Hi. Kinda rushed through these two chapters. May be some mistakes. Sorry.
Jessie's delicate, pale fingers reached for the picture resting on the table that was ahead of her.
"Here she is," she declared, the shine of the frame reflected by her emerald eyes, "That's my mother, Bonnie." The admiring tone in her voice was unmistakable.
"Wow, she's gorgeous," Buzz complimented, clutching one of the corners of the silver frame. "Woody is no doubt her son. The features are undeniable."
"Yeah. It's almost too painful to look at him at times…" Jessie sighed with a smile, "My red hair stood out from all the family members. I have my father's eyes, though." Buzz looked over to Jessie's green irises, unconsciously locking his sapphire eyes onto hers. After setting down the picture she turned to look at him and frowned. Furrowing her eyebrows, she gently placed her hand on his cheek. It was scorching. He felt weak at the knees, unsure of what was going to happen next.
"You OK? You're burnin' hot," she questioned, apprehension increasing in her voice.
"Y-yeah. I think it's just the heat of the weather," he spurted out.
"You sure you don't wanna lay down or somethin'?"
"I'm sure." Lightly patting his cheek, she smiled in response and walked into the kitchen. Buzz suddenly felt a dull pain in his throat and realized he had been holding his breath during the whole scenario and slowly let it out. How could she create such tension within Buzz's body?
Walking into the kitchen, he offered his help in setting up the table.
"Well, great!" Jessie exclaimed with a grin, "Could you set up the utensils? I'll get the glasses out."
Buzz peered out the window to where the cowboy was cooking and asked what was Woody making.
"Chicken," Jessie responded, her voice slightly monotone as she looked out the window frame, "Hope you're hungry."
…...
The clanks of their forks and clicks of the glasses accidental tapping the edge of the plates were the only form of dialogue the three consuming citizens shared during their dinnertime. While Woody reached for the bread, he held it to Buzz.
"No thank you," he refused, his posture slightly hunched. Woody swung his arm to Jessie's direction. She only gave him a glare.
"Honestly, Jessie," Woody finally stated, "I don't know what's wrong with you tonight."
"Maybe I jus' don't feel like talkin'," she sneered.
"Jessie-"
"Woody."
"Don't do this, Jessie. We have a guest."
"Why didn't you tell me that you were goin' into town with our guest to see the mayor? How come I'm not included in this?" Woody's face fell.
"Don't do this now…"
"Woody! Why not!" He knew that Jessie wouldn't let go of the subject.
"Listen, Jessie, I just don't think you can…handle yourself."
"Handle myself? Handle myself?" she yelled slamming her drink onto the table, leaving the water to splash from the edges. Bringing herself to a standing position, she leaned slightly over the edge and narrowed her eyes to her brother that sat across from her. "You're tellin' me that I can't handle myself? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Woody uncomfortably shifted in his seat. Wiping his face with his napkin, he threw it down in annoyance and shot up from his chair. "Lets go," he commanded in an even tone of voice, pointing towards the hallway.
"Fine," she agreed, bending her arm to show her palms at him, "Don't have to hold a gun to my head…"
"What has gotten into you?" Woody asked. His voice shook, managing to keep a cool tone, and his eyes shined in fury.
"What has gotten into you? I was the one spying in town, I was the one who found him, I was the one who had to wear that whore dress at the bar in order to trick him into takin' him home. And now you're goin' behind my back with him to get the money and see the mayor. Dammit Woody! After all the deaths," her voice wavered with her eyes welling up with tears, "and heartache and…a-and fear we went through…I should be involved with this. I have to. I wouldn't call myself a Pride."
"Jessie," Woody whispered, gently placing his hand on her shoulder to have her slap it off, "Please, don't get wound up. I…I can't lose anymore loved ones. I love you Jessie, I don't want you to get hurt-"
"I'm gonna give that mayor a piece of my mind, Woody. I have to!"
"You are going to hurt yourself."
"And you won't?" Woody's face turned to a color of grave. They stood there in silence, listening to the creaks of the floorboards underneath their feet. Woody watched as a single lone tear strolled down Jessie's cheek to her quivering lip. He placed his hand on her face, wiped her tear with his thumb, and leaned in to give her a tender kiss from where the tear had resided.
"We'll figure something out," he finally muttered. "It's not right I have to see my sister like this…it's not right…."
Embracing her in comfort, Woody felt Jessie's body shudder with emotion and he placed his chin on the top of her head.
"Listen," Woody started as Jessie felt his chest vibrate with each word he spoke, "Why do you get ready for bed? I'll clean up the dishes."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I had no idea how much this meant to you. You've been through a lot; you need your rest."
Watching his sister walk into the bedroom, Woody turned to head over to the dining room. As soon as he entered the room, Buzz stood up and straightened his shirt. They both stood in silence.
"Yes?" Woody coaxed, raising his eyebrows.
"I wish I could do something," Buzz spat out, "I really do."
"Me too, kid," Woody grumbled, stacking plates on top of another. Buzz wordlessly watched the cowboy saunter into the kitchen, feeling a pang of unnecessary guilt.
Buzz Lightyear wasn't afraid of the darkness. He was, however, scared of the country's darkness. There seemed to be a difference from the darkness he was experiencing than from the urban life he lived. It seemed to smolder him, causing him to remove the blanket in fear of psychological suffocation. But the mysterious noises that filled his ears triggers him to use that same blanket as a shield to fight off his anxieties.
Why don't they have light bulbs? Why isn't the sun up yet? Why is-
There was a noise. A scuffing noise. But this noise was not only terrifying, but it seemed…close. What if it was Woody? Maybe he's not going to take him into town the next day. Maybe that was a fib. Perhaps this is him, now, seconds away from taking Buzz's life. Would he be kind with his morbid suffering and just take the cold nozzle to his head and pull the trigger, leaving the last thing he would hear to be a shot. Maybe he was going to make him suffer in result of working for him enemy: the mayor. What if he strangles him with the very blanket that wrapped his body? Or stabs him and makes him watch his own blood drip for the open wound onto the ground. Or maybe-
"Ouch! Dammit!" whispered a female voice over a skidding chair. Buzz shot up in one breath, his eyes wide in frantic search of light.
"J-Jessica?" he hopelessly called out, "Is that you?" Suddenly, a match lit up and the flame floated over to the wick of the candle she held in her hands.
"Shh! You'll wake Woody!" Jessie warned, setting the candle in front of the table that was in front of the couch Buzz laid in. "And for goodness sake's, Buzz, call me Jessie."
"I apologize," Buzz replied with a sheepish smile. "What brings you here?"
"I was wonderin' what was all the racket was about."
"I'm a light sleeper. There was a lot on my mind."
"Same here," she added, sitting down in a chair that seated in front of him, "And I hope I didn't ruin your dinner. A-although I think I probably did…"
"It's OK," Buzz reassured her.
"I just don't want anything to happen to my brother," Jessie admitted, looking at the picture of Bonnie she held earlier. She reached for it again and slowly shook her head. "It's amazin' how much Woody looks like her. And, I mean, he even sounds like her at times. He has no idea."
"You were close to your mother. Weren't you?"
"Unbelievably. She was very strong." She paused to place the picture back on the table and looked at Buzz. "Be honest with me: do you think I can handle myself if I go to the city?"
"Well, I know I'm scared of you," Buzz teased. Jessie showed a smile of satisfaction.
"I live to intimidate," she joked. "I, uh, better get goin'." Leaning over the table, she took a deep breath to blow out the candle.
"Don't," Buzz uttered, inclining forward, "I, uh, think I need this. I know that may seem juvenile but-"
"I'm afraid of the dark. You don't need to explain yourself." The orange blaze showed her smiling face. "Oh, um, you have a cowlick."
"A what?"
"A section of your hair is pointin' in the wrong direction." Getting up from the chair that she sat across from Buzz, she slid her body on the couch that Buzz resided.
"Jessie, it's only bedtime! I'm not getting ready to go somewhere," Buzz commented, playfully blocking her.
"C'mon, Buzz, it's buggin' the crap outta me!" With the extension of her arm and the small lunge she made, Jessie managed to place her hand on the back of Buzz's head.
"Oh no you don't!" he responded. Grasping both of her wrists, he pushed his body forward, leaving them forehead to forehead.
"Do you think we are rams, Buzz?" Jessie asked, "Besides I'm more hardheaded."
Abruptly, they heard somebody clearing their throat. They turned around to see it was Woody.
"What's going on here?" he questioned, wrapping his robe tighter on his body.
"Night, Buzz," Jessie murmured scurrying to her room, her head facing downward as she hid her giggles.
"Right. Good night, Mr. Lightyear," Woody grumbled, taking one last glare at the heir before following his sister.
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