I don't own Toy Story, Toy Story 2, or Toy Story 3.

Woody's Past

How could one simple question change a toy's mood so much? Buzz thought as he watched his best friend freeze. The cowboy in front of him with wide eyes just stood there for a moment, before a cough from Slink snapped him out of it. Stammering an excuse to the group of Ham, Slink, and Buzz; Woody spun on his heel and all but ran in the other direction.

The space ranger looked confusedly at the other toys, which had fallen into an awkward silence. "What did I say? All I asked was old he was!"

But the toys around him exchanged nervous glances with each other. It wasn't for a few seconds that Slink spoke up. The floppy-eared canine took a step forward to Buzz, as if afraid of being overheard by the other toys from their meeting behind the toy box. Speaking in a low voice the dog whispered, "You don't ask those types of questions 'round here Buzz." Slink hesitated to find the right words, "Woody's awfully sensitive about things dealing with his past."

Buzz's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Woody had always been open with him about well, everything except his past. Now that he thought about it, Buzz really knew of nothing about the sheriff before the time he had arrived in his cardboard ship. A little unsettled, Buzz asked quietly, "Why? What happened that made him so secretive?"

It was Ham that answered this time with his rough comedic voice. "That's the thing, ol' Woody was the first toy here. We have no idea how long ago he was given to Andy or if he had another owner and Woody hated talking about it, so we never asked after he shut us down."

A nod answered the piggy bank's information as Buzz thanked them and gave out a few morning duties that he knew Woody was going to give, and headed off in the direction the sheriff had gone. His boots clanked against the wood flooring as he walked at a brisk pace toward the door, asking the few toys that hung out by the door if they had seen Woody. Etch gave him his direction with a hand drawn etch-a-sketch arrow out of the bedroom door.

Okay, now the space ranger was worried. Woody had left the room, the sanctuary, and now things were serious. The slim cowboy only left the room on very rare occasions of needing such an extreme amount of peace and quiet, but now Woody was obviously upset… Buzz hoped that he didn't do anything stupid. A small smile lit up his face. But of course, Woody and stupid don't go hand in hand.

The clunky space ranger crept along the corridors for any place he knew Woody would go for somewhere quiet. He passed Molly's room without a thought of going in there as well as Andy's mother's quarters, and he slipped through the main hallways until he found the farthest one from anything else in the house. It held a small closet where Mrs. Davis put the cleaning supplies, and it was little, dark, and silent. Perfect. Prying open the small crack in the meeting place of the two doors, Buzz stepped inside the dark space, glowing as he went.

"Woody?" He whispered as the space ranger scanned the floor of the closet and the lower shelves. Nothing. Buzz kept looking up the shelving unit, though, even though no toy could ever possibly in their wildest dreams ever get to the higher shelves. It was just physically impossible the spaces in between the selves were too big and-

Scratch that last statement. Forget he ever said it.

Up on the highest shelf of the ten foot high ceilings sat a pensive cowboy fiddling with his hat.

"Woody!" Buzz called loudly.

The sheriff, however, did not react in a positive way. Jolting from the peace and tranquility, Woody lost his balance from his perch. Slipping on some mystery fluid, Woody lost his footing and tumbled off of the shelf with a scream.

"No!" Buzz ran forward with arms extended to catch the sheriff, adrenaline pumped through his veins from the knowledge that if Woody fell from that height, he would die.

The leader of the toys writhed in the air, frantically trying to get a hold of something, anything. However, Woody kept falling and falling until his terminal velocity halted as he hit the strong plastic arms of his best friend, Buzz Lightyear.

And now he was hyperventilating and trembling so violently he was shaking Buzz. Woody let a breath of relief as a sincere 'thank you' rode on the air to the ranger's ear drums. The sheriff gripped the Buzz's arm until the panic settled. Then, after reeling his emotions back under control, Woody clambered out of his savior's embrace and the first words out of Buzz's mouth were, "Are you all right?"

A nod followed as the cowboy sat down shakily. He replied with a grim shaky smile, "I've had worse."

"What do you mean-"

Woody shook off his question. "W-w-what do you want Buzz?"

Oh, crap. That was a good question. What did he want from Woody? Did he want just the answer to his question? Perhaps he should have thought this through… The space ranger thought for a moment before answering with a wry grin. "An explanation."

Buzz looked into his best friend's troubled, but still warm, brown eyes with his own soft blue ones. He could see the pain wracking Woody's form in those weary eyes that normally held so much life. And at that very moment a look of understanding passed between the two. They knew each other too well to keep secrets.

Woody nodded in understanding before taking a few deep breaths. "G-g-give me a few m-minutes," the doll stammered, "I t-think I'm getting too old for this."

Buzz did just that. Until after a few moments the cowboy had this bearings again.

Woody ran his hand over his painted chestnut hair as he sat down next to Buzz. "This," the sheriff stated, "isn't going to be nice, Buzz. My story isn't a good one." But the ranger only gestured for him to continue with a slight squeeze of Woody's shoulder.

Breathing in the cool air the cowboy started his narration. "The very first thing I remember is the clang of metal needles and the claustrophobia I felt as I was restrained by braided cords around but wrists and ankles…"

FLASHBACK:

Something inside of him knew that he shouldn't be awake. Nobody should have had to go through this torture.

The newly stitched doll shivered inside as fleshy giants with long gray hair and wrinkly skin towered over him with sharp pointy things. They pulled on him, poked him, and ripped at his seams for hours as the conveyor belt would start and stop at a new torture station. The pain rippled through his body as they sewed slowly with narrow threads, clothing him and angrily stuffing a strange box with speakers on it attached to a pull string into his chest through his back.

It took everything the doll had to keep silent and still, for some instinct in the back of his head hammered on about how these things were evil. If they saw him move, they would be scared and take him away to be destroyed.

Fear swept through him as he heard groaning sounds from under the conveyor belt. Was it going to give out? Would he die if he fell?

The sounds stop. The conveyor stops. The giant animals with needles stop.

But then suddenly, the giant silver haired things scream, filling the room with panic and desperation. They drop their sharp metal needles and scary tools that had ripped at his seams. And those animals run out of the room.

He can't see what they are running from; he's facing the direction that they ran to, out of a door with a sign over it that said "Fire Exit", whatever that meant. Now his is very conscientious about the braided metal ropes around his ankles and wrists. He writhed in his binds, attempting to stretch them or get out of them, but to no avail.

The doll feels panic now. He feels heat pulsing from the room from some unknown source. It gets hotter and hotter. Now it hurts when he breathes, so he stops and holds his breath until he is forced to release it in a screech of agony. The metal braid melts at the heat, enveloping his delicate wrists in molten torture. It hurt…. He was blinded by pain. It hurt so badly…. He flailed around in merciless pain, hearing a pair of snaps in the process as his binds at his ankles snap.

He was free.

The doll clambers off the conveyor, still sobbing dry, nonexistent tears at the searing pain in his wrists. He looks around only to freeze as he sees a wall of menacing light flicker at him. The wall of twirling tendrils of heat- no of death- glare at him. Whispering as they release the blinding cloud of blackness, the wall of death grows, devouring anything and everything in its path.

The terrified toy snaps out of his frozen appearance and breaks out in a clumsy run toward an emergency ladder labeled, "Fire Escape". He climbs up, groaning at the hot temperature of the ladder, and opens the hatch at the top of the building.

He was out.

The wind whirls around the roof, and the clear air is a blessing. The doll breathes a coughing sigh of relief. He is still in one piece! He is saf-

He goes limp at the sound of large, pounding footsteps. A creature with a scary mask on passes the seemingly lifeless toy, and he opens the hatch to the death infested room. He yells, "Is anyone down there?" But receives no answer.

A sad sigh comes from the creature as he turns back around until he sees the toy. "What are you doing up here?" He asks the limp toy, "I suppose you will be needing a lift down to ground level, now won'tcha? I have a son who would love a Woody doll like you. Danny is his name, Danny Davis."

"Woody?"

The cowboy doll jolted out of his tale, and for the first time saw that he was being hugged by his favorite space ranger. "Yeah?" He answered, a little dazed at being embraced so tightly. He was seeing stars.

"Oh, sorry." Buzz let him back down to their positions sitting against the wall. They sat in silence for awhile, one so thick you could cut it with a butcher's knife. That was, until Buzz spoke again. "Are you all right?"

Woody nodded, knowing he was talking about his wrists. "Jen, Andy's mom, extended my sleeves when Andy got me. She didn't want him to see the marks." To prove his point the cowboy lifted the patterned yellow cloth back from his hand, revealing a giant brand around the circumference of the sheriff's wrist.

Buzz looked with a sorrowful expression at the painful marks. It was obvious why Woody always subtly twitched his hands away from Andy's grasp.

Woody slid the fabric back down, uncomfortable with the scrutiny his injuries were under, and sat back against the wall.

"You don't need to keep going if you don't want to Woody. " Buzz whispered with his arm around his friend's waist.

But the cowboy smiled and looked at his best friend with those chocolate brown orbs. "You deserved to know. The rest of my story is just being put in an attic until I was given to Andy's dad and Andy years later."

A silence enraptured them as Buzz tightened his hold on his friend.

"Who was Danny?" Buzz once again shattered the silence with his curiosity. "I know Davis is Andy's last name but who was-"

Woody cut him off with a pained whisper. "Andy's grandfather."

The space ranger's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. A pang of understanding flew through him as he looked at Woody. The cowboy belonged to generations of this family! That's why he was so desperate to stay with Andy…

"You'll catch flies, space nut." Woody laughed heartily as Buzz had to look down to remember that his jaw was about to hit the floor. The ranger snapped his mouth shut, before he lifted the sheriff with his one arm that was wrapped around the cowboy's narrow waist and flipped him upside down.

With a smirk, Buzz laughingly said, "That's for the space nut comment, cowboy."

Seeing that all of the blood had rushed to Woody's face, Buzz flipped him back over and dragged him onto his lap, laughing uncontrollably as he dropped Woody onto his plastic legs. The sheriff smiled and punched him playfully in the shoulder as he joined in with the ranger's laughter.

"Come on," Woody grinned as he made to stand up, "let's get back to Andy's room." But before he could stand upright he felt a pair of arms grab him and pick him up bridal style. "Buzz!"

The ranger smirked at the cowboy doll in his arms. "You still never answered my original question, Woody." Buzz said, "How old are you? I'm just curious."

"I suppose," the sheriff started again with resign in his voice, "that I should answer you…" Trailing off, Woody seemed to a quick calculation in his head before turning his attention back to Buzz. There was an anxious look in the doll's eyes. After taking a deep breath Woody closed those tired eyes and said, "From the first time I had consciousness in the factory to right now…"

Woody stopped. He bit his lip in nervousness before continuing.

"Buzz… I'm eighty-four years old."

So.. What do you think? In my defense, I got attacked by this plot bunny! :)

Please leave your thoughts and review! I really appreciate it!

Oh, and by the way, there is only a pairing here if you want it to be. :D

kirby