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cerenemuxse · 5 months

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Like Snowflakes in December

💗 December 1968

CW/TW: Swearing (like two words) and Injuries (no graphic details)

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

It’s been years since Edward last felt the sensation. He thought it wasn’t anything important. Perhaps it was this entire time.

Thank you @nightsinfoxx15 and anon for beta-reading for me!

One winter morning, Edward scuttled about in Wellsworth Yards. He was searching for the brake van that was usually there.

The engine questioned himself multiple times if someone had taken it, if he misplaced it, or if he simply overlooked it. No matter how many times he looked, though, it was nowhere to be found. Not even a spare could be found, and he was running late.

"Bother," he huffed. With no time to spare, Edward coupled up to his train of empty trucks and took them down to the very end of his branch line. All the way south was Brendam Docks. At the west end of the docks, going a bit up north, was a junction that led in two directions. One led engines back up north and the other led them to the Sodor China Clay Pits.

This was nothing out of the ordinary for Edward. It was his usual morning routine. Pick up any empty trucks at all the Main-Line stations and gather them in Wellsworth, ready to take the following morning. When morning arrived, he'd get a brake van and leave for the clay pits. That wasn't the case today, and it bothered him for a while—though not as much as what else was bothering him recently.

The concern was that the train of empty China clay trucks was usually very long, between twenty to thirty trucks. Today, he was pulling twenty-six. Even with the amount of experience the elderly engine had with trucks, Troublesome or not, it was still concerning. It was important to have a brake van for any sort of train, so he was taking a risk.

Though the absence of a brake van was concerning, the cannily familiar, daunting feeling he felt that had resurged within the past few weeks made that seem like nothing in comparison. Whenever it came, Edward became distracted, spacing out from the world around him. His pipes felt like they were being pulled on and thumping against one another like a heartbeat, building huge amounts of steam that he couldn't even force himself to make. Sudden waves of heat rushed to his face from his firebox.

This wasn't the first time this happened. It went away just as soon as it happened that first time, so he never said a word, brushing it off as something else.

Two months ago, that feeling came right back with full force, throwing the engine off. It was much more intense than the first time, which made him worry that something could genuinely be wrong.

When the odd feelings started, it was getting closer to the winter season, the season when he started to have problems with his parts. He knew his crew would already be on the lookout for any signs, in hopes of preventing a nasty piston accident. His mending back in 1952 had fixed it for a good while before it came back. Since then, it took much longer to happen, typically late December to early January. Ma crew already has somethin tae worry aboot, he thought, on the day he chose not to tell them as soon as possible. I can wait for it, he reasoned.

Now here he was, strolling down his branch line and barely noticing that he passed Brendam, the point where he should start paying attention and keep an eye out for the signals up ahead. There was a small junction entering Brendam Docks, which led to the loop in the area. He had to go straight ahead on the tracks heading south, not on the west tracks.

He should tell them.

No’ now thouch, he figured. Maybe later.

The trucks needed to be there on time, and he was running late already. Or at least he thought he was.

In reality, Edward was able to make up for time as he hadn't realized that he was going faster than normal. His crew had been tapping on his cab for a while, trying to get his attention, but he wouldn't respond to them.

Despite their engine's attempts to hide it, his crew was fully aware of Edward's recent odd behavior. It became more prominent when they entered December. His fireman, Alf, had assumed it had something to do with the expected chance of breaking down, but his driver, Rhett, knew it was something else. Edward had initially been weary about going out in the winter until he realized that the breakdowns would just happen inevitably, but that was years ago. The elderly blue tender engine had simply accepted it.

Tapping wasn't getting Edward's attention, so they started hollering, calling out his name. It worked, only to send them flying forward and into Edward's backhead as Edward pulled on his brakes, thinking something was wrong. The empty trucks bashed against each other and pushed towards him. Thankfully, these trucks weren't the Troublesome ones.

"Whit? Whit happenit?" Edward exclaimed. His warm brass eyes darted around, searching his surroundings.

Both men collected themselves. Rhett peeked out through Edward's cab windows. "Nothing's happened, old boy," reassured the Welsh man. "We just want to know what's going on with you."

"Yeah, you've been acting odd recently," added Alf slowly. "Is something on your mind?"

"Um…" I did say later. "I think," Edward began slowly. "I micht be havin’ some problems wit’ ma boiler."

"Think?" said Rhett as Alf peered out of the other cab window.

"Ma pipes. It feels like I'm forcin’ oot more steam than I can make."

Alf winced. He pulled away from the cab window and examined Edward's gauges and firebox. Not sure if what he was seeing was what he suspected, Alf tapped on Rhett's shoulder. Rhett looked at him swiftly as Alf pointed at their engine's gauges. Taking a glance, he noted that Edward's steam pressure was… fine. It wasn't abnormal. It hadn't been abnormal when Edward had been rushing down the line.

Edward could sense his crew looking at his gauges. "It's no' all the time. It happens oan and aff…"

"So it just happens?" asked Rhett with a concerned expression.

The old iron pondered for a moment. "Aye."

His crew looked at one another. They had two choices. The final choice was ultimately up to Edward.

"We can either go to the Steamworks or continue the day as normal," prompted Rhett. "What'll it be, old chap?"

Of course, Edward quickly responded.

"Continue the day as usual. The lads at the claypits need these trucks as soon as possible, and we've got a busy day o’ passenger and guids trains."

"Very well," said Rhett. He adjusted his hat and pulled off Edward's brakes to continue their journey to the clay pits.

…

The journey to and from the clay pits went rather smoothly. At no point did Edward's steam pressure rise to a concerning level. His driver hummed peacefully once they reached Wellsworth Junction, stopping since their signal was red. Molly swiftly passed by with her five honey-yellow coaches, the Honeypot as the train was called. The blue engine blew his whistle, greeting her. He got a response, and once she was out of the way and down the Main-Line his signal turned green. Releasing his brakes, Edward headed for Wellsworth Yards for a quick rest before the first passenger train.

Or at least he would've if he hadn't remembered something.

"Och, I've nearly forgotten!" he exclaimed. "Today's scrap collection, innit?"

"Yes, it- Whoa!"

The modified Larger Seagull suddenly jerked forward. His movement startled his crew, nearly knocking them off their feet. "I need tae get tae Tidmouth, quickly!"

Before Alf could speak, Rhett stopped him as he looked at Edward's steam pressure gauge. Once again, it was normal, though a bit higher to make up for his current speed. They were starting to doubt what Edward was supposedly experiencing, had anything to do with his boiler.

…

The first run of scrap collection, starting from Tidmouth and ending at Wellsworth, had gone rather smoothly. Much to Edward's relief, he finished a bit earlier, giving him enough time to get his snowplow fitted—having skipped it that morning—and collected his coaches.

As Edward pulled out of the yard, going east with the five branch line coaches, he quickly did a rundown of his day's work. Trucks huv been deliverit tae the clay pits and the first half o’ scrap collection is done, he thought as he lightly hummed a tune. Now all thon's left is the passenger runs up until midday, which is my break. After thon, I huv a few passenger runs, and then the train o’ China clay tae Vicarstown- Och! Maybe James will pass by this time-

"Edward, you've gone too far ahead!" exclaimed his driver.

As soon as Edward heard him, he snapped on his brakes, quickly shutting his eyes in the process. Again, his train bashed against him. Once his eyes opened, he was shocked as he found himself all the way near the level crossing, shortly before Wellsworth Junction.

"Sorry!" he quickly exclaimed, embarrassed as he backed down to the station.

Rhett patted his engine's cab. "It's alright, Edward. Just be a bit more careful."

"O' course!" Edward replied. "I will."

Once Edward reached the station, passengers quickly boarded the coaches. Rowdy schoolchildren climbed on board after saying their goodbyes to their parents. Teenagers and young adults either strayed behind to let the children on or rushed to get on board to beat the children, hoping to get a decent spot. Very few elders climbed on board, some with the assistance of the stationmaster and Edward's guard.

The elderly blue engine couldn't help but chuckle with a warm smile at the children's energy. He could feel the coaches jostle slightly as the children got rowdier. It would die down eventually, typically early on in the run, so he wasn't worried. His crew was, however, though not about the children. Rhett hadn't called out for Edward just because he was getting closer to the level crossing.

"Your steam pressure went too high there, old boy," said Rhett. "Your brakes wouldn't work either."

Immediately, Edward's warm smile faltered. "It did? I didnae feel it thon time." I wid've if I wisnae distractit, thouch, he scolded himself.

"You didn't?" That raised a bit of an alarm to the two men. "It went up fast, and the lever was stuck. You didn't feel me trying to pull it?"

"Naw, I didnae." How oot-o'-space did I go?

Rhett hummed. "We should call for another engine to take this train while we take you to the Steamworks."

Edward panicked. He didn't want to have another engine pull his train. Not at a time like this. It was the early winter, when passenger and goods services were heavy in preparation for the winter holidays, especially in the morning. Unfortunately, "like minds think alike" was the way to describe how busy it got. Traveling was typically planned for the morning so goods trains were pushed to the afternoon. This made it so that traffic wouldn't cluster up during the day, and Edward wasn't about to disrupt that.

"I can take this passenger train just fine," insisted Edward. "I took those trucks tae the clay pits wit’ naw issue."

Rhett and Alf looked at one another. Their engine wasn't wrong.

“Alright, we’ll give it another go,” Rhett relented. “But if anything is off, you need to let us know, alright?”

“Aye, Mr. Driver,” agreed Edward.

When the guard blew his whistle, Edward let out a bright whistle before departing the station.

…

The morning went by with no further issues. During the midday break, Edward’s crew checked him over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His pistons were fine, his side rods weren't loose, and his smokebox was clean. There was no blockage in the firebox from the look of things, so Edward was fine.

When they finished the afternoon passenger runs, before heading for the China clay, everything was normal. The Victorian engine went on with the day, humming about, as the worry about the problem slowly faded from his mind.

Humming a slow-paced, upbeat tune, Edward headed down his branch-line to pick up the trucks of China clay waiting for him at the dockyard. This particular train was heading to the Mainland, but would be dropped off at Vicarstown so Murdoch would take it from there. Once he arrived, Edward was promptly coupled up, leaving as soon as he had arrived.

The early December cold air stroked against his boiler, sending waves of chills throughout his frame. The steam spewing from his pistons, cylinders, and funnel wasn’t doing much for him.

Edward was switched onto the Main-Line and headed directly towards the goods tunnel cutting through Gordon’s Hill. With grace, he picked up speed, streamed through the tunnel, and came across Rebecca, who was hauling a long goods train on the other line. They pipped a quick “Hullo!” as she passed by. Edward greeted with a different warm smile, his eyes creasing together as his snowplow completely covered his mouth. Whistling in the tunnel was forbidden, due to concerns of triggering a possible collapse. The tunnel was stable enough to withstand the racket the engines made thundering through, but not enough if they added in the shrill of their whistles.

Once the ex-SR West Country passed, Edward didn’t find anyone else in the tunnel. He came out to clear tracks right as his signal turned green. Edward pushed through the junction, switched to the track right of him, decreasing his speed, and continuing down the Main-Line.

It took a while but eventually, Kildane came into view, and so did a certain scarlet tender engine, bringing a smile to Edward’s smile. As Edward passed the station he whistled brightly, and James reciprocated. The red engine’s signal changed and he was soon off, chasing after his blue friend.

“Edward! It’s been a while!” exclaimed James once his smokebox lined up with Edward’s, his buffer beam being ahead of Edward’s.

“It certainly has!” Edward agreed. “Whit’ve ye got this time?” he questioned, noticing the stone dust amongst the snow covering the bright red medium-sized tender engine.

“The complete Shen Valley package,” James replied smugly, to which Edward laughed, before huffing. “Though I’d like to know why people want so much stone at this time of the year. It’s cold outside! How do they build in these conditions?”

“People ur truly somethin’,” hummed Edward. “But then again, they work around us.”

“Touchè,” playfully pouted James. “How’s that tank engine on your line doing? Ryan, was it?”

“Aye. He’s been such a great help since BoCo wis put oan the Main-Line.”

“At least they’re not being a bitch about him anymore.”

“James!” Edward reprimanded, knowing very well who “they” were.

“You know it’s true!”

“Still, you should never speak like thon! Please dinnae tell me Jacqueline is learnin’ any o’ this.”

James gasped, faking offense. “Now, I would never teach my own daughter such things!” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Though I doubt she doesn’t know a few in French.”

“Dinnae get her tae teach ye.”

“No promises~!” James sang.

Edward rolled his eyes humourously.

The two continued their conversation, jumping around from subject to subject as they chuffed down the Main-Line. At one point, James said something humorous and Edward began to laugh. Years ago, the mogul Class 28 had come to learn that the Larger Seagull’s squawking wasn’t just restricted to being frightened out of his frame.

So he pressed on.

“James, patch aht!” huffed Edward, trying to control his laughter as it got worse and worse. He saw this coming the moment he started laughing. Oh, curse James’ good humor.

“Nu-uh!” teased James. “I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

That broke the dam.

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

It felt so good to laugh. The warmth boiling within him was enough to overwhelm the feeling of his piston rod cracking.

…

Once Edward and James arrived at Vicarstown they both dropped off their goods trains, which were promptly shunted away by Rosie and Dennis, preparing it for Murdoch. Both tender engines left as soon as they had arrived, heading for Tidmouth Sheds as a day’s work came to an end.

They were having a peaceful conversation and were going up Gordon’s Hill with the winter sunset approaching when James started huffing heavily.

“James?” asked Edward worryingly. He took notice of James’ chubby cheeks starting to burn.

“Shit,” hissed James. “I’m low on water.”

The blue engine steamed off the profanity, focusing on the issue. “Maron is’nae too far. Wid ye like me tae shunt ye?” he offered.

“No, no! I’ll be fine,” reassured James as Maron came into view. “I’ll stop here. You go on ahead.”

Edward felt a bit on the edge. “I can wait wit’ ye.”

“How full is your water tank then?”

“Halfway, but-”

“I insist. Besides-” James chuffed a humourous huff. “I can catch up to you just fine. I am-!”

“Yon fastest red engine oan Sodor?” hummed Edward with a teasing smile. “I ken thon all too well, James.”

“As you should!” puffed up James. “Now, you go on your merry little way, and I’ll catch up to you. D’accord?”

“O’ course,” replied Edward with a giddy chuckle as warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. James took no notice, as Edward’s snowplow covered a good part of the warm-brass-eyed engine’s face. Both engines pulled into Maron, with James switching lines to get to the water tower. Edward bid his temporary farewell and went on his merry way down the hill.

The bubbling and boiling grew gradually but Edward didn’t think much of it. How could he? It was warm and comforting, wrapping Edward in a loving, invisible embrace. An intoxicatingly, inviting feeling that the ex-Furness Railway engine reveled in more and more.

That feeling was snatched away when his driver started smacking his cab side. “Edward, slow down!” warned the English man. “Your steam pressure’s gone up again!”

“Do you hear that?” questioned Alf. “Do either of you hear that?”

Edward focused on the noise of the world around him. He heard it, and he felt it.

Loud groans and creaking could be heard from his chassis as a soreness started to spread from his cylinders. He felt the cracks on one of the piston rods, which had grown drastically.

With a loud CRACK!, the damaged piston rod broke off. He screamed in agony as the pain shot through him. Hot steam spewed furiously from his piston and cylinders. The rod dragged on the tracks, repeatedly hitting the sleepers before breaking off. Edward ran over it before he screeched to a halt, managing to avoid further damage to his chassis. Once Edward came to a complete stop, his crew immediately jumped out of his cab to inspect the damage.

The rod lay across the tracks, posing a danger to any other oncoming engine. The crew quickly resolved to grab the rod and throw it into Edward’s tender, letting it sink into the coal. Rhett rushed to the front, finding Edward in a state of despair. Tears of hot water mixed with coal dust streamed down his cheeks, staining his face and the edge of his snowplow. His sobbing, muffled by the snowplow, was interrupted with hiccups.

Gosh, it hurts, he thought as he cried. It hurts so much.

“We’ll call for help, Edward!” Rhett exclaimed frantically. “Just hold on!"

"I think I see an engine coming!" hollered Alf as he began to frantically wave down the approaching engine. "Stop! Stop!" he chanted.

The engine screeched to a halt on the track and behind Edward's tender, in time to not bump into Edward with his snowplow.

"Edward?" the engine called out, peering over from the right of the cerulean iron horse.

The thumping of Edward's boiler tubes and the rush of warmth to his freckled cheeks returned as the recognizable Cockney Londoner accent rang bells. “James!” Edward cried out immediately, frightening his driver, who had kneeled to inspect Edward’s chassis. Despite the intolerable pain that began to haze his smokebox, Edward noticed and quickly murmured an apology. His driver gently stroked the front edge of the matte black running board to comfort the hurting engine.

"He's broken a piston!" exclaimed his fireman to James and his crew. "Could you take us to the Steamworks?"

“Of course!” replied James with haste, beating his crew to a response. Engines interacting with other engine crews weren’t common, so Edward’s fireman was thrown off. With two huffs and a whistle, he backed away. “I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

Typically Edward would be fine with that, but with the pain becoming unbearable and hazing his thoughts, he didn’t want him to leave. Dinnae go, dinnae go! Come back! he thought as he sobbed harder, Please come back! Tears continued to trickle down his freckled cheeks as James quickly chuffed away.

…

As promised, James returned, and quite quickly at that. Regardless, it felt like an eternity to Edward as the pain continued. When James backed down on him, his thoughts were swimming. He couldn’t concentrate on his driver’s voice, who was trying to warn Edward that James would buffer up to him. So when James did just that, Edward let out a startled squawk, and the thumping of his boiler tubes increased. It felt like a smokebox ache within his boiler.

Was it a boiler ache? He wasn’t sure. He never had one before.

“Boiler…” he murmured to his driver, who perked up from watching James buffer up his tender to Edward’s. “Boiler ache.”

This seemed to have frightened his driver. He couldn’t tell too well as his eyes felt heavy, letting his eyelids droop. “A boiler ache?”

“I think…” replied Edward.

“What do you feel?”

“Tubes ur throbbin’…” Edward let out a heavy huff of steam, startling the others. “Like a smokebox ache.”

Worry crossed his driver’s face who quickly rushed to Edward’s cab, where his fireman was. Edward could barely hear the conversation.

“...boiler ache…?”

“...was flushed…throbbing.”

“...a boiler cleanout.”

James began to haul him. It was a gentle tug of his rear coupling, yet it was enough to startle Edward. “Does it hurt more?” he heard James holler.

“Naw!” he cried out. Edward continued huffing out sobs, and let his hiccups take over.

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

Edward would’ve if passing out hadn’t been so enticing, letting the haziness of the pain take over.

…

“...Edward? Edward!”

“Keep it down, James!” scolded another engine.

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying!” huffed the red engine.

“Again, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

“Victor!” whined James.

The pain was gone, replaced by light soreness. Edward furrowed his eyebrows at the noise before gently cracking his eyes open with a soft hum. It was enough to get the other two engines’ attention.

“Edward!” exclaimed James, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness!” rejoiced Victor. “You had us worried, Edward.”

“Worrit-? Och!” Edward perked up. “I-I’m sorry!”

“Sorry?” inquired James, with Victor eyeing him. “For what? Passing out? Worrying us?”

“Er- aye?” Edward replied, flustered as his freckled cheeks burned.

“Well, don’t,” huffed James. “It’s not your fault that you were in pain.”

The smaller engine hummed. He twitched his nose to wrinkle out the stiffness from wearing his snowplow, which was when he realized that it was gone. They must’ve taken it off, he thought, letting his vision wander. From the nearby windows, he noted that it was dark outside, no sunlight could be seen. “How lon’ wis I oot?”

“From when you got here, about an hour,” replied Victor. “We’ve gone in and taken off what was left from your broken piston. We don’t have any spare rods, so you’ll have to wait for the shipment to arrive.”

With a heavy huff, Edward spoke. “I should’ve jist come here in the first place,” he admitted. “I think somethin’ might be wron’ wit’ ma boiler, too.”

“Ah. About your boiler. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Victor noted. “We’ve checked multiple times while you were out, but we haven’t found anything wrong.”

“...Sae I’m fine?” Edward asked, not completely convinced.

“You’re fine,” Victor insisted, who slowly looked over at James. Edward followed his direction, confused.

“Fine, I’ll be leaving,” huffed James as he began to leave. “I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. There’s no harm in it.”

“We know, James. We know,” sighed Victor.

With another huff, James looked over to Edward. Again, a rush of warmth came over Edward’s frame. “Bye, Edward! Get well soon!” he exclaimed before letting out two cheerful whistles.

Edward couldn’t help but chuckle. “Bye, James!” he replied with a warm smile. James smiled back as he left, and Edward’s eyes followed.

Once James was gone Victor glanced over at Edward. “We need to talk about your boiler.”

“But I thoucht-”

“That was just to get James to leave,” interrupted Victor. “He’s been bothering everyone since he got here, and I don’t think that would do you any good if he stayed any longer.”

“He did whit? Why?” inquired Edward, confused.

“My friend, it's because James genuinely cares about you. He was frantic about you,” Victor replied, his words full of perplexity. “Are you two close friends? I don’t remember you both being on such healthy terms.”

“Aye, we huv. We’ve been since thon runaway incident a few years ago.”

“You mean back in nineteen-fifty-two?”

“Aye.”

“I don’t think sixteen years is ‘a few years,’ my friend.”

"Looks like the auld iron caught ye after all," teased Edward with a chuckle. With rope tied from one buffer to the other’s, the two engines gently strolled down the Main-Line. Edward expected James to retort back with something more teasing, an insult even, but no. James said something else.

"I'm sorry I said all those things about you, Edward," James replied. Lacking the ability to pop open his smokebox door, no thanks to his glasses, Edward couldn't see the other’s face well but with what little he could, Edward could see and hear the sincerity of his apology. "Thank you for saving me."

It took a bit for Edward to reply as he processed what James had just said. He apologized and thanked him.

That was new.

"It's alricht, James," Edward replied after a few odd seconds of silence as the pair continued down the line. "And ye're welcome."

"You were splendid, Edward."

A rush of heat flashed throughout Edward’s frame to his already-burning freckled cheeks, turning them pitch black as they journeyed to-

"Wait, where are we going?" asked James after a bit of silence.

"Och! Um-," Edward panicked. The little “old iron” wasn't used to being complimented by anyone, even from the Fat Controller. He was just an engine who did his work as told to, or when he knew it was right. So to say that James' words had flustered him would be a big understatement.

It's not that they were enemies or co-workers who hated one another. No, what happened between them was far from it. They were mostly friends. He and James had gotten along as years went by, facing a few ups and downs in their friendship, and they were able to get through just fine. He didn't expect much from the bright red medium-sized tender engine, though. Anything more than a simple "Thank you," really, which was the usual response he got that he was very content with.

But a compliment? Edward couldn't remember the last time an engine had said such a thing.

Realizing that he hadn't properly answered James, Edward shook himself, a shake light enough that it wouldn't jostle his crew around before he said anything. The rope holding them together shifted around. "Tae the next station!" he huffed out quickly. "Surely ye're low oan water."

James hummed, which only made Edward panic a little more. "My tank does feel rather light," James eventually replied. The exhaustion of going down the line without any stops could be heard in his voice.

"Then tae Kellsthorpe we go," replied Edward.

His response was soon followed by light conversation between the two, as both engines were exhausted, one running low on water and the other on the brink of falling apart. How James hadn't gotten into more trouble going down Gordon's Hill was beyond Edward's comprehension, which he expressed to the other. James expressed the same.

But then James asked, "You don't sound alright. Are you okay?"

And much to Edward's relief, they pulled into Kellsthorpe Station, or Kellsthorpe Road as the engines like to call it, where Sir Topham Hatt II was waiting for them.

“Sixteen?” gasped Edward. “Och my…” He gave his frame a shake. “Whit aboot ma boiler?”

“That’s the thing. It’s perfectly fine, Edward,” replied Victor, receiving a perplexed look from the warm-brass-eyed engine. “What concerns me most is what you felt. Your crew told me that you felt your tubes were throbbing and that your face was flushed.”

“Ma face wis flushit?”

“Was and still is,” indicated Victor as Kevin came over with a mirror. It was typically used when engines wished to see how they looked, either after a paint job or an accident. “Would you-?”

“Aye,” Edward interjected, growing worried. Kevin veered a quick “Hello” at Edward as he positioned the mirror next to him. Once Edward’s reflection came into view, he was a bit startled. His freckled cheeks were burning furiously and stained with streaks of dirty water. “Is ma fire still goin’?”

“No. It went out about a few minutes ago after we ran checks. Your boiler is still warm, however. I don’t mean to insinuate anything, but has this happened before?”

Edward grimaced as Kevin drove away with the mirror, being extremely cautious with it. “Um, aye, actually. When James and I were headin’ tae Kellsthrope Road, tae meet wit’ the Fat Controller oan the day o’ the runaway accident.”

“I don’t remember you mentioning it.”

“Thon’s because I never did,” the elderly blue engine admitted nervously. “It went away oan ma way here sae I figur’it wis nothin’. Thon, maybe, it wis jist the rush o chasin’ James. I huvnae had it since until this September.”

Concerns overcame Victor’s face. “Since then? When exactly did it start?”

“When…”

It was late into the evening, way past the time when the engines normally ended their day. For Edward, this hadn’t been the case. He had been up since last night in the late hours of the evening, delivering a goods train to the midlands on the Mainland. The yardmen there had been kind enough to let him sleep for about an hour before leaving for Sodor. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep before the journey. Hell, he had gotten more of a nap at Wellsworth Yards after having taken the Mayor of Sodor home from the dinner party at Vicarstown.

Maybe doing the special job wasn’t such a good idea.

“Och, well,” he had told himself when picking up that goods train. “Anythin’ tae help a friend.”

Especially when that friend was in need, he thought as he headed to Wellsworth Sheds.

James had been so excited to do the special after a hard day’s work, resulting in being covered in mud, coal dust, and sticky sugar from wheel to dome. His well-deserved washdown was meaningless when he found out about a tiny scratch on his paintwork. It seemed like the world was against him that day as his plan, evidently not foolproof, to dry his new paint job had failed.

He hadn’t expected James to ask him to take the special instead. Edward would’ve said something, knowing that it wasn't fair. But seeing James desperately not wanting to disappoint the Mayor and make the Fat Controller seem like a fool, he’d agreed with delight, hoping his positive energy would cheer up James for just a moment. The same way James would for him.

It worked.

He could only wonder what the next day had in store for James when he told the Fat Controller of the issue that evening. Looking back, Edward wondered if he had done the right thing. What if instead of helping James, it only made the situation worse? His nose twitched as he grew worried.

Edward came to a stop at Wellsworth Junction, just east of his home. Despite his worries, he wanted to just sleep in for a good while. The trip back home was pleasant, but without enough rest it was exhausting as well.

Rhett patted his cab when he let out a yawn. “We’re almost there, old boy. Just a bit more and then you’ll be sleeping in your shed in no time.”

“Sleep wid be nice,” hummed the Victorian with mild humor.

And that’s when he heard that splendidly bright whistle.

Edward immediately perked up. What was James doing up so-? He let out a gasp when he saw a pair of red and cream coaches streaming behind James’ tender.

“Och, ye dae look splendid taenicht, James!” he praised without another thought as the bright red medium-sized tender engine passed by him on the adjacent line with the coaches. He was surprised to see the Mayor inside the coaches, who waved at him once he saw the engine.

“Thank you, Edward!” James boasted. “I know~!”

It was a brief moment when warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. It wasn’t acknowledged until his crew pointed it out when he settled down in his shed that night. All parties brushed it off as being caused by his exhaustion. That Edward had been pushing himself a bit more to get home and it was enough to make him exhausted.

After some hesitation, Edward replied, “When I came across James when he took the mayor tae Vicarstown.”

Victor eyed Edward with suspicion. “What about the other- No, answer this instead. Think about every time it has happened. Is there something in common with all those instances?”

This drove Edward deep into his thoughts as he looked ahead at the setting sun. Before now, he had it happen twice. Once when he went through his mental checklist that morning, and once again when he was traveling with James to and from Vicarstown before Edward went ahead.

When James and he were heading to Kellsthrope once the chase was over? The day he returned from the works, working better than before, and the engines blew their whistles, James being the loudest of them all? The evening he returned from the Mainland and came across James? The times he spent with James, either taking their respective goods trains to Vicarstown or pulling one together? The times he wondered if he would come across James?

James. James. James. James… “James…”

“Pardon?” inquired Victor.

“James is always there,” Edward whispered nervously, before looking over at Victor. “What diz he huv tae dae wit’ this?”

The small red narrow-gauge engine cleared his pipes. Just that was enough of an indication that Victor knew or at least—had an idea of what was going on. “I don’t want to pry, but if we want to figure this out, we’re going to need to talk about your relationship with James. I think I might know what it is, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, my friend.”

“Och, um… O’ course.”

“How does James make you feel?” Victor bluntly asked.

The forwardness caught Edward off-guard. He fumbled with his thoughts. “Well… he makes me feel…”

How did James make him feel?

“I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

“...he makes me feel safe,” he began slowly. “He cares aboot me, and he shows it.”

“Nu-uh! I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

“He makes me feel joy,” he continued as the warmth of his cheeks grew. “The minute I start laughin’, he diz whit he can tae keep it goin’.”

“Could you take the Mayor to the ball for me?” James sputtered out frantically. “Please?”

“Och!” Edward perked up. “I’d be happy tae, James.”

“Oh, thank you!” James sighed with a smile of relief.

“He makes me feel reliable. He trusts me enouch tae rely oan my help. I ken I am but its thon reassurance frae others thon helps.”

“Whit happenit yesterday?” Edward inquired. It was the day after he had returned to the Mainland and he had managed to come across James at Kildane. His worries and curiosity got the best of him.

But instead of answering the question, James smiled warmly. “Thank you for that.”

This slightly confused Edward. “Whit for?”

“For sticking up for me,” replied James. “I didn’t even ask you, and yet you did it anyway.”

“Och, well, he wid’ve askit, sae I thoucht I’d tell him. It wis jist the most logical thing tae dae-!”

“No one else would’ve done that for me,” interjected James, making a point. “Maybe Toad, but no one else has done it when I couldn’t be there. Thank you, Ed.”

“Och! Y-Ye’re welcome!” he quickly replied. And then that throbbing sensation in his boiler happened, and the blue engine couldn’t shake off why.

“You were always splendid.”

“He makes me feel appreciatit. I’m still surprisit he callit me splendid, twice even!” chuckled Edward lightly, letting the giddiness slip out.

Pumping his piston with excitement, the newly mended Larger Seagull engine rushed down the Main-Line in the early hours of the morning. He felt amazing, gliding down the tracks with his mended parts.

“How do you feel, old boy?” prompted Charlie as they neared Tidmouth Yards.

“I feel amazing!” chortled Edward. “I feel new!”

“That’s the spirit!”

And once Edward came into the yards, he was unexpectedly welcomed with a barrage of bright cheerful whistles. The loudest amongst them all came from the very engine he saved all those weeks ago. The one who missed his driver very much, but had missed Edward more, as Edward would come to find out a few days later.

“Lovit,” Edward noted. “He makes me feel lovit. Maybe thon’s why he’s ane of ma closest friends.”

Victor hummed. “Friend, or something more?” he questioned.

“Somethin’ more?” inquired Edward. “Whit dae ye mean?”

“Do you know what it is between a couple?”

The question confused Edward. “I dinnae understand…?”

“Love. You are in love with James, Edward. And not just as a ‘close friend’. The same way a human does for someone else, for the same reasons you’ve felt that way.”

His eyes widened behind his brass-framed glasses. “But he’s a close friend!” Edward insisted, as if Victor’s conclusion was a scandalous discovery. “Engines-! We-!” the Victorian sputtered, becoming a furiously flustered and burning mess, though managing to suppress his squawks. Sure, he’d seen it between the passengers. He wasn’t oblivious to it. He just never questioned it, like the others did. Brushing it aside as “a human thing.” “How dae-?”

“I may be in the workshop most of my time, but I’ve heard enough from the men to know about these things,” hummed Victor. “They tend to put up a front, but when they know each other well enough, they’ll talk about their partners to each other as if they’re the most precious things in their lives. I don’t fully understand this specific concept, but I understand it enough to see when someone is in love. You’re not the first engine to deal with this, from what I hear, I can promise you that. But you are the first engine on Sodor to do so, as far as I know.”

“Sae it's… normal?” Edward inquired with hesitation.

“You remember how people acted when they began to realize us sentient locomotives have feelings?”

Edward could remember that all too well. “I dae.”

“It’s normal,” reassured Victor. “But we, locomotives, believe it isn’t, because of what people say. I’ve learned a lot since I came here to work in this place, and that was one of the first things I learned when I got here. Other than English, of course,” Victor added humorously.

A small laugh managed to slip from Edward’s lips. “Sae I’m fine. As in, actually fine? Other than ma piston rod, thon is?”

“You’re fine, Edward. There is nothing wrong with being in love with another engine, especially when they’re someone close, from the sound of it.”

With a modest burn, Edward smiled warmly. “Thank ye, Victor.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” replied Victor. “So will you tell him?”

“Naw!” Edward squawked suddenly. “He diz’nae ken whit love is! I cannae jist dae thon tae him!”

“But you can’t keep hiding something like this,” reprimanded Victor. “It might make it awkward for you both if you do.”

“I cannae jist drop somethin’ like this oantae him, Victor!” argued Edward frantically. “Thon’s selfish o’ me, and I cannae dae thon tae James.” Warm-brass-eyes looked away and down at his buffers. “He diz’nae deserve somethin’ sae sudden tae be droppit oan him, somethin’ thon could scare him aff. I dinnae want tae lose him because o’ ma wants…”

Victor relented. He was prying much further than he wanted and intended to. “My apologies, Edward. I’ll leave it to you. It is your decision. I didn’t mean to poke any further.”

“I-It’s fine, Victor. I’m sorry, too, for ma outburst. I ken ye mean well, but I dae need time tae process… this,” Edward emphasized.

“I think you’ll find that you will have plenty of that while you wait for your piston rods,” reminded Victor humorously.

“Touché,” replied Edward with a chuckle.

“Alright, it is getting late, and we can’t do much for your repairs until your piston rods come in, so we’re calling it a night,” noted Victor. With a double whistle and a wheesh of steam, Victor bid his farewell. “Good night, Edward. Get a good night's rest.”

“Guid nicht, Victor!” exclaimed Edward as Victor left for the shed, leaving the elder engine alone with his thoughts. He stared off into the night sky as the workmen shut the doors of the Steamworks. At least these doors had windows at the top, so he could still see through them.

His warm-brass eyes followed the snowflakes that fell, dancing in the chilly air. For once, he could agree with Thomas that snow was light, fluffy, harmful nonsense, or it was from a distance.

From what he understood, love sounded like the way snow worked. At first glance, it’s sweet and oh-so-lovely—Edward’s seen it multiple times—but when one first experiences it or even begins to question it, love becomes more than a concept. It becomes a rabbit hole of questions, ones that Edward couldn’t answer, despite his age and being known as someone to seek guidance from.

He was like a snowflake falling from the sky, wandering and not knowing what, or why. But one thing was certain, and he knew Victor was right. He kept rethinking the times he spent with James for the past few months since that day. The more he did, the less doubts there were about Victor’s conclusion. Just like a fluffy and delicate snowflake in the early days of December, Edward had fallen into a pile with many others who had gone through… this. He had fallen in love with his close friend. The thought still shocked him.

As Edward let sleep take over, he let out a soft but nervous sigh. “I’m in love wit’ James,” he whispered with a yawn. The weight of reality sunk within him as he dozed off to sleep.

…

The following morning was quiet when Edward awoke in the back of the Steamworks, where he had been left last night. He yawned as Kevin approached him.

“The Fat Controller is coming to see you, Edward!” he announced frantically. “He’ll be here shortly.”

Edward perked up from his slumped frame. “Och, thank ye, Kevin!” he pipped with gratitude.

Kevin giggled as usual before rushing off to find Victor.

About an hour passed when he heard the sound of that familiar, splendidly bright whistle shrill throughout the Steamworks. Warm-brass eyes went wide, and he became nervous. In an attempt to push it away, Edward was about to whistle back when he realized he couldn’t. He didn’t have any steam in him. How silly of me, he thought as James approached him with the Fat Controller in his cab.

Once James came to a steady halt, which the Fat Controller praised momentarily, said man climbed out from James’ cab with the help of his two assistants. Once he was on the ground, safe and sound, the Fat Controller walked up to Edward. “Good morning, Edward. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feelin’ fine, sir,” Edward replied, giving his full attention to his owner.

“No pain?” he inquired further.

“No’ anymore, sir.”

The Fat Controller let out a heavy sigh. “Thank goodness, Edward. You gave us a bit of a fright there.”

“Well, I’m alricht noo, sir,” Edward reassured before peering over at James, who was simply smiling and observing the interaction. “I never did thank ye yesterday. Thank ye for bringin’ me here, James.”

The vain iron horse puffed up with pride, but his cheeks burning didn’t go unnoticed by anyone present. “It’s the very least a splendid engine like me could do!”

Edward chuckled softly before returning his attention to the Fat Controller. “The others oan ma line ur’nae dealing with more than wit’ they can, ur they?”

It was the Fat Controller’s turn to laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re doing just fine. Ryan’s covering your passenger duties and I’ve put Donald there to do his work while you’re gone.”

A sigh of relief left him. “Thon’s guid.”

“You just rest, old friend,” reassured the Fat Controller as he patted Edward’s left buffer. “You’ll be back in service in no time. Let’s just hope we don’t run into delays this time. We don’t need another- ahem- incident to happen again.” He emphasized as he looked over to Victor and Kevin, who had approached the three moments prior.

Both James and Edward looked at the pair in confusion as Kevin chuckled nervously and Victor laughed with a warm smile directed to his co-worker. “Let’s just say that Kevin’s learned about the snow,” suggested Victor.

“Snow really is trouble!” chirped Kevin with a shudder, convinced by the incident that took place last year.

“I would like a word with both of you,” prompted the Fat Controller. “Preferably somewhere else.”

“Oh, of course sir!” agreed Victor as he led the Fat Controller and Kevin to another area of the workshop.

That left Edward and James alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked James quickly before the silence established itself between the pair.

“Positive,” replied Edward. “I assume ye’ve told the others?”

“I panicked!” huffed James in defense. “It’s just odd, that you’re not there Saturdays and nothing’s said about it.”

“Ma-”

“Don’t,” interjected James. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your piston rod broke off yesterday. You couldn’t have known, so don’t argue with me about it.”

Edward just stared at James, starting to focus intensely on said engine, before saying anything. "Mmm… Are they doing okay?”

“Are they doing okay?” repeated the vain red engine, to which Edward shot a quizzical look. “Jeez, Edward. You’re asking about the others yet you’re the one injured,” he lightly chastised with good intention.

“Ye’ve seen how Thomas, Emily, and Percy get,” reminded Edward. “I dinnae want tae distract them frae their work.” Edward paused for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Was I scared yesterday? Yes. But I’m feeling fine now,” James insisted.

“You almost fell into the turntable this morning,” his fireman, George, whispered hastily, loud enough for both engines to hear.

“The turntable?” inquired Edward worriedly, unintentionally raising his voice.

“He didn’t need that!” hissed James before he sighed in defeat. “I… wasn’t paying attention, but I’m fine!”

“Thank goodness nothin’ happenit!”

James huffed before laughing. “Look at you. Worrying about others when you’re the one sitting in the Steamworks waiting for repairs.”

“I-!”

“It’s what makes you a great friend,” reassured James. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

If Edward’s fire had been lit, the smaller engine would’ve been burning and wheeshing about. He was about to speak when the Fat Controller’s voice boomed from the nearby. “Alright, James. Time to go!” he announced as he approached the bright red tender engine. Once he and his assistants climbed into James’ cab, James reversed. “Let’s hope that piston rod comes in sooner rather than later, Edward. Good day!”

“G-Guid-bye, sir!” Edward managed to squeak out. “Guid-bye, James!”

“Goodbye, Edward! See you around!” James hollered as he left the Steamworks.

Edward stared off into the distance, once again watching the larger scarlet engine rush away before disappearing from his view. It was then he took notice of his shakiness. It wasn’t noticeable from what he could tell as nobody had said anything. Why am I shaking? he pondered before his brow furrowed, eyes following in the direction his close friend had gone. It can’t be because of James just being here, is it? Maybe I’m just nervous, but whatever for?

His mind tried pushing away the thought that it was James’ presence setting it off, but it came right back. It worsened his state of mind as he began to worry about how he might act the next time he came across the splendid red engine.

What if James notices and it makes him uncomfortable? To the point where he may not want to be around anymore?

With a deep breath, Edward let out a sigh, recollecting his thoughts before he went off the deep end. I have plenty of time to think things through, just like Victor said, he thought. I have time.

ka-chow

Ok, my bs aside! Literally smiling so fucking big rn. Mentally squealing, giggling, and kicking my fic. God, I love these mfs so much. AUGH-!

Edward's piston popping was inspired by the episode "Surprise, Surprise!" so go put the blame of Edward's pain on that thing. Sad that this screenshot is the only decent shot we get of these two in snowploughs :(

Had a sudden spur of ideas for this fic so I sat myself down and JUST WROTE. Went back and edited once my mind calmed down as i had my beta readers go over it. again, ty you both.

If it's the cheesiest shit you've ever read, then i've won. /j

Gonna be honest for a few seconds. I kept cringing as I wrote this, and not for a bad reason. This is my first fic dealing with the "catching feelings" trope. I've written fics (99% of which were never published) dealing with romance before but it only explored the "after getting together" period. Even then, it was very little of what i wrote.

Hope you enjoyed this fic! Thank you so much for reading. Comments, reblogs, and kudos are appreciated. 💙

#my writing #engines of sudrian rails (shipverse) by muxse #ttte shipping #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte edward x james #a dozen years #ttte victor #ttte fic

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