and i'm calling for my mother, as i pull the pillars down
Momma had often said that patience was a virtue, but that it was not one Slick possessed. Slick had never bothered to contradict that- she was a go-getter at heart. Why wait for things to come to you, when you could go to them- and get answers?
It had been her first instinct to head over to the coaches shed as soon as the sound of Greaseball’s wheels had faded. Dinah wouldn’t be there, not yet since she was at work, but she could wait, and then…she didn’t know what. Demand answers seemed like a good start, but she was slightly worried about what those answers would be . Why would she give Slick a thermos- a thermos that as Greaseball had said and she now had definite proof of- was made for her, of all people?
It could be some form of joke, she supposed, though she would be impressed if Dinah could actually be so cruel. Lull the freight train into a false sense of security, then have a laugh with the other coaches about her gullibility- it didn’t really seem like her style, but maybe that was why she’d mentioned it to Greaseball.
Of course, it could simply be that Dinah was just being nice- but then why only her? The others hadn’t been given anything, as far as she knew- much less something so carefully detailed with their symbols. And it still begged the question- why would she tell Greaseball?
Either way, she couldn’t actually do anything about it. Her leg hurt, and Momma’s instructions had been clear- stay close to the shed, and don’t reinjure your leg. Trying to get to the coaches shed in her current condition would probably end in another stay at the repair truck. And anyways, she was getting tired.
Wrench had warned her that she’d probably experience fatigue for the next few days as her body worked to auto-repair the damage that was left- the repair truck had only fixed the initial life threatening injuries. The rest of her system would have to auto repair, and the fastest way that happened was by sleeping. So, after only a few hours of alternating between the yard and the living room for a change of scenery, she finally bit the bullet. It was strange, going to bed while the sun was so high in the sky, but necessary, and she fell asleep quickly.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, but her dreams were full of flashes- the feeling of a racetrack underneath her wheels, ribbed couplers in her hands, the smell of diesel exhaust, the thud of her helmeted head bouncing off the ground, the screeching of metal and burn of sparks, the gush of oil, the ceaseless ringing, the awful poisonous burn in her back and leg, being unable to move as people yelled around her-
“-lick! Slick, wake up!”
Her eyes flew open with a sharp intake of breath, and she bolted upright, immediately doubling over in pain as her back screamed . Her back, her leg , oh Starlight -
“It’s alright sweetheart. Just a bad dream. It’s alright.” Momma. That was Momma’s hand rubbing between her shoulder blades, careful not to aggravate her injuries as she fought to relax and unfold from her cramped position. She guided Slick until she was lying back, propped up on pillows.
“Momma?” Blearily, Slick looked towards the sound of Rusty’s voice. It was dark in her room, and the sky was dark outside as well, but in the light of the hallway she could see not only him but Porter standing in the doorway to her room, Hydra and Lumber peeking around them. All four of them looked worried.
“It’s alright, Slick just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” Four sets of eyes zeroed in on Slick, who was still trying to control her breathing. “She’s alright.”
“Momma,” she gasped, curling towards the woman in question.
“Boys, go back to bed. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do.” Slick heard shuffling at the door, but didn’t bother to look. She felt a warm hand on her forehead, brushing back her hair, and she opened her eyes to see Momma sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at her.
“There we are. How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Um,” she tried to take stock of herself. A little sore from moving so roughly earlier, but overall not bad. At any rate, she’d definitely been worse. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Can I get you anything?” Slick shook her head. She realized suddenly that this was the first time she had gotten to speak to Momma since the crash. Now that they were alone, however, words failed her. After a couple beats of silence, Momma shifted, and seemed to be getting ready to get up. Slick was struck with the sudden fear that she would leave the room, leaving Slick all alone, and so she lurched forward, throwing her arms around the steam engine. She felt arms readily encircle her, a hand cupping the back of her head and stroking her hair. With that touch, a dam broke.
“I’m sorry Momma. I’m so sorry.”
“I know sweetheart. Rusty told me about your talk.”
She tensed. “All of it?”
“All of it.”
“...oh.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Greaseball the way you hoped.”
She winced. She did not want to talk about her ill-fated (and at this point, really confusing) crush with anyone, let alone with her mother of all people. But still, this wasn’t the direction she saw this conversation taking.
“Why aren’t you mad? You’re the one who kept saying steam would beat everybody- I nearly cost Rusty the race.”
“Well, the way I see it, Rusty is the one who was hurt the most from your actions. And I know he’s forgiven you, and that you’ve talked to Porter and Lumber about what you made them do. You’re making amends, Slick. I’m not going to be angry with you when you’re clearly trying to make things right. And sweetheart,” here she paused, breathing deeply, “they weren’t the only ones scared when you crashed.”
Slick had no response to that, only clutched at her harder. Momma's arms were firm and strong, and Slick had always felt safe there. Nothing could touch her here.
Momma rested her chin on Slick's head and spoke.
“Do you remember when you first came to the yard? When I showed you the shed?
“You asked me what you needed to do to earn it. You were still cold, and you clearly wanted to go inside, but you didn’t believe you could- you didn’t believe you deserved a roof over your head, or food when you were hungry, or someone to take care of you when you were hurt. It took me ages to convince you that you were part of the family, and that I loved you just as much as your brothers. You broke my heart, Slick.”
Slick remembered those first few months, better than she wanted to admit. Being told that she had family now, and that help was available should she need it, and that if she ran off and hid it would lead to widespread panic- it had been overwhelming. She had been so certain that if she messed up, or made someone mad she would be sent away. But Momma had never faltered- always being careful to reassure her that she was cared for, that she was home .
“I don’t mean to tell you this to upset you, or to make you have to relive things that have already happened- my point is that you have never had to do anything to earn your place here, and you’re never going to lose it either.
“No matter what, you will always- always - be my little oil tanker. That has been true since the moment I met you.”
Slick did not cry. And by ‘did not cry’, she meant that she did not completely breakdown sobbing. After the last couple days she felt like a sponge that had been wrung out. Some tears escaped though, and she was sure Momma knew, even if she didn’t say. She could hear Momma’s engine thrumming, a gentle and steady roar, as she held on tight, arms moving to wrap around her neck in mimicry of their first meeting, all those years ago.
“I think- I called you Ms. Momma, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Momma chuckled. The pair sat there, Slick holding on to her Momma, and Momma continuing to stroke her hair, waiting until Slick was ready to let go. Finally, Slick pulled away, and Momma let her go. There was still something she needed to say.
“You called oil the work of the Diesel.” That had hurt more than she wanted to admit- she knew how much stock Momma placed in the Starlight Express, and consequently the Diesel.
“You said a lot of harsh words about me as a steamer too.” Momma reminded her, then sighed. “But I did, and that wasn’t fair to you. My faith is important to me, and I shouldn’t have used it to make a jab at you or the work you did. I’m glad you’re so proud of being an oil tanker, and I’m sorry I made you feel as though I didn’t value that.”
Slick smiled, albeit a little watery. “I love you Momma.” She did not say ‘Thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry too’ but she knew Momma would understand.
“I love you too.” Message received.
There was a commotion in the hallway, and they both turned to watch as Rusty skated in, grinning.
“I’m sorry to interrupt Momma, but we’ve made the executive decision to steal Slick.”
Momma quirked her brow. “Oh, the executive decision, have you? Well, I suppose I can’t stop you then, can I?”
“Nope!” Rusty skated around her, grabbing Slick’s arm and- gently - dragging her out of bed and towards the door.
“Rusty,” they turned to look back at Momma, who had a twinkle in her eye. “I expect you all to put the living room back in order tomorrow.”
Rusty turned to Slick, whispering conspiratorially. “How does she always know?”
A stupid question, really, and Slick gave him a look that conveyed exactly that. “She’s Momma.”
Rusty made a face at her and turned back towards Momma, saluting her with his free hand. “Yes ma’am.” With that, they set off down the hallway, towards the living room, where faint conversation could be heard.
The living room was, in a word, cozy. The couch had been pushed against the wall to open up the floor, which had been covered with what appeared to be nearly every blanket and pillow in the house, a multitude of mismatched colors and textures. Blankets had been stretched between the couch and chairs, dragged from the kitchen, to create a tent. Hydra, Lumber, and Porter were all there, placing the finishing touches on the structure.
“Alright, it’s time. Cuddle puddle!” That was Porter. He had been the one to name this when they were younger, the impromptu sleepover they would all do when one of them had a bad dream or couldn’t sleep. They hadn’t done one of these in ages.
Slick looked to Rusty, who grinned and gestured to the tent. She smiled despite herself, crouching down and crawling into the space, quickly joined by the others. Well, most of the others.
Hydra was still standing by the entrance to the tent, looking like he wanted to join but not being sure if he could. Understandable, really. It wasn’t like he had ever been included before.
“You too Hydra, c’mere.” That was Lumber, opening up his arms, to which Hydra ducked his head and obliged.
It was soft in the tent, and warm. A little cramped now- they weren’t as small as they once were, and there was now a fifth person in the mix, but it was still nice. Slick was curled into Rusty’s side, his arm around her radiating heat. Porter was behind her, his arm thrown over the two of them. On Rusty’s other side was Hydra, his head resting on his shoulder, Lumber draped on top of both of them. It was nice.
The light clicked off suddenly, and soon after she heard a door down the hall close. Momma, checking on all of them, and being reassured there were all there. It was dark, and warm and snug, surrounded by all of her brothers, and she closed her eyes.
There were no more dreams that night.