Chapter 2 {1/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 16:04:02 UTC
Chapter Two
“Hello?” Woody called into the darkness. The echo of his voice was muffled by shelves, clutter, dust. It felt oddly reminiscent of the attic; to think so was comforting, but he didn’t quite believe it. He cleared his throat and cupped his hands around his mouth as there were sounds of shuffling, a clanking note among them. “Hell-oh?”
The light clicked on, and for the second time Woody started and flinched. This time, though, it was more gentle, coming from a flickering shaded bulb far above. Then, as his eyes began to gather details, he started to recognise things: shelves, yes, but with toys upon them. Here a trembling plush dinosaur, here a patched squeaking toy carrot peering over the edge of the shelf... he gazed in astonishment, until footsteps on the floor with him pulled him back.
“Woody? Is that really you?”
Barbie was looking at him in astonishment. Of all the toys so far, she looked the most like he remembered, one of her hands a little mangled and her hair a little tangled at the ends, but still recognisably Barbie in the same clothes she had worn two years before.
“Yes, Barbie, it’s me,” he replied, putting his hands to his chest as if to reassure himself of that same fact. “What happened here? Jessie-”
“It’s complicated,” said Barbie, and for a moment her lips trembled. Then she swallowed. “And your arrival might have made it worse.”
“Hey, baby, who’s this groovy fellow?” Ken walked out behind her and looped his arm around her waist. He was still wearing the charming smile and nice clothes: white slacks, a pink polo, a turquoise sweater wrapped around his shoulders. But the slacks looked grubby, and more startling than that was the thick band-aid around his neck, so that his eyes moved but his head stayed facing firmly forwards. He frowned slightly as he caught sight of Woody, then the smile bounced back. “Do I recognise you, cowboy?”
“It’s Woody,” Woody replied grimly. There wasn’t a toy he’d seen so far that hadn’t been damaged in some way. For the first time in many months, his head felt bare and exposed. “Barbie, Buzz called out to you. What’s going on here?”
“Come on in, Woody,” said Barbie. “I’m sorry it’s not the dream house anymore. But we’ve got some chairs back here.”
“But-”
“I’ll explain in a minute,” she said, and this time there was a note of pleading in her voice. Woody fell silent and followed her into one of the large boxes at the back of the cupboard, into which had been cut a door that he had to stoop slightly to fit through. The inside of the box had been coloured in brightly, a wind-up torch shining down through the ceiling, and mismatched plastic furniture had been added in what Woody presumed was an attempt to make it look more homely. Barbie and Ken sat down on a bench that had been backed up against the wall to act like a couch, and Woody glanced around the furniture options before going for the largest of the chairs. It was still slightly to small for him, and he slumped with his elbows on his knees to level his gaze onto Barbie.
Ken had taken Barbie’s battered hand in his and was gently stroking the back of it, his whole body twisted slightly so that he could look at her. She looked down at her knees for a moment as if summoning something, then nodded very slightly and looked up to Woody once again.
“I’m sorry, Woody,” she said. Her voice was soft, trembling. “We never expected to see you again. And with everything that’s... well, a lot has happened.”
“Tell me,” he said softly, and though Barbie had only ever been Mollie’s toy she knew the leader that the cowboy had once been. Her expression seemed to soften, some pain to ease, as he gestured for her to talk to him.
But her voice came out at the same deadpan. “We aren’t what we were. None of us. Most of us are broken by now. Hamm is gone, now, just a couple of days ago, and Buzz has given up hope even though he was reset. And Jessie...”
Chapter 2 {2/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 16:07:13 UTC
Barbie wrapped both of her hands around Ken’s. “Lotso bought your hat to us. We thought... he let everyone believe that you were dead. Never let the truth out. Buzz was the only one who thought that you were still alive, once he came back, and, well... he’s Buzz. He always believed.
“Something in Jessie shut down that day, though. The hat was right in front of her. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Slinky told me that she stayed awake all night, just... watching it. That was the first step, I suppose.”
Woody swallowed, whispered: “The first step?”
“To what you saw tonight.”
He remembered the cold gaze that she had settled on him, like the antique dolls with their glass eyes that he had seen once, so long ago that it was fuzzy and dream-like now. They may not have been real, he and Jessie and Bullseye, but they had been made of fabric and paint and had held warmth, and moved, and talked. And she had stood stiff and stern before him.
“What is Jessie now?” he asked, and it was not until the words left his lips that he realised that he had been going to say them. The question left a hole in his chest.
“That’s simple,” said Barbie softly. “She’s our owner now.” She turned her right hand, the one he had thought unblemished, outwards. Now that Woody could see clearly, he could see scratched into the plastic lines, lines that made a name that should have read Jessie were it not for the fact that it was impossible.
“Toys don’t own toys,” said Woody.
“She says that it means we’ll never be without an owner,” said Barbie. “It means we can all be together, forever.”
“I - oh, this is just nonsense.” His patience wore out, and Woody got to his feet again, giving a dramatic wave of his arms that probably would have worked better had he not smacked the ceiling and sent the whole room rattling. “I’m going to go over and talk to her and-”
“It’s been two years, Woody,” said Barbie, and he stopped in his tracks, just one step from the door, hand rising towards the paperclip-and-button door handle.
His hand clenched into a fist. “I knew her for ten.”
“And you’ve been around, what? Fifty, sixty? Bullseye wasn’t too clear on the whole thing, but I know it’s a long time.”
Memories like ghosts. The attic. Another owner, not Andy, almost Andy. Being propped up on a high shelf where he could see a baby in the crib and look down curiously. When televisions were rare, when there was the radio and record players and he was the most complex and loved toy in the world. A time when the world was simpler, and toys lasted longer. But an old time.
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a long time.”
Barbie was watching him carefully, her bright blue eyes seeming older than he had once known. “And these two years have been long as well, Woody. This is Jessie’s toy box now, and we belong to her. And if you talk to the old toys... perhaps it isn’t all that much better than it used to be here.”
Re: Chapter 2 {2/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 19:58:42 UTC
OP here.
I love the concept you created here, with Jessie as their "owner." When this idea first popped into my head, I wanted her mental state to be completely messed up and have her do something drastic. I love it.
Thanks again for writing this. I wanted to write it myself, but I just didn't have any time and wanted to see what other people could come up with. Awesome job so far. Continue soon! :D
Re: Chapter 2 {2/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 20:04:18 UTC
I have to agree with the OP. I love the fact that because of what she thought happened to Woody, she went batshit. It breaks my heart but is so fascinating.
“Hello?” Woody called into the darkness. The echo of his voice was muffled by shelves, clutter, dust. It felt oddly reminiscent of the attic; to think so was comforting, but he didn’t quite believe it. He cleared his throat and cupped his hands around his mouth as there were sounds of shuffling, a clanking note among them. “Hell-oh?”
The light clicked on, and for the second time Woody started and flinched. This time, though, it was more gentle, coming from a flickering shaded bulb far above. Then, as his eyes began to gather details, he started to recognise things: shelves, yes, but with toys upon them. Here a trembling plush dinosaur, here a patched squeaking toy carrot peering over the edge of the shelf... he gazed in astonishment, until footsteps on the floor with him pulled him back.
“Woody? Is that really you?”
Barbie was looking at him in astonishment. Of all the toys so far, she looked the most like he remembered, one of her hands a little mangled and her hair a little tangled at the ends, but still recognisably Barbie in the same clothes she had worn two years before.
“Yes, Barbie, it’s me,” he replied, putting his hands to his chest as if to reassure himself of that same fact. “What happened here? Jessie-”
“It’s complicated,” said Barbie, and for a moment her lips trembled. Then she swallowed. “And your arrival might have made it worse.”
“Hey, baby, who’s this groovy fellow?” Ken walked out behind her and looped his arm around her waist. He was still wearing the charming smile and nice clothes: white slacks, a pink polo, a turquoise sweater wrapped around his shoulders. But the slacks looked grubby, and more startling than that was the thick band-aid around his neck, so that his eyes moved but his head stayed facing firmly forwards. He frowned slightly as he caught sight of Woody, then the smile bounced back. “Do I recognise you, cowboy?”
“It’s Woody,” Woody replied grimly. There wasn’t a toy he’d seen so far that hadn’t been damaged in some way. For the first time in many months, his head felt bare and exposed. “Barbie, Buzz called out to you. What’s going on here?”
“Come on in, Woody,” said Barbie. “I’m sorry it’s not the dream house anymore. But we’ve got some chairs back here.”
“But-”
“I’ll explain in a minute,” she said, and this time there was a note of pleading in her voice. Woody fell silent and followed her into one of the large boxes at the back of the cupboard, into which had been cut a door that he had to stoop slightly to fit through. The inside of the box had been coloured in brightly, a wind-up torch shining down through the ceiling, and mismatched plastic furniture had been added in what Woody presumed was an attempt to make it look more homely. Barbie and Ken sat down on a bench that had been backed up against the wall to act like a couch, and Woody glanced around the furniture options before going for the largest of the chairs. It was still slightly to small for him, and he slumped with his elbows on his knees to level his gaze onto Barbie.
Ken had taken Barbie’s battered hand in his and was gently stroking the back of it, his whole body twisted slightly so that he could look at her. She looked down at her knees for a moment as if summoning something, then nodded very slightly and looked up to Woody once again.
“I’m sorry, Woody,” she said. Her voice was soft, trembling. “We never expected to see you again. And with everything that’s... well, a lot has happened.”
“Tell me,” he said softly, and though Barbie had only ever been Mollie’s toy she knew the leader that the cowboy had once been. Her expression seemed to soften, some pain to ease, as he gestured for her to talk to him.
But her voice came out at the same deadpan. “We aren’t what we were. None of us. Most of us are broken by now. Hamm is gone, now, just a couple of days ago, and Buzz has given up hope even though he was reset. And Jessie...”
“Tell me about Jessie.”
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“Something in Jessie shut down that day, though. The hat was right in front of her. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Slinky told me that she stayed awake all night, just... watching it. That was the first step, I suppose.”
Woody swallowed, whispered: “The first step?”
“To what you saw tonight.”
He remembered the cold gaze that she had settled on him, like the antique dolls with their glass eyes that he had seen once, so long ago that it was fuzzy and dream-like now. They may not have been real, he and Jessie and Bullseye, but they had been made of fabric and paint and had held warmth, and moved, and talked. And she had stood stiff and stern before him.
“What is Jessie now?” he asked, and it was not until the words left his lips that he realised that he had been going to say them. The question left a hole in his chest.
“That’s simple,” said Barbie softly. “She’s our owner now.” She turned her right hand, the one he had thought unblemished, outwards. Now that Woody could see clearly, he could see scratched into the plastic lines, lines that made a name that should have read Jessie were it not for the fact that it was impossible.
“Toys don’t own toys,” said Woody.
“She says that it means we’ll never be without an owner,” said Barbie. “It means we can all be together, forever.”
“I - oh, this is just nonsense.” His patience wore out, and Woody got to his feet again, giving a dramatic wave of his arms that probably would have worked better had he not smacked the ceiling and sent the whole room rattling. “I’m going to go over and talk to her and-”
“It’s been two years, Woody,” said Barbie, and he stopped in his tracks, just one step from the door, hand rising towards the paperclip-and-button door handle.
His hand clenched into a fist. “I knew her for ten.”
“And you’ve been around, what? Fifty, sixty? Bullseye wasn’t too clear on the whole thing, but I know it’s a long time.”
Memories like ghosts. The attic. Another owner, not Andy, almost Andy. Being propped up on a high shelf where he could see a baby in the crib and look down curiously. When televisions were rare, when there was the radio and record players and he was the most complex and loved toy in the world. A time when the world was simpler, and toys lasted longer. But an old time.
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a long time.”
Barbie was watching him carefully, her bright blue eyes seeming older than he had once known. “And these two years have been long as well, Woody. This is Jessie’s toy box now, and we belong to her. And if you talk to the old toys... perhaps it isn’t all that much better than it used to be here.”
Reply
I love the concept you created here, with Jessie as their "owner." When this idea first popped into my head, I wanted her mental state to be completely messed up and have her do something drastic. I love it.
Thanks again for writing this. I wanted to write it myself, but I just didn't have any time and wanted to see what other people could come up with. Awesome job so far. Continue soon! :D
Reply
Reply
And just to say (warn?) this could get, like... majorly long. I have no idea how long it might get. XD What can I say, I love the prompt!
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