How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb
Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home

I've been sleeping a thousand years
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul
My spirit's resting somewhere cold
Don't let me die here
There must be something more

Wake me up
Call my name and save me from the dark
Bid my blood to run before I come undone
Save me from the nothing I've become

DEPARTURE

Chapter 8
Bring me To
Life

"I am dead, aren't I?"

He suspired thoroughly, a thick mist of melancholy making its way over his ocean-hued orbs. "…in a very short while, you will be."

"After the crush..." he rasped, making an effort to utter every single, cement-like word. "What happened, after the car crush?"

"You bashed your head on the concrete, harshly."

He raised his head just in time to see an intense, yellowish light hitting him.

His sight meshed up as he hovered and reeled in the air, and he felt a sharp, agonizing pain running through the back of his skull as he hit to the ground forcefully.

The last thing he could recall was a warm and sticky feeling engulfing him, but he couldn't know it was due to the scarlet puddle of blood rapidly leaking out from his head.

"Do you remember any of this?"

Vividly.

"Kind of."

"Then..." he sighed, averting for a moment his expectant look. Subsequently, he lifted his hand up to the lower part of his face, hiding his mouth: it lingered there for a few moments before it slid down to its jagged beard. "In a word, Andy, you're in a coma" he cut short going straight to the point, a trait he never failed to make use of during his life. "An irreversible stadium of it. Which means…"

"I'm not going to wake up."

"Correct. If you decide to stay here, you shall not."

Decide. Stay. If.

"What…what do you mean?"

"As we speak, right now, every word we exchange is a word taken from the ears of your mother. Every instant you spend with me is an instant that pushes you further to the decision you're already taking. Do you understand?"

He cringed, tensing up his facial muscles. "Yes" he gloomed. "All too well. You know..." he scoffed, sarcastic. "At first, I thought this was reality: I couldn't remember a thing, but I was happy. The happiest I've ever been in...what probably is a lifetime. It actually took me a good while to realize it was too good, too darn perfect to be true. So I began to guess maybe, somehow, I ended up in some sort of paradise...or a neverending daydream, that is. As for now, though...I'm more convinced this is pretty close to hell."

"How come do you say that?"

"Did…do you know how much you meant to me, dad? Did you ever see me through the window of my room, when you got back home from work?" He started nostalgic, his gaze defocusing as memories swung him away in time and space. "It was right above the walkway, and I spent hours perched on my desk peeking in it waiting for you. We…we used to play soccer every day late in the afternoon, and I couldn't wait for that moment. I know now, I should have told you before a thousand times...when I still could. Despite myself, I kept doing that every time I could when I was little, and every so often as I grew up…you know, staring through the window, waiting for you to come back to me. And now you're here, dad, you're in front of me and I can talk to you, and hug you and play with you whenever I feel like it. You found your way back. Then everything overturns anew: you face me with a choice between life and death, and whichever I'll set my mind on I will still be losing one parent, one way or another. As I said, this is no paradise, otherwise I wonder which God could be so sadistic to allow a boy either to be deprived from his father for the second time or to give his family eternal grief."

He listened carefully, scarcely hiding the surprise in his lips, torn apart from the intensity of his speech, words coming from a kid who was forced to become an adult unjustly too fast. As he approached him, he placed both his hands over his shoulders, his watery eyes glistening under the pastel sunrays: "Bad things happen, Andy. Terrible things that we've got no control over. You are overpowered, I was too. Your word was destroyed altogether, mine has been to. Life can be uncontrollably cruel and unmerciful, and no matter how much pain you go through, there's no guaranty it won't get worse. But it's called life for a reason: as long as you're there you can still fight for yourself and for the ones you love, you can still go find your happiness wherever it is. And even when it seems difficult, even when it's impossibly overwhelming, you can't run away and hide out of fear simply because this world won't leave you any other option but react. As long as you are, you still have options and that is what I want you to understand."

And that was when he, finally, came to comprehend: "You…you were never given options, were you?"

He shook his head. "No. I never had the privilege of a choice."

"I'm…I'm sorry I never understood it before. I always…I've always thought it was you…that you didn't want to…" The man's lineaments became less and less defined as his sight fogged once more. A thumb rubbing his ear functioned as a trigger to open his arms, lacing around the beloved one.

"I love you, dad..." That was all he could say. The only thing he had ever, truly wanted to say.

"I love you too, Andy" he bent over, bumping his forehead against his and resting it there.

He drew away far too soon, and they both shivered for the sudden lack of contact. They looked at one another, sculpturing their features into themselves, trying to carve every colour, every shape, every smell, every fraction of that beautiful, cherished creature they respectively stood before.

"Andy"

"No…"

"Andy."

"Not yet! I'm not ready!" He stepped toward him, seizing his wrist. "Please…" he begged.

"You can never possibly be ready for this, Andy. But your time has come."

"Will..." he opened his quivering lips several times before gathering the courage to mutter his very last question. Again, he found himself dreading the response. "Will I remember this?"

Will I remember you?

The answer came out as a simple monosyllable…

"No."

…with the power to destroy everything.

No.
He wouldn't have remembered meeting his father once again, realizing what he had secretly, hopelessly yearned for in fourteen years.
He wouldn't have remembered being there with his family, experiencing again what pure, true happiness felt like.
He wouldn't have remembered any of the moments they spent together, any of the few but vitally important words they've exchanged.
Everything would've just vanished into nothingness.
Like it never happened.

"You will see me again, Andy. This I can promise." He chuckled at his naïve, yet hopeful look: his heart was there in front of him, wounded and vulnerable, pleading for the weest piece of hope. And hope it was going to receive. "Each moment you spend here is a moment less you will live" he quoted "but it's only the natural order of things: as time goes by, little parts of your spirit ascend to this dimension, to call it that way, which is where it intimately longs to reside in. The same process goes for each and every pure creature existing, which includes your mom and sister, of course, your dog, the plants, the home and everything you've seen here. They're as real as we are because part of them already passed over. Remember, son, that as long as it exists everything has a soul. Do never forget that."

"Each and every…creature…" he repeated, pensive. "As long as it exists…it has a soul…"

As long as…it…

…exists…

"I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"

A cry.
A shrill, penetrating cry.
His foot pressed on the brake faster than he could even think to do so, his eyes wide open and his irises half their size.
He had heard that voice. He knew that voice. And he saw him: he saw Woody standing right there in the street, several yards away but still clearly visible.

The truth was, he truly and dearly missed his Woody. Because he had constantly been by his side, no matter what. Because he was not an ordinary toy and, as weird as it was, he seemed to somehow look after him, being always there when needed.
Because he almost worshipped him as an hero, his hero. Because he loved him, more than he could ever love any of his other toys. Because it was him, and no more explanations were needed.

He missed him.

"He was there..." he breathed out, breaking with a sentence years of never-spoken words. "That day...I was never mistaking. He has always been...there..."

"He never stopped loving me, even though I deserved it all for how poorly I treated him" he said, a regretful feeling washing all over him. "Don't do this to him, Andy…not you. He wouldn't bear another loss, not yours. If you die, Andy, he'll never get over it."

"Then…why?" He winced. "Why did he leave me alone?"

"Alone?"

"He was not in my room, when I woke up. He was not in the yard when we played before, and he was not even with the other toys. He is just...not here."

He did...not want to be with me…

Greg chortled as he heard so, then he reached out a finger to lift his chin up: "Silly boy. He loves you more than anything in the world, and if I remember correctly, he'll never give up on you. He'll be there for you, no matter what."

...

He will be...

...there...

...

"My bed!" He yelped heatedly. "He was resting beside me in my bed!"

Cold.

An unperceivable, immobilizing lack of heat at his side.

Stillness.

The regular, comforting pulsations of his heart fading away.

Noise.

An hollow, deafening sound. He whipped his head aside: a thin, sickly yellowish straight line obliterating the peeks of his vital signs.

You saved the day again, Woody!

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you...you've got a friend in me.

I've been looking forward to cowboy camp all year, it's my one time with just me and Andy.

I promise to always be by your side, whenever you need me.

You should never tangle with the unstoppable duo of Woody and Buzz Lightyear!

You're right, Prospector: I can't stop Andy from growing up. But I wouldn't miss it for the world.

None of them will ever love you the way I do. It's me and you, boy.

I'm glad I decided not to take him to camp, his whole arm might have come off!

Woody...he's been my pal for as long as I can remember...

So don't forget, if the future should take you away...that you'll always be, part of me.

And as the years go by, our friendship will never die...

Just promise…promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody!

"NO!"

He leapt in between his collarbones, stepping over the bandages that covered his injuries so he could look directly to his face: no air was coming out of his nostrils, either.

"Andy!"

"Andy!"

He jerked around.

"Andy."

"You know...I wish things could've gone differently" he merely said, a sad smile crossing his thin lips as he turned to his father for what they both knew was the last time. "But I'm happy I saw you again."

Even if he wouldn't have remembered. Even if just for a while.

He wrapped his strong arms around the kid's shape, and he closed his eyes to relish into that blissful contact as long as he could. "The next time we'll meet, it'll be forever."

...I don't know how...

...but someway...

...part of me will always treasure...

...the time we spent together...

I promise, dad.

His eyelids, then, parted.

And he was...gone.

"No...no...no, Andy, NO! NO! Andy, Andy wake up! Andy!"

He took the sides of his face in his hands. He shook it.

...

"Andy" he repeated the motion. One time. Two times. Three times.

"An-dy!" He spelled out.

Slap.

...

"Y-you can't...I won't let you! Do you hear me? WAKE UP!"

Tug.

He twitched his gauzes. His skin. His hair. His nose. His lids. Almost to the point of tearing up every tissue coming in his way. But he couldn't stop: not when everything was falling apart. Not when he most needed him.

"Andy" he whispered, ever so feebly. He wasn't expecting any answer.
He had long ago comprehended that, whatever the reason, he wasn't going to wake up.

"ANDY!"

Woody.

He couldn't make out exactly what he was saying. But it was him.
And this time, he wouldn't have walked away.
He was calling out for him.

Oh, Andy...

Mom, it's okay...

I know, it's just...I wish I could always be with you.

You will be, mom.

Andy holding him. His gaze shifted on the photo. Him with the other toys.

He took his decision.

"I'm sorry!" He bawled, kneeling on his throat. "I'm sorry I let you go! I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you! I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, Andy, I am sorry for everything I did wrong! But please, Andy...please, I'm begging you! Live!"

An empty space.
That was all that was left behind.
An empty space.
That was what laid in front of him.

No dad to come to. No home to return to.
Nothing. Everywhere around him.
Nothing.

"Woody!" He searched his voice greedily, like a castaway calling out for help on a deserted island. He needed his guide.

. . .

"Woody!" He braved the void, diving into it. He stuck an arm out, trying to reach something, anything with his hand, only to find out he had none. No arms, no legs, no face. He had no body. He had nobody.

"WOODY!" He screamed at the top of lungs he did not have anymore, viscerally aching he could hear him from wherever he was. He wanted to live.

He kept still, laying lifeless as he watched his owner, his friend, his Andy leave before his eyes, with a plastic look plastered on his vinyl face that nonetheless held so many emotions. The car was slowly but surely drifting away from his sight, as the now young man was from his life.

The moment he saw him climbing into his car, something had snapped into him: the fear it could've been the last time he saw him.

_._._._._._Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppp pppp_._._._._._

If he had had a beating heart, he would have felt it collapse on itself.
If he had had veins, all the colour would have been drawn from his face.
If he had had the possibility to cry, he would have felt a warm and salty wetness devastating his cheeks.

Andy...

His heart had stopped beating.

…was…

His body had stopped living.

...dead.

His world had stopped existing.

He draw his head back in the most undetectable of the motions. His hands crystallized over his soft, icy cheeks. His genuflected body going motionless on his rigid, nonfunctional chest. His passionate, spirited chocolate irises losing their spark.
Lifeless arms subsided like a dead weight at the sides of his padded denim legs as a spectral, plastic toy expression smeared on his face.

...

...

...

Pant...

"ANDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

A door.
And a sign on it he would've recognized anywhere.

ANDYS ROOM
KEEP OUT

except Molly

It was now or never.

He...

...wanted...

...to...

...LIVE!

A shadow in front of him.
He moved his sight aside, the giddiness steadily wearing out as it began to focus, a stinging odor of formaldehyde invading his nose.
His pupils roamed their road back, trying to tell his surroundings apart. They stopped.
He furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing uncertainly the bizarre figure that was covering most of his visual, an unintelligible look petrified on its little hatted head.

"...Andy..."

His eyes sprang wide open.

And now, right ahead of him there was...him.

"...Woody..." he croaked out of breath.

He was alive.

"I don't CARE about your policy, I want to see my son!"

He looked at him. Then at the door. Then at him again.

"WAIT!" He shot his bust toward his distancing outline, his suffering spine compelling him back. "Don't..." he moaned. "Don't go!"

He wasn't sure if his plea hadn't been loud enough to be heard, or if he had just refused to comply. All he could see was as soon as he had come back in his life, he disappeared.

Voices and footsteps rustled into the room soon after he found his way out. He closed his vinyl eyes, abandoning his fatigued back on the wall behind him: arching his shoulders he let a long, liberating breath out. Soon thereafter, gleaming, misty-like eyes searched the ceiling: he was alive, and that was all that mattered…

…for the time being.

Author's Note: Finally. F-I-N-A-L-L-Y! I'm so happy I can scream it out loud! ANDY IS ALIIIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEEE! Safe and sound, poor child!

Now I can tell you: it was never my intention to kill him, not on Departure. To be honest he wasn't even supposed to be injured originally, if not maybe for his broken arm. Then this whole idea just 'wrote itself' as I kept going, and well, I think it worked.

Oh, about the POLL results:
"Should Andy live or die?"
-Live: [16] votes
-Die: [1] vote
-I wish for them both: [1] vote

Y'all are good people folks. I didn't vote, of course...if I did I guess I'd probably chosen the 3d option. As I said I wanted him to live from the beginning, but it just thrills me wondering how this story would've changed if he didn't get such luck.

As you know, I love introspections, and it was a pleasure to write Woody's one on chapter 8: for the first time he's showed actual, deep care for Buzz, whom I've told much about even without making him physically present lately. If you miss him, don't worry: I've got a feeling he's gonna be back very soon.

I didn't want the 'paradise-limbo' part to get overly cliché or mushy, that is why I've focused on dialogues more than descriptions in this last entry. Talking about Greg, I'm quite satisfied with his characterization and the way he's made his way into this story. Also, I love the brief but intense relationship he's built with Andy, and even more the one he supposedly had with Woody, maybe because I've written so little about it although I have so much in my mind. You're definitely gonna see more of it on some other chapters of the fiction, and perhaps in some spin-offs or one shots.

My, I've been waiting a long time to write that little paragraph when Andy wakes up and faces Woody for the first time. If you think about it they never saw each other after the prologue! There is a reason it's so brief: I wanted it to be that way, and I've actually cut some parts to do the trick. Short and intense was the imperative, period.

That being said (and reminding you to leave a R-E-V-I-E-W as usual), we go right to the

REVIEWS CORNER!

thespiritmaide You've been so kind to review all of the chapters, I think it's only fair I answer on everything. About the bold writing it's something that usually 'bothers' me as well, as I find it a bit distracting too: that is why I only use it on the AN's or on very rare occasions. Oh, the boot scene...that brings up memories, it's one of my favourite Departure's moments! About the hat, I wanted a very specific reaction without being too drastic (that would've been OOC for Woody). On chapter 4 you pointed out the lack of the punctuation marks after the inverted commas, I do that when the narration requires it in order not to fragment the period excessively and to give an idea of speech continuity (i.e. "That is what I am, Buzz" he said to himself. Instead of That is what I am, Buzz." He said to himself.)
"And this is why you should never drink and drive, kids! Or you'll hit hot college guys who miss their childhood toys and make fangirls cry." I've gotta say, I LOLd at this! That's what I've always thought of him anyway: young, caring and frigging hot...he's the perfect guy!
I messed on Woody and Buzz's friendship a lot, I know...I'm gonna deal with that pretty soon!

Katieghost You have no idea how reviews like that make me shiver with joy! I'm so happy I've been able to pull that kind of emotion out of you, it's thrilling and extremely encouraging! "Now I'm going to pour my soul in this review"...my! I can't thank you enough for this. As I read your review (written in a perfect English, I can only imagine what good of a writer you've gotta be) I really couldn't stop smiling, and you definitely made my day: every single word you wrote reflects with an outstanding precision what I want to achieve as a writer, the kind of emotions and reactions I'd love to draw forth from my readers. I'm not sure how you'll take it, but we're not quite near the closure yet. At least Andy's alive, and that's quite an achievement I'd say!
I know it's not politically correct to say but...so far yours has been one of my favourite reviews of all time! Cx

Lucia Delaluna Haha, I hope I don't sound too desperate when I do, thanks so much for your kind words!

seth7 I know, I like changing POVs maybe a bit too often. You got eeeverything right, Andy woke up, Woody was there in front of him and he saw him! About Buzz, hmm...we shall see! Thanks for the review!

Invader Kiwi (I love your nickname lol!) Is this soon enough? Thanks for the review, I loved it how you said 'brilliant'!

~Until next time!