Shallow
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.
A/N Okay, so this is an idea which popped into my 'discreetly' slanted mind yesterday afternoon and I thought I'd give it a shot. If it turns out decent then that'd be great, but if it doesn't then…well, I still hope you will all enjoy it!
Plot Summary: One can only turn shallow after losing everything. And, with the Fates deteremined to keep the two apart, the new Technology can only lead to hazy Pictures, distant owners and shattered hearts... A/N
What was there left to face after the dark?
The fragile rag doll asked herself this as she threw her weight over the final crevice, burrowed deeply within the rocky material, of the obstructive wall which was now below her weak form, gasping, choking and clambering forward as the natural burden, encrypted thoroughly within the silk of the Earth's atmosphere, began to execute its effect to the utmost precision - one effect which could possibly drive her mind over the edge if it drew itself close enough to her form and, this, went without question
As her hands met the ragged surface of the standing, she couldn't help but wince in pain as the heat of the flames (located no more than twenty yards away from where she was currently sprawled) began to intensify, wrapping her body in a blanket of heat which had been sourced from the scalded material of an unwelcome brander. And, as tried to lift herself to her knees (trying to ignore the blazing heat which she could feel from even here), her eyes only came across the darkness; bringing yet another question into the focus of her metaphorical mind. Was there anything after the darkness which she, in no way, was able to avoid? Or was this it? And, ultimately (if there was anything), was it worth fighting for?
With the stony surface of the floor below her grazing and scratching her body mercilessly, threatening to tear the fabric of the body in the way a knife would tear through its target, suddenly too weak to even bear the fight of rising to her feet, her breath caught in her throat as she opened her eyes to the Deathly surroundings around her. In truth, she was no where near the burden of Death, but she could feel the malevolent purity of the force radiating through the cloggy atmosphere and across her cheeks, draping across her plastic like the fine nectar of Satan as she forced back a cry. It was of no direct threat to her - it couldn't physically damage her form in any way - but the mere thought of the damage it could cause if she lost the battle was enough to unnerve her senses completely as the wall before her flashed a shade lost between crimson and burnt-orange - a colour which reminded the rag doll of the Death which was bound to fall down upon her life in the way a pack of cards would begin to cave in above its firmly set target in the midst of mayhem.
The simple sight, no matter how brief it may have been, had been enough to leave her flabbergasted for a few moments as she gaped at the far wall with an expression of pure shock etched finely across her features. The initial sensation was dawning, and she had been left wide-eyed as she tried to pull herself to her feet, only to end up falling backwards when the sight before her overwhelmed her common sense as she gaped at the reminisce of the fiery ferocity they could no longer avoid; the light reflecting from her emerald eyes as realization began to sink in.
She could barely even remember how she had found herself in this position to begin with; it was all just foggy recollection she couldn't pull forth from the back of her mind really - so distant that it must have been unreal. But there was something about this which struck her like a major sense of 'Déjá Vu' striking someone in the middle of the night when there at their most vulnerable points; almost as though she had been through all of this before and she felt a smile loom across her face at this thought.
It just seemed so ironic that she had just so happened to find herself in this position at this very moment; because she could have sworn that she had dreamt something of the sort before. But many, many years before hand though, which left everything her mind tried to recall as foggy - undistinguishable against the havoc around her as she heard the voice's yell over the piercing rage of the Deathly fires.
"Jessie!" The voice called in desperation as the source neared the brief verge between Life and Death it could never avoid. "Just push the button!"
The very echo of this voice seemed to snap the vague rag doll away from her trance as she inhaled deeply, finally managing to lift herself to her feet as she dragged her way over to the scarlet high-lighted button, her legs feeling limp as she did so. It was no surprise actually that the thread hadn't unravelled themselves by this point, because she had been many years old by this point; and it had been clear, from the fading colouring upon her fabrics and her grazed hands, that she had been worn down over the years - so this was nothing she questioned as she then froze within her tracks.
She had been anticipating this moment ever since she had entered this section of the compound where the whole thing divided off into two sections; one where the refurnished souls passed, and the other where the scalding remains of what had once been mad themselves clear for display. But now that she was faced with the line which drew the very fine line between Life and Death, she began to face things from a very different perspective.
This all reminded her of a time she had faced many years before (whether it had been a dream or just a figuration of reality remained a complete mystery to her) where she had faced something similar to this situation. She couldn't remember what had happened actually, but she could still image the picture of the raging fires within her mind and this must have been what she was confusing the situation around her with now because, truth was, there was no fire - just one red light which possessed the inner will to haunt the old antique at any moment if it so pleased. She could remember the fire from the dream (or whatever it had been) for sure, but there were also a few other details she could draw out from the muddle, referred to as the back of her mind, which she had been able to decipher. Her friends had been there as well - most of them she had lost many, many years before due to circumstances which were out of her control - but not a small selection of the lot had made it to where she was now. They had all lived better lives from the point of the separation; and she envied this slightly. Nevertheless, she held nothing against them as she gaped at the button with a heavy sense of curiosity etched throughout her plaque-like eyes.
Where would this lead them? She couldn't help but ask herself this as she felt herself sink to the floor in a trance like manner. Would it lead them to a better life? And, ultimately, was there any point in patching up the line? Would this lead to anything better? Or was this as good as it would get for all of them? She wondered this as she knelt, centimetres before the button which could possibly save the lives of dozens of toys like herself. What would lie for them after this? Surely it wouldn't be anything pleasant; especially given the fact that she must have been at least a century old by this point (she honestly couldn't remember) and she felt a thick mask of dread overwhelm her mind as she dropped her gaze from the button to the ground below. This was as good as it would ever get. No more owners were going to drift in front of their paths - one of the reasons why she was even standing where she was to begin with - and, with no owners, they would become worthless. They couldn't run forever; she had learned this soon enough. But following your beliefs was far more complex than simply believing something was true, which was something else she knew.
Feeling a sense of despair crash into her system like a plate of ice, she felt her metaphorical hart freeze within its tracks as the sorrow began to turn into anger - one of which she could never avoid no matter the circumstance.
"Jessie, push it!" She heard the voice call, but the owner of this voice was easy to ignore as she stood from her position; a malicious smile inching across her face as she froze in her place for those few moments - the Vital Moments no one could afford to miss. Knowing that she was about to end up in exactly the same position, she chuckled to herself crookedly.
"Nighty-Night Partner." She uttered simply, empathising each word to the necessary extent as she tipped her hat in the direction of the voice; the on-settings of terror flooding her vision as the heat became unbearable.
What was there left to face after the dark?
Jessie the Yodellin' Cowgirl asked herself this as she braced herself for the inevitable -