Team Cowboy.

Chapter Two

~X~X~X~

Utter darkness. That was all the Sheriff could see. No hope, no help - he couldn't spot anything of the sort. Wherever he was, he was completely alone in the velvet tassels of desolation with nothing but his caressing thoughts. It definitely wasn't where he wanted to be, now that he saw the error in the decision he'd made earlier, because the lack of light and the condensed space threatening to close in on him completely only meant one thing.

Al had them packed up in a suitcase - and there was no way of escaping. The news struck down on Woody hard making him gasp in complete surprise. All of a sudden, the realization began to fall into place like pieces of a jigsaw piecing harmoniously against one another to succumb all of the pitiless odds with their subdue intoxicating the purity of their minds. He couldn't escape. Escape was impossible. To escape would be defying bad luck completely, almost like trying to find a speck of greenest grass in a dead prairie in the dead of night.

Returning home was impracticable. He'd ruined his chances earlier by even doubting his loyalty to his owner. What on Earth had he been thinking? He should've fled instantly once he'd realized Al's intentions, perhaps even before. Not risking his chances with him at all, slipping away from the apartment through the compacted gateway leading into the building's vent system before the ecstatic, redheaded lunatic and her mad horse even had the chance to introduce themselves. That way, he'd be waiting for Andy at home now rather than facing the unfathomable fate he had no chance of diverting.

This could have been avoided!

And it could have. In fact, he could have solved the problem right from the start without even realizing it. If he'd just been more careful in the rescue of his old friend, Wheezy the fame-desiring penguin, he mightn't have found himself in this situation to begin with: About to be ripped from his life with Andy to face a life of restricted stardom and collectible fame at the other end of the world, a path he now regretted even contemplating. Oh, how could he have been so stupid?

A battle of the darkest sorts surged on within Woody's artificial heart of broken seams and stuffing. The truth behind the façade was now beginning to ache him inside. He's ruined it now. For Andy and himself -

"No-" He gasped, his voice very an audible whisper. The contempt and the despair embedded oh-so fruitfully into his final heart-string made his voice arcane.

Stinky Pete's, however, was not.

"Don't. You. Even. Think. About it." Woody could hear the faint rustle of stodgy fabric against cardboard as the prospector centred his death stare right at him. He wouldn't be able to see anything in the darkness, but God - if looks could kill -

Woody thought about protesting, about throwing his fists and his boots up against the suitcase's lid to attract some unwanted attention from the Foil guiding their way to the dreaded museum, but then reminded himself that the caricature Pete was armed with a plastic pick-axe that could screw up even the toughest and the tightest of bolts. The Sheriff thought best to leave it be, and wallow in his own despair.

Solitary confinement. Isolation from the rest of the world as facile silence worked its way around the carnage he'd landed himself into. Only, he wasn't alone. He could hear a slight whimper from below. Barely even audible, but he heard it eventually when his mind began to cave in. So soft and feeble it struck him internally.

Bullseye…

He wasn't alone. Woody remembered now. How he could've forgotten that Jessie and Bullseye weren't really in the wrong, he hadn't the faintest clue. Jessie may have influence the aliquant antagonism between them shortly after they'd first met only the day before, but how could she have rejected the words Pete had forced into her mind point-blankly? Recklessness can play great key in beliefs as he'd come to see - after all, it'd shown vividly in Buzz when the space ranger had been nothing more than his deluded self. And Bullseye - well - he just couldn't say anything at all. If they were to hate anyone, then Pete was the cheat to despise. Not anyone else. That wasn't fair.

The darkness began to merge into a collage suitable for only those who sought rehabilitation. A slumbering child lay on a bed of quilt as a pair of hands passed down a prized possession like no other - the very collectible Sheriff, himself - and then the scene morphed into a time of joy and despair. The imagery was blended together so finely - so precise it added both melancholy and the glee of the most extravagant sorts into Woody's emotions. Then eventually, he could not tell what was what. It all just blurred together in his mind, burning everything in its path - every thought, every sense and every nerve.

-No, no, no. I can't do storage again - I just can't!-
-Jess-
-I won't go back in the dark!-

Jessie the Yodelling Cowgirl's fear of the dark was starting to make sense now. Without light, nothing could be seen. When nothing can be seen, anything could. From the darkest days of his best to the best - merging together to form the tragic basis of the bigger picture. And now the larger picture stood perfectly illustrated in his mind.

He was never going to see his old friends again.

...

"You should have stopped him!" You can say that again… Bitterness. "Buzz!"

The Space Ranger levelled his eyes meekly on Potato-Head, his dreaded companion on this mission. His stare was firm but not callous. "What?"

The area outside the apartment complex was dead. Deserted, almost. Night had fallen outside leaving a perplexed layer of mist to reconcile a few inches above the ground, oddly appearing to mirror the inner turmoil battling on within the core of the Space Ranger. Urgh… How could he have been so impotent? Andy was going to be distraught. And yet there was nothing he could do. With no knowledge of the next flight to Japan - when it was taking off, how to get there, which flight to take, how far away Tokyo was from where the plane stopped and even the name of the museum Woody was being sold to - Buzz Lightyear really was inane.

"Why didn't you stop him?" For the first time in the Space toy's short life, he hadn't a clue of what to say. How was he supposed to react? Should he be moping? In despair? In hysterics? Just how was he to come to terms with the loss of something to important to their owner? Woody - the favourite. Andy would take weeks to get over something like that. Buzz - perhaps if he was lucky - would take years. "He was right there! Just outside of the vent!" Mr. Potato-Head had a facial expression so unique to go along to embellish each and every idiom of speech. He looked frustrated, Buzz thought, but he couldn't really tell. Everyone in the group must be exasperated in some way or another. "And you let the chicken man and his mad doll get to him first!"

"Urgh… Not now, Potato-Head." Hamm spoke at their side, his bobbing eyes fixated on the dust ridden floor. "Now isn't the time-"

"I think now is the perfect time!" The spud countered, his face breaking into a menacing scowl. "He lost Woody! And Andy's gonna be home any minute."

"Good for you," A narcissistic piggy-bank countered, his gaze now zeroed on the panicked Potato-Head. The Spud's attitude was beginning to rub off on him, too. "Now you can finally be what you always wanted - Andy's fa-vour-ite." Flabbergasted, Mr. Potato-Head stepped back with eyes widened.

"You uncultured swine!" He countered back with a tone like seething toxins. The Space Ranger only seemed to deflate as he sighed. For the first time since his box had been unopened, his really was unsure about any of this. Could this all truly be real? Or was it an illusion of the deluded? A groan escaped him as the spud and piggy-bank carried on perniciously and scrupulously with their enamoured dispute.

A quivering shudder of coils announced the slinky-dog's movement. Half-heartedly, Buzz acknowledged him. When Buzz met his glance, he was shocked by the thorough determination and absolute bewilderment he saw in the other toy's eyes. It reminded him of Woody, when the Sheriff had been willing to go to some serious measures to prove that the so called 'famous' Buzz Lightyear really wasn't who he thought himself to be after all. Someone else entirely.

"Golly-Bob-Howdy, guys. When are we going to learn that arguing won't ever do us no good?" Someone who can do great things- That silenced the rest of the toys. Even Rex, who'd been momentarily secluding himself from the rest of the group to piece himself together, forced his panicky ends together to train his eyes on the coiled dog. "Now, I say we all stop this arguing and come up with something useful to help us a little. Don't you agree, Buzz?"

Someone with the voice of a true leader - The authoritative tone in Slinky's voice surprised him. Holding strength, courage and resolve enough in it to fool even the highest ranking Star Command officer. A pure mastermind. Instantly, hope began to blend into the rest of Buzz's emotions. They could do it - as long as they only thought of a plan. A few well-tendered steps, and he could do it.

"Of course," He shook his head, dismissing his doubts and his self-sorrow. "Slinky's right - verbal conflicts will not lead us anywhere. We have to come up with a plan." Before the last word had even passed his lips, Buzz had structured together a mind map in his thoughts, using it to guide his every incentive and urge to form a path they could follow. Within moments, he had it. "We need to get back to Andy first. The next flight to our specified destination maintains high chances of not departing until morning."

Peculiar enthusiasm abruptly dropped on the rest of the group, lightening their spirits somewhat. "And then what do we do, Buzz?" Rex asked, making himself heard for the first time in a while. He looked like he wanted to tap his chin in deep thought, though his limb coordination would not allow such a thing.

The Ranger had an idea in mind, but open disposal of this could result in a very provocative time waste he couldn't afford. "We'll just have to think of the rest when we get back-" He interjected modestly. "But for now, we have to get back to Andy's before he does."

And then they were at a settled agreement.

"Hang on," Hamm interrupted, breaking into Buzz's chain of thought. "It took us hours to get here from Andy's before, so how do you even begin to think we're going to get back to Andy's and then back to the airport before the next flight?"

So perchance Buzz hadn't thought of that…

"Well-" Think! That was the last thing he was capable of. "I'm certain we'll come up with something."

"And how do you suggest we do?"

Now he was really put on the spot. The cerulean orbs scanned their perimeters in search for some kind of inspiration, no matter how big or small it may be. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How could he be so blatant with his dumbfounded obliviousness? He asked himself this, but he was too thick in the head at the current moment to answer.

"Hey!" What now? The Space Ranger let his eyes dance over to where Rex was frantically trying to get his attention. This certainly wouldn't be anything of any importance. "Is that the truck from the Pizza Planet place Andy always goes to?"

Perhaps it would be of more use that he had previously assumed?

...

That back-stabbing, good-for-nothin' traitor! Over and over again. I hope he swallows dynamite. Long trails of silence - and then a mental temper-tantrum. If there was a meter in her mind, there would only be two readings for the needle to alter between: Insane and 'bored-stiff-out-of-her-mind.' One second, she's breaking apart the very air she ingested in search for any of the deadly properties that could send even the bulkiest - and the fattest - of men into whimpering dogs cowering away from the all-too terrifying Hoover and the next thing she knows, she's staring in the darkness waiting for the time to pass.

One hour, two hours - ten hours - it was driving her insane. The countless seconds lead up into the endless moments only to cross the hours that never seemed to pass her by.

One, two, three, four, five - It was impossible for her to even keep up with her thoughts. Urgh - why can't I keep count? Five seconds later and then another ten. Pointless. The minute just appeared to have no end. On the clock, the moments ticked by but she'd been too disillusioned to keep track. A second led into minutes which didn't seem to pass. Her fear of the darkness was overriding now as she lay in her foam holding, digging her fingertips into the material to keep herself together as the time dragged on. Claustrophobia kicked in just as the dawning silence began to mix into the elements that made up the world and reality around her. It's storage all over again.

Memories forming told her of the years she'd spent inside that stupid box full of packing peanuts and the dreaded lack of spontaneity she loathed down to the very core. Every day had been alike in the dark: Indecipherable and hopeless. It was hard to tell one day from another when there was nothing to motivate her, and before she knew it years had passed. All gone. Within the matter of a search for one toy. One priceless artefact enough to outshine the rest of its group by merely existing. Worth more than enough to allow her confinement to continue without a second thought. Sheriff Woody - the rootinest, tootinest cowboy there ever was - a toy she never thought she'd meet. One who'd shadowed all expectations previously sought out by the solicitous cowgirl. He was not like she expected. Humble, almost. Not big-headed with knowledge of his role in a children's TV show.

In the essence of a place she most despised, she kept her thoughts trained on this matter for a while longer, thoroughly examining it from the inside-out. This Woody really had been something. More concerned about his loving owner than fame. Something she admired, admittedly. She'd have been the same, too, had things turned out differently. If she was the one Al had stolen before her time (even despite the fact that the fat Chicken Man pretty much had), then she'd have been over herself trying to get back to Emily - the child she continued to love more than anything in the world…

A whimper beside her tore her vehemently from her thoughts. Even through the dark, she could tell that to her left Bullseye was petrified absolutely out of his mind and she couldn't blame him for feeling that way. Reaching a hand carefully towards him, she dropped it subconsciously on one of his front hoofs. His violent stir almost startled her.

"Shh, Bullseye," She soothed, the tone in her voice as gentle as can be. They were about to be hauled straight through the pernicious bowels of hell with no guaranteed chance of coming back. She knew this, of course, but Bullseye didn't have to. He didn't need to know, or even understand, how much torture she was going through.

For, after all, she'd rather put up a smile for him than have to admit her worst fears had been branded and laid down on a fresh parchment of ignominious defeat.

…

"Anything from the trolley, sir?" A sweet voice asked at his side. So angelic and tender… If the thick oath knew one thing, it was that he could get used to this kind of service.

'More like live off it - I feel like a king!' And so he should, his smugness told him quite informally. He'd spent years hunting down each and every item of that collection, baring no restrictions down on wood to get himself there. It was hard work, so he should be able to live on the high-run for just a few hours, right? He already knew the answer to this question, so asking it to himself again felt rather pointless.

He turned to the source of the voice. The bearer of this voice certainly lived up to his expectations, with blonde curls that perfectly framed her face and mesmerising beauty to die for. Her bright blue eyes certainly added expense to her figure.

"Ah, yes," He began, rather confidently. Observing the trolley settled by her waist, he quickly rummaged for his order. "I'll have a full-fat coke with a bag of your finest nachos, if you will." Al was too sidetracked to even notice the rather peculiar look he got from the air-hostess, though this wouldn't have mattered to him anyway even had he been aware of it.

He was living life to its fullest potential from now on.

Without a care in the world.

…

"You lost him?"

Perhaps the rest of Andy's toys wouldn't be quite as perceptible with the information?

"Buzz!" Bo exclaimed, her crook falling from her grip as she cupped her porcelain face in terror. The light dancing across her painted eyes showed heartbreak and disbelief. Well, Buzz thought narrow-mindedly of the situation, it could've been worse. "Is this true?" Of course it was. That was why Buzz hated himself at the moment. "He should be back here, shouldn't he?"

She seemed too tender to think anything harsh of her. If the situation had been different, then Buzz would have wondered and been dumbfounded by how such an intelligent woman could make such a ridiculous comment. The evidence was undeniable. The toys who returned had been grim and there was no Woody to be found. Only one explanation for that… A pain in his gullet like no other be began to swell up, gnawing pitifully at subconscious in many ways he had once thought impossible. Everything was just so surreal…

"I do regret to inform you, ma'am, that we were unsuccessful-" How on Earth didn't he even manage to spit this one out?

"Oh, my word!" Buzz turned on his heels to face a very shocked Mrs. Potato Head standing next to her husband. Where they had gathered by Andy's bed, it was a wonder he couldn't see all of their shocked faces, just staring at him - anticipating something that unfortunately won't be. The back of her frail hand struck her forehead, and she would've fainted had it not been for her husband's hold of her. Buzz didn't have to look at them to feel the intensity of Mr. Potato Head's icy glare on him.

"Look, we have everything under control." He ushered frantically and pathetically, his hands out before him in calm gesture. At the corner of his vision, he could spot the three, small alien toys Mr. Potato Head had accidentally saved when they'd all got the Pizza Planet Truck running. The gas had been full and the engine had been going, but when Buzz came across some nasty turn on his way to Andy's, the string they'd been dangling from snapped and the grumpy spud had been able to rescue them just in time. Ever since, they hadn't been able to keep away from them. Buzz was surprised almost that the toys' immediate target when they got in this room hadn't been Mr. Potato Head, but then again they've barely even been here a minute and the entire room has seemed to delve straight into an unfathomable pit of chaos. "We're going to have someone check the flights and then I'll be catching one first thing in the morning-"

"Wait!" Hamm intercepted, the expression on his face plummeting instantly. Subconsciously, Buzz noticed Mr. Potato Head scowl when the three alien toys near him making exclamations of 'You saved our lives - we are eternally grateful' and felt the dwelling defeat settle on him again. Woody was so many miles away from them along with the rest of the Round-Up Gang and the rest of the toys were not making it anywhere near easy for him to keep his focus. "'You'll be catching one?'" And this is where the dreaded moment falls into place. "Excuse me - correct me if I'm wrong - but I thought this was a team rescue."

Buzz blinked. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a whole group of bewildered faces gaping at him intensely. Just great. Exactly what he needed. A whole army of heads to contradict his word. "Okay," He sighed, deflating slightly. "I need to clear something out with all of you before I continue with my plan." Buzz quickly flashed his attention towards the window to see the night was progressing. Andy would be home any minute, so he had to be quick with his debrief. "Andy will be home shortly from his trip to Cowboy Camp and he will notice Woody's gone, I can reassure you."

"So what are you getting at?" Potato Head demanded, narrowing missing a very sharp elbow right into his gullet by his impatient wife.

The Space Ranger retained the urge to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead. It was really quite tedious trying to talk some sense into this group single handed. Woody must be an absolute natural to have managed them for so long before his arrival. "When Andy comes home, he will notice Woody's gone." He spoke slowly to get every single point across. "And when he does, he's going to be upset. How do you think he'll feel if he wakes up tomorrow morning with half his toys missing?"

Highly to his very flummoxed misfortune, some of these lost managed to build inch thick barriers around their skulls for the very intention of not listening to him. "Hang on, so you're suggesting that you should be the one to go there because he's going to miss us if we leave?" Probed Hamm, quite taken aback. "If I might remind you, you're the one with a position on Andy's bed. It'd be the end of the world in his perspective if you so happened to disappear off the face of the planet."

A roll of the eyes. "Not that I'm intent on insulting anyone, but I'm the only toy in this room designed sufficiently enough to fly halfway around the world." Stepping forward, he emphasised this by outstretching his limbs to show the rest how sturdy they were. It was blatantly clear that he was in fact the only toy capable enough of making this venture into the great unknown, but still tenacity ensued.

"What about me?" Mr. Potato-Head demanded, his face stern as he flailed his limbs in the air. "I have hands and legs, too, don't I?" It was clear the spud could and would not make this journey, but Buzz knew the plastic egghead had a temper that should be avoided if possible. So he kept the tune low.

"I would contemplate that matter," Buzz began, voice trailing off slightly as his weary eyes scanned the area around him for some sort of information. Then he caught sight of the three aliens hunkering next to Mrs. Potato Head. "But we need a strong, persistent toy to keep an eye on our new additions to the group."

Potato-Head's face dropped like a tonne of bricks falling off of the tallest building known to mankind. Shock and horror mixed in with his expressions as he tried to come up with a good comeback. Fortunately for the Space Ranger, none was to be found. And his wife actually seemed very enthusiastic about the idea.

"Oh, that sounds great!" She proclaimed, joy suddenly crossing her eyes. "Just the right thing to pass our time during the day."

"Erm…"

"Oh, look at them! They're so adorable!" She drawled attentively, picking one up from the ground and embracing it tightly. Abruptly, an idea struck and she let out a very loud gasp. "I think we should adopt them!"

"What-?"

There, Buzz thought, that should keep his mouth shut. At least for a while.

"And Hamm," Buzz began, turning towards the fixated Piggy-Bank. "I'm going to need someone to do some research for me."

He had him there. Right at his weak point.

"Okay," Hamm answered, seeming quite intrigued. "But only for this once. Okay?"

Buzz's face lit into a smile. "That's the spirit!"

…

"Mum?" Andy pushed through the living room door, stopping himself by the large doorframe quite drowsily and peering into the front room. His Mother was resting on the sofa with her head in a book she'd spent a year trying to read. It was something old, most presumably, so this seemed nothing special. She was sat around two and a half metres or so away from their TV set perched on a wooden stand in the corner of the room. What little light was left from the outside passed through the crack in the sienna window curtain suspending from the window frame her seat was facing. All in all, the room looked very grim in spite of the fact that the lights were shining bright as ever. It all just seemed so different when he was nervous. Ms. Davis turned towards her son, expression not changing until she saw the look of trepidation on his face.

"Yes, Andy?" She asked, folding the book and placing it to the side. "Are you all right?"

He ignored her question. "Have you seen Woody?" His eyes showed worry. A part of her must've been on high-alert at that moment in time, almost anticipating this, because the next thing she knew she was on her feet. "Yes, I believe I have."

Solicitous emotions flashed across his face. "You have? I've been looking for him everywhere in my room, but he's not there. He's not where you left him."

Something clicked in her mind. "No - he's not. Your Buster must've been causing havoc in your room yesterday, young man, because he dragged him outside. If it weren't for me, he could be anywhere by now."

There was some truth to her narrow statement. For, unbeknownst to them both, his special Sheriff Woody was crossing time-zones thousands of feet in the air.

…

Andy peered over his mother's shoulder as she unlocked her tool-box in her garage. Excitement was coursing through him just at the mere thought of seeing Woody's face again after a long night without him. He wanted to rejoice so desperately with his toy to fill up that small space of emptiness that was gnawing at his conscience within him. Then, he might feel calm again.

The garage offered little light, but Andy could detect and replenish in his Mother's subtle hand movements as she turned the keys in the box's lock quite perfectly as he waited. Mixed feelings of anticipation and nervously soaked into his senses as he waited, creating ultimately one very strange feeling. One he couldn't quite decipher...

Hopes were torn. Instead of finding what he oh-so-badly wanted to see, the only spectacle noteworthy of interest the young boy saw was an empty case. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. Woody was gone.

"He's gone?" Barely a whisper. His heart quivered with the heavy threat of breaking as he gave the news time to settle in. Ms. Davis examined the non-existent contents of the box feeling panicky inside. Andy would be crushed if this was true. No - it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Woody had to be somewhere, if not in the tool box.

She just had to say something to get her son down to easy spirits. "Oh, yes!" She proclaimed, reading straight off the lie forming in her head. "I remember now. I took Woody to a repairman to get his arm fixed. Buster made it worse for him when he dragged poor Woody outside, so now he needs fixing."

That wouldn't work. She could tell now from the look on his face. But she could only hope. Only hope that his favourite toy could be found or either replace by the times things got too serious.

She doubted it would.