Team Cowboy.
Chapter Ten
Lady Cougar-Trombone: That might just be what's coming his way. ^^ Thank you for the review, and you're welcome of course. I loved your idea. :D
And kudos to Evelyn Knight for an idea she brought up. She'll know what it is when she reads it. ^^
~X~X~X~
You've really done it this time. Woody gave a great, dejected sigh, knowing quite well that tonight's nice bout of depression wouldn't be too eager to deviate any time soon. Jessie's words were chorusing through his thoughts like a perpetual comeuppance and, no matter how hard he tried - how he tried to shrug the deal off, like they meant nothing at all - he couldn't stop thinking about her.
What if she's right? He built up the courage to ask himself after a long and arduous silence long after she'd left. What would that mean for me? As the moments droned on and the quiet grew evermore insufferable, the answers only started to blossom into concepts unfathomable, both for him and those he cared about. No, she can't be right. No-one else is like that; just Pete and Emily. But they're just unfortunate. It could've happened to anyone!
That's true. But it happened to her…
Woody swallowed a dry gulp at the thought. As much as he wanted to deny that wasn't true, he couldn't. It had happened to her, and the two friends she thought she could trust were guilty of the unspeakable. Just the thought made Woody's insides stir sickeningly like he was being lifted a thousand feet up and into the skies. If Andy left him the way Emily left Jessie, he wouldn't know what to do with himself - Andy was everything to him. His lucidity bound in one to call a friend.
His reason to live.
His reason to stay.
Then there came Buzz. And Bo. And Slinky. And Rex. Heck, everyone who shared the same reason to live - to breathe, to love, to protect and be loved - as him was a friend until proven otherwise. Until their actions speak the words a single voice alone can never encapsulate. Every toy Andy owned was his friend, just as Jessie had been Pete's friend until the words came knocking on her door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
If Woody's friends turned on him, there would be nothing left of him. He would have nothing. Not even spiteful loneliness, for there would have to be something worth missing to feel such despair inside. Just the emptiness.
How must Jessie be feeling?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was something Woody had felt himself when Pete's first true colours started showing into the light. That profound but ever so gentle tapping on his conscience. It had told him he'd lost a potential friend, and his chances of ever escaping such a fate that came dwelling unto them. But he'd had more friends, ones that could rescue him from such distress. One person wasn't the end of the world.
But what if he was everything?
"You let her go?" Woody's eyes shot open to their fullest extent as he cocked his head right towards the source of the interrupting voice. Pete was there, his box turned ninety degrees from its original position towards him, with crossed arms. Less time had passed than he thought, for the look of fury in Pete's countenance told the Sheriff Pete had heard everything. The grimy tone of hard rust in his eyes that stared Woody down felt akin to a thousand decrepit daggers striking him where it hurt. When no answer came from the cowboy, the Prospector growled and stepped forward. Right out of his box.
Woody felt his breath stop a moment in surprise, not having expected such an action to ignite from Pete. Woody knew how Pete valued the seclusion and solitude within his box, to such an extent that he'd actually keep himself isolated within it when being faced by the likes of those space toys just across the room. "You let her go?!"
"So what if I did?"
"You let her go?" Pete drawled, his eyes wide in infuriated anger. "Why did you do that?"
The Sheriff turned away from him.
"You, listen to me when I'm talkin' to you!" Pete demanded, stalking ever closer to Woody. The Sheriff chances a look back at him, idle in expression and nonchalant to whatever Pete had to say next. Only when he felt the vibes of Pete's fury, did Woody notice the pick-axe clenched in Pete's shaking hands. "I'm to hear of it with you! We get the opportunity of a lifetime, and what do you do? Just look it over like it's nothin'! Now, where is she?"
"What does it matter to you?"
Pete stilled his shaking hands, "That's none of yer business! Now, I'm askin' you this, Sheriff. Where has she gone?"
"If you'd been listening, you'd have heard."
The Prospector breathed heavily in and out to help soothe his thoughts after what he'd just heard. Woody couldn't help but wonder if the conversation between him and Jessie had set him off like this, but further then dismissed this thought; Pete wouldn't care either way if Jessie liked him or not. "I did hear. But ventilations shafts ain't going to answer her problem. Besides, she won't get them open. Not for a weakling like her."
Woody shot him a tempered glance, suddenly now quite reminded of his physical one-armed bicker with the cowgirl. "She seems to think that's the case. But for once you could be right."
"Darn tootin'," grunted Pete. When Woody yet again let his silence speak for itself, Pete angrily straightened his hat and made his way towards the hatch.
"What are you doing?" Woody asked.
"I'm going to bring her back."
The Sheriff's eyes widened to their extent, "What? You can't go after her."
"Just watch me, Sheriff."
…
"That no-good, low-life son-of-a-gun," muttered Jessie anxiously under her breath as she paced back and forth along a small swath of floor shortly before the Space to the Max exhibit, to such that her shoulders brushed the velvet material shadowing the collection from her view as she passed making it waver delicately. Her crossed arms were shaking slightly at the ire brawling within her like a candle's progreny burning with all its might. "Sweet Mother of Abraham Lincoln, I could just - urgh!"
"Take it they've riled your temper, eh?"
Jessie stopped in her tracks. She turned towards the sound of the new voice, briefly considering that Woody might've stalked towards her to guilt her some more from doing something she knew she shouldn't be doing in the first place. However, it wasn't Woody she met, which she must've known from the start for the voice was far too feminine-like to belong to him.
"Jillian?"
The space toy cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, it's me. You seem surprised?"
Jessie looked around, perchance in search for some kind of answer to Jillian's presence. "Are you... Are you following me?"
"Excuse me?" Jillian asked tensely, as though truly baffled by the question being asked to her. "Why would I-?"
"You've been up to no good ever since we arrived here!" Jessie exclaimed, taking a great step backwards to distance herself from her opponent Jillian reciprocated opposingly by stepping forward hoping to catch the cowgirl in her place. "You all have."
"I'm sorry - I really don't understand," said Jillian, her face shadowed by puzzled thought.
"You understand perfectly well! I bet my horse-shoes on it."
Jillian gestured to dismiss that comment with a small shake of the head. "None of us have done anything," she said, hoping to usher some sense into Jessie's rash thinking. But the cowgirl just stared back, breathing heavily with stilled eyes not too sure what to make of it.
"Then why are you following me?" Jessie asked, speaking each word very carefully as to not pageant any show of vulnerability to her adversary. She was very still, even as she felt the tension within the pool of her stuffing-filled stomach rise to the peak.
"I'm not following you."
"Then why are you out here?" Probed Jessie, almost determined to catch the Navigator out. Jillian, however, was usually quick on her feet when it came to processing plan and strategy so could not be caught off guard as Jessie had hoped.
"The same reason you are, I guess, if I'm right in my thinking."
Hesitantly, Jessie proved, "What are you thinking?"
Jillian just offered a benevolent smile, "That you've been around the same few toys for so long you just want to blast them away?" The Navigator sounded hopeful in a way only one with true compassion could be. Jessie's stare remained fixed though like an anchor that had havened deep within its target.
"You know that feeling, then?" Asked Jessie with the utmost caution. She couldn't let her guard down yet; Pete's long and arduous lectures from the past made sure of that.
Space toys aren't to be trusted. Jessie let her mouth fall open slightly at the notion sparking to life inside of her. Surely they couldn't all be bad, right? It'd be impossible to meet every toy, and life is full of surprises. You never know what it'll send racing on the tracks next - Woody was the perfect example of that…
"All the time," said Jill. Jessie rested her glare slightly, to such that the hot and verdant threat in her stare became no more than mere curiosity. What is she like? I'm getting nothing but mixed signals. "I often feel that they team up on me."
Jessie scoffed, "It's the opposite with me." Pete and Woody hate each other. And Bullseye's too kind-hearted.
"Well," Jillian began, almost conventionally as if to settle some long-termed debate. "I'm sorry if they treat you like that. I know it can be a bit of an annoyance, but all you've got is each other in the end."
Jessie raised an eyebrow, "What does that matter?"
"You wouldn't want to spend your time in here frankly loathing each others, would you?"
"I guess not," Jessie said, frowning. "But I can't stand him - or Pete." She said on a whim, barely thinking twice through her temper.
"They're surely not that bad, are they?" Jessie shrugged. "The Sheriff one seemed quite nice. I'd say he's not one for acting rash."
Jessie made a sound short of a bitter laugh, "Then you don't know half of it."
"I bet I-"
"You ill-ridden up-to-no-good blowhard!" Jillian and Jessie turned their heads sharply to the side. Before Jessie could even contemplate further action, the Prospector was lingering dangerously close to her personal space clasping his pick-axe fiercely with shaking palms. "What do you think you're doing! Going off and ruddy meddling around behind our backs!"
"Excuse me-" Jillian started to say in the hopes of kicking some sense into the intruder. Jessie in the meanwhile had her eyes widened by Pete being out of his box. She'd only ever seen him out of it once, and that was when everything she thought she knew about him changed. He's out of his box? But the box was his comfort zone - his pride. He wouldn't possibly leave-
"Now just what the hell were you thinking? We can't risk losin' a piece of the set! Do you know how that will affect Customer Satisfaction!" Jessie glowered at him determinedly, her eyes just threatening to pierce right into his very core.
"Since when did you care about anyone else?" Jessie demanded, harshly, almost offended by Pete's audacity. "All you care about is yourself! You couldn't care less about me - or Bullseye. You never have. So why don't you just leave my sight before I rip your arms out?"
Pete breathed in and out deeply. Jessie could detect the slight traces of doubt in him - even if only for a split moment - in the way his eyes darted from side to side; in the way his hands around the pickaxe just couldn't seem to stay still. For a moment, a part to him she'd never seen before was vulnerable, almost like he was reverting ever so slowly back into a previous demeanour.
It was strange. Almost made Jessie question the matter. But that's just not him. He's just not capable of it, not after what he did to Jessie and Bullseye. She had finally started to believe that, perchance, a better and brighter future wasn't so distant after all…
"You wouldn't dare." Pete seethed after a moment of uncertainty.
"Wanna see me try?" Jessie probed, stepping dangerously closer and raising a clenched fist.
Pete's shaking hands stilled around the pickaxe, "I'm warning ya!"
Jessie braced herself to charge forward, but was halted in her tracks by a pair of arms clamping around her waist. "Let me at him!" Jessie protested, struggling to free herself from Jillian's hold. "Let me at him! That horse's end deserves it!"
"Say that again, Cowgirl."
"Just calm down, the both of you." Jillian insisted, using all her strength to drag Jessie forcefully away from the partially-shaken Prospector. "You can't fight like this."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
Jillian closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. "I know I can't do that, but please listen to me before you dismember each other." She grunted as she pulled Jessie back and away from Pete. "Can you both do that? Please? If you're going to be here much longer, then you don't want to spend your time constantly looking over your shoulder because of issues in trust, do you?"
Hands continuing to shake, Pete scoffed, "I don't need no trust. Not from them, anyway."
"But that's besides the point," Jillian protested, still clinging onto Jessie fiercely to keep her from lurching forward at the Prospector. But Jessie seemed to want nothing of this, and seemed only persistent to get her hands on him. Jillian feared that if she did - no, she's fighting with too much spirit - knew, that if she let Jessie go, there would be nothing of Pete left to whip into shape. Even with his pickaxe, he wouldn't stand much of a chance against Jessie's determination and vigour. "We're all in here together. We should be getting along, not trying to rip each other's throats out."
"Try telling her that." Pete retaliated, prodding the flat end of his pickaxe on the floor.
"She's just aggravated. If we could just give her a minute, I'm sure-"
"I'm not aggravated," said Jessie, halting suddenly. Jillian didn't take this as a particularly decent sign, but released her hold on Jessie and retreated a few steps backwards thinking the worst of it had already passed. For Pete's sake, she hoped it had. "And I do not need a minute."
"Now I severely doubt that." Pete said nonchalantly. Jessie fixed her eyes dangerously on him, though he doubted she would further act on her impulses as she remained silent and kept her distance. "She kicks up a fight whenever she has the chance. Don't we, my dear Jessie? Remember our little date with the Sheriff? Why you attacked him one-armed."
Jessie clenched her fists, "He was asking for it," she said, lurching forward again. "And so are you."
"My point proven exactly." Pete smiled maliciously as Jillian caught Jessie from around the wrist again, preventing Jessie from coming any nearer.
"Pete!" Barked Jillian, still struggling to keep a firm hold on Jessie. "You see, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Why can't you just both be civil? If you're going to get through this, then you need to work together."
"What's the point?" Jessie probed, distantly as though she were questioning herself rather than any of the other two. "Stinky Pete's just going to wreck it for us. Besides - he's never going to let us. The set wouldn't make it without me - or his precious Sheriff."
"I have my pickaxe, don't I?" Pete fondly gestured to his plastic counter-piece.
"Oh, you couldn't hurt a fly with it!"
"I can do whatever the Sam Hell I want to do with it, Red."
Jessie scowled, "I stand by what I said. The only thing that's been good for is-" She paused quite suddenly, eyes widened.
"What's wrong?" Jillian asked.
That can't work… She closed her mouth, swallowing a very dry gulp. Pete…he used it to tighten the screws on the vent! But…it couldn't possibly work, could it? Even as she stared, wide-eyed by the pickaxe much to Pete and Jillian's bewilderment, she couldn't' shake the notion away. That would be too easy…
But it worked for him. So why shouldn't it work for her? There definitely was a vent leading out of here - Jillian had already cleared that out for her - so even if it was locked like Jillian and Woody claim, there would surely be no harm in giving it a go, would there? At the end of the day, after all, all they could do is try. Even if the attempt did prove futile, then at least they'd know.
"Jessie?"
Jessie blinked, shaking herself free from her reverie. "Yeah?"
The Navigator had one eyebrow arched at her, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," muttered Jessie with a voice far off in the distance. "I'm fine. I think I'll just head back now."
…
"Do you think it worked?"
Hamm looked up to Bo shortly after the phone-line died out, not expecting the silence to be broken so soon. The phone-call had left them both feeling uneasy and anxious inside, for it was their first true experience in directly communicating with humans. Albeit unnatural for a toy, they were both eager to know if their attempts had proved successful and, rest assured, helpful in Woody's case.
"I don't know," Hamm said, simply. "He didn't really give us an outspoken answer."
Bo sighed, "You could be right, Hamm. He did sound rather uncertain when I was speaking to him, but he was as helpful as he could be."
"That could be questioned," Bo raised a questionable eyebrow. "Well - he does sound quite pretentious. Remember when we first questioned him about the Woody's Roundup set? He said immediately that the news was bringing customers into his museum." he arched an eyebrow/ "But who would find a collection of rag-dolls intriguing? They don't even have knees," said Hamm, shuddering mentally at the thought.
"I know… Well - now that I think about it, he sounded very certain about it," she muttered anxiously, her crook turning round-and-round in her hands. Perhaps he was wrong? Woody's not a collector's item! He's meant for a child - for Andy."Oh - I just don't know what to make of it. I don't think he'll let Woody go, but he has to - right?"
"Well, sure," said Hamm at a loss of what to say.
"I mean - he can't just keep him. What cruel-hearted person would ever do such a thing?" she murmured, sounding very uncertain og herself as she spoke. "No - no-one would do that. Not someone at least half-humane, not after what we told him. He'd have to be someone like that awful man who stole Woody. He has to let Woody go."
"Well-" Hamm started to say, but wavered off with what he was saying when he thought better of it. He could correct Bo and point her in the right direction with her thinking, but he knew that now was no time for that. The best he could offer her now was comfort and assurance, no matter how deceiving the lies could be. "I'm sure you're right. But try not to worry about it, that never helps. What happens, happens."
"Maybe you're right," Bo drawled, a frown perched upon her lips. "I could be worrying too much. Buzz will get to him, right? He always does."
You're wrong there. Perhaps from the dog when Buster decides to bury Woody in the yard, or in a game of hide 'n seek, but not from Al; Buzz hadn't managed that. And the chances were just the same that Buzz won't make it to them this time, as well.
For all he knows, Woody may never come back.
"I'm sure he will."
…
"Sixteen," said Mrs. Potato-Head with a great air of enthusiasm as she glanced at the blue coloured paper card pulled from a pile. "Does anybody have a number sixteen?"
The rest of the toys around her groaned wearily, far too sick of this bingo-styled board game to concentrate properly, all apart from Rex who eagerly lifted one stunted arm into the air.
"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" he did a little sort of impatient dance on his feet as he waited to be acknowledged. "You sunk my battleship!"
Mr. Potato-Head groaned loudly, "We're playing Bingo, Godzspilla - not Battleships! And you didn't even lose!"
"Now, now, dear," soothed Mrs. Potato-Head calmly as Rex whimpered slightly in his innocent little way. Potato-Head made an displeased noise. "Let him celebrate! This is such an exciting game after all!"
The spud rolled his eyes, almost glancing left for a minute expecting to spot Hamm readying himself to make some sort of sarcastic comment on the matter. Surprisingly, he was not there to share in with the same pointlessmisery he was. That was odd…
He frowned, "Where's-"
"Ooh! Do I get a prize?!" asked Rex excitedly, dancing on the spot.
"Yes, dear - you're the next host!" She smiled at Rex as he eagerly gaited, muttering fervently, to her spot just before Andy's bed, and cavalierly made her way to Rex's board. With a nice little smile, she swept the playing pieces off the board to start the game anew.
"Oh, I've never hosted a game before!" Rex elucidated, throwing his hands in the air. "This is going to be so exciting!"
"Not at this rate," Potato-Head muttered under his breath, earning him a tempered glare from his counterpart wife.
"Has everybody cleared their boards?" he asked, glancing around the players to check everything was in order before continuing. "Okay, now I just need to add these used cards to this pile here and… Ah! My arms are too short!"
"Oh, what's the point?" Mr. Potato-Head proclaimed, groaning very loudly. "He can't even pick the cards up, never mind read what's on them! A pre-school toy could do better!" Again, he averted his bulging eyes to the left expecting Hamm to have some kind of a back-up comment on the situation, but was slightly puzzled when he saw his best-pal had still not arrived. "Hey - where's Hamm? I haven't seen him all morning…" he muttered, distantly, before a vicious scowl shook his face. "He should be here!"
"I haven't seen him, either." said Slinky. The rest of the toys looked his way, for this was the first time he'd spoken since the second round of the game (he'd been short in the running that game, with some very bad luck).
"That's strange. Usually he's beating us all."
"I'm sure he's just busy, dear," reasoned Mrs. Potato-Head. Her husband however seemed to want nothing of it. Something was off with Hamm's absence - and he was going to find out what. Hamm never missed a game.
"Doing what? There's nothing to do."
"Well - Bo said to me that she needed Hamm to help her find her sheep," Slinky lied. In truth, he had a hunch at where they could be. Bo had mentioned only last night that she needed Hamm's assistance with her plan to help Woody, but he didn't think that alerting the rest of the toys of their schemes would help them at all. It would only kick up a riot, especially when it came to some of the toy's egos. So, for now, he decided to remain hushed on the matter.
Unfortunately for him, his twist to the truth hadn't been thought out well enough.
Mrs. Potato-Head gasped, "He's helping her find her sheep?"
"Oh, no!" Rex exclaimed. "What is she doing?"
"What are you talking about?" Slinky asked. He'd basted commotion and disorder into the situation without even realizing it, so was confused when the anarchy was carried out further. "She asks Woody to help her all the time!"
"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!" Rex sputtered in absolute hysterics. "Oh, poor Woody! She must think Buzz isn't coming back!"
Slinky couldn't help but raise a questionable brow, "What?"
Potato-Head grinned, "Now I didn't realize Bo was such the promiscuous type."
"Darling!" His wife scalded. "Show a little compassion!"
"How could she be cheating on him?!"
"Technically - it's not an affair if the love-bug doesn't come home. She's just moving on, embracing the moment. I say good on her." Mr. Potato-Head grinned arrogantly, crossing his arms. "It's probably best for her, if Woody's not coming back. She can't mope forever.""Woody's not coming back?!" Rex asked fretfully, his shaking arms very closely packed in his worry. "But he has to come back! He's our leader, what will we do without him? Oh - it's all hopeless!"
Slinky stepped forward in between the three, "Hang on a sec, you guys! What are you all talking about? Bo's not cheating on Woody - why would she do that?"
"You ask me," the spud chortled. "But I say she's always had a thing for marshalling pigs."
"Bo's a Shepherdess, dear, not a rancher," said Mrs. Potato-Head.
"Whatever."
The slinky-dog shook his head, unsettling his coils slightly, "So you think she's cheating on Woody…with Hamm?"
"Well she chose Woody didn't she? And he has an ego."
Slinky blinked, "She'd never leave Woody!"
Rex seemed to settle slightly at that, and now looked more inquisitive than worried, "She's not? But you said Hamm was helping her find her sheep-"
"So that's what this is all about-?"
"Look!" Rex exclaimed suddenly, prodding a minute arm in the direction of Andy's door. "There they are!"
"Well, hush." Mrs. Potato Head shushed as she turned left towards the door. There Bo and Hamm were, slowly beginning to make their way towards them talking to one another, seeming not to have noticed yet the uneasy tension between the rest of the toys. She didn't know whether to wave or turn away from them, so instead she did neither. "They don't know we know."
"Well, should we tell them?" Rex exclaimed, his dotted eyes wide and worried as he bobbed on his feet.
"No - they'll just deny it." she muttered, hooking a thoughtful finger underneath her chin. "We have to keep our distance, watch them from afar…"
Dejectedly, Slinky rolled his eyes, "Guys - they're not-"
Mrs. Potato-Head's eyes jolted wide, "They're coming this way! Quick, everyone, pretend you're bingo-ing." She insisted, dropping her head down to her bingo board in deep concentration.
"But-" Slinky started to say, but saw from her obstinate attentiveness that his attempt would be futile. "Oh, forget it."
…
Jessie lifted herself back into the display unit, feeling hope for the first time that she's finally figured out a plan to get out of this place once and for all. The thought that she can finally make amends with Bullseye was like a spark in her heart and, at this time in crisis, this was just the hope she needed.
"How did it go?" asked Woody with a benevolent smile. Jessie slowly but ascertainably averted her attention to him as Pete followed her shortly through.
"Well - I discovered one thing with my night," said Jessie nonchalantly. She walked back over to Bullseye, already awoken and anxious to see her again, and sat by his side.
Woody eyed her debatably, "And what's that?"
"You're not alone."
"Excuse me?"
Jessie chortled, "You're not alone in this - I understand now. Pete's on your side, too. I just never noticed before."
"What are you talking about?" Pete demanded, eyeing Woody and Jessie with a darkened look in his eyes. Bullseye cocked his head up at Jessie's side, fearing what would happen next.
Woody, however, felt like he'd just been slapped, "Jess, if this is about-"
"Oh, just save your excuses, Woody," Jessie sighed. "I'm up to my neck in 'em."
"Look, I want to get out of here just as much as you do, but if you think toying with the odds is going to get us there, it isn't. So just stop, will you?"
Jessie looked unfazed, "So that's it? You'd rather not take the chances and rot in here? Does your kid mean nothing to you?"
Her words struck him like a rusty blade into the heart, right where it hurt. His mouth closed, then opened and closed again. Whatever words he was trying to conjure, whatever argument he was fighting desperately to shoot back, just wouldn't come. For the first time in his life, he really and truly was speechless.
Jessie smirked, feeling she's got the better of him now, "Hurts, doesn't it? That's how I felt when I winded up second-handed. I shouldn't have let Emily go - she didn't know what she was doing - I should have followed her, chased her down to my last breath. I could have been there for her, for her kids, for her grandchildren. But instead I let her leave me behind, just like how Pete let himself wait for so long without just going for it, without just jumping in someone's cart and hoping for the best-"
"Hey!" Proclaimed Pete, stiffly clutching his pickaxe. "Don't you dare! You have no right to be saying that!"
Her smirk widened; she was getting through to them. When she looked away from Pete, she met Woody's eyes. "You don't want to make the same mistake I did," she said, the grin never dying. "You're just too yellow to admit it. But you'll regret it soon enough. I promise you that."
If I could just get through to them… She didn't care how much in ailed her to act this way - like she almost didn't care - she just wanted to hit him where it hurt. Then, finally, he might listen…
Noticing how baffled he was, she rested back and patted Bullseye soothingly on the neck. Pete just watched, he too quite thunderstruck.
"One for me - zero for Team Cowboy," she muttered as Woody sat lost in his silence.