A/N: This is pretty much fluff. Again, sorry.

He does go back. Once. On his first break, one afternoon he ends up at the front door of the house around the corner.

It's awkward at first, him essentially asking for a play date, but two minutes later he's in a preschooler's bedroom, frantically acting out Dolly and Dr. Porkchop's fiendish scheme, while the heroic space-western duo thwart them at every move.

It's fun. Bonnie can write her name now, and she teases him about the backwards 'N' on Woody's foot. She points out all the correct ones in the signatures on the pictures on her wall, while he admires them. And in between building bridges and knocking them down, he finds the time to silently tell Woody, and Buzz, and everyone what had happened with him in the last few months.

He tells them about his new room, and his classes. He talks about a teacher he hates, and debates whether to change his major. He mentions the gorgeous girl who sat two rows in front of him, and decides not to.

He talks about friends who are only two doors down the hall, and all night study sessions. He makes exploding sounds as they topple a LEGO tower, and admits that sometimes he finds himself, for the first time, lonely. And that those are the times he misses them.

They listen eagerly to everything he says. He never speaks a word of it out loud, but he knows they hear him anyway, and they understand, like they always did. When its time to go, he helps Bonnie put away her toys, assuring each one of them that he is doing well. That it looks like they are too. And that he's happy.

The next time he's way too busy, what with work, keeping in touch with friends and catching up with family. Molly has gotten so much taller, and so much older than he thinks should be possible. It hardly crosses his mind until its time to leave again and then it's too late.

He sees Bonnie from time to time, in the grocery store, or at neighborhood functions when he's visiting in town. She smiles and waves at the boy whose name is written on some of her toys. Later on, he gets a few short conversations out of her, but it's never anything like the excited, fanciful shrieks laced with sound effects of those first few hours.

He graduates from college, and starts a career. He gets married. Molly starts college, and then graduates too. His mom starts talking of selling the house. He has a daughter, and then a son.

It's Christmastime at his mother's house. His daughter is watching a new movie while his son works to master his new talent of crawling. Molly is sitting on the couch with her fiancé, her new ring sparkling on her left hand, and there's a knock at the door.

A teenage girl is standing there, her dark hair pulled in a ponytail over her shoulder. She's holding a box, gift wrapped and topped with a large bow. She smiles when she sees him.

"Andy, right?" she asks. "Hi, I'm Bonnie."

He knows who she is, and invites her in, but she hesitates in the doorframe. She grips the box a little tighter and steps inside.

"I'm leaving in a few weeks…early admission to university. Anyway, I heard kids in the backyard today...and I wanted… Here." She extends the box to him.

He takes it and unwraps it. Even though he had expected what was inside, he still has to set it down. He removes the top object out and holds it for a moment, then pulls the string on the back.

There's a snake in my boot!

Every head in the room turns toward the sound. Molly lets out an "Oh my god." His daughter makes her way to the box on the floor and exclaims "Toys!"

Bonnie takes her cue, and in a few moments, the two of them have the box's contents lined up on the carpet. They're some his toys, and some hers, some he didn't recognize – he doesn't think he ever had a raptor dinosaur, and some may be missing but he can't tell for sure. How many of those Pizza Planet aliens had he owned, anyway?

Jessie is propped against Bullseye and surrounded by a herd of small stuffed animals and fish. Bonnie is explaining to his daughter how Buzz Lightyear is specially equipped to help foil Dr. Porkchop and Dolly: the most dastardly combination of wealth and magic the world has ever seen. Molly is searching inside Mr. Potato Head, saying she clearly remembered Mrs. Potato Head having a purse.

Andy starts setting up tracks for the runaway train. The game turns into an aerial chase, and he sets the train aside and to form paper airplanes from the gift wrap. His mother has finally located the video camera and is trying to film everything at once.

With the appearance of the camera, the play comes to a halt. His daughter rushes toward the camera, waving and yelling, "Hi! Hi!" Bonnie decides it's time to go, and slowly starts making her way to the door. Twice she glances back at the toys she's leaving in the mess of a living room.

He understands that this is hard for her, so he doesn't ask if she's sure. He merely tells her thank you, and makes sure his daughter says the same. He also invites her over, any time. Then Bonnie is gone.

He sits back down on the floor, and watches as the play resumes. He is still holding Woody, for the first time in over a decade. A few scratches now run along the top of his head, so he searches in the discarded box, and then settles a brown cowboy hat on Woody's head. Good as new. Better.

Hands on his knee make him turn to see his son, who had crawled over. He focuses intently on the doll for a moment, and then stretches out a finger to touch the shiny sheriff badge. A particularly loud sound effect on the other side of the room captures his attention, and he sets off to investigate.

His daughter has Buzz and Jessie cornered by Dolly and her minions. One of Buzz's wings doesn't light anymore. Andy glances at the lit Christmas tree. He'll have to fix that.

"Here," he says, sitting forward, "Woody can save the day."

His daughter gives him a look, "No," she replies turning around. She retrieves something behind her back. "My dinosaur will!"

So Andy and Woody sit back and watch as Rex, leaping and roaring, is the hero. He looks back down at the sheriff, and even though he knows it's only his own pulse in his fingertips, it feels to him like the doll has a beating heart. It doesn't surprise him. He's always known Woody had a heart.

Woody watched as the others were played with, once again. He didn't mind being left out at all, tonight he preferred it. He had been old enough to be put in a museum decades ago, but didn't really remember anything before Andy. Nothing mattered before Andy. And tonight, he was going home, with Andy. Everyone was going home with Andy. His Andy. And his kids.

He didn't know how long this would last, but he was willing to enjoy the ride, at least one more time.

AN: Let me know what you thought!