Barry the Rescue Engine

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47893738.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandoms: The Railway Series - W. Awdry, Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Relationships: Barry & Douglas (Thomas the Tank Engine), Barry & Molly (Thomas
the Tank Engine), Barry & Derek (Thomas the Tank Engine), Barry &
Neil (Thomas the Tank Engine), Molly & Neil (Thomas the Tank
Engine), Donald & Douglas (Thomas the Tank Engine), The Fat
Controller (Thomas the Tank Engine) & Other(s)
Characters: Barry (Thomas the Tank Engine), Douglas (Thomas the Tank Engine),
Sir Stephen Topham Hatt III, Molly (Thomas the Tank Engine), Derek
(Thomas the Tank Engine), Neil (Thomas the Tank Engine), Donald
(Thomas the Tank Engine)
Additional Tags: Based on the Railway Series, Barry the Rescue Engine, Extended
Railway Series, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scrap,
Fundraisers, Heritage railways, diesels, overcoming learnt hate, the
works, The Other Railway, Sodor, Alternate Universe - Canon
Divergence, I've officially written as many RWS books as the Awdry
family, The book Christopher Awdry wanted to write, Trains
Language: English
Series: Part 42 of The Extended Railway Series
Stats: Published: 2023-06-15 Completed: 2023-06-18 Words: 4,014 Chapters:
4/4
 Barry the Rescue Engine
by Weirdo_with_A_Quill

Summary

To all the Amazing People who have made this series possible,
I can't believe I've made it to 42 books. It feels almost insane - I started this series way back
in 2021 with 'Mavis the Vociferous Engine', and now I'm here. It's absolutely incredible how
much support you all give me, and how much I have changed as a writer since the start. And
to Alan Palgut, who guessed that I was writing this book way back when I was writing
'Dockside Diesel Salty Again', well - I guess I did get around to it after all! As a celebration
of this milestone, I think it’s about time I tackled the ‘big one’ - Barry, the Rescue Engine.
Barry is a British Railway Standard 2MT rescued from Barry scrapyard in Wales. He recently
came to Sodor to finally get the overhaul and new lease on life he’s sorely wished for, but it
didn’t come without its complications…
A most grateful Author.

Notes

Please do not put this story into an AI for any reason or copy it elsewhere without my
permission. Thank you.
 The Unseen Delivery
Chapter Summary

Bowler witnessed Douglas bringing a delivery to the works, but the Caledonian blew a
smokescreen up to obscure it. Just what was he collecting?

Chapter Notes

Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who has supported me - 42 ERS books is
such a milestone for me, and I am so happy to still be going strong.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bowler watched quietly as Douglas hauled yet another rescued engine into the workshops,
wondering quietly just what that meant for the future. Douglas didn’t let the dark green diesel
see his cargo very well, obscuring their features with a smoke screen - and Bowler didn’t
push it.

***

Douglas frowned, shooting Sir Stephen an incredulous look.

“Anither special excursion? How come dae ye ne'er tak' Geoff?” The Works diesel opened a
sleepy eye, chuckled, and went back to sleep. “Glaikit cat-like diesel.”
“Because Douglas, these ‘special excursions’ need a steam engine. We’re heading to a
heritage railway this time. It’s been struggling recently, and I agreed to refurbish one of their
engines for them.”
“Braw! Let's git a shift oan then, ah dinnae wantae spend th' nicht in amongst yon diesels.”
Douglas set off, leaving behind the Works and heading for the West Coast Mainline. He had a
support coach and a brakevan with him, the brakevan spouting complaints as it watched it’s
favourite siding vanish in the distance.

It was quite the journey. The heritage railway was deep in the Midlands, not too far from the
Welsh border. It took the entire day to make it, and even then night was steadily falling when
Douglas steamed over the junction and onto their metals.
“We made it,” called Douglas, braking to a gentle halt outside the rebuilt sheds. A pair of
volunteers hurried out to meet them.
“Hello!” one grinned. “Thank you for agreeing to come all this way. Our engine is… skittish
around diesels.” Douglas raised an eyebrow.
He himself had once been very wary of diesels, though he’d learnt to overcome this during
his time on Sodor. He wondered just why this engine was still so skittish - surely they’d spent
plenty of time with preserved diesels by now?

The answer to Douglas’ internal question came as a great shock.

On a well-wagon in a siding out of the way sat an engine. A steam engine, almost completely
rusted through and with fearful eyes.
“Och mah…” Sir Stephen looked sick. Douglas wasn’t looking much better.
“We’ll take him,” said Sir Stephen resolutely. “But… um, where’s his tender?” The volunteer
sighed, looking very unhappy.

“A British Rail diesel took it in the night. He’ll need a new one.”
“That won’t be too difficult,” Sir Stephen promised. They very carefully loaded the engine up
onto a flatbed, and Douglas ran round the train to start the long journey back to the Island of
Sodor.

As they departed, heavy rain clouds began to gather above them.

“I don’t like the look of those,” hummed the Fat Controller. “We may have to spend the night
here.”
“Hopefully they'll hae a shed fur us,” Douglas agreed.

They didn’t. The railway’s sheds near the mainline were filled to capacity with the various
pieces of rolling stock that they owned, the three other engines stabled at this end of the line
taking up what little space the coaches didn’t.

“I’m really sorry,” sighed the foreman. “You’ll have to continue onwards.” The Fat
Controller nodded, and stepped down from the support coach. He gazed up at the clouds, then
at the engine on the flatbed, then at Douglas.
“Do you have any spare tarps?” asked Sir Stephen. One of the volunteers nodded, and a few
minutes later Sir Stephen had three tarps. One was bright yellow, one was an army
camoflague and one was navy blue.
“Thank you,” grinned Sir Stephen. He strode over to Douglas.
“If we tarp you up, do you think you can get us home tonight?”
“Ah will huv a go mah best, sirr,” promised Douglas. Sir Stephen and the men worked fast,
securing two of the tarps over the rescue engine, and then adding the third tarp to Douglas’
tender over the coal. Douglas’ usual cab tarp was strung up just as the first heavy droplets
began to fall.

Douglas set off slowly, wheels gripping the rails and pulling the unusual train forwards. The
rain grew heavier as night fell. Douglas’ lamps barely illuminated the line in front of him, but
he struggled on. Electric engines filled with passengers rushing to get home before the worst
of the rain hit flew by, but Douglas ignored them. He’d been refilled with coal and water, and
his crew had left his water filler cap open with the tarp feeding into it. Hopefully, a little extra
water would drip in.

The night wore on, and Douglas continued to struggle against the heavy rain. With every
wheelturn, he got closer and closer to Sodor, and just as dawn broke, splitting apart the grey
 rain clouds, he rumbled across the Vicarstown bridge. Almost no one else was awake, and
Douglas had a smooth run to the works.

As he went to park the rescue engine, he spotted Bowler approaching. Thinking quickly, he
let off steam, hiding everything in a great white cloud. Bowler rumbled away, just as Sir
Stephen stepped down, looking a little disgruntled.

“What was with the smokescreen, Douglas?”

“Ah thought that yon engine 'ere wid prefer a bawherr mair privacy,” Douglas explained,
glancing back to where the rescue engine was staring wide-eyed in the same direction that
Bowler had gone.

Sir Stephen nodded, but secretly, he was slightly worried. He’d heard of steam engines that
resented the diesels, and it sounded like it could cause a lot of problems. He just hoped it
wasn’t an issue with this engine.

Chapter End Notes

I'll see you all for the next one tomorrow! I'm putting these out a day earlier than I
normally would because I'm going on holiday to Thailand on Monday and I wanted to
put this out before I left.
 Barry
Chapter Summary

Sir Stephen discovers something about the engine he's agreed to restore, and Molly talks
to an engine that needs her help.

Chapter Notes

The response to the first chapter was certainly overwhelming! Thank you all so much
for your comments, and your best wishes for my holiday! I'm very excited myself!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The rescue engine spent a long time in the works. He needed to be completely rebuilt, and it
was not an easy task.
“How are you feeling today?” asked Sir Stephen, striding into the works to see the rescue
engine staring blankly at the workshop wall.
“Better… sir,” came the stilted reply. Sir Stephen frowned, and walked around in front of the
rescue engine.

“Is something the matter?” he asked politely.

“Well… sir, I just - is it true every engine on Sodor has a name?”
“That it is,” said Sir Stephen.
“Even the engine that brought me from the heritage line?”
“Indeed!” grinned Sir Stephen. “That’s Douglas. He’s a very hard worker, but he’s got a bit of
a mischievous streak to him. Did you know one time he helped mastermind a prank on all the
other engines?”
“Uh…” The rescue engine watched, amazed, as Sir Stephen began to excitedly ramble about
his engines, pointing out several through the workshop windows. There was Gordon, and
Murdoch, and Molly, and Donald and Douglas - not to mention all the other engines who
worked on different parts of the island. Sir Stephen spoke of every single one like a proud
parent, happily recounting all the scrapes and spills they’d gotten into over the years.

“And then Gordon – oh, hello foreman. Do you have news for me?”
“Yes sir. We’re ready for a boiler test.”
“Wonderful!” grinned Sir Stephen. “Hear that? You’re almost out of here - won’t that be
nice?” The rescue engine managed a weak smile.

Sir Stephen frowned.

“I think I should address this before it gets out of hand. Would you like to see the counsellor I
got for Andrew?” The engines blinked.
“A… counsellor, sir?”
“Their job is to listen to you and help you with your trauma, and I imagine that you have
quite a bit.”

The engine paused, then sighed.

“I suppose. Did you know that a workman deliberately messed with my waybill so I went to
Barry scrapyard in Wales?” Sir Stephen nodded slowly. He’d heard of something similar
happening before - where railwaymen would mess with the papers for a withdrawn engine so
they were sent somewhere with a greater chance of being preserved.

“And what happened?”

“I was preserved… but I was one of the lucky ones. So many… weren’t. They went for the
coaches and trucks first, to try and give us more time - but they didn’t want us Standards.
They wanted Westerners and Midlanders - but not Standards. And… I stayed there for years.
I watched as they… they…” The engine broke off.

“You need to speak to the counsellor,” Sir Stephen said bluntly. “Hopefully, they can help
you. I also think you should talk to Andrew or Molly. They also spent years in a cold, damp
siding, so they might empathise with you.” The rescue engine managed a small smile, and the
men got to work with their first boiler test.

The next morning, Molly steamed into the workshops. The Fat Controller had asked her if
she could talk to someone there - and the moment she arrived it was clear who: the engine
sitting on the flatbed with a new set of wheels in front of him.

“Hello there,” whistled Molly. “I’m Molly.”

“78018,” replied the engine. Molly frowned.
“Do you… not have a name?” Molly was stunned. “How do you not have a name? I
thought… I thought that was a diesel thing,” she added quietly.

78018 looked pained.

“The managers never let us talk about names. They said it was… improper.” He grimaced.
“But all the older Westerners had names. And all the preservationists knew their names.
But… well, we had no names for people to know us by.”

Molly felt very sorry for the poor engine.

“That just isn’t right!” she declared. Sir Stephen stepped out of his office, and walked over to
them.

“Sir!” called Molly. “Sir! Did you know that the managers on the Other Railway were
stopping engines from having names?”
“I do, yes,” sighed Sir Stephen. “They didn’t like the fact it messed up their spreadsheets.”
“Pencil pushers,” grunted 78018. “They didn’t care about us. They sent us to Barry, where we
waited in cold, damp sidings. I was one of the lucky ones - there were dozens of others who
didn’t make it out. I… is it true all your engines have names, sir?”
 “Of course!” grinned the Fat Controller. “All my engines are family to me, and they all ought
to have names too. A name makes you belong. It’s important, and it’s honourable.”

78018 paused for a long time.

“I think… sir, that I want to be called Barry. To… honour… those who didn’t make it. For
my friends who didn’t make it.”
“That’s a very noble name,” said Sir Stephen quietly. “I’ll have the workmen give you some
nameplates with ‘Barry’ on them, Barry. You deserve a name, and I think it’s very noble that
you want to honour your friends with it.”
“Thank you sir. And… I think I should see the counsellor too.”

Sir Stephen was all too happy to help there.

Chapter End Notes

Molly's grown quite a bit from the shy engine she once was, to be able to call out to her
controller and demand explanations, hasn't she?

And now the engine finally has a name. And I did a post on why names are important on
my Tumblr: WeirdowithAQuill. You should go check it out.
 Barry & Derek
Chapter Summary

Barry has a lot of built-up aggression against diesels, and Derek notices.

Chapter Notes

Part 3 of 4! Don't AI me now. I mean it. Please don't.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Barry was almost ready to finally leave the works. It had taken several years to fully restore
him, but he was finally nearing completion, and he was very excited. He’d passed all his
steaming tests, and finally the works had completed a new tender for him, which gleamed
with new paint.

Barry had chosen to have the logo of his new heritage railway emblazoned on his tender, and
Sir Stephen had been surprisingly obliging, even when Barry’s owners kicked up a fuss about
‘accuracy’.

“No engine should be made to wear a paint job they do not like,” Sir Stephen muttered
furiously under his breath, slamming the phone onto its receiver. Barry agreed whole-
heartedly.

So Barry was feeling better than he had in months. There was just one problem: the diesel.

The supplies for the works were brought in by a weird-looking diesel with two long hoods
stretching out from his cab. The diesel would arrive, dropping off truckloads of equipment,
materials and other things, and then happily chat to the workers while waiting for his path to
clear. Worse yet, he kept trying to talk to Barry.

“Why does he do deliveries?” asked Barry one day, watching as the diesel rumbled away.
“Cause it’s his job…” the foreman replied, a little confused. Barry huffed. They didn’t
understand. Of course it was his job - but he was stealing that job from a steam engine, or he
was scouting the works for something to steal - like him. That’s how the diesels on the Other
Railway did it. They would seem all virtuous, offering to look after the sick steam engines in
the works, all run down after years of misuse… and then they would strike, snatching away
tenders or old parts or worse yet new parts, condemning that engine to the scrapyards.

Barry didn’t trust the imposter.

 ***

It was a day like any other, and Barry had just returned from his final shakedown run. He’d
gone with Molly, who’d been a great engine to talk to. She’d also had to live with the rust and
the damp and the pain like he had; she understood the moments where he stared off into the
distance and said nothing.

As the two sat in the yards cooling down, the diesel imposter rumbled in with his usual
delivery.
“It’s you,” sneered Barry, glaring down his nose at the diesel. “How wonderful.”

Molly was shocked.

“What are you saying?” she asked. “It’s Derek - he’s a part of this railway.”
“He’s a diesel,” snapped Barry. “Diesels cannot be trusted! They lie and cheat and they steal
and they laugh at us! They laugh at us when we can’t fight back. What does Derek know
about our pain, Molly? What does he know about damp, and rust, and cold, and uncertainty
and waiting for the end?!”

And Barry stormed off in a cloud of steam.

Molly went to speak, but Derek cut her off.

“I’ll talk to him after he’s had some time to cool down. I think… I think he’s got a lot of pent
up anger inside him.”
“It’s worrying. He needs to learn to accept diesels or he’s going to get himself into some real
trouble one day.”
“I agree… but I think I might just be the right engine to approach him,” Derek said, with
steely determination. Molly just quietly left to cover Derek’s next train.

In the workshops, Barry seethed with rage. Diesels sickened him, for all of the horrible things
they had put him through, for everything they had done.

The growl of the diesel - Derek - interrupted his thoughts.

“Some diesels laughed at me too,” he hummed, startling Barry into silence. “Do you know
my class, Barry? You have to… right?”
“No,” sniffed Barry. “Why?”
“I’m a Paxman, and we were the worst diesels ever built for British Rail. Worse than the
Metrovicks!” Derek took a moment to let that sink in.
“So?”
“I had a working life of six years. I was withdrawn, and I was placed in the scrap siding. I
stayed there for three years, and then they decided to run tests on me. Originally, they wanted
to turn me into a battery-powered engine - but then that didn’t work, so they just constantly
ran tests. Day after day. My class were all failures, and we were left to rust. I was rescued by
Sir Charles and for that I will always be grateful.”

Barry narrowed his eyes.

“And how do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because my wretch of an engine still stands on that plinth there,” chuckled Derek wryly.
 There, off to one side of the works, stood the ‘unfixable engine’, a decorative art piece made
out of Derek’s engine. Barry stared at it for a long time.

Derek quietly rumbled out while the steam engine was distracted, and prepared to take
Molly’s next goods train.

***

It was a quieter and less hostile Barry that met Derek the next morning, when the diesel
arrived to drop off his usual supplies to the works.
“I… was doing some thinking - about what you said…” Barry began.
“Oh?”
“And… and I asked the foreman. And he said it was true, and he showed me… pictures.
I’m… sorry, Derek. I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” hummed Derek. “Though you should really consider yourself lucky. All the
diesels from when we were put in those sidings are there now. All the big diesels from when I
was young are going now, and people aren’t as interested in saving them as they were in
saving steam engines.” Barry was silent for a long minute.

“Oh,” he eventually said. It was all Derek needed to hear. While it had been a bit
confrontational to bulldoze into all of Barry’s pent up anger like he had, he knew it had been
necessary. The truth was painful.

But back in the works, Barry was getting some bad news, which shook him to his core even
harder than the truth that Derek had shown him.

Chapter End Notes

I wonder what kind of bad news our plucky hero Barry has gotten? Tune in tomorrow to
find out!
 Fundraiser
Chapter Summary

Barry's future is left uncertain as the heritage railway is bankrupted. How will he save
his home?

Chapter Notes

Anonymous_boxcar and BenRG got it right! The line is bankrupt - I hinted at it when I
said the line was struggling, and now it's come to pass. What will Barry do?

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Bankrupt?” spluttered Molly, looking stunned. “How does a heritage line go bankrupt?”
“When they mismanage finances and vandals attack one of the stations,” replied Sir Stephen
grimly.
“Mingin' wee welps, vandalising a heritage line,” snarled Douglas.
“Unpleasant wee wretches!” exclaimed Donald.
“It’s not right,” agreed Derek.

Barry just stared at the Fat Controller in silent horror. His heritage line had gone bankrupt.
Donald noticed how pale the rescued engine had gotten.

“Urr ye a'richt?” he asked quietly.

“I… if I’d been there, I’d have been scrapped…” Donald grimaced.
“Bit ye'r 'ere, 'n' ye'r safe,” he reminded Barry gently. “An' thay hae a munth tae mak' back th'
dosh 'n' pay upkeep, right?”
“That’s not very long,” murmured Barry.

He was right. The heritage line only had one month to repay their bills or they would have to
close down. Suddenly, Barry’s home was in danger, and the poor engine just didn’t know
what to do.

“They saved me,” Barry said quietly to his friends that night. “They saved me… and now
they’re going to close down…”
“It’s just wrong,” huffed Molly. “Heritage railways are extremely important places for us, and
they have a lot of historical significance. Something must be done!” But no one knew what.

The next morning, Barry met Neil in the shunting yards. Barry was helping out on the Fat
Controller’s railway for a couple weeks so they could check he was fully ready for work on
the heritage railway, and he was helping out on passenger and freight trains.

“I heard what happened,” sighed Neil. “It’s very sad.”

“It is,” agreed Barry sombrely.
“You know,” hummed Neil, “back when the Sodor and Mainland Railway was struggling, we
used to have these special fundraiser days. We ran special trains for donors, and we paid for a
small fete to entice people out to give more money.”
“How did they go?” asked Barry, curious.
“Well…” Neil looked forlorn. “They worked for a while… but then the managers used the
funds to build a massive viaduct.”
“Oh. But they worked?”
“Yes…”

Barry smiled.
“Do you think you could help me fundraise?” he asked. Neil grinned.
“Of course, but we’ll need to speak to the Fat Controller.”

***

Sir Stephen Hatt stared at the letter in his hands, wondering just what he could do. The
heritage railway had been struggling for a while, he knew this. It was why he’d agreed to
rebuild Barry for them. But it was worse than he’d thought - the chances of them making
back that amount of money in time for rent was near impossible, and he just couldn’t think of
a good solution. If he personally stepped in, he would be buying a failing heritage railway on
the border of Wales with very little chance of being anything but a money pit. If he just
bought all the engines and rollingstock, then he’d have to rebuild them all up to NWR
standards, and that also would put a dangerous drain on the finances.

“What is there to do?” wondered Sir Stephen aloud.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!”
“Sir, Neil wishes to speak to you,” the stationmaster said. Sir Stephen raised an eyebrow.
“Neil does? Alright, I’ll head straight there. Can you ask Bridg’ to go and negotiate that
shipping contract for me?”
“Yes sir… but shouldn’t you just–”
“Thank you bye!”

The stationmaster sighed as he watched Sir Stephen hurry out the door.
“That man needs a proper secretary,” he grumbled.

Sir Stephen made his way to the shunting yards, where Neil, Barry and Donald were waiting
for him.
“Sirr, Neill hud a stoatin idea!” Donald exclaimed.
“Oh? What is it?”
“Well sir…” and Neil explained his idea to hold a fundraiser.

“It won’t solve the problem forever,” hummed Sir Stephen. “But it will certainly help. Let’s
do it.”
 ***

It took some time to plan the fundraising event. Sir Stephen and Bridget Hatt worked with the
vicar to get his large orchard ready for the event, and a special wooden platform was built on
the siding for the vicarage.

Stalls were erected in the orchard, and Trevor was steamed up to give rides to the children.
Huge posters were hung up all over the island, proclaiming the first “Heritage Fundraiser”,
which was to raise money to mend the vicarage roof and help keep Barry’s heritage railway
open.

“Do you think we’ll make enough money?” worried Barry. Derek chuckled.
“You don’t know what weekend the fundraiser’s on, do you?” he asked. Barry didn’t, and
when he asked, Derek just smirked knowingly.

Barry was chosen to run special trains to the fete, alongside Molly and Derek. As the day
arrived, the railway got out their special vintage carriages, which gleamed with varnished
wood and plush velvet seating. Barry was amazed!

“These coaches look incredible!” he exclaimed.

“They’re the coaches that the railway first ran with,” Neil explained, shunting them behind
the Standard Class engine. “They’re very old now.” Barry certainly could tell! Molly stood
on the other line, and when Neil shunted her coaches behind her, Barry got a feeling that he
was seeing something out of a history book. Molly was perfectly paired with the coaches, as
if they were made for her.
“They were designed for the express on my old line,” Neil hummed. “Which Molly pulled.
They fit, don’t they?”
“They do.”

Barry was still secretly worried about the fundraiser, even if Neil and the fancy coaches had
managed to distract him.

But he needn’t have worried. When he arrived at the Big Station, it was packed . There were
passengers everywhere!
“Who are all these people?” hissed Barry to Derek.
“They’re the tourists!” laughed Derek. “They come from all over the world to see Sodor and
us engines, because of the books and the TV series. And they love special events - we often
sell package deals with local hotels and businesses. This is the second weekend of the
summer too, so they’ve all just arrived.”
“Wow…” Barry was amazed. He’d never seen this many people in a single place before - and
hundreds of them were crowding into his train. The guard blew his whistle, and Barry heaved
the train into motion.

The fundraiser was a massive success. The tourists loved getting to visit the vicarage and
Trevor, and they loved the special vintage trains even more. Barry was ecstatic.

“Thank you all so much!” he said to his friends, after the last train had returned to the station.
“You’ve helped save my home.” The others beamed.
“It was our pleasure to help,” grinned Derek. “And when you go home, remember us, okay?”
 “I will!” grinned Barry. “And I hope I get to come back one day!”
“We’d love to have you back,” said Molly.
“Aye!” chorused the twins. "Ye'r fàilte ony time!"

Sir Stephen walked up.

“Barry, it has been a great pleasure to have you on my railway. You are welcome back
anytime! And remember that if you ever need help, we are here for you. I have a few old
coaches that I would like you to take back to your line with you - and if you wouldn’t mind,
Derek will escort you over the National Network lines.”
“Yes sir,” grinned Barry.
“Then you both will need to be up bright and early,” said Sir Stephen. “Enjoy your night
here, and thank you for everything you’ve helped us with.”

And as he strode away, Sir Stephen couldn’t help but smile. Helping restore engines for
heritage railways really did have its benefits. He wondered if anyone else needed the North
Western Railway’s help…

Chapter End Notes

At 1264 odd words, this is the longest ERS story I've done since 'James the Branchline
Engine'. This has been 42 books worth of ERS content, and while it will be away for a
little while (I'm off to Thailand tomorrow!) I will return with more stories all too soon.
Thank you all so much for reading!

Post Production: since writing this, it has come to light that Barry was meant to be a
2MT Tank engine, not a tender engine. Yes, I am aware - and tearing my hair out cause I
was ONE MONTH out. Oh the pain, the pain of it all XD
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!