Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, Jessie pulled at her hair when nervous. She's not sure when exactly the habit started. It could have developed in the donation box Emily placed her in on the side of the road or during the long years stored in darkness or maybe it woke up with her the day Emily opened her box. Nevertheless, she simply could not stop her hands from reaching for her braid when even the most subtle feeling of anxiety cropped up.
It didn't take long for Andy's toys to notice after she joined the room with Bullseye. The noble steed stayed by her side often during the early days at Andy's. He knew. He may not have the ability to speak and often saw the world with a naive outlook, but the horse understood more than he let on.
Jessie met every new friend with a carefree exuberance. Yet, new meetings always included a measure of uncertainty and timidness that had her hands itching. She subconsciously tried to occupy them by shaking hands or resting them on her hips. More than once, though, the cowgirl latched on to Bullseye's mane instinctively. While the felt material did not exactly match the texture of her yarn hair, it sufficed enough to keep her hands busy.
Bullseye kept close until they both grew more comfortable with their new environment. For several days, the rag doll felt the most at ease for the first time in a long, long time. Life filled up with playtime, watching movies, exploring the house, and getting to know everyone better.
Until Mrs. Davis got tired of the constant mess Andy made in his room.
So, the young boy cleaned his room and every toy but Woody, Buzz, and Bullseye got placed inside the toybox. To everyone else, it was another casual night.
Dread sparked a flame in Jessie's chest the moment the lid closed. As the blackness enclosed around her, she leapt back to the far corner of the toy box, slamming her back so hard against the wood her hat flew off. Unable to see anything, her breathing intensified and gasps ripped out of her throat. Voices surrounded her, but she could not comprehend them over the roaring in her ears.
Her shaking hands seized her braid. Her fingers ran along the interwoven locks, seeking the uneven texture of the bumps in the yarn. The littlest amount of serration and roughness against her finger pads satisfied some unknown craving deep inside her. It once began as a counter feeling to her anxiety, a way to feel pleasure instead of pain, but it eventually turned into a compulsive need. It reared its ugly head everytime a negative feeling spiked and sometimes even more frequently than that. But during her panic attacks, it made her fingers claw harshly at her red tresses.
By the time several strands of yarn hung loose out of the braid, a pair of hands clasped onto her shoulders. Her fingers stilled against the yellow bow still keeping the majority of her braid intact. Her breathing remained ragged and echoed in the confined space. She still couldn't see anything.
"Jessie, it's ok." She heard Woody's voice in front of her. "We got ya. You can open your eyes."
Her eyes were closed? Explained why she could only see black. But what difference would opening her eyes make?
"Too dark." The cowgirl mumbled between gasps. "Too..too dark."
"Not anymore." The sheriff corrected. "Take a look."
Jessie hesitated for a moment. Her fingers fiddled with the end of her braid as she took a few more deep, hitched breaths. With anxiety in her throat, she slowly opened her eyes.
A vibrant green glow bathed the inside of the toy box. Although not the brightest source of light, it still illuminated nearly everything and everyone around her. Woody knelt in front of her, the glow casting shadows across his concerned features. A crowd of Andy's toys stood behind him, watching the scene with a mix of worry, surprise, and sympathy.
To her side, the light source knelt in the form of Buzz Lightyear. His upper chest fluoresced green along with his suit collar, upper forearms, belt, boots, and jet pack. The glow-in-the-dark paint flooded his own troubled expression. The cowgirl couldn't help but stare at him in awe, the panic promptly conquered like the darkness.
The Space Ranger's hand hovered near her own hands, hesitant to touch her. Besides Bo Peep, Jessie had hung out the most with Buzz since her arrival. They had already casually touched each other a handful of times, including during her rescue from Al's suitcase. His reluctance confused but intrigued her in an unfamiliar way. Sure, they had not held hands specifically, but how different could that really feel?
Still giving the space toy her undivided attention, the cowgirl released the consoling texture of her yarn and grasped his hand with both of hers. A jolt of comfort sparked up from her finger pads to her core at the feel of his plastic against her vinyl, at the feeling of safety when his much larger fingers closed around her petite hands. A flash of timidity crossed his face, but silent determination settled in his green-tinted blue irises. She saw it for what it was.
A promise. An anchor to hold her steady.