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Toy Story: Mister Spaceman

Chapter 4: Brave

"You should call her."

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"Come on, do it."

"No."

"Seriously? Why not?"

"Because," Andy said, looking back from his desk, "I'm not taking advice from someone who's smoking weed."

Nick, lying on his bunk, grinned, and took another puff, the smoke travelling in Andy's direction. Disgusted, he waved it away as best he could. Nick smelling of the poison was one thing. This dorm, or him, smelling of it? That was another. People like Nick Lasseter could get by based on a combination of fortune and legacy admissions, but people like Andy Davis? Not so much.

"I don't know why you're so worked up over it. There's plenty of fish in the sea."

And then there were people like Dwyer Hanks. The type of people who might not have been smoking weed, and who took their courses in computer science seriously (serious enough to help people like Andy on the technical side of things at least), but not so serious that they couldn't afford to be sitting on their bunk, typing away at a laptop. Not doing an assignment or anything like that, but-

"Fucking sellouts," Dwyer murmured.

…but were rather complaining about Lightyear again. The film had committed the cardinal sins of being both a reboot, and a 3D one at that. And Dwyer was letting the forums know about it.

"Could be worse," Nick said. "They could have gone in live-action."

"Please, then it would be even more of a Star Wars ripoff."

"Ripoff? How?"

"What, so the revelation that Emperor Zurg was Buzz's father isn't a red flag?"

"Peh, that's apocrypha." Nick got up and made his way to the windowsill, picking up an old vintage figure of the emperor in question. "If anything, this guy has more to worry about being sued by Blizzard."

Dwyer looked up from the laptop. "What?"

"Blizzard," Nick said. "StarCraft. The zerg."

"Lightyear came out in ninety-five, StarCraft came out in ninety-eight."

"Yeah, but only one of them kicked ass."

Dwyer shouted a retort, but Andy barely heard it. As he continued to work on his animation, he was trying to ignore not only his roommates, but also the events of the previous night.

"What about you?" Nick asked Andy.

Andy grit his teeth, remaining silent.

"Come on, didn't you have a Buzz toy as a kid?"

"Course I had one," Andy said, not making eye contact. "So did half of the kids at school."

"And? Do you go by the Legends canon that Emperor Zurg is Buzz's father, or by the Mythos canon that they're completely unrelated?"

Andy stared at Nick, as if he'd spoken in a foreign language. Geeklish, maybe.

"Well?"

"Yes. No. I mean…fuck." He went back to his laptop. "Look, they were just toys, okay?"

Liar.

He continued to type, trying to ignore the voice in his head. It wasn't a full lie – all kids had toys, all kids grew out of them – but there was the silent admission that if he hadn't spent his childhood the way he had, conjuring up stories of everything from cowboys, to space men, to space cowboys, and everything from evil pigs to force-field dogs, he might not have been where he was today. And despite having known Nick and Dwyer for three years, it wasn't an admission he was willing to share.

He looked back at the windowsill – at the collection of toys his roommates had precured. Zurg was on there, as was a collection of other memorabilia, from Mereeda, to the Fantastics, to Lightning Storm, to a stuffed red panda that had been made in China, but had been bought in Canada. Because, as Dwyer had said, that was global supply chains for you.

"Check the wiki! The zerg started out as Nightmare Invaders."

"Zerg, Zurg, whatever! I'm telling you, Emperor Zurg is better known than those tyrranid ripoffs!"

"Right, and where do you think the tyranids came from?"

As Dwyer and Nick continued to argue, Andy kept looking at the windowsill. Not for the first time, he reflected that Buzz wouldn't have been out of place there, standing up against the nemesis of the Galactic Alliance. Nor Woody, for that matter. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have held onto the old cowboy. Not just for the sentimental value, but for the bling. Merchandize from cult classics like Woody's Roundup could bring you some street cred in the right circles.

But then, he'd given Woody away. Three years ago, Woody had left his hands. And no lasso could bring him back.

Sometimes, he regretted it. Woody wouldn't have been out of place on that shelf, after all. And you only got street cred if you had your bling on display, or so claimed Nick. But, right decision or no, he knew that he'd made a young girl happy by leaving Woody behind. And as much as he'd grown up on everything from cowboys, to spacemen, to consuming everything from toys, to films, to videogames in both of those genres, there had to be a happy medium somewhere.

"You're impossible! The Doom Star wasn't shut down by Mira, that was retconned so that in fact, it had an in-built weakness, designed by Warp Darkmatter!"

A medium that sometimes, he wondered if he'd slipped out of.

"I don't care about that old canon, that was retconned!"

"Damn it, you're impossible!"

Andy rubbed his forehead as Nick and Dwyer continued their argument. Happy mediums, he reflected, looking at the two bickering idiots. Is this my life?

Hopefully not. But if he didn't turn in his assignments, maybe it was his future. A future that included $30,000 burning through his pocket with nothing to show for it.

Work time, Andy told himself, returning to his laptop. Now.

He began to type, getting in a few seconds' worth of work before a voice reached his ears.

"Hey, you working on that for your girlfriend?"

Andy froze. So did the animation, as he paused it, and looked up at Nick.

"What?"

"Some animation of how much you loovve her?"

"Nick, you know I've been working on this for ages." And I'd like to keep working on it, thanks.

"You should totally call her," Dwyer said, smirking. "Sounds like she's into you."

Weren't you talking about Doom Stars a minute ago? Andy cleared his throat. "I hardly think that-"

"I mean, face it, we're not gonna get many chicks lining up for us. So hey, take the fish, have your fun, then throw it back in the pond when you're done."

Andy glared at him. And Dwyer must have noticed because the smirk faded, replaced by a frown, and the whisper of "what?"

"You could really do that, couldn't you?" Andy whispered.

"Do what?"

Nick had fallen silent, and remained so, as Andy got to his feet.

"Have my fun, toss a person aside…go back to debating about space dictators made out of plastic…"

"Hey, come on," Dwyer said, giving Andy a light punch on his shoulder. "I'm just joking."

He might have been, Andy reflected. And despite what some activists were saying on campus, he didn't believe that intent was irrelevant compared to impact. Nevertheless, he grabbed his jacket, stuck his laptop under his arm, and walked to the door.

"I didn't find it funny," he murmured, as he entered the hallway.

Perhaps Dwyer understood. Perhaps not. But hearing Nick murmur something about 'daddy issues,' he didn't know what was worse.

That the wound was still there, or that he'd allowed it to bleed.

He slumped against the hallway wall, shivering, despite the jacket. Before the night was over, he'd head back in, hopefully after Nerdy and Nerdlett had quietened down. But for now, he had to work on an animation that would hopefully put him in the company of people like him, but not people like them. The people who were…

Are you different?

He didn't know. He hoped not. But it was easier to look outward rather than inward. Easier to pick up a piece of paper that had been in his pocket for the last 24 hours, and stare at it, imagining fish and puddles, than actually doing anything. Easier to stay in his father's shadow, rather than move beyond it.

He looked back at the screen, the knife hovering above the rat. Right now, he felt like there was a knife above him as well. Short of being a sword, but still belonging to Damocles.

You should call her.

He didn't even know if the thoughts were Nick's or his own. But with a breath, he pulled out his mobile, and pressed the numbers on the paper. Watched the phone light up. Stared at it with trepidation. Half-wishing not to receive an answer.

"Hello?"

And yet an answer there was. "Hey, Hannah."

"Andy?!"

It was so cute, he reflected, that she wasn't even trying to hide the excitement from her voice.

"How've you been? Do you want to talk? I mean, obviously you're talking now, but not talk-talking, if you know what I mean."

Nor the eagerness. Enough so that for a moment, he was reminded of what Dwyer said. About taking the proverbial fish, and throwing it back after he was done.

"Well, we're talking right now," Andy murmured, choosing his words carefully. "And…"

He collected his breath, as well as his thoughts. Thinking not so much of the fish that got thrown back, but the fish that just swam way.

"…listen, do you wanna compare timetables? Find a time and place to meet?"

"Oh sure. Absolutely. I mean, if you want to."

In the dimly lit hall, he gave a small smile. "Sure," he said. "I wouldn't mind that, actually."

He didn't know how this would end, but he was willing to put a foot forward into the proverbial puddle.

And, he thought, better to be a fish than a shark.