Author's Notes: Taking a little break from my main chapter story to write this little one-shot. I know, it's nothing unique. But I did it anyway, yo.
They weren't really gone, Woody rationalized.
Andy, Wheezy, Etch… Bo…
No they weren't really gone. Andy himself had sparked the epiphany of this concept when addressing his mother.
"I wish I could always be with you…"
"You will be."
So no they weren't really gone. He was with them, and they were with him.
It was the end of the holiday season, and their Christmas with Bonnie had been… eventful to say the least. Woody was still trying to go over what had happened at Mason's, as it seemed to have rushed by so fast. He chuckled to himself, remembering the irony of Buzz's remark regarding the Battlesaurs not knowing they were toys.
It was in the dead of night, being the one of the only times for a toy to really get away and get lost in his thoughts. The cowboy, ignoring the anxiety that always arose when he left Bonnie's room while she was still there, decided it would be most prudent to go downstairs, to perhaps get one last look at the tree before they threw it out the following day. Either way, his usual thinking spot by the window in Bonnie's room was occupied.
Maybe it was because of Jessie and Buzz sitting and talking together on the windowsill that spurred this line of thinking. It wasn't that he was jealous. He knew what jealousy felt like and the feeling toward his friends was far from it. It was more that he was experiencing an odd combination of nostalgia as he watched their relationship blossom and the immediate sadness that followed whenever he thought of Bo.
But she wasn't gone, not really.
He crept down the stairs quietly. The lights and ornaments had been taken off the tree, but the aroma of pine was still settled in the room sparking memories from Christmases gone by.
The cowboy climbed up the side of the sofa and slumped into the cushions. He let a large sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. It was an involuntary motion that happened every time he thought about her. He often wondered how she was getting along, if she was being treated right, if she was… ok.
Woody winced. He always hated it when his thoughts took this turn but he couldn't help worrying over her. She was, after all, made of porcelain. How could he not panic over the thought that perhaps something terrible had happened? There'd been some close calls before with Andy. He recalled a certain afternoon where one of the boy's playtimes had gone awry as he had suspended Bo on a precarious set of tinker toys. Woody had always been slightly uneasy when Andy got a bit too carried away in putting Bo in some sort of peril. However, because their playtimes had always been so real to the toys, Woody always felt it extremely personal when he saved Bo. And even though in the end it was really Andy moving everyone, Bo always made sure to thank him for saving her. He felt like a real hero, and he would always be there to save her.
This particular playtime had pushed that ideal. Andy had been called away by his mother, and inevitably his tower of tinker toys started to rock and sway. The cowboy lept to the rescue, catching her before she hit the ground.
Woody was no stranger to real danger as opposed to the danger he faced in Andy's stories, especially at the time his experience with Sid had still been fresh in his mind. But that Bo had to be subjected to the real life and death situation, where they didn't already know if there would be a happy ending… it was too much for him.
There hadn't been enough time for either to react much after the fall, as Andy came back in the room shortly surprised to see that Bo had fallen. It had shaken him enough that he decided to dial it back a bit, which Woody was extremely grateful for. The sheriff was still troubled, however.
He remembered that he'd been so put off by the incident that he was actually avoiding Bo, without a clear reason why. She'd found him, of course, but instead of her playful self she had become much more serious.
"Woody, I have to thank you for saving my life." He could still hear her sweet voice, with a remarkable amount of intensity.
"Forget about it." He had been uncomfortable for some reason.
"I don't want to forget about it though. I was in real trouble there, and you stopped at nothing to save me." He shrugged at her. He remembered her expression as she put her hands on his shoulders and searched his eyes. He could never hide anything from her.
That was when, as he recalled, he had nearly broken down. He'd been terrified of losing her, and this incident had only opened up the possibilities for more like it. Perhaps he wouldn't be fast enough next time, perhaps he wouldn't be there… He'd eventually given in to her soft embrace, her sweet reassurances, and her piercing words of love.
He could almost feel her touch, sitting there in the dark on the couch. So she wasn't really gone, not really.
But as the feeling started to dissipate, as the minutes and hours rolled past, he was taken back to reality as the thoughts grew old relaying in his mind.
She really was gone.
And it was time to get her back.