Chapter Text
Restrictions had loosened up as years went by. Some engines, if trusted and well behaved, would be allowed to go short distances without crews. Charlie and Sidney had both put in good words for Edward when they retired. But they still visited, checking in each morning before his first train of the day.
Then the visits became less frequent. Turning from once a week to monthly. Then every few months.
They stopped one day. Edward wasn’t sure why, but assumed they were alright. Life went on, though he did miss seeing them. Sometimes he waited by the platform, hoping they’d come in the afternoon. Running alone was becoming more normal to him.
Sometimes, the other engines said he talked to himself. Forgetting there wasn’t someone in his cab to reply.
Sidney went first. Old age is what they told Edward the cause had been. The day of the funeral had been a rainy, cold day. He remembered how bitterly James had complained about doing his work. Until he was told the reason.
Charlie died a week later. “Old Age” the others said again. The same process, minus James complaining. He had been respectfully silent, more understanding this time.
“Give him time. He’ll mourn like the others for while. There’s no shame in that.” a cleaner had told his son when he asked why the old K2 no longer smiled.
It seemed to keep raining from that day on. Today was no different. Edward gazed off at the small graveyard near the Vicar’s church. Trevor stood by in silence. If Edward wished to speak, he’d answer. Otherwise, he left him to his thoughts. A bit cold from the rain, but it didn’t matter to him.
“Do we die of old age, or is the only end of our line by the cutter’s torch?” Edward asked, not realizing he’d voiced his thoughts out loud.
“The Vicar says all living things have an end. I suppose that would include us, though I don’t know how long the road, or track, will be.”
Edward sighed. He felt tired. Sleep often evaded him, but somehow it seemed to become worse this last week. His work was slipping. In some ways it bothered him, yet he found no puff to work. Barely getting the trucks in line, when in the past he had loved to bash them harshly.
“Edward, I won’t tell you not to cry. Nor will I say it’s a shameful thing. We mourn loss as our builders do when they loose someone special. It’s something we all must face as we age.”
“ . . .” The old engine closed his eyes in thought. Finally speaking after a few moments of silence. “Thank you, Trevor. It has been a long while since I was told that.”
“Anytime, my friend. If you’re ready… Why don’t you get yourself out of the rain before your fire goes out? If you need company, I will be here.”
He hesitated, but agreed to Trevor’s wish. Perhaps the rain on the rooftop would help him sleep. Dusk was turning to night now, so he bade his friend a good evening, then started his trip back to Tidmouth.
Trevor watched from his shed, a mix of sadness and concern.
Respectful silence was welcoming as Edward backed into his berth. To his left was the wall, Henry on the right. From his expression in the dim light, he wasn’t sure if he should speak or not. Gordon was thinking of his siblings, wishing Flying Scotsmen would visit again soon. Thomas and Percy were gone, out delivering mail.
“Edward?” Henry finally asked, timid and quiet in tone.
The old Seagull looked in his direction. His eyes heavy and tired, blinking to fight off sleep.
“I… I’m sorry. H-How can we make this better?”
“ . . . You can’t. I need time. I’m still adjusting to this. Change.”
“Do you… Want to talk about it?”
Edward finally let his eyes close. “Right now, I just want to rest...Maybe in the morning.”
Henry looked in Gordon’s direction, a silent plea to confirm if he’d helped or hindered Edward’s mood. The thought of being mortal often hung over everyone’s smokebox. Scrap, death, they were an end that no engine wanted.
But it always seemed different when a human died. It wasn’t an end like they had. And if left an empty feeling that never really went away.
The conversations became hazy and distant as Edward drift off to sleep . . .
It was a sunny day, but the K2 found it hard to smile. Looking at all of the other, larger and stronger engines in the shed. He struggled to remember the last time he’d been out.
“The driver won’t choose you again.” one scoffed. “You’re too weak and too old.”
“I can still put in a good day’s work!” he protested, but was only met with laughter. He fell silent, eyes staring down as his footplate. He’d begin to tear up without noticing. He hadn’t heard the footsteps of the crew approaching to get someone ready for the first train of the day.
“What’s the matter ol’ boy?” the driver asked kindly. He was a young man, not like the one who normally came for the morning run.
Edward’s glance slowly went to the side, so to see who was speaking to him. “I don’t like to be one to complain, but I do miss going out. How nice it would be to pull coaches again.”
“Would you like to come out today?”
“M-Me?? Yes sir, please sir!”
“Sidney, get his fire started.”
The memory. The dream seemed to fade after that. His slumber had turned restless for awhile before it slipped away entirely. Henry was gone, so he knew it must be early morning. The Kipper must have been due.
Gradually, as the sun began to rise, the men shuffled around, getting everyone ready for the day. Their words were distant and muffled, despite two of them standing in his cab, starting his fire.
It just felt wrong.