles. When it will happen, I don't know, but for everyone's sake, I hope sooner rather than later."

"That's awful," Union murmurs, her fire burning weakly as a result of the horror she feels and her fireman slowly dropping her fire. "I hope that the NRM's current director falls so someone better can be put in his place."

"We do too," her cousin's fireman gently pats his friend's running-plate, a sign of reassurance.

The streamlined A4 is about to say something else, try and start what little conversation to be had, but her crew's talking distracts her. A sharp burst of pain shoots through her boiler, like someone had fired an arrow or shot a bullet straight through it. She bites her lip intensely, hoping that it would ease the shock.

An agonising few moments later, the pain starts to ease off and Union feels like she has breathing room - even if she doesn't actually need to. Maybe, she shouldn't have ignored the ache the first time around. Especially not since her fireman is now standing within her view with his arms folded and a look of extreme disappointment on his face.

"And how long exactly have you been hiding this pain?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"A few days," she admits, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment as a golden blush colours her face. "I didn't think it was anything serious…"

"We'd need to call someone with more experience in servicing engines, so your driver will be doing that in a moment. If it turns out to be serious, we may need to get your owner involved." Union pales at the prospect, while her fireman leaves to continue making sure her fire is gone for the night.

"Not comfortable with your owner knowing?" her cousin's driver asks, not unkindly.

"It's more so that if this does turn out to be serious, it could end my career on the rails early… I don't want that to happen. I like being on the rails." Union admits sheepishly, her gaze on the rails.

"That's very unfortunate," she hears her cousin's fireman murmur. "I hope that it isn't anything serious."

"I hope so too…" the A4's sentence is cut short by the crunching of ballast.

"We organised a check up at the local works for you tomorrow, since you don't have any trains on that day." her driver announces, briefly acknowledging the other crew before disappearing.

"Oh dear…" her cousin's driver offers, knowing that it likely wouldn't help anything.

"It is what it is," Union replies curtly.

~•~

"A cracked boiler tube, yes?" Union hears her driver ask, and for once, she does not feel like an indomitable express engine.

"A cracked boiler tube," the engineer confirms and the once-proud engine sags on her frames. She hates every second of this. Now her trains will be cancelled, leaving her already exhausted cousin to pick up the slack. They don't need the extra work.

"Time to make another phonecall, then." Union's driver sighs, making a beeline for the workshop door.

A few hours later, Union's owner arrives. He isn't particularly happy with the new development that is his engine having a damaged boiler tube.

"The only logical thing," he thinks out loud, standing a few metres away from Union. "Is to retire you prematurely."

"But, sir-" Union pipes up, before quieting down barely a second, feeling embarrassment heat her cheeks.

"Yes, Union?" her owner asks, looking up towards his engine with a concerned frown.

"I'd rather not have my cousin pull all the trains, they seem tired enough as it is…" Union admits, thinking to the past conversations they had with their famous cousin. "So maybe I could run for one more day, before calling it quits for good?"

Her owner ponders for a moment, thinking it through. "How much of a risk is there for a total failure?"

"Given she's managed to run with a cracked boiler tube for at least a few days now says to me that one extra day won't do too much harm." Union's driver acknowledges and the engine lightens up.

"Alright, one extra day it is," Union's owner smiles, briefly acknowledging all in the workshop before taking his leave to make arrangements for a farewell day.

Union watches him leave with a small smile on her face, allowing the engineers to complete whatever they'd been doing beforehand.

She returns to the sheds with a glum look, the news of a cracked boiler tube hanging above her smokebox more than anything else. Her cousin, who is settling down for the night, picks up on her disappointment.

"You don't seem so lively, Union," they comment, their voice gentle, like an older sibling. "What happened today?"

"I've been dealing with the occasional pain in my boiler recently, so my driver forced me to have it looked at… Turns out I have a cracked boiler tube, so tomorrow will be my last run." the A4 murmurs, eyes not meeting the famous A3.

"…Before overhaul?" Scotsman asks caustiously, but Union thinks she can hear a twinge of fragility in the other's voice.

"Indefinitely, Scotsman," Union bites her lip and meets her cousin's gaze. The only thing she can see within her cousin's dark green eyes is resignation. It hurts to see, more than she cares to admit. "I'm sorry."

The other Gresley engine sighs. "There's nothing you can do about it, Union. There's nothing any of us can do."

"I suppose not. Our other cousin, Marquess, is static already I believe, so I won't be alone." she mumbles, a weak attempt to settle both their emotions.

"I suppose that's better than having no-one around," Scotsman is inclined to agree, but their mood has definitely shifted for the worse.

"You'll still have a few of us around," the green A4 tries to console, hoping her cousin wouldn't have a moment.

"Not that I see said few of us often," the A3 bites back, with a surprisingly sharp tone. Union can tell they're trying to keep their emotions on the down low, for whatever reason. "Just enjoy tomorrow. Knowing you, you'll probably get bored of being static fast."

Union laughs. "Sure. I'll enjoy a few more heritage runs."

And she does. She makes the most of all she can get. The cracked boiler tube behaves for the most part, and she's hauling her trains well. As much as she wished it could, the day doesn't last forever and soon she finds herself pulling her last train. It hurts. She doesn't want this to be her last train, but damage to her boiler tubes has forced her out early. They don't want her damaging herself beyond repair, after all.

A wistful smile sits on her face as she departs Rawtenstall for the final time, on her way to Bury Bolton Street. The sun is setting by this point, colouring the sky beautifully. No clouds dot the sky, allowing for the sunset to be viewed without any hinderance. Fitting, everyone thinks, for it's a farewell.

She trundles along the line at line speed, eventually arriving into Bury Bolton Street. Her cousin is there and they seem happier than yesterday, which makes Union smile a little wider. She knows that her cousin has isssues, and that the NRM aren't looking after them. But seeing them so peaceful, so relaxed almost, it warms Union. It makes this little farewell worth it.

There's a little celebration to celebrate Union's career, both in service and in preservation, but the A4 can't help but look forward to spending time with her other cousin, seeing as he's been on his own for a little while. What she does know is, that while this is her running career's end, she still can offer her experiences to anyone who will listen.

Chapter Text

Flying Scotsman awakens from his slumber by the feeling of wood being lit in his firebox. It's still early in the morning, the skies are still dark and there are a minimum amount of lights on. He's barely processed that he is now awake, before the grumbling of another engine startles him awake further. It's his brother, who after a week of Scot asking, finally conceeded to going to an event with him. It's not even a regular event either. It's one hosted especially for Scot, given it's his centenary year. He'd asked if he could drag Gordon to an event in the summer, before asking his brother.

Eventually, the blue pacific had caved and agreed to go to an event, even if he wasn't fond of the concept of a heritage line. Scotsman had thanked him lots, though the other didn't seem to have minded much.

"Must we start so early?" the older of the two large engines mutters, dismayed at having to start so early.

"Is that not the case for your express?" Scotsman asks, an innocent tone to his voice.

"Yes," Gordon answers grumpily. "But I thought it'd be a later wake up call, given this isn't as… necessary… as the express."

"I understand, but the heritage lines do start relatively early," the apple green engine explains, a weary sigh escaping him. "I don't wish for such an early start as much as you do, but alas. The first train is at 10, so… Preparations must be made."

"Fine," the North Western engine grumbles, letting his original Yorkshire accent slip.

Gordon thinks nobody's heard it, when his brother squeaks with his whistle enthusiastically.

"So you do still have it!" the A3 sounds much more energetic in that one sentence than in the last few years that the North Western engine has heard him.

"My what, Scot?" the A1 raises an eyebrow in turn.

"Your Yorkshire accent…" Scotsman murmurs, a nostalgic expression sitting on his face, a small smile making its way onto his face. "I didn't think you still had it, after all this time."

The blue engine splutters for a minute, processing what his little brother has just said. His what accent. There's no way… Surely not. Not after spending roughly a century on the opposite side of the country. "Preposterous! Surely not… Not after so long."

"Oh, but tha' definitely sounded Yorkshire to me," the blue pacific's driver confirms with a lopsided grin, hopping down from the footplate and walking around the engine.

"Yer the one to talk," Gordon grumbles, knowing his driver, Kyle, comes from York.

"Aye, A know Ah'm the one to talk, but i's funny," Kyle shoots back, still grinning.

"What do you mean, 'i's funny'?" the older of the two pacifics demands, annoyed. His accent slips through again, to the joy of his driver.

"Yer not makin' t reet difficult for me," said driver wheezes with laughter, leaning on the blue engine's bufferbeam for support.

"Shut up," the North Western number four grumbles. "Yer should hear my brother when he does it."

"A do not-" Scotsman pouts, his own Yorkshire accent slipping through, to the delight of his close ones - and his brother's driver.

"You're worse than your brother," Flynn, who'd been driving the famous engine for well over four decades, shakes his head fondly.

"Correction, yer as bad as my brother's new driver," the A3 grumbles, falling into his old accent even further.

The A1 snorts, watching his brother's cheeks colour with embarrassment. "We're as bad as each other, then."

"That I can get behind. Now, no more words about this." Scotsman conceeds, looking over towards his brother. The blue engine still has a gentle smile on his face, not minding the earlier annoyance of his accent slipping through.

Hours later and the two brothers sit alongside the platform, watching visitors pour onto the platform and into the first train of the day. They'd start with two runs double-heading, before alternating between the two engines. One of the resident preserved steam engines is running, to provide stopping services at all stops, while the guests don't make any.

"Are you feeling alright, Scot?" the blue engine prompts, noting the other's silence. It feels off.

"I'm fine. Why?" the green engine answers, a bit hastily.

"You've been rather quiet, little brother, moreso than usual," the older murmurs, concern slipping into his voice more obviously.

"I don't know, it's probably just nothing. I just have the feeling something will go wrong, no matter what…" the A3 cautiously admits, feeling some room to be vulnerable.

"It's alright, Scot. I'm with you, your crew will look after you, and your friend isn't too far away," Gordon offers, trying to reassure his little brother.

"I know, but… Still, I can't help it." Scotsman mumbles, sagging on his frames. "Someone'll show up… just, something will go wrong. I don't know what, but…"

"Focus on this run for now, little brother. Take it in and enjoy it, try not to indulge in your worries because it'll only cause you more stress. It's your big year this year, so just take the time to enjoy it," the blue engine soothes. "I know you're still coming to terms with… a lot of things, but it's okay to enjoy something."

"I'll try to…" the A3 finds a little bit of strength to at least give his brother a decent reply.

~•~

Two of the resident engines sit in the yard at Kidderminster, 7812 Erlestoke Manor and a BR standard, the 4MT 75069. They have nothing to do, since neither of them are pulling regular trains along the line. That job falls to Erlestoke's fellow Great Western engine, pannier tank number 7714.

Gordon sighs as he backs into Kidderminster's yard. He's never liked going tender-first. It's awkward and he's always been clumsy at it. At least now, though, he can relieve that duty to his younger brother, who has just left the station with another packed train. It's only the first day of this multi-day visit. Beside him, the A1 can pick up on the conversation between the manor and the standard.

"Don't you ever get sick of how busy it gets whenever the moneypit shows up?" Erlestoke asks, unaware of the fact that the A3's brother is now within hearing range.

"Dreadfully. None of us get even a shred of attention, all it goes to him." the standard snaps, before realising who's in the yard along with them.

"And have you considered, that this little line of yours can survive for longer due to the financial impact my little brother has?" Gordon grinds out, coupled with a glare that, should glares have the ability to kill, likely would have killed someone.

Silence radiates from the two local engines and the blue A1 huffs indignantly. "I thought so. Besides, you two should probably consider yourselves lucky that this little line is his favourite."

"…What." Erlestoke Manor's mouth opens before he can stop it.

"He doesn't tell anyone, because the people pleaser that he is doesn't want to discredit other heritage railways, but I could tell. The way he seemed so excited to go, which is rare, considering everything." the North Western engine comments, his mood lightening ever so slightly.

A silence falls over the trio of engines, no-one saying anything as a result of the revelation. Yet, Gordon can't stop thinking about what had happened in the morning, when Scot had a small anxiety spike. To the A1's relief, they aren't as common as they were a year ago. But it still hurts when it happens. His own thoughts aren't proven wrong, a few hours later, when a volunteer approaches the trio, his posture slumped and looking very defeated.

"We need someone down in Bridgnorth," he declares, somberly. "Something's happened with Scotsman, something with his middle driving axle playing up. I don't know the details, I just know that we need another engine down there sooner rather than later."

Without even a moments hesitation, Gordon's crew start preparing the fire for a trip down the line. The engine is restless. Knowing his brother is in a bit of a tough spot never sits well with the blue engine. It never has, even if his methods of expression have changed vastly over the years.

"We're on it," the A1's fireman shouts, the engine promptly kicking up huge amounts of steam as he departs the yard.

No words even need to be thought as the trio continue down the idyllic line. Even though the speed restriction has not been lifted, despite the accident and the urgency this situation demands, it does leave for some peaceful scenery watching. Eventually, the line spreads out into another yard, with a familiar A3 sitting in said yard with a pained expression.

"Holding up better, now, little brother?" Gordon asks Scotsman softly, having parked with their buffers brushing each other.

"I wish it didn't hurt as much, but… I can only sit here until the pain subsides," the A3 admits, a glum look in his eyes.

"It'll be over soon, I'm sure. If not, take the rest of the day to recover from this. I'll cover the rest of your trains for today," the blue pacific offers a gentle smile, hoping to offer some relief to his last remaining sibling.

"You didn't come here to do all the work though," Scotsman protests, though his voice is strained with pain and it comes out feebly.

"Nonsense, little brother. You didn't come here to work your wheels off, either," the A1 counters, a small glint of smugness gleaming in his eyes as he spots the first sign of defeat from the other.

"I barely got started-"

"You barely got started my tender," Gordon deadpans. "You've been at it for a while now. Let me cover for you."

"Okay…" the A3 watches his brother depart, recieving a face full of steam, before it all dissipated and he could see the other clearly.

"Let us know if it gets worse, alright? Maybe some of the volunteers can try to have a look, should that be the case," the green engine's fireman offers, rubbing a hand over the engine's cab.

"Understood."

~•~

Other than the mishap on the first day, the event ran without issues. Nothing else had happened, just the two brothers enjoying some time off together.

Chapter Text

Barrow Hill Roundhouse is a well known railway museum. The volunteers sometimes host events, when possible. One such event is a gathering between as many east coast engines as possible. From the pre-grouping era or not, there are a considerable amount of east coast engines.

Tornado pulls to a complete stop, just a little way's away from the platform. She'd taken Mallard all the way from the Railway Museum to Barrow Hill, with a railtour behind them. The legendary A4 had been surprisingly nice to her, although the Peppercorn A1 never really had thought about the world record holder and what she is like.

The newbuild is nervous, never having so many of her predecessors in one place. Considering it's not even been a year since she awakened and her first fire had been lit.

"Nervous, are we?" the A4's voice rings out from behind the Peppercorn.

"Yeah. So many older engines that I'm going to be meeting today. It feels… weird." Tornado admits, looking head of her glumly.

"Don't worry," the record holder reassures. "Most of us don't bite, and the one that does will be restrained."

"Not literally… right?" the A1 asks, hesitant.

"Of course not. We would have gotten the nicer twin, but he didn't want to come along. His memories of the Great Northern Railway and later the London North Eastern Railway are very unpleasant, so being here wouldn't have helped anyone, least of all the younger twin." Mallard explains, smiling gently.

"Okay…"

Tornado brings the other large tender engine into the roundhouse, first being spun on the turntable herself before pulling the garter blue engine onto the turntable. Another engine pushes the famous engine off while Tornado hides close to her cousin. She hasn't seen the other Peppercorn in a while and immediately starts talking to the A2 in an effort to ease her nerves. She knows he's listening, even if he doesn't verbalise it.

"I believe," a deep, yet surprisingly gentle, voice calls out, naturally summoning all the gathered engines' attention. "That we're just missing two engines."

It was the other defacto leader of the group of engines, named after a prominent designer from his former railway. The A4 is coloured BR blue, a colour she thinks suits the engine very much and his number is 60007, a number far from her own 60163.

Tornado looks around, but only sees one spot available. Unless one of the engines plans on blocking the entrance.

"But there's only one spot," she pipes up, summoning all attention onto herself.

"Why is she here again?" a more nasally voice objects to the newbuild's presence, grating Tornado's nerves. "She's not from the LNER. She's from… whatever the state the current railways are in."

"That's exactly why she's here, you dimwit," Blue Peter shoots back at the unknown engine, grumpily flashing with his lights to communicate. "We are going to talk to her about her heritage, so she knows."

"Couldn't understand that," the other replies with such a level of ignorance Tornado's safety valve goes off in anger.

"Shut up," she snaps, heatedly. "You know nothing!"

 "I know more than you, that's for sure." the older fires back.

"Shut up, Herbert," a collective groan escapes the group at the N2's behaviour.

"Was he always like this?" Tornado quietly asks her cousin, inching forward so she could get a view of the horrible engine in question.

"Yes," her cousin's lights flash.

A silence falls within the roundhouse, Tornado's safety valve no longer going off as she cools down. Tornado takes the chance to study the engines here. There's an engine with a very large driving wheel to the left side of the entrance, adorned in apple green. Tornado doesn't think she's seen an engine with such a big driving wheel before, but she can admit that the other has elegance. Next to the unique engine stands an A4, Sir Nigel Gresley, coloured in BR blue. Mallard sits between Sir Nigel and another blue A4, Bittern. Tornado sits between Bittern and Blue Peter, who himself sits next to an industrial looking engine with the name Mayflower. Mayflower herself sits next to a tank engine, the horrible engine from earlier, Tornado assumes. 

The last spot that isn't the entrance is empty and Tornado wonders what engine will take that spot. Her answer comes when another engine with a huge driving wheel enters the roundhouse. She looks almost exactly the same as the apple green engine in the other corner except for the livery, and when the dark green engine turns and reverses into the remaining slot, she reveals another engine. A light blue engine, shaped similarly to Blue Peter and herself, Tornado realises.

The newbuild A1 also notices the drop in mood. There's no tension, not like a fight is about to break out, but there's a sadness in the air that Tornado can't quite place. The silence becomes very awkward, very quickly.

"Hello, Gordon," Mallard quietly greets the light blue engine, though her tone isn't quite cheerful.

Nobody is in the mood to comment, it seems. It unsettles the Peppercorn newbuild greatly.

"Hello Mallard," the other - Gordon - greets in return, his eyes gazing over the others in his company. "And the rest of you, except for Herbert."

"Wh- what did I do?!" said tank engine's face shifts into a snarl.

"If you hadn't done what you did, maybe Ryan would have agreed to come here and the company here would be much more agreeable," the larger engine shoots back, shutting down the argument entirely.

Tornado blinks. Whoever this engine is, he is apparently very important. She thinks it's best to not get on his bad side.

"I'm going to bite the bullet and ask you, Gordon," Sir Nigel speaks, even though his tone is clearly hushed. "But, how is your brother doing?"

Tornado frowns. What. This engine has a brother? Who is it and why has she never heard of him. She wants to ask, but she doesn't. Clearly, something is amiss if the mood is like this. Tornado watches the other closely, how reluctant he seems to answer the question.

"Given there are likely cameras around, I can't confirm his status in exact detail. Our works are holding down the fort as tight as they can in regards to Scot, given everything that has happened. I can say, however, that it will still take a long time before he will be back on the rails again." Gordon answers the question, his eyes dulled by the weight of the situation.

"I understand. I hope he is given only the best treatment," the darker of the blue A4s answers, a solemn expression on his face.

"Our works are doing the best they can for him. They've also enlisted Riley and Sons' help, to make sure that no-one ends up overburdened and making a sloppy fault," the light blue engine responds, the tiniest of smiles briefly appearing on his face.

"The NRM won't like that," Mallard comments dryly.

"They didn't like it. But, as long as Scot is under overhaul, Crovan's Gate has complete authority over what does and doesn't happen," the other explains, causing some eyebrows to raise.

"They stood down?" Bittern asks, sceptical. "I thought they were a bunch of control freaks that refused to let anything go…"

"It took them the two months Scot was unconscious to get permission," Gordon elaborates, still wearing a pensive expression. "He was already there, so that worked massively in his favour… Regardless, I believe we're all here for a different reason?'"

"Hm…" Sir Nigel hums, before his gaze flickers across the room, studying each engine within the roundhouse. "Yes, we didn't come here just to get an update on Scotsman. We came here because we have some explaining to do, since we have two newbuilds among us."

Tornado frowns. She thought she was the only newbuild here. 

"I shouldn't be counted as a newbuild," the darker green of the two unique engines pipes up, a small blush colouring her cheeks. "For the most part I was built as a replica, so…"

"Tha's nonsense!" the apple green snaps, looking at the other with a concerned expression. "Yer not me, yer yer own engine."

"I guess, but… I'm not Tornado and brand new, I've been around for a little while…" the engine murmurs, looking at the rails.

"You're still new to the rest of us," Mayflower offers, the B1 finally speaking up.

"Anyways," Sir Nigel cuts back in, ending the debate. "Since we're all here regardless of if we like it or not, we decided to talk to the pair of you about your heritage, since neither of you were there for it."

"Okay, what do I need to know?" Tornado asks, and the room settles down for one long explanation.

The next time Tornado sees Gordon, he's enjoying the sun in the yard. His eyes are shut, but the Peppercorn doesn't get the impression he's asleep. Not with steam wafting out of his chimney in small amounts.

"I didn't get to ask earlier," she prompts, the other opening an eye to have a look at who's addressing him.

"Hm?"

"What's your class? You look like my cousin, and I… But you still have some differences and I can't place them." Tornado questions, hesitancy in her voice.

"I am an A1, like you. But your subclass, so to speak, was designed with modifications made in mind," the older engine answers. "My first little brother, Great Northern, used to be an A1 like myself, but he never got the A3 rebuild like our other siblings. He was rebuilt into an A1/1, which officially made him the prototype for your class. Mayflower's designer had Northern rebuilt, and your designer took things from both him and my designer to make your class, and your cousin's."

"Oh…" Tornado murmurs, processing all the information. "Thanks for explaining. My trust didn't tell me all that much about that part. They just told me I'm an improved A1 Peppercorn."

The other A1 frowns, worrying Tornado. "Is something wrong?"

"Surely they've told you more?"

"Not really… Maybe they'll get to it, though!" Tornado ponders, hoping to get another history lesson from her trust. "They make it very fun."

"That's good," Gordon smiles, taking the newly built engine in, before his expression changes to something more wistful, longing almost. "I do hope you'll be able to meet my brother at some point. I imagine he'd be very fond of you."

"In what way?" the newbuild prompts, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"He befriended and looked after one of your older siblings, and from what I gathered, you'd remind him of her…" the other answers. "He told me one time. He misses her dearly, so perhaps having you around will ease some of that pain... I hope so, anyways."

"…Do you know what my siblings were like? Blue Peter promised me he'd tell me, but hasn't yet, and my Trust is also not telling me much about them, so…" the newbuild admits sheepishly, embarrassment crawling across her face.

"I never met them, personally. I would definitely recommend waiting for your cousin's stories. No-one knows them better than him," the light blue engine answers with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay," Tornado responds, ending the conversation as photos are taken of the first A1 pacific alongside the latest built.

The rest of the event runs smoothly, despite a few invasive questions being asked. Mostly regarding Scotsman, since it's been three years with very little updates coming from Crovan's Gate. Emily is a crowd favourite, partially among the younger audience while Tornado draws the older crowds in, some even having seen her siblings in action. The running engines take it in turns, depending on the day, while the static engines bounce stories together. It had been a very satisfying event for all involved.

Chapter Text

Ryan is having a fairly decent day today. While he prefers busier days, he's not going to not enjoy the peace a quieter day brings. Everything's going well on his branchline, running as smooth as ever. Nothing too out of the ordinary has happened. Though, the afterthought of an event continues to linger in his mind. Not too long ago, a great family reunion had been held. One in the context of celebrating one engine's record. An event had been curated around the record, inviting two engines last seen on British metals many years ago.

This had created the opportunity to reunite all engines of the same designer - Sir Nigel Gresley. Ryan had been there too, because of course he had. Just him, Henry and Gordon from Sodor, as the other engines all predominantly work on the mainland. That had brought one problem. One of Ryan's cousins had been undergoing a complex overhaul for the past seven years - including delays brought on by the very curators of the family reunion. Ryan doesn't think he's seen an engine so sick, least of all one from his own family. 

Ryan tries to shove the thought of his famous cousin into the depths of his mind. It works for a small time being, before another more horrid member of his family surfaces in his mind. His older twin, Herbert, has never really been kind to Ryan. Occasionally, the older N2 would dish out praise, under the false pretense of luring the other back in close, just to strike again and hurl abuse Ryan's way again.

Ryan hates it. All he wants to do is please his twin, but very rarely does that happen. Herbert is never truly satisfied, which pains Ryan, as they're the last two of their class and last surviving Gresley tank engines.

Ryan currently is preparing to haul a goods train all the way down to Arlesburgh, from his branchline's other terminus Harwick. Even though he'd been built to haul passenger trains through suburban London, hauling goods has wormed its way into being an enjoyable job for him. Though, Daisy refusing to do fufill any duty other than passenger duty played a fairly large part in his sudden enjoyment of mixed traffic duties. But, if neither of them are available or are overwhelmed, a third engine has been brought on to help assist.

A Great Western 2800 class, numbered 2874 is the line's most recent addition. Meredydd, as the engine is known, was built for goods specifically. So if passenger traffic become overwhelming for Daisy, Ryan can step in and lend a hand, while leaving the goods to Meredydd.

Ryan slowly backs down onto the train, letting his crew guide him all the way until his buffers brush with the goods trucks. Ryan feels one of his crew members climb down to couple him to the goods. It's not a particularly heavy load, so Ryan can manage. They set off barely a moment later.

The N2 finds the route calming, it almost never parting ways with the coastline. There's something so soothing about the way the sea gently laps against the rocks that make up the coastline. It's a stark contrast to the industrial scenes from London. Ryan knows which of the two he prefers.

They carry onwards, all the way down to Arlesburgh. Ryan encounters the miniature engines and whistles in greeting. A trio of whistles chorus in return. Ryan thinks that his good mood of the day can't be broken. Until he pulls up into the station. There, sitting a few platforms along, is Ryan's twin. The one family member that keeps haunting him, making fun of him, belittling him… Ryan wants to cry.

"Hm," the other comments, his voice dry and without a hint of warmth. "So you've degraded to goods trains now, have you?"

The purple N2 feels his eyes start to burn with the effort of trying not to cry.

"Perhaps it's only fitting," the voice mocks. "You were never good enough for passengers, anyways. You always kept ruining your jobs, even moreso than the other, even more inferior shunters. I'd almost say I'm impressed, but I truly am not."

Ryan opens his mouth, but after nothing comes out, he shuts it again.

"Can't even reply, hmm?" the GNR coloured engine sneers. Ryan looks over, only to be met with the darkest expression he's ever seen and his eyes flit to the rails below, fear taking over every rivet in his being. "It is fitting, though. Improper engines like you should be seen and not heard. I'm ashamed to call you family. You're a failure and completely undeserving of the Gresley name."

Ryan feels a hand rubbing his tank, but it feels useless, the cold weight and sharpness of his twin's words too cold to warm with comfort. Tears slip down his cheeks and the moment he's uncoupled from his train, his crew get him moving again. They bring him somewhere else - Ryan doesn't know, he can barely see through the tears. He can just vaguely see a larger station closeby.

A silence falls as Ryan comes to a standstill. He can vaguely recognise that he's in a yard somewhere, but he doesn't know where, until another engine - one light blue and fairly large - pulls up beside him on his left. It's the only thing the N2 pays attention to before focusing his gaze back on the rails ahead of him.

"Little Ryan?" the voice calls, a soft paternal tone to it, so much different to the cold and clipped tone that Ryan's twin, Herbert, usually uses.

Ryan recognises the voice instantly, it's his older cousin - and oldest family member. The express engine had pulled up in such a way so that Ryan couldn't be seen by engines passing through the station, which Ryan is grateful for, knowing that Herbert had to pass through here to return to the mainland.

"Ryan, talk to me… What happened?" the A1 prompts again, his voice still gentle.

"He's here… Herbert, I mean… I don't know what h-he's doing but…" the N2 coughs out, tears still slipping down his face. "He said I was a failure and was underserving of our name…"

"Pah! Such nonsense," the blue engine snorts, an expression of disgust and disapproval forming. "He can't dictate that. The only one who can is long gone. But if I had a say in it, you're very deserving of our name, Ryan."

Ryan sniffs, looking up at his larger cousin with widened eyes. "R-really, you think so?"

"I couldn't think of anyone better," Gordon answers with a gentle smile, his voice never wavering.

"Thanks… Not many people believe in me, so…" Ryan is cut off by another approaching engine.

This time, he can see the other clearly. It's Thomas.

"Ryan? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in Arlesburgh…" the E2 asks, surprise and confusion thick in his voice.

"I- I was, but…"

"Long story short, someone who shouldn't be here is here," the North Western number four fills in for his purple cousin.

Thomas frowns, needing a moment to ponder, though it sinks in as fast as someone dropping a phone.

"Why is he here? What does he want?" the larger tank engine grinds out, his gaze looking over the area of station he could see.

"Probably just to remind myself of the place I have… I suppose," the N2 murmurs glumly. "He saw me pulling goods, too… Didn't say anything pleasant about that."

"Bullshit," Thomas snorts, before an idea enters his smokebox. "And what if he pulled goods, instead?"

"I- It's not worth it Thomas, he'll just take it out on you…" Ryan mumbles, fear lining his voice. "I don't want that to happen."

"It'll be fine, trust me. I believe that he needs to be shown the door anyways." Thomas grumbles, before moving along to further his plan.

Thomas shunts a line of trucks, keeping them just outside the station. He'd bring them later, to enact his trick on the horrible N2. Ryan would get the passenger job and Herbert the goods. Both are important, at least, to Thomas they are.

When the time to enact his plan finally rolls around, the trick is followed up upon flawlessly. Herbert, unassuming, pulls the goods all the way to Wellsworth where he is met by the railway's controller. The man tells him that he's no longer welcome on Sodor as a whole, due to his behaviour to one of the island's most valued tank engines.

Ryan then rolls up, perfectly on cue with the coaches. Herbert, upon realising that he had not pulled to coaches, goes on a tirade, and takes his due leave. Ryan watches his sibling go, a mournful expression on his face, but cheers up when an opportunity arises to thank the other tank engine for doing what he did.

Chapter Text

City of Truro does not know what to think when he arrives in the city he's supposed to be in. The only thing he knows is that there's an anniversary and BR had sent him to participate in it.

There's overhead wires everywhere and trains are coming from left right and centre. The organisation makes his smokebox hurt. So much yellow everywhere. He's currently in a yard, one that'd been altered to have a roof following Truro's - and a few others' - complaints. They are not sleeping without a roof over their heads.

One of the louder engines at the event happens to be one of the locals, NS 3737. She seems disgruntled yet prideful at the same time. Truro doesn't know what to think. He thinks he needs a friend around, but he also knows that he can't really get one, though. Not with his now-partner down in Australia for a similar reason to him being here and Mallard now being officially out of commission, having failed her boiler test.

A local notices.

"Having trouble?" His English is broken, but Truro appreciates the attempt. Although his nerves skyrocket when next to him is a rather intimidating-looking multiple unit, with a loud voice to go alongside.

"I guess… I just miss my friends, I think," Truro admits. It's always better to speak his mind in scenarios like this. "First time abroad."

"The museum should have someone for you to meet," the electric lowers his voice slightly, in consideration with the foreign engine.

"Oh?" Truro raises an eyebrow, curiously.

"It's worth a shot," the strange multiple unit offers, before shouting a name Truro hasn't heard before.

A larger tender engine shows up a moment later, as the multiple unit leaves. She wears a green coat of paint, paired with a massive golden dome as well as copper wiring along her sides. Her number plate reads 3737.

"So, you need to go to the museum?" she asks, her voice also louder than average.

"Yeah…" the City class answers, gazing at the rails.

"Alright, follow me," the larger engine crawls off, Truro following her.

It's a short journey over, and the 1903-built engine can't help but feel bemused at how small everything is here. The museum feels much more cramped and he wonders how all the engines feel about it.

The larger engine slides into a siding, allowing Truro to move foward into the museum. It's decorated with a few images and older railway objects on the walls. He eventually spots two engines. One he recognises as a War Department austerity engine - a 2-10-0. The other he doesn't recognise, but the colour of their livery is a striking apple green. One that is all too familiar to him.

"Hello?" he greets, coming to a stop.

"What are you doing here?" the large austerity engine asks, somewhat skeptical. "Last time I remember you were in a museum or something."

"They let me out eventually," Truro explains. "I've been in and out of steam since. You two… don't seem to be from around here."

"I'm Longmoor," the War Department engine introduces themself gruffly. "I was sent here to assist with the lack of engines this country found itself with. I never left."

"I'm Tommy," the brick shaped engine introduces. They have a pantograph on their roof, so they're an electric engine, Truro reckons. "Nicknamed by the Dutch and it stuck, so…"

"You never had a name beforehand?" Truro asks, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"No," Tommy answers and Truro could have sworn he saw dejection hiding in the electric's eyes. "I was just a prototype and England never had the proper place for me to run until the Woodhead line was completed, so similarly, I was sent here - but also to test my capacities."

"Oh… I'm sorry," Truro offers with a guilty expression.

"Don't worry about it. I heard one of my siblings survives in the National Collection - was it? - and one of my cousins, Diana, came over later. I don't know where she is though. She should be here somewhere," Tommy cheers up, a more pleasant grin sitting on his face.

Truro ponders for a moment, thinking about who Tommy reminds him of. The livery reminds him of Scotsman, which is… facinating, yet the story aligns more with Scotsman's brother.

"You seem to be deep in thought, City of Truro," Longmoor observes with a rumble.

"Just Truro's fine," the City class hastily corrects. "But I'm just thinking, because Tommy reminds me of two engines."

"In what way?" the electric engine in question presses, an eager expression sitting on his face.

"Your livery reminds me of Scotsman, yet, he's never said anything about an electric engine on his railway before. But your story reminds me of Scotsman's brother, Gordon," Truro explains, his gaze landing back on the LNER apple electric engine.

"Flying Scotsman?" Tommy's mouth opens before he realises, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Well, I have reason to believe he's my cousin, but you'd have to check with him. I only saw my designer once, before… I didn't get the chance to ask, and who's Gordon?"

Truro whistles sharply in suprise. "WHAT?! Your cousin?!"

"I believe so, yes. But I never got to confirm it, unfortunately," Tommy replies, still with that grin, before a puzzled look crosses his face.

"Ah - Gordon is Scotsman's eldest brother, the prototype for his class. He, Gordon I mean, never really talks about his experiences from the eastern side of the country."

"Did he not have good experiences?" the electric engine's face falls slightly, coming to terms with what he'd heard.

"Not from what I've gathered. Again, he doesn't really talk about it and I'm not about to ask. He'll tell people when he's ready." Truro comments, trying to keep his voice soft.

"I should probably meet him," Tommy states with a wistful gaze. "Maybe that would be nice… Except I've heard that the UK still hasn't done a complete electrification?"

"Nope. Diesels are the predominant form of traction in the UK. Most of them are fine, just suffering the consequences of the botched modernisation plan…" the City class sighs. He's heard a lot of things about the hate against diesels. He truly thinks it unnecessary.

"Then one would need to push me, but I'm down to meet this Gordon you speak of" Tommy smiles again, this time less energetic and more relaxed.

"I'll arrange something, then," Truro offers.

The three engines continue to chat the day away, with NS 3737 eventually coming back to bring Truro back to the yard where the guests are staying for the event. Truro feels somewhat less foreign, although he can't wait to tell Scotsman about the news of a cousin living in the Netherlands.