Notes: A VERY happy Diane today – 'cos I passed my driving test this afternoon! So I am all woohoo right now!

In other news - WHERE ARE ALL MY READERS? ARE YOU ALL OFF WATCHING TOY STORY 3? I NEED REVIEWS ON THIS FIC, DAMNIT! LOL.

Chapter 10 – Danced to Death

Look at me, my depth perception must be off again
Cause this hurts deeper than I thought it did
It has not healed with time
It just shot down my spine
You look so beautiful tonight
Reminds me how you laid us down
And gently smiled before you destroyed my life

~Saliva, Rest In Pieces

The smaller birds settled on the windowsill one by one and the toys climbed off onto the desk, whilst the other larger birds flew right through the open window, settling on the floor. Squawkers flew into Bonnie's room too, and hovered above the desk patiently, waiting for Rochelle to be retrieved from the makeshift stretcher hanging down under him.

Buzz took charge again, since Woody was still on the parrot's back and unable to reach the ground from where he was. The blonde doll was taken carefully by Dolly and Mrs Potatohead and laid on the desk in a patch of moonlight. Rochelle's dress was torn at the hem from the journey, probably caught on a bush or tree along the way, but she still noticeably hadn't twitched a muscle. Buzz sighed, wondering how Woody must be feeling. He glanced up, and noticed the cowboy had his face buried in Squawkers' feathers.

"Woody, are you okay up there?" Buzz called, and Woody turned his head.

"I'm fine. Just get me down."

Buzz nodded, and motioned to Squawkers to move lower so as to allow Woody to jump off onto the desk. With the cowboy back on safe ground, Buzz approached him. "Woody, you know this isn't your fault."

Woody stared at Rochelle for a moment, never taking his gaze off her."How can it not be? I'm the one who accepted the invitation for the party. If we hadn't gone, she wouldn't be lying there after dancing herself to death."

Buzz rested a hand on the cowboy's shoulder sympathetically. "We all feel the same about Rochelle, Woody. It's just one of those things."

"But it had to happen when she was with me, Buzz. I feel so responsible for her..." Woody choked on the words. She couldn't be gone. He couldn't lose another, like he had done with Bo.

Buzz saw his friends grief overwhelm him, but chose to stay quiet. Woody meanwhile rubbed his hands over his own face, his fingertips massaging his forehead as he tried to think and come to terms with that evening's events.

"Maybe we should leave you in peace," Buzz said quietly, and Woody turned to look at his friend for the first time since they'd arrived back. The plush birds were starting to depart now, Squawkers with the stretcher still attached to his talons as he flew outside; the other toys stood in groups on the desk or on the floor, waiting for the next order to come from either the sheriff or his space deputy.

"I'd like that," Woody said in a hushed tone, and Buzz nodded, stepping over to the edge of the desk to give the command.

"C'mon guys," he said to the others who were waiting, "Time for bed. We better make sure we're there for Bonnie when she discovers Rochelle in the morning."

As the toys departed, Woody looked back over to Rochelle, noticing Mrs Potatohead standing over the doll with a sombre expression on her face. Mr Potatohead stood nearby, waiting for his wife to join him. The elderly female spud's lips were moving quietly, and then she took off her hat, removing the flower from it and tucking it neatly into Rochelle's hair. Such a simple action was moving to Woody. He watched Mrs Potatohead walk to her husband and link her arm through his as they left the desk in the direction of the toybox.

A long few minutes passed as Woody stared at the pure white flower in Rochelle's hair. Only when he could be sure that all the other toys were out of sight, did he finally step towards the doll lying in the moonlight that shrouded the desk. He knelt down next to her, taking off his hat, and allowed the tears to roll down his cheek as he mourned for the loss of such a recent addition to the playroom's clan.

Buzz had accompanied Jessie back to the bed, and they had snuggled down under the sheets together, the fabric over their heads. In the half dark, Buzz wrapped his arms around the cowgirl who lay on her side next to him. Her fingers idly traced the blue button on his chest as she sighed. He glanced down at her. "What is it, Jess?"

"I'm worried."

"About?"

"Woody. And Rochelle."

"Rochelle? You don't even like her that much," Buzz reminded her gently.

"That doesn't mean I'm not worried about what's going to happen to her," Jessie said softly, her fingers moving to the green button now and tracing that instead. "I mean, if she can short circuit that quick, who's to say I won't be next? Or Woody? Or you?"She propped herself up on an elbow besides him.

"Jess, you're letting your imagination run away with you again," Buzz whispered, pulling her down to him. He brushed his lips over hers. "Just try to forget about it all and go to sleep."

Jessie didn't respond, but knew Buzz was right. Yet she missed, strangely, the fact that Rochelle wouldn't interrupt her and Buzz making out at the most vital of times anymore.

Woody knelt on the desk besides the still lifeless Rochelle, having wiped his tears away and grasping her small hand in his own. He turned it over, mourning the loss of someone who had entered their lives so recently. He realised, in his own way, he would miss her. She'd never tease him again, never wind him up – wait, what was he getting so distraught over? He HATED it when she wound him up. He HATED it that she was not akin to getting his back up.

But at the same time...she was the one who paid him the most attention, with the exception of Jessie and possibly Buzz, although those two had become more and more close recently; Rochelle had helped to see to that. Maybe he appreciated her without knowing it, for setting his sister and his best friend back on the right course.

Gently, he lifted the doll's neck, sliding an arm around her shoulders. Without thinking about it, he pressed his lips to her forehead to plant a kiss there, and then drew back as he cradled her. As he sat there with her in that position, that he felt her twitch. Probably his imagination, he thought, drawing back to check, but her eyes were still closed. She looked so beautiful in the bright light of the waning moon.

It wouldn't hurt to say a final goodbye, he mused, and lowered his lips to gently press over hers , closing his eyes. He drew back, opening his eyes again literally a second later, and to his shock her own eyes were wide open and she was looking straight at him.

"Woody..." he saw her eyes roll back in her head, her eyes flickering closed once more as she struggled weakly, and then she was gone again.