Summary: The hardest ghosts to exorcise are the ones you make yourself. Buzz knows this, he just wishes Woody would actually try to get rid of them.
Warnings/things to look forward to if you're that kind of person: Buzz/Woody slash, angst, hints of a one-sided Woody/Andy(?). I'm still maintaining that the last one can be read not as a pairing but as an emotional crutch, which is what I had in mind when I wrote it. I'm not sure it came out that way though.
A/N: This was one of those "Hey it's 2:30 in the morning, I'm going to be unconscious now and- hey! AHHHH, dear G-d, what's bludgeoning me in the head! ?" things. Then this story was born! On second thought, spawned. Spawned might be the better word for what this is.
I'm not sure where it came from, only that I'm so happy it's not canon. My writing has two settings: sarcastic!happyhappyjoyjoy and let's make the audience think the author is suicidally depressed. Guess which one this is? I'm pretty sure this is a result of reading one too many "Woody is sad and Buzz confesses to him and all is rainbows and lollipops in the world" fics, I thought Buzz should have a chance to have the spotlight one of these days (which is weird, since I like Woody better than him). I also thought that premise didn't make a whole lot of sense and that it wouldn't be so easy.
This was written because sometimes a happy ending just doesn't cut it, and to prove that every toy owner needs to buy a psychiatrist doll.
Edit: So, this site seems to like eating punctuation and certain words, then eating them again when I save the file. If you notice anything missing, let me know so I can throw a hissy fit and fix it. Mostly do it for the hissy fit, you might get a fic out of it. XD There may be some awkward spaces to preserve a '! ?' since one of them goes missing if they're directly next to each other for whatever reason. Am I the only one having this problem?
Buzz Lightyear is made for exploring the spaces between the stars, the planets nestled there in the velvety blackness and the people on them who live and die and wish and love and envy and sometimes cause unwitting misunderstandings and most times don't fix them outside of fairytales- these are universal constants, and even if that life does not belong to him, this Buzz Lightyear- formerly Andy's Buzz Lightyear- is okay with that. He has come to terms. Woody was the one who taught him how to differentiate dream from reality, even if it wasn't done with the softest touch the space ranger knows he is capable of.
(You. Are. A. TOY!)
It is because Woody was his teacher in this that he hopes the sheriff will apply his own teachings. (Hypocrite is such an ugly word, and Buzz was made to protect the ones he loves, not slather them with what is better left unseen. Even if it's the truth.
When did the truth stop being beautiful?)
Buzz accepts that he is a toy, and instead of exploring the universe and the spaces between stars, he explores the space between Woody's fingers with his own, maps the smoothness of Woody's eyelids/cheeks/nose/mouth with his lips, but he avoids illuminating what they are to each other. He knows, even if Woody won't admit it.
Jessie is blissfully unaware as well, and this is not something you share with what is supposed to be your other half.
(When did the truth stop being beautiful?)
Woody loved- no, he loves (it's present tense and always will be, Buzz knows this too, knows this fact intimately and hatefully) Andy, and he never really let go. Andy didn't just write his name on their soles, he carved it right onto the hearts they don't have, wrapped it in barbed wire around the souls they do. To Woody he was crueler, he tattooed it on the cowboy's tongue and the backs of his eyelids, that name and the boy-no-longer that is attached to it is all that he talks about and all that he sees when he closes his eyes and his mind goes elsewhere (college).
It is tragic that Bonnie will never know of her hero's disloyalty.
It is perhaps more tragic that Andy will never know and never appreciate his childhood hero's unwavering love.
What is most tragic is that Woody hasn't realized that what Buzz has been doing is not out of some overgrown sense of duty, it's out of love for a dear friend that has become more. To one of them, at any rate, and there lies the root of the problem.
Buzz pretends that when he is holding Woody's hand, Woody is not comparing his to the warmth of Andy's, how Andy could pick them up and sweetly cradle them in his palm while Buzz can only hold on and not let go. (Woody lets go first, and there are universal constants, things that don't change no matter where you go and who you call your owner. This is one of them.)
Buzz pretends he is not being compared to another and falling short every. Single. Time.
Buzz is good at pretending now, he's had plenty of practice since the day he confronted Woody.
This is a week or five in the past, Buzz has not been counting the days and has only been concentrating on getting through them. It is enough time for things to fall apart like everything Lotso touches, like other toys in hands not aware enough to use them. The metaphor is apt here, too. "Sheriff, we're not Andy's anymore. Don't you get it? We belong to Bonnie now." Buzz's voice is soft, it is an old argument and the heat has gone out of it if not the necessity.
Woody shook his head, the picture of forlornness. No. "Buzz, a part of me is always going to be with Andy."
He is lying. It's not a part of him, it's the entirety of his being, and he's bringing chunks of Andy back with him. They stand like invisible barriers between him and the others, between him and acceptance and finally moving on with his life.
Buzz is made in the image of a hero, real or not, and he wants to save Woody.
They never showed the hero making sacrifices on the screen, someone always came up with the last minute solution that saves everyone without heartache. Happily ever after.
There is no perfect solution. The space ranger does his best.
"Woody, you're not alone anymore. Bonnie loves you. I... I love you. Isn't that enough?" Woody turns to look at him finally, incredulous. Buzz doesn't know why he said it, just that as soon as he heard it come out of his mouth, he realized it was true. He can still taste the lingering rightness of his words.
Somehow, confessions turn into comfort turn into this, whatever the word is for what they now have between them.
The answer to Buzz's question? It's not.
Let it be known that space rangers are not cowards, only fools.
He cannot fly, he can only fall without any sort of grace because this is what they never taught him in the Academy he's never been to (but sometimes the dream/delusion/memory of it is so clear): Love is complicated, love will hurt you and stand you up in life, it will not come to those who wait patiently or those who bleed paint while they crack and splinter their own fingers scrambling madly for it. It is fickle, moody, spiteful, consuming, and never stays long enough.
Love is worth it.
He tells himself this last one as Woody murmurs love yous against his lips, open-mouthed, while his eyes flicker open/shut, herewithBuzz/elsewherecollegeANDYANDYANDY, not realizing Buzz knows what he really means with those words.
When they kiss, Woody closes his eyes.
Woody never says: replacement rebound distraction comfort. Lie.
He doesn't have to and avoids thinking about it because that doesn't mesh with the reality he has crafted for himself. Buzz does not want to slather those he cares about in their own ugliness, and says nothing.
There is no last-minute solution and no one to look for it. There is only Buzz, Woody, and Woody's ghosts, and Buzz is content with it.
Buzz is good at pretending. He's had so much practice, after all.
Review?
If this made you unhappy, there's a sort of ray of light: go read the first paragraph again and then remember that this story's told from only one point of view. If you still don't get it, feel free to ask about it… in a review! (Hehe, I am devious, no? Okay, not really.)