Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Pixar, An American Tale, Linda Ronstandt etc, etc...

Dress Up

-2012-

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby

It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky

-Somewhere Out there

Brown hair? What kind of idiot gives Little Bo Peep brown hair?

Woody snorted disgustedly and flicked an eraser away with his boot. The moonlight was flooding the kitchen counter, and the wind was whistling longingly outside. The nice thing about Bonnie was that she slept like a rock; storms never bothered her. Strictly speaking, they didn't bother him either, but it was too noisy to sleep. He'd taken a stroll and decided to look through what Pam was taking with her to day care in the morning. Next to the large plastic bin full of craft supplies: yarn, glue sticks, rafia, and safety scissors, was a stack of coloring books that she'd collected from friends and neighbors. Donations. He had riffled through them until one in the middle of the pile had made him pause.

Staring up from the glossy cover of the coloring book was a terrible rendition of Little Bo Peep. She was sitting on a hillside, looking flustered and dismayed, crook dangling from her fingers. Her dress was all wrong; it was yellow, and had an enormous blue apron, making her look like Alice in Wonderland. And her hair was brown. Why brown?

Woody glared at the picture. It had never occurred to him that the world's idea of just what Bo was supposed to look like could be so varied. She was perfect just the way she was: blond curls, rosy cheeks, brilliant blue eyes, and a white and pink dress. "How on earth did they get you so wrong?" he muttered, and imagined he heard her chuckle beside him.

It had started again, that tape recorder inside his head. Three months and fifteen days since he'd seen her. And just like the first time he'd kept this long count in his head, he heard her voice in his ear, saying the things she would have if she were really standing beside him.

He knelt down and opened the book, flipping through the pages. Little Miss Muffet, Little Boy Blue...why were they all 'little?' Some of the pictures had streaks of marker or crayon across them where a toddler had scribbled, just to see what his crayon would do. And then, opposite the Muffin Man and sharing a page with the Three Men in a Tub, was Bo. The picture, heavily lined in dark ink so little children could learn to color in the lines, was still blank.

She was standing in a flock of sheep, bent sideways slightly to touch one of their heads. Unlike the cover, there was no apron covering her dress. Woody shrugged and pulled a box of crayons toward him. It wouldn't hurt, right?

The white crayon hadn't been used yet, so he started with it, lightly dusting the entire gown in the snowy absence of color. "You know," he said to the picture, "I'm not so sure I feel better or worse now that I've seen you again." He set down the white crayon and pulled out the pink. "I'd finally gotten used to the idea that you weren't coming back, and then suddenly..." He trailed off, biting his lip as he carefully traced light pink circles into the skirt. Seeing her again had overjoyed him. Holding her again, talking to her...it had been magical. But then.. "And then I left. Bo, why am I always such an idiot when it comes to you? Why didn't I bring you back with me?"

It was a question he didn't really want answered, he mused as he replaced the pink crayon and went for the yellow one. He had a feeling that she understood why he' done it, she always did know exactly why he was doing things, even when he didn't. But all the same, that pitiful "Don't leave me," she had whispered in his arms stabbed at him every few hours.

"But you said that wasn't goodbye," he said out loud, hoping that by vocalizing this point he would feel better. But what had she expected? That he could slip away from Bonnie's house anytime he wanted and come visit her? Bo knew he wasn't programed like that. Once he had an owner, he stuck to them like glue. It was hard-wired into him; his Prime Directive. Keep with your kid. And Bo was obviously attached to Ellie, and Ellie, unlike most college-aged girls, would notice and care if one of her dolls went missing.

Woody sighed and set down his crayon and looked at the girl who now approximated his darling Bo in appearance. "You just said that to make me feel better, didn't you? You knew perfectly well once I walked out of that room I couldn't come back." Her face, a little pale and lifeless on the page, continued to look down at the sheep. He studied it carefully, trying to animate it in his mind.

On impulse, he pulled the pink crayon back out of the box and gave her cheeks the slightest hint of blush, and then darkened her lips with it. He closed his eyes. "I didn't even kiss you properly, did I?"

Leaving that regret hanging vulnerably in midair, he fished for the blue crayon and very carefully gave her eyes that brightened, sparkling look they held when she was laughing. He hadn't kissed her on purpose. To acknowledge to her that he was missing her, hurting for her, lonely for her, was one thing. But to have kissed her would have been to commit to being there for her again.

The tape recorder in his mind turned on again. I didn't kiss you either, remember?

He frowned down at the picture. "No. No, I guess you didn't." He sat back and looked out the window at the bare trees thrashing in the wind. "I guess that means we're still looking out for each other, right?" he asked hopefully. This time no voice answered, but he remembered suddenly the feeling of her lips on his cheek; like the burning of a cattle brand. He gave a weary half-smile to the watching moon and sighed.

"I guess I'm pretty pathetic. Reduced to sitting here in the middle of the night talking to my girlfriend in my head."

The swaying trees seemed to be nodding their agreement.

She was fifteen minutes, and an eternity, away from him. If he were five feet taller with no pull string, he would have jogged across town and swept her away. But he wasn't. He couldn't leave Bonnie; she would worry, and the other toys would call him crazy.

"Crazy? They've never felt like this," he muttered. None of them, with the possible exception of Jessie, had felt such a nagging, disturbing ache cloying at them.

Woody mulled over his options. He could accept the fact, again, that he was never going to have her in his life. But doing that, knowing how physically close she was, might drive him crazy. Or, he could keep hoping that one day she'd walk back into his life. But hoping like that, against all hope and reason, wasn't a good idea either. It could drive him crazy too.

Neither were pleasant options. His head, stubborn and logical, told him that it would be safer to let her go again. But his heart, equally stubborn and not at all logical, told him that he should hold onto her.

Woody kissed his fingers and pressed them to the picture's face. "No, I told you forever." He closed his eyes and made his decision. "And forever is what I'm going to give you."

His head still contradicted him, but really, when it came to the important decisions, Woody had never let his head rule his heart.

...

"Okay, now don't panic," Ellie said, tongue between her teeth and scissors poised. "I'll sew some snaps on this in a minute and then we can try on your new dresses!"

Everytime Ellie decided it was time to make her a new dress, Bo remembered the first time Ellie had taken a pair of scissors and carefully cut a slit down the back of her white and pink gown. It wasn't supposed to come off, but Ellie hadn't let that slow her down. Within three months of coming to live with Ellie, Bo had amassed a wardrobe that included a lavender prom dress, a buoyant wedding gown with a deep red sash, and as promised, a James Bond-esque little black dress. Bo had particularly liked the LBD with its plunging cowl neck and back, lack of sleeves, red lining, and seductively high slit. She had even more particularly enjoyed imagining Woody's reaction to it. Also, the permanent loss of her petticoats was thoroughly appreciated.

Ellie's workmanship on the dresses was incredible even when she was fourteen, and had gotten better and better. Over the years, she had had made fewer dresses as her time had been consumed by school, work, friends, dating, and eventually college, but she always came home and made a dress whenever she was feeling rotten. Bo was convinced that no matter how much Ellie liked the boy she was dating, or how nice watching a good chick flick felt, or how much she adored the little kids she was teaching, she was always going to fall back on sewing as her ballast.

"I've always wanted to do a saloon dress," Ellie grinned, setting Bo up next to her computer screen and calling up an image search. "And ever since seeing that adorable cowboy Andy used to have... I want something kinda sweet looking, but still a little bit spicy..." She twirled a lock of long hair around her finger as she scrolled down the screen. "Too much...way too much skin there... You're a lady, after all," she said, glancing down at Bo. "How about...that's a nice one..."

She continued in this vein for several more minutes, saving pictures from old western movies to a folder and then finally closing the browser. Bo ached to turn and look at the screen as Ellie dug in her desk drawer for her notepad and pencil. She resisted the urge, and was glad she had done so when Ellie surfaced a second later and pushed the keyboard away. She opened the folder of pictures she had selected, and after eyeing them carefully and looking at Bo thoughtfully, she began sketching.

"Burgundy, of course. Then some off the shoulder little sleeves...like from Beauty and the Beast...long and satin..."

When Ellie finally nodded and left the room nearly forty five minutes later, presumably to go to the fabric store, Bo stole a look at the sketch. It wasn't bad like she had feared. Most of the "saloon girl" dresses that she had been picturing in her mind looked scanty and unnecessarily ruffled. The dress that Ellie had sketched out was a floor length dress, which immediately knocked it out off the "saloon" category in Bo's mind. It had the afore-mentioned off the shoulder sleeves and a deep neckline that could only flatter and entice. The back of the dress was a deep V cut that would reach nearly to her waist and be covered only by a layer of "Spanish lace." Bo smiled. She was imagining the astonished look Woody's eyes would have if he ever saw her in it.

...

Two days later, Ellie was tugging at the skirt there, fluffing up a bit of lace there, and smiling broadly at her handiwork. "Mary, you'd knock James West and Artemus Gordon off their feet," she said happily. She picked Bo up and held her up in front of the mirror. "I am definitely going to show you to Andy when he comes over tonight. He's heard about my sewing forever, but now that we've started looking at rings and I'm threatening to make my own wedding dress, I should probably introduce you." She laughed and put Bo back onto her lamp, now looking hopelessly out of place. "I've gotta go take a shower now, don't let Harpo, Zeppo, and Chico fall off the dresser!"

A couple of minutes later, Ellie left, and her sheep, now named after three of the Marx brothers, bleated appreciatively.

Bo grinned and looked down at the dress. "I love it! And did you hear what she said about Andy? He's finally going to know where we are!" She knelt down in front of her sheep and hugged them. "Zeppo" nipped playfully at her nose. "You'd love to have other toys to play with again, wouldn't you?" she asked, petting his head. All three of them nodded their heads and wagged their tails.

The four of them had been quietly nursing a hope that once Ellie and Andy realized that she was Bo Peep and not Mary, and that she had been with all the other toys that were now at Bonnie's house, that perhaps Ellie would find it in her heart to reunite them. It was a long shot, but it was too tempting to not think of.

Bo stood back up and looked down at her bare shoulders cradled in the burgundy sleeve-lettes that surrounded her upper arms. She craned her neck around to appreciate the overlay of fine black lace spilling down the back waist of the gown and floating suggestively from the hemline. One of the things Bo loved about most of Ellie's dresses was that the skirt was never too full. Her original hoop skirt had always made her feel slightly awkward and clumsy. Dresses like this one -she ran her fingers down the waist, smiling – had a very slimming affect. She had a nice figure; why shouldn't she show it off? And especially since Woody had boxed up the Combat Carls next door, Bo was happy to get dolled up in something a little more formal than her white and pink dress.

Across the hallway, the shower was running. Bo carefully laid down on the lamp base and her sheep gently bumped her head. She closed her eyes and petted them, scratching them under their chins the way Jessie had used to. And as always, when she closed her eyes now, she saw Woody. She was so tantalizingly close to him that at times it was unbearable. Their chance meeting four months ago had brought every dimmed and brittle hope back to life. He was all right. He was still with his friends. He had Andy still, in a distant sort of way. And now he knew that he still had her. They were fifteen minutes away from each other, and had been for the past nearly eight years, without ever knowing it.

She opened her eyes and looked past her sheep towards the window. "I think he'd like this one, don't you guys?" she asked them absently. Harpo nudged her and bleated happily.

...

"All right, Andy...I know you're terrified of the idea that I want to make my own wedding dress-"

Bo heard Andy's laughter, now much deeper, in the hallway.

"But you really don't have anything to worry about! I want to show you Mary."

The bedroom door opened and the light flickered on. Ellie crossed the room and plucked Bo from her lamp and held her up for Andy to see. Recognition flickered briefly in his eyes.

"This is Mary; she's my model. I just made this dress; it's called the "Stagecoach Special." She handed Bo to Andy, who squinted and ran a finger over the dress, as if trying to decide if remembering why the toy looked familiar was more important that evaluating his girlfriend's sewing skills.

"Wow...that's incredible, Ellie."

Ellie opened the Barbie doll wardrobe on the dresser and began pulling out other dresses. "You really don't have to worry about my dress looking dumb or homemade or anything." She held up the little black dress. "The Mazzerati Martini." Andy smiled and took it from her. Ellie held up a white, draping dress. "Pompeii."

She continued handing Andy the dresses until he was forced to sit down on her bed and spread them out. He kept looking curiously at Bo. "And what's this dress called again?" he asked, indicating the the one she had on.

"The Stagecoach Special. I actually made it because of your Woody doll."

Andy's face tightened slightly as Ellie continued. "I thought he was so cute, and it got me in the mood to watch a bunch of old Westerns, and Mary was looking kinda bored with her regular dress, so I made that for her."

A slow smile was spreading across Andy's face. "And what's her original dress?"

Ellie pulled the white and pink shepherdess's frock from the wardrobe and held it up.

Andy stood up and took the dress, then held both out to Ellie, a genuine grin on his face. "Ellie, I'd like to introduce you to Bo Peep."

Ellie smiled. "Bo Peep?"

"Yeah! Molly had a Little Bo Peep growing up, and she sold her at a garage sale when I was about fifteen. She was part of a lamp"

Ellie touched Bo's dress. "I got her at a garage sale when I was fourteen. She's got to be the same doll." She laughed, her eyes widening with disbelief. "She was Molly's?"

Andy was laughing too. "She's got to be. I've never seen another one." He turned Bo around eagerly. "I used to play with her when I was really little; she actually had a crush on Woody."

Ellie squealed with delight. "You mean I've had her all these years, and..." she trailed off. "It's a small world!"

Andy nodded enthusiastically. "And you can make your wedding dress if you want, Ellie, these are gorgeous dresses. This one is awesome."

Ellie took Bo and grinned mischievously. "Do you think Woody would like it?"

Andy laughed. "I'm sure he would. At least Bo would keep him busy so you would stop spending all your time gushing over him and pay more attention to me."

Ellie pulled Andy back into the hallway, still holding Bo. "We should give Bo to Bonnie! That is...if you don't mind."

Andy shook his head. "Why should I mind? She's yours now, not mine."

Ellie grinned and looked at Bo. "We should make up a story to tell Bonnie about how Bo was kidnapped from your room or something."

"That sounds like fun. Let's get some food and figure it out, okay?"

"Cool!"

Sitting on the table watching Ellie and Andy making omelettes, Bo couldn't help but grin a little wider than usual. She was going home.

...

Bo's mind was brimful of Woody, and shining thoughts of home and friends. In her reverie, the wood floor was sun-drenched and smooth, stretching warm and long across her reality. She could hear a video game somewhere above her: Rex was still bravely struggling through the Water Temple that had defeated both Hamm and Buzz. She could smell peanut butter; it was a scent that children and their bedrooms never quite lost, and in her mind it was punctuated by the more mature smell of chicken salad: mom's favorite. She heard yodeling and laughter, accompanied by the stampede of half a dozen tiny feet as Bullseye chased Jessie around the room.

In the bright morning sunlight of her daydream, white and yellow light glinted off of the desk above her and the silhouettes of Woody and Buzz, deep in conversation, loomed larger than life as she squinted up at them. In her mind's eye, the tall, lanky image turned to look down at her. "Hi, Bo!"

The knob on Ellie's door bounced off the wall plate and Bo froze back into position, letting the imaginary sunlight linger in her eyes, where she still saw Woody.

"What do you think, Bo? Do you think he'll ask soon?" Ellie asked Bo excitedly as she tossed the plastic wrappings of a package of tissue paper in the trash can. "He's had nearly two weeks."

On the dresser, clad still in the Stagecoach Special, Bo kept her face aloof and demure. Of course Ellie was only concerned with one thing: when was Andy going to propose? Ellie had been so excited when they'd picked out the ring that she had actually taken pains to show Bo a picture of it taken on her cell phone. Inwardly, Bo smiled. Maybe Andy would ask tomorrow, when he and Ellie gave her to Bonnie.

Ellie laughed at herself and moved to the wall beside the dresser and unplugged the lamp. "You don't care, you're just happy you get to see Woody tomorrow, aren't you?" she teased, pulling her and the sheep off the lamp and submerging it in a large box that already had Bo's blue wardrobe in it.

As the tissue paper in the box rustled, Bo smiled. "You've got that right," she murmured softly, remembering her previous distraction.

Ellie froze. Bo groaned to herself and forced her mind back into the present. After how many years of talking to Ellie, she couldn't have finally heard her, could she?

Ellie straightened up, pulling down her undershirt around her hips and frowning at her. "Bo?" She wasn't one to hear things, nor to believe in silly superstitions, but neither was she one to doubt her senses.

Bo didn't move, and watched Ellie remained motionless for several moments through glassy eyes. Then Ellie approached the dresser and examined her without touching. After a long silence had passed, Ellie must have decided she'd imagined it, because she picked the sheep up and stowed them in the box, and then brought out a purple gift bag, stuffed with tissue. She picked Bo up.

"I am going to miss you," she said. Ellie had talked to her for years, but at the moment of parting, her pragmatism kicked back in and she seemed shy. Bo wished she could offer her friend a smile at least, to thank her for keeping her safe, and being a good companion. "It's not just anyone who would let someone chose their entire wardrobe," Ellie continued. "So I guess that makes us friends." She smiled and smoothed the lacy dress she had made. "Bonnie is a sweet girl; she'll take good care of you. Besides, you're made for little girls, not big ones."

Ellie laughed and set her back on the dresser, then put the gift bag on the floor below her. "Maybe we'll watch Sense and Sensibility, Bo." She crossed to the bookshelf and retrieved a DVD. "A last girl's night out – bachelorette party or something, you know?"

Half an hour later, Ellie was safely engrossed in the travails of Eilnore and Marianne, and Bo let a smile slide onto her face. She would miss Ellie – her chattering, her music, movies, and sewing. She'd miss Zack poking his head around her door and teasing Ellie. She'd even miss Ellie's mother, who would smile and run a finger over every new dress Ellie made for her, then nod her approval. Of all the places she could have ended up, Ellie's room was a haven, and she was incredibly grateful to the powers that were that she had come here. And now, even more blessedly, she could leave and go back to Woody.

It felt as it should. A bittersweet feeling at leaving her owner, and an excited spark in her chest that flitted around anxiously, waiting for Woody and her other friends. That night after Ellie had turned off the lights and fallen asleep, Bo walked to the edge of the dresser and peered down at the woman. "Thank you, Ellie," she whispered.

"No problem," came the reply through Ellie's soft, even breaths.