Disclaimer: I don't own Toy Story.

Warning: Pairing is one-sided Woody/Jessie. Don't like, don't read please.


The toys were exhausted. Bonnie's road trip with her Mother—which took much longer than the toys have anticipated—had finally come to an end. A dull sense of fatigue overwhelmed in all of the toys, as such was proved by the very little exchange of words occurring among them. Neither Potato Head nor Trixie, which are usually known as the "talkative" ones, had much to say. Perhaps, words were not necessary. The terrifying experience at the Sleep Well Motel still vividly remained in all of the toys' minds as if it had happened just a few seconds ago. Flashbacks of the suspenseful, horrifying vision kept all of Bonnie's little friends quiet and preoccupied in their minds. "Last night's experience could traumatize a toy in number of ways," Mr. Pricklepants exclaimed in the trunk on the way back. Not a word was said as a response to his remark, but all of the toys could not have agreed more—

except for one.

THANK YOU

Reuniting with friends back in Bonnie's room has immensely helped the toys to gain back their bright spirit. Once home, it was a very common sight to see the toys which came back from the trip to share their experiences to those that were left behind. Whether the anecdotes be exciting or terrifying, if shared among friends, they became a source of entertainment—naturally and eventually diminishing the dwelling sense of terror within the experiencer altogether. Even Buzz seemed to be busy trying to wear off the dread (if not, then simply entertain) by giving the whole trip story to Slinky and Hamm. Watching the mingling toys at a distance, Jessie retreated behind the left side of Bonnie's bed, leaving the rest of the toys on the other side.

Jessie was the only one without a listener; she did not need an outlet for her traumatizing events on the road trip.

She was the one who conquered the trauma.

Closing her eyes, Jessie was able to recall the events, and allowed the darkness to ruminate in her mind without letting it wound her as it had always done in the past. "I'm not scared of you," Jessie thought triumphantly with her eyes still closed. She was able to sense the faint light beyond her closed eyelids, and knew she can spread her arms and legs about freely. Just those were now enough to make Jessie remain calm with confidence no matter what. Jessie was almost overjoyed with her new self, and even if this room suddenly changed itself into a small box, and all the luminaries, devoured—Jessie felt sure that she would still find a way.

But even to her, her exceptional delight over the conquered fears felt slightly out of place. Indeed, it took years to finally get over them, but was this truly the only cause?

"Jessie? Is everything okay?"

A familiar voice snapped Jessie out of her thoughts; it was Woody.

"Oh, hi Woody, yeah I'm fine." Jessie answered as she quickly gave her braids a stroke.

"You sure?"

"Of course," Jessie said confidently, "I mean, sure I'm a bit tired from the trip but hey, no big deal."

After a nod to Jessie's response, Woody smiled at her. It was a faint smile; too weak to bear any promises, but gentle without sarcasm. Jessie, unable to decipher his expression, chuckled nervously.

"What? What is it?" Jessie asked, but Woody only dropped his eyes and shrugged casually to the question.

"No, nothing. It's just you—you really saved me out there on the truck."

It was then Jessie realized a hint of uncertainty on Woody's face. Jessie's eyes met Woody's again as he fixed his gaze, only to find his brown eyes somewhat darker than she expected.

The intention was unknown, even to Jessie herself, but her body moved quicker than her mind as she reached out to grasp Woody's hand softly. Seconds later, her mind caught up to the chase; she grasped Woody's hand tighter.

"…But everything's not okay with you, is it?"

Jessie finally said it, and looked straight into Woody's eyes, concerned. Woody smiled meekly, and then nodded in affirmation.

"At least," Woody added, "it wasn't when I was sealed in that box."

"What do you mean?" Jessie asked, confused.

"I'm not claustrophobic, as far as I know, Jessie. But having to get sealed in a box alone, and experience the fear of getting shipped away to someone I don't even know—think about it."

Jessie was stunned to hear Woody speak in such a sincere tone. She tried to say something in return, but her mind was as blank as a brand new painting canvas. The situation became more surprising to her when she felt Woody pull her hand slightly towards him. A small gasp escaped from Jessie, and Woody spoke again, as if that were his cue.

"I'm sorry I had to make you go through all that, again."

It took a few moments for Jessie to comprehend the meaning of his words. Once acknowledged, a high tide of regret swept towards her. Those words can't be taken beyond its literal meaning. Somewhere sane and rational part of Jessie's mind told her. But it was too late. Just within a few seconds, the trivial, ordinary things all started to become seemingly significant before Jessie's eyes: his kind look, the friendly distance, their merely overlapping hands—it was as if everything suddenly had a deeper meaning.

"It was nothing…really." Jessie finally managed to say.

Back inside the trunk on the way home, Jessie thought—perhaps the same of what was going on through Woody's mind—that this was all of that fly-to-Japan thing all over again. The sudden unexpected parting with your owner, forcibly getting sent away somewhere probably far, trapped inside a suffocating box until further notice—all were far too familiar to be dismissed as a mere coincidence.

Jessie looked into Woody's eyes intently. She saw her own face reflecting on them—but Woody could see more than what was merely before him. His insights were powerful; how else could have he seen the realm of Jessie's dark subconscious? And for this reason, Jessie knew just how Woody could be so compassionate to no extent.

"C'mon, I know for a fact that you wouldn't have done anything less for me."

Woody smirked questionably at the cowgirl. Sensing uncertainty from him, Jessie held his hand tighter to encourage him.

"Trust me, it's a voice of experience."

Jessie smiled warmly, hoping for Woody to sense the magnitude of her sincere words. She ascertained that he did as she felt him return the grip on her hand, along with his usual affectionate smile.

"But I gotta say, you and Buzz were pretty slow on getting Potato Head's hand sign."

Woody let out a chuckle to Jessie's remark.

"Hey, at least my guesses weren't as farfetched as Buzz's 'one plus one is one.'"

"Yeah, well 'once upon a time' wouldn't have really helped us either, ya know."

Woody tried to find something to say to refute her statement, but to no avail. His eyes wandered around helplessly for a second, only to be met by Jessie's curious gaze.

The two laughed.

Their comfortable laughter flowed into Jessie's ears like music, eventually melting within, liquefied and dissolved as if to become a part of her. Within such feeling, Jessie realized, that maybe this was why she was happy about conquering her fears.

Their laughs eventually faded, leaving the two toys in a heartfelt moment of silence. Woody softly placed his other hand on Jessie's, folding her hand in both of his and gently secured it in a comforting grip. Before Jessie could say anything, Woody's warm, yet heart-piercing gaze caught her. Captivated by the burnt umber eyes, Jessie held her breath—in a fit of nameless sensation.

"—Thank you, Jessie."

His voice was nothing like Jessie ever heard before. It possessed an immeasurable kindness within, but only left with fleeting, intangible gifts inside her as one faded away quickly after another before she could even make out what they were. What truly remained with Jessie, was nothing more than the kindhearted cowboy's smile, burnt into her mind like a persistent afterimage.

—No.

THIS was why I was glad about conquering my fears.

Jessie knew that soon she had to respond to Woody's words, but she could not find a thing to say. She was caught by disbelief towards herself—

for wishing that she wanted more from him than those words of gratitude.