"Stay close," Rusty advised, but it was unnecessary. Wrench was not about to stray away from the rusted switcher as they navigated this area of the yard.

It had been years since Wrench had been a maintenance truck working alongside switch engines, and she had forgotten just how many short cuts switchers seemed to know — and how many involved going off track. "Great way to get away from locos," Rusty explained as he led Wrench past a waist-high forest of pines. The two partners hopped over a narrow stream, swung themselves over three guardrails, and scaled a short trussed structure just to get to the staff entrance to the downhill arena. Rusty's limbs creaked from rust and bits of coal fell out of his tender, nearly hitting Wrench in the face, but he moved with an obvious experience, and the repair truck had no doubt he had ducked down these paths to hide many times in his life.

They don't show this stuff on T.V., Wrench thought as they crouched behind a lattice railing. From here she could see the tunnel which the finalists would use to enter the arena.

"Hope I got enough water for this," Rusty muttered before he turned to Wrench. "Okay, we just have to wait until the others get into the tunnel, and then—" He broke off, ducking his head, and Wrench followed suit.

She peeked through the latticed beams and saw the bulky form of Greaseball skating down the nearby hill with his miserable-looking golden coach in tow. No sooner had they disappeared did Wrench pick up the sound of several vehicles moving together in a trainset, and she turned in time to see the illuminated form of Electra and his cars rolling in from the electric lines.

Wrench felt her stomach clench.

Electra braked unexpectedly, and Dinah disconnected from him while the components encircled the engine, dealing with whatever issue the superstar had suddenly noticed. Wrench ran a self-conscious hand over the scar beneath her cropped wig. If she focused, at this distance she could feel the signals emitting from the other five pieces of the advanced computer...

Wrench shook her head, shifting closer to her partner. As she watched, Electra finally shrugged off his doting components and rolled over to offer his couplings to Dinah, but the dining car glared at him. She said something that Wrench could not hear, but Electra looked insulted. He spun to face her, and the two started to argue.

Suddenly, Dinah's arms came out and shoved the electric engine away. "If that's how you're gonna treat me, I'm gonna disconnect you!" she shouted at him, her accented voice reverberating off the surrounding rock formations. She spun on her wheels and flounced off with all the summoned dignity of a scorned Southern belle.

Electra managed to keep his footing, and his hands sparked with electricity, but Dinah was already out of range. "Who cares?!" Electra yelled after her. "Dining cars will make you wait forever!"

Volta rolled closer to the engine then, but Electra jerked away from his freezer.

He stopped suddenly as if spotting something in the distance. "Hey, buffet!" he called out. "Wanna race?"

Wrench looked and saw Bobo rolling toward the race track with his smoking car in tow, and behind Ashley was hitched a brunette buffet car decked in yellow. Wrench recognized her as the coach that had raced with Espresso in the first heat. At Electra's call, the yellow buffet car unhitched and slowed. "Me?" she asked sweetly, touching her brown hair in a flirtatious manner.

Electra jerked a nod and pointed to his couplings. "Make it quick. Make it now or never," he ordered.

The buffet altered her course and skated up to the electric, giving him a coquettish smile. "Electricity always gives me a charge," she purred, hitching on before Electra started off toward the race track.

"Wow," Rusty breathed beside the repair truck.

His entire career rests on this night, and he still won't take Volta, Wrench observed, eyeing the elegant freezer who watched her lover skate away with yet another replacement. For the first time in many a moon, Wrench felt a twinge of sympathy for the pretentious wagon.

She took a deep breath and shut off the receiver of her computer piece. Instantly, the faint signals from the nearby trucks went silent.

"Let's go," Rusty whispered as the four components headed off to where they could spectate the race, leaving the area empty. Wrench nodded and coupled herself to his belt, and he started forward, and she saw his hand rise to cover his brown head, smothering the smoke that happily streamed out.

He just has to win second, she continued to repeat in her head. He just has to win second. She glanced up at the dark sky above. Against the light pollution from the artificial lampposts that lined the way to the arena, a few stars managed to wink back at her. Wrench had never considered herself a religious van, but at that moment she found herself wishing upon the brightest speck.

The two stopped outside the tunnel, crouching low. The three racers and their partners faced front. Wrench glanced at the back of Electra's painted head and swallowed, feeling her gut twist. What am I even doing?

All of a sudden, Rusty's free hand came back and enclosed itself around her fingers, giving a slight squeeze. Her dark eyes shot to him in surprise, and he quickly resumed his previous position, holding tight to his chimney to keep the smoke from billowing out, and she saw his ears turn pink.

Wrench felt a smile tug upon her mouth, and she tightened her hold on his belt.

"In track one, Greaseball and Pearl!" Control introduced the racers, and Wrench saw the diesel start forward from the tunnel with the unhappy carriage in tow. "...In track two, Bobo and Ashley! ...In track three, Electra and... Carriage change! Carriage change! Electra and Buffy!"

As the superstar and his yellow companion waved to the applauding audience, Rusty gave Wrench the thumbs up, and she gave his couplings a squeeze. He started off after Electra.

"Earth, water, air, fire," Wrench heard Rusty hum under his breath, as if he were trying to keep himself psyched and focused.

They emerged from the tunnel behind the racers, who had begun to roll along the loop of the track, heading toward the large mechanical bridge that awaited to deliver them to the top of the downhill track.

Suddenly Control spoke. "Rusty, what are you doing?" he demanded from a single speaker as the steamer came near.

Rusty picked up speed, and Wrench moved her legs to aid him along. Almost to the bridge.

"Hey, marshals!" Control ordered. "Stop Rusty!"

Immediately, two track marshals in yellow jerseys changed direction and started toward the steamer. However, the rusted racer easily kept ahead of the switch engines — although Wrench thought the marshals did not seem to be using their full speed to catch their coworker.

A cheer rose up among the crowd, who seemed to be enjoying the show. Within moments, Rusty skated up the bridge and positioned himself beside Electra.

A flash of sparkling gold caught Wrench's eye, and she looked over in time to see Pearl smiling prettily at Rusty — before Greaseball pulled her closer to him.

Beside the blue TGV, the brunette smoking car gave a sickened look. "Rusty, go home," she pleaded.

"You might get hurt again," Electra's new buffet car cautioned, but Rusty ignored both coaches and grabbed hold of the bridge.

Wrench risked glancing at Electra, and she saw his blue eyes staring icily back at her through the holes of the blue helmet. The repair truck moved closer to the warmth of her steamer.

The track marshals neared the trestle, but Wrench thought they were moving slower now. Suddenly, a nearby voice shouted out, "Rusty's gonna race in the final!" The cry engendered whoops from the speaker's companions. A few others began to repeat it. "Rusty's gonna race in the final! Rusty's gonna race in the final!"

Control gave an aggravated growl, but the rolling stock just cheered louder. The unseen coordinator seemed to change tactics. "In track four, Rusty with Wrench," he said with reluctance. "Let's get this show on the railroad." In the next second, the bridge rocked and hummed, and the other racers were obliged to grab hold of its beams as it began to rise past tracks and guardrails to the upper levels. Within moments the bridge soon lodged itself between two ledges, and the four racers and their cars moved to position.

Wrench stood beside Buffy as Rusty pulled up to the starting line. Bobo and Electra, the two electric vehicles, slipped on their helmets, and their pantographs extended to connect with the overhanging wires. Electra faced forward, but Wrench was sure she heard a crackle of electricity from his clenching fist. Greaseball and Rusty donned their helmets as well, and a steady and determined stream of smoke rose from the dusty chimney, and the scent tickled Wrench's nose.

Well past the point of no return, she thought.

A siren rang out, and Control began the countdown. The racers crouched in preparation.

"Four... Three... Two... One! Trains gone!"

Wrench had long ago upgraded her wheels to match Electra's speed, but now they seemed ready to fly off their spokes as gravity and mechanical effort worked together to propel the partners downward.

Electra had the lead in seconds with Bobo close enough to touch the buffet car. Rusty ducked around Greaseball and chased after the two electric trains. Within moments he was beside Bobo. His arms pumped harder, and he begun to pull even with Electra.

"Something is holding the champion back," Control observed in confusion.

There were no monitors in this area, and Wrench risked looking back at the struggling diesel. Meters behind, he seemed to be exerting more effort than his speed suggested, and as he fell further behind the rest, Wrench got a good look at his wheels — and the wheels of his partner and the designer toe stop that dragged with deliberation behind the blonde carriage.

Greaseball seemed to notice the problem as soon as Wrench did. He reached back and knocked away the pretty hands, and Pearl wobbled, shrieking.

"He's uncoupled Pearl! Oh, no! We have a runaway!"

Rusty braked so hard his wheels screeched. The electric racers zoomed ahead, but the steamer made a sharp turn, and Wrench lost her grip as the engine zoomed back up the hill. Wrench grabbed the handrail in time, and she watched as steamer and diesel passed each other, not even acknowledging the other's presence.

Pearl tried to brake, but the downward momentum caused her to spin out of control. She screamed, flailing her arms as she came close to the edge of the ledge, but no sooner had she started to tip over the guardrail that Rusty grabbed her arm, swinging her away. He steadied her, allowing her to clutch the guardrail for protection, and whirled around again, charging back down the hill.

"That WAS courageous!" Control shrieked with admiration as Rusty zipped down the slope. He braked briefly for Wrench, who grabbed his holdings, biting back the bile at his foolish behavior as he started again.

Did he know that stunt might have cost him the championship?

Of course he does, she thought as the steamer's chugging picked up its former speed. That's why he is so wonderful.

"The champion's racing solo! That's not allowed," Control observed above their heads. "The rules say he has thirty seconds to find a partner."

Wrench looked ahead. Greaseball, now freed from the weight of Pearl, plunged down the slope like a bullet, and Wrench saw he had his sights set on the wooden lady clinging to Bobo's belt. The French train did not even get a chance to turn his head before Greaseball's fist smashed into his chin. The power car staggered, and his brightly polished helmet clattered against the rock formation as Greaseball grabbed the smoking carriage. The TGV's "chouchou" did not even protest as Greaseball guided her brown-silk hands to his belt.

"Greaseball takes Ashley, and Bobo's out of it!" Control crowed.

Rusty sailed past the fallen Frenchman and chugged ahead, gaining more and more on the other two engines.

"Can anyone take the electric superstar? Can the champion come back?"

Rusty pulled even with Electra. The electric engine raised a red hand which suddenly sparkled with blue electricity. Rusty ducked, and Wrench followed suit. The burst of electricity flew over their heads — right at Greaseball.

"Electra zaps the champion!"

The diesel staggered, obviously attempting to keep his wheels on the rails, but they kept slipping onto the ties beneath. His wooden smoking car, who had not been affected the same way by the electricity, made a visible effort to help him right himself, but her antique arms did not have the strength to steady a several ton locomotive.

Rusty pulled ahead, and Wrench heard a shout and the sound of metal clanking behind her. She did not turn to look, but as the monitors above the approaching audience drew closer, she could see Greaseball and Electra were wrestling behind Rusty. Electra seemed to be trying to throw the diesel off him, but the bulkier engine seemed to be struggling to stand by himself, now causing Electra to swerve with him.

Suddenly, the buffet car and the smoking car uncoupled from their engines, who stumbled over a junction and zoomed off down a branch line into the darkened hills beyond.

"They're outta control!" Control screeched. "They're gonna crash!"

Wrench's heart leapt inside her throat — but she held onto the steamer.

Rusty continued pumping his arms, and the sloping ground evened out at last. Wrench looked ahead again — and there was the track marshal with the checkered flag.

Rusty chugged right over the finish line.

"Rusty is the champion!" Control screeched with excitement. "Against all the odds, Rusty is the champion! Rusty for a lap of honor!"

The audience erupted in cheers for their new hero, and Rusty tore off his helmet, punching the air. Wrench raised a hand, a smile splitting her white face. Her mechanical heart fluttered with both artificial adrenaline and victory.

He had done it.

They had done it.

Rusty coasted to a stop, and she released his holdings as he turned to her, his face as bright as a shooting star. Suddenly, his eyes shifted, and he looked back toward the track above their heads. Urgency appeared on his face. "I must find Pearl," he said, giving her arm a distracted pat. "I must find Pearl."

He spun away and took off up a hill, disappearing down what must have been a switcher shortcut.

The night breeze sent more ripples across the surface of the slow river as Wrench leaned against the lattice guardrail. Half an hour had passed since the race finished, and this section of the yard remained closed to both public and press, which Wrench appreciated. She did not feel like answering interviewers on her own.

She held a few stray pieces of gray ballast and flicked one into the water, watching the mirrored lampposts do a sudden jerky dance. Distorted movement in the water's reflection caught her eye. Wrench looked up. A train of diesel switchers and repair trucks were guiding the dented, limping figures of Greaseball and Electra down the track toward the repair shop.

Both ex-champion racers were bent over, hanging onto the switchers for support. Greaseball and his blue dining car were in front. The blonde carriage rolled beside her engine, patting and caressing his arm, all memories of their bad break-up seemingly forgotten. Then came Electra and his switcher with Volta skating alongside Electra's repair trucks. Purse and Joule took up the rear and were whispering to each other with dark expressions.

Wrench watched numbly. She wondered why it had taken the maintenance team this long to transport two wrecked engines. Her heart went out to the dejected Electra — even as she reflected that he would never speak to her again.

Electra stumbled, and the repair trucks rushed up to him. The electric engine did not respond to them. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

As Wrench watched, Volta skated forward and managed to get beside her engine. She seemed to whisper something in his ear. Then Volta planted a kiss on his dented cheek.

Electra raised his head and regarded her for a long moment, oblivious to the repair trucks who were gently nudging him forward. Suddenly, he straightened, ignoring the diesel switcher despite his obvious limp, and skated forward, now with new energy in his jerky movements.

I'm forever going to be a pariah on my own home railroad.

Wrench tossed another ballast piece into the water below. Not that it was something she wasn't already used to, but when she had been a mere work truck, she could grit her teeth and find comfort among the other diesel-burning crane cars of her family. Then when she had become a real mechanic at last, she could tell herself that she had graduated top of her class and held the computer piece of the electric champion, but now...

...Where did she go from here?

"Wrench."

The crane car started, whirling around. Since she had turned off the receiver of her computer piece, she had not detected the signal emitting from Krupp as the male coach had come close to her. The armaments truck stared at her now with an unreadable expression. In his hands was her work helmet.

Wrench tensed, clenching the ballast pieces in her hand. "Have you come to tell me I'm fired?"

"Does it even need to be said?" he asked before he extended the helmet.

Wrench did not move.

Krupp scoffed. "If I wanted to leave you lying on the track leaking oil, I would have done it already." He held out the helmet further.

Wrench finally accepted it and tucked it under her arm. It was a standard part of crane cars, a red boom that wrapped over the protective spherical covering that had been painted to resemble blue sky and clouds.

"I'll make arrangements to return my computer piece as soon as possible," she said, her electronic voice flat. Was it possible to restore her vocal chords to her original sound? Could she afford to dip into her savings for that procedure now that she did not have a wealthy employer?

Krupp stepped closer. "I would think," he said, his own electronic voice sounding gruff, "that you'd be out celebrating with your new boyfriend."

Wrench gave him a cold look. "Guess I'm all celebrated out for the night."

Krupp's gray lips became a thin line. "I suppose you got the last laugh," he said. "The diesel truck who the electrics hated is now the coach of the steam champion."

Wrench looked away. "I'm not his coach." She hesitated before addressing the elephant on the track. "What happens to Electra?"

Krupp scoffed. "He'll learn from this and improve," he said, gripping the railing.

He looked down the river. Electra and the repair trucks had disappeared around the bend, but no doubt the armaments truck sensed the electric engine in the distance.

"As much as I would like to blame this on you," he said tightly, "I know he made the decision to try to shock the competition without checking his surroundings. The boy brought this upon himself."

Wrench winced. The electrics would not be too thrilled that all the money they had given up for his cause had now gone to waste.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the slow movement of the water below. Finally, without even looking at her, Krupp asked, "Was it worth it, Wrench?"

Wrench gritted her teeth but did not respond.

To her surprise, Krupp removed his sunglasses. He looked down at them as if inspecting them for smudges. "When I left Germany," he said slowly, "I thought there wasn't much left to live for."

Wrench rose an eyebrow. Krupp rarely spoke about his life from before Electra. "What made you leave?"

Krupp gave a bitter scoff. "Hard to see a bright future when your wife leaves you for some engine," he answered, "or when she takes your son away."

Wrench's head snapped up. "You have a son?"

"Ja." He held his sunglasses up toward the light, and his green eyes narrowed. "Spezi would be about eight now — but that was a lifetime ago," he said dismissively, yet Wrench thought his electronic voice sounded gruffer than normal. "I came here to find a new life, and I joined the Superstar Project."

That explained a lot about his attitude toward Electra. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I'm not." He slipped his shades back upon his face. "If I hadn't married that two-timing dining car, I would have never gotten my son. If she hadn't left me, I would never have come to America and gotten my other son."

He finally turned to face her. "So, if you threw away your career for some steam man, I hope you find something in your future to make it all worth it."

Wrench looked down at her hands which had now formed red fists around the railing. She had gotten them painted that very shade to match Electra's design. She had spent her own money on a custom wig to please him. All that effort to gain just one kind look from her electric superstar had now gone to waste, and for what? A steamer hung up on some blonde? Yet another man who favored a feminine woman over a muscular work truck?

... A decent soul that would have been destroyed if she had done nothing?

Wrench took a deep breath. "I did the right thing," she finally said. "Electra will bounce back from this. He has you and the others. But Rusty didn't deserve to be sabotaged."

An image flashed across her mind — Rusty's desperate expression as he went off to search for Pearl. No doubt he had found her by now. The first-class coach surely would have little objection to returning the amorous attention of the world champion who had saved her life — and Wrench had made it all possible.

She swallowed against the bile. "I did the right thing," she said hollowly.

Krupp made a soft sound before he pushed off the railing. He gave her a brief nod.

"I wish you well, Wrench, whatever Fate has in store for you."

With that, he turned without a final look and headed off down the track.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Pearl," Rusty said yet again as they moved further from the chatter of Poppa and the other rolling stock discussing steam conversion.

"I'd be a lot worse if it weren't for you," Pearl said shyly, gazing at the back of his head. Without his cap or helmet hiding it, his reddish-brown hair looked messy and damp with sweat — but Pearl could not think of time he had ever looked more handsome to her.

She had come close to confessing her newly discovered feelings for him — but then Poppa McCoy had shown up with half the yard, looking for the two of them, and that had kind of killed the mood. Now, Rusty pulled her toward his shed for the celebratory party that Poppa had long planned for him, scraping together what little money the two steamers had to make something enjoyable for the new champion — and there was no other rolling stock in sight.

Just tell him how you feel, she told herself, but her mouth felt like cotton. What could she even say to him after all she put him through?

"Well, Rusty, I know I broke your heart, and I guess I'm not too good at keeping love alive for long..." Ugh, no!

"Next time you fall in love, it'd better be with me." Definitely not.

"I see you when you're looking lonely, and I hope that everything's alright—" No, no, no!

Finally, she decided upon an approach and drew in a deep breath. "Rusty... can I say something?"

Rusty came to a stop, giving her a curious look — and she almost lost her nerve, but Pearl clasped her hands together, summoning any amount of courage she could.

"I was... wrong. About everything."

"There's nothing to forgive," Rusty said tenderly.

Pearl shook her head. "You could have not even entered the race because of me," she whispered. She swallowed at the thought. "I really believed Electra was someone I could trust my heart with, but that was a mistake." She gathered her strength and raised her blue eyes to meet his hazel ones. "I thought I found the answer, but it was wrong."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Is that why you left Electra for Greaseball?"

She gritted her teeth. "Well, he did say mean things about Dinah," she said darkly. Electra had become significantly less attractive once he started insulting the vehicles who were important to Pearl.

"And you went with Dinah's boyfriend?" he questioned. It was not judgmental, but it made Pearl wince.

"It was just for fun — but I wish I hadn't." Her cheeks burned at the memory — and her heart chilled as she recalled Greaseball's thinly veiled threats when he had warned her not to report him sabotaging the race. To think how many of her girlish daydreams he had been the dashing hero in!

She looked at her hands. "Looks like you didn't need me after all. Some friend I turned out to be."

His eyes softened further. "We'll always be friends, Pearl."

He seemed to mean it, and that made Pearl relax. Maybe he would not laugh at her if she told him what she felt.

"I'm glad you won the race. You deserved it," she began. Great start, Pearl! "And now you can get refurbished and look so..." Handsome was what she wanted to say, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

"Not like me?" Rusty chuckled.

"No! I mean, yes!" she stammered. "I mean, you'll be better now! The way you were meant to be before Control let you get rusted."

"Yeah," he agreed, and he looked down at his arm.

A strange look crossed his face. "You know, Wrench said she was going to help me." His voice softened in a way that Pearl did not relish. "It was after I was disqualified. She didn't have to help me at all, but she promised she'd get my rust removed. You'd like her," he added. "She's really nice."

Her face fell. "Well," she said with difficulty, "looks like you won't need her to get fixed now that you're the champion. Control will use his own repair trucks on you."

"Maybe." He grimaced, knitting his brow. "But I think I'd like to leave this yard if I can. Maybe apply to a museum or a tourist line. Somewhere different than all this," he said, waving toward the mountainous terrain and mechanical tracks.

Pearl looked at him in alarm. "You don't have to leave," she insisted. "Control will have to give you a better job now. And a better shed. You'll be living like a king now."

"Maybe," Rusty said flatly, stepping away from her and looking at their surroundings, "but I think I'm ready for something new."

"Maybe... I could..." Go with you was what she had intended to say, but before her clenched throat could form the sounds, Rusty suddenly stopped on the track.

"Oh, hey! There's Wrench!" he cried, pointing up ahead toward a fork.

The left line split off and headed alongside the river, and a familiar woman stood beside the guardrail. Pearl looked back to Rusty and saw that his face had lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Wait here," he charged her before he spun on his wheels — a little too quickly for Pearl's taste — and zoomed toward his race partner.

A strange hollowness swept through Pearl as she watched her dream train roll toward another woman.

...Have I left it too late?

Wrench raised her head at the sound of rusted pistons. Despite her glum mood, she could not stop the sudden increase of her heartbeat as her eyes met the sooty face that beamed at her—

—But the sight of the golden observation car just up the track certainly brought her back to reality.

She slipped on her crane helmet. "I see you found her all right," she said in greeting.

Rusty slowed. "Yeah, it's lucky Greaseball didn't kill her." Anger contorted his happy features for a moment. "At least nobody will worry about him now."

"Yeah," Wrench answered. "Steam is the new-old thing now, isn't it?"

"You don't know the half of it!" Rusty returned, his eyes widening. "Poppa's been talking to some of the engines, and they're interested in converting to steam — even Greaseball might do it!"

"Then how the reindeer loved him," Wrench said, causing him to laugh. At least he's alive — and will be that way for years to come. "Looks like you've come up in the world, Slow Man."

"Thanks to you," he beamed. Warmth flooded his hazel eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you, Wrench."

The crane car turned away. "Don't make it too mushy, buddy boy. You have to think of your image now that the papers are gonna want you on the front page."

"I... hadn't thought about that," Rusty mumbled, moving beside her. "I guess that's something you know about, being with a superstar and all." His tone changed to concern. "Oh, yeah, I shoulda asked, but is Electra okay? That was a nasty crash."

Wrench shrugged. "I'm sure his next mechanic will help him out."

She heard him start. "He fired you?" the steamer gasped.

Wrench shrugged.

"...Was it because of me?" he asked.

Wrench turned toward him, feigning indifference. "It was a lot of things," she lied.

"That was a rotten thing of him to do," he said, fire lighting his eyes. "He lost because he zapped Greaseball. He might have won if he had played fair."

"What's done is done. No point crying over it," the crane car said briskly. The last thing she needed was for him to start feeling sorry for her while his precious Pearl watched.

"You coulda just told me, Wrench," he said. "I woulda asked one of the Rockies to go with me."

"It was my choice," she said firmly before she gave him a half-smile. "If more railroads had trains like you, we might actually have a brighter future."

"But where will you go?"

Wrench leaned against the guardrail. "I'm sure somewhere needs mechanics. I won't be living adjacent to a mansion anymore, but I'll find somewhere that gives me a shed that doesn't leak," she added, glancing up at the few stars which still stubbornly shone.

"You... You could be my mechanic."

Wrench looked at him, and the steamer ducked his head, seeming to be interested now in his rusted feet.

"I mean, I'm gonna get refurbished now," he said quickly, "and so I'll need advice, and—and I think I can trust you, and we're gonna be on the victory tour for two weeks anyway, and— and—"

Wrench touched his arm, stopping his stammering. "I'd be honored," she said, meeting his hazel eyes. "I can't ask for a better boss."

He gave a shy, but relieved, smile. "Well, the railroad needs more trains like you too." Then the pink appeared, and he rolled his shoulders. "C-C'mon, might as well find the others now. Poppa wants to celebrate, and I can't do it without my partner, can I?"

"I wouldn't expect you to," Wrench smirked, taking his couplings, and Rusty pulled her back toward Pearl. The observation car reluctantly hitched up behind Wrench, seeming not too thrilled to have another woman literally between her and the engine, but she said nothing.

As Rusty pulled them toward a part of the yard Wrench had not yet seen, the crane car had time to find a new silver lining in her circumstances. Not only did Wrench have a job with the new champion, Rusty had reminded her of the victory tour. As his partner in the final race, Wrench would be traveling across the country with him for two weeks — while Pearl would still be back in Wilton Yard. The repair truck planned to use that fortnight to her full advantage.

She gave his couplings a subtle squeeze. If you want him, Pearl, you've got competition.

THE END

A/N: Special thanks to Tuva for being my beta reader. :D