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Andy was creative. He could take ideas from the world around him and build them, and build them, to their logical conclusion. He could take those ideas and form illogical conclusions. He could make the illogical, logical. Mom said he had a fantastic imagination.
He was more than smart enough to make the connection between the cow-patterned cloth of Woody's vest and Jessie's chaps. He noticed, with disgust that passed quickly enough, that his hat matched Jessie's exactly.
He asked mom where Woody had come from anyway, and learned that the sheriff had been mom's toy, and grandpa's toy before that. That there had been some kind of television show. One of the old-fashioned ones. Puppets instead of cartoons. All black and white and shades of grey.
Woody felt vindicated at first. Mom found videos on the computer and the guys were impressed. Not that they'd admit it. Hamm kept talking about the technical aspects of puppeteering and Potato Head sneered that he could see the wires- of course he could see the wires. They were marionettes, not cartoons. Buzz observed that both Woody's Roundup and Buzz Lightyear of Star Command had made use of voice actors and there was a particular skill to animation, just as there was to manipulating a puppet to mimic human movement. Bo thought it was cute.
Jessie wandered away. She would smile. She'd accept compliments and queries about her 9 different phrases with quiet appreciation and few words.
It wasn't like her at all.
Then she took to sitting on Andy's desk, arms around her knees as she stared out the window.
"Hey," Woody said quietly, leaning against the pencil cup, "watcha doin' up here?"
Jessie's mouth quirked. It wasn't a full smile, and it didn't get any closer. "Mom was looking for a Prospector."
For a moment, he didn't get it. Jessie gazed at him, waiting until the realization dawned to keep talking. Woody felt his eyes widen, his hands fall slack and he opened his mouth to say something... he didn't know what.
Woody felt the questions growing in his chest. Felt them fill to bursting and if he didn't ask, they might pop out the next time someone so much as looked at his string. Had Mom found Stinky Pete? How much did he cost? Did Andy want him? But he... didn't actually want to know.
The Prospector was one of them. Part of the Roundup gang. The only piece missing- except they weren't the Roundup gang. They were just Woody, and Jessie (whom Andy still occasionally called Bazooka Jane), and Bullseye. They were Andy's toys, and they were good friends; a family. But... they were the Roundup gang.
He remembered polyvinyl at the top of his shoulder. Hard and grey, sharper than they made plastic toys now. He remembered how it had felt when the point of the pickax caught , and tore-
'If he fixed 'ya once, he can fix 'ya again-'
Woody made himself smile, lower the hand cupped protectively around his right arm. He saw Jessie follow that hand before her gaze returned to his face. "I- I think that's a great idea."
Jessie's expression fell like a dropped slice of cornbread. "Uh-huh," she said dismissively, turning away, "sure."
"No, I mean it-" he spread his hands in a shrug. "Every Buzz Lightyear comes out of the package thinking their light bulb's a laser and if their helmet opens, they could asphyxiate breathing in alien atmosphere. If mom did find a Pete, he'd probably-"
"Act like an addle-headed bean-eater who'd spend weeks searching Andy's room for gold?"
Woody chuckled. Then he noticed Jessie's expression was just as dark and brooding as a moment ago and that hadn't... been a joke. He groped for something encouraging to say- but Jessie spoke up.
"But that's still better than a addle-brained bamboozler grindin' an ax for us because we had kids and he never did."
Woody grimaced, idly scratching the back of his neck. He couldn't disagree with her. "Well it's not... look, we have no way of knowing what he'll be like until he gets here- if," Woody spread a hand in the air, offering the possibility, "he even does. I mean... if you look us up on the internet-" He shrugged. Your average Sheriff Woody had to be expensive and difficult to find or Al wouldn't have been looking for such a long time. He assumed... he hoped, that the rest of the gang was just as much of a challenge. For a while, Jessie watched him, and tentatively nodded.
"Yanno... he was there first. The Prospector. I heard him talking before I knew what he looked like. Al wanted to sell him- that's when he found out the toy museum wanted the whole collection. When he found me, I went straight into storage." She had that faraway look on her face. The one that got lost in the past and told Woody more eloquently than her story that it was a lonely place.
"There's nothing to see. Nothing at all... nothing to hand but packing peanuts and I dug through until I could touch the edge of his box, hear him better when he talked-"
The Prospector had said he would come.
"Mostly," Jessie sighed, "he talked about the show." She shook her head. "I didn't understand."
Woody sank to the desk beside her, arms propped on his knee.
"I was Emily's Jessie. I'd been a child's toy- all of a sudden I was trapped in a box in the dark, without a reason why. There were no people, no lights. No sound but Al adding things to the collection, 'cept for-"
"Jess," he wasn't loud enough to interrupt her. He didn't want to hear any more. He didn't want to listen even though it was good for her to get it out. Even though it was good if she felt ready to talk about it. He could imagine what the Prospector had said. He could understand why they'd been so excited to see him- what the Prospector had done to get Jessie through their isolation.
"-he told me about Woody's Roundup. Told me I was a cowgirl who could sing, and dance,"
"And yodel?" Woody offered.
"-and yodel," Jessie echoed. "He described it so well that when we came out for the first time- when Al found Bullseye and had us all shined up- I watched the show and it looked just like the Prospector had said. Exactly how I pictured. When we went back into storage, it was easier. I had Bullseye. He'd curl up beside me and I could pet his mane. We'd both listen to the Prospector talking and he said it was only for a while. Only until Al found you- then we'd go to the museum and never be packed away again. We'd be together- the whole Roundup gang.
"I guess... I let myself be that Jessie. I loved critters, but Bullseye was my favorite, and I could rope just as good as any cowboy. We listened to the Prospector tell us about the show- about how much Bullseye loved you, and how much you loved him, and how you both rode off so fast when the Prospector lit that dynamite." She pressed a cheek to her arms and smiled wistfully. "You were always coming to help when he did something foolish. You and me, we'd known each other since we were knee-high to prairie dogs and when all the other young'ns teased me for wearing pants and roping cows, you encouraged me. Told me I should be exactly who I was... weren't anythin' wrong with that. We were better'n friends. Close as kin."
She'd slipped into a thicker accent, dropping 'g's and slurring words together. Woody smiled for a moment.
"It was easier to be her. She was strong and brave, and if I was her, I didn't have to be..."
The Jessie who'd been Emily's best friend. The Jessie who'd been abandoned with Emily's childhood. It was easier to be the Jessie who had her entire roundup gang, except for Woody. Al was determined enough that having Woody back was just a matter of time. But when he'd gotten there-
"When you finally got there," she said wryly, "you weren't Woody of Woody's Roundup."
He nodded. "I'm sorry Jess," he apologized. "I didn't know, then. I didn't remember how to be."
"S'not your fault." She sniffled, offered a smile. "I know that, and I don't blame you, Woody, I just... I think of what Prospector did and I," her fists clenched against cow-patterned white and black spots. Her eyes squeezed and she breathed in. "I just get so mad."
Woody could understand that. He could imagine... and he could imagine how the scenario looked to Jessie now. Whatever else Pete had meant to do, Woody couldn't deny that it had served the Prospector's interests to sell Jessie on the show. He'd drawn her focus to the point where she had almost forgotten how to be anyone else. She'd forgotten what it was to be a toy, instead of a collector's item. But it didn't help her to dwell on that. If mom found a Prospector, it wouldn't help him either.
"Jessie, I don't think he wanted-"
"He wanted," Jessie said darkly, hiding the lower half of her face in her crossed arms, "to get us to that museum. He didn't really care if-"
"You don't know that for sure," Woody argued. "You were company for him too- he probably-"
"Wanted to make sure I wouldn't run off like you wanted to!" Jessie yelled, jerking around to face him. "Wanted to make sure I wasn't going to ruin his plan-"
"-wanted to keep you sane," Woody shouted over her, and realized, in the ensuing silence, that he'd probably been heard by half the room, if not all of it. He sighed, and spoke carefully to the glare Jessie was trying her best to drill into his nose. "Whatever his reason- it worked. You're still here, and that's a good thing. Look," he said quickly, trying not to wince as he did, "was he any better than me? I-"
"You wanted to come back to someone who loves you," Jessie murmured.
"At your expense," he admitted.
"But you came back for us." Jessie turned and put her back to the window. She smiled.
Woody followed her gaze and smiled as well. Bullseye was in the middle of a staring contest with Slinky and if their wagging tails were any indication, both were enjoying it.
"I don't... think the Prospector would've."
The contenders circled, Slinky's back end staying where it was as the front matched Bullseye step for step.
"It'll be okay." Woody met Jessie's side-eye. "Mom might find a Pete. She might not. We can't know how he'll act until he gets here- if he gets here- and even if it were that Pete- Al's Pete? It'd still be okay, and you know why?" Jessie's eyebrows made to disappear under her hat. She shook her head. Woody smiled and gestured at the toys strolling, shuffling and (in the case of one very concerned space toy gazing at the two of them), brooding about Andy's room. "Because we're here. You're Andy's toy, and our friend." Woody set a hand gently on her shoulder, squeezing, and casting a quick but significant glance in Buzz's direction. "We're not going anywhere."
Jessie smiled at him, followed his glance and saw Buzz leaning against the corner of the bed. Her grin widened. She lifted one hand, uncurled her fingers in a little wave. Buzz flinched like his batteries had been changed, his shoulder slid across the neatly made bed and he fell on his buttons. He was back up before his pre-recorded voice could say 'to the rescue'. He grinned in embarrassment. He waved back. He lost his nerve entirely and pointed over his shoulder to something he clearly thought needed his attention right now, on the other side of the bed. He did an about-face and nearly ran into Bo, who smirked knowingly as he passed.
Jessie chuckled. Woody looked at her, smirk turning into something softer, pleased to hear it again. He was just as pleased when she turned to him and scooted close.
"Thanks, Woody." She hugged him, and he returned it.
"Anytime."
Mom never found a Stinky Pete that was both gently used and reasonably priced.
Woody thought it was just as well.