Hey Pixar what the f-

He still overcompensated a little when he would move, counting in the weight of his voice box, before almost tipping over and remembering with a cold nothingness that it wasn't there anymore. That there was a visible zip-stitch along his back, that his voice box was gone, and his recordings too.

The recordings that he used to calm Andy. His Andy.

Toys don't need sleep, it's just a habit some form over the years, and Bo was put off by Woody repeatedly offering to be the nighttime lookout. She knew that he was a toy that was used to sleeping, and she hadn't slept in a long time— she was a lamp ornament. Sleeping was unusual for her from the start— and sometimes she would just sit next to him as he looked out at the night making sure nothing unexpected happened.

He wondered what the group was up to, sometimes. If Bonnie was keeping them safe and cared for. If Buzz and Jessie and the others missed him. If Forky was okay. If everyone else made him feel welcome.

Did Andy miss him?

Did Gabby Gabby's kid enjoy his voice box in the other doll and Benson and Benson and Benson and stitches and it's gone and—

"Woody!" Bo's whisper was like a shout. She shook his shoulder and looked at him in deep concern. Woody couldn't speak. He realized his hands were shaking slightly. There was a panic that he couldn't quite place and the empty space in his stuffing where his recordings should be wasn't helping.

Stitches ripping, plastic yanked out, his recordings that held so many memories tossed aside and given to Gabby Gabby and stitched back together almost violently—

He didn't even realize he was curled up until Bo took off his hat to pat his head.

She unwittingly grazed the stitches on his back and he froze and shuddered and groaned as if in incredible pain, and Bo's hand shrunk back immediately and then she sat further away, worried her touch would upset him more.

"Sorry about that, Bo." Woody focused on staring outside again. The sheep continued sleeping near Bo, and the rest of his newer friends were also asleep.

"What's gotten into you?" She meant it in a caring way, but he winced nonetheless.

Zip stitches crudely placed on his back by the dummies.

"I… I don't know." Bo offered him his cowboy hat and he took it. He almost started fidgeting with his badge before remembering again that he gave it to Jessie. "You should sleep. I'll be fine."

"You should sleep. You always liked doing that once you made sure every other toy and Andy were okay." Bo smiled warmly and Woody looked down.

Never had he been more grateful that toys were incapable of crying.

Giggle also approached him a few days later, while he was staring at nothing. The two had become friendlier with each other once Woody had finished his kid-related job of getting Forky back and was able to listen to her and Bo without his own mind going miles a minute.

She bounced with her tiny legs and climbed until she standing taller than him and frowned. Woody continued playing with his hat and tried not to think about the missing weight in his body. Or the sight of a bit of his own stuffing leaving him that night. Or the sound of his seams being torn by Benson.

He was bad at this not-thinking-about-it thing.

"Woody," she started. He glanced at the bits of her hair that revealed chipped paint and then looked away and grunted. "Woody," she repeated. He made eye contact with her then. "How have you been?"

Woody chuckled humorlessly.

"Gigs," he said quietly, "we live in the same place, I'm sure you've seen me." The little plastic officer groaned at the (retired?) sheriff in front of her.

"I'm asking about emotionally. I've seen you stare at nothing and stay up all night, so I can only guess." Her light sarcasm made Woody raise a brow at her and she shrugged her hard-plastic shoulders.

She wouldn't get it. There's no ripped seams and Forky and Andy and missing… organ, he decided.

It was essentially an organ to him.

Toys could not throw up, but the sensation in him felt similar to what Andy had described to his mother when he had a stomach bug. So instead Woody breathed deeply while Officer Giggles looked on sadly, and once he shooed her off she bounced away. Maybe to Bo and her sheep, or to Duke, or maybe to see if Bunny and Ducky were arguing amongst themselves.

Giggles went to Duke and Bo (as well as Billy, Goat, and Gruff, who overheard, probably).

Duke Caboom had one foot off his motorcycle and awkwardly stared at the floor. Woody wanted to badly to just give the Sheriff Woody Smile and talk with that usual energy, but something was keeping him from having the energy to pretend.

Next time maybe it'll be my entire body. Stitch by stitch.

"So, uh, Woody," Duke said. He was playing with the painted-on brakes of his motorcycle. "What do you think is waiting for us at the next stop?"

Do you think Second Chance Antiques will follow us? Follow me? Do you reckon Benson needs my stuffing, partner?

"More toys that deserve to be cared for by kids," Woody's answer was an autopilot one. "More toys that we will help."

"Did you know Bunny and Ducky might be able to shoot lasers from their eyes?" The question, whether intentional or not, catches Woody off guard and he lets out an amused huff. Duke seems to light up at the sound.

"They told you what?" Woody pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to smile too wide. "Next up they're from space and we're aliens." Duke didn't get the joke and Woody was fine with that, honestly.

After Duke left Billy, Goat, and Gruff tumbled over to him and demanded to be pampered. Woody pats the glazed porcelain. They bleated for Bo and she sat down next to him again. He looked at the tape that had been recently replaced to keep her arm where it was meant to be. She smiled at him and spared a glance at the dark, thick stitches running down his back.

A question built up in her until she finally rested her fingers just before the stitches started and asked, "Woody, does it hurt?"

Woody sighed deeply and scratched the chin of Goat before trying to shoo the sheep off. They stayed by Bo, determined to hear what was up with Woody.

It wasn't the same pain as when Sid burned his forehead slightly, or when he ripped his arm. It was a distinct lasting pain.

"It doesn't not hurt," he answered. It was the best answer he could offer, and Bo's eyes softened.

"Oh, Woody."

The seam ripper jabs his back relentlessly and it takes all his willpower to not squirm away. Do it for Bonnie. Do it for Forky. For Bonnie. For Bonnie. For Andy, he said I wouldn't let Bonnie down.

Gruff pressed the top of her head against his palm and he tried his best to smile at her. Bo wrapped a cold, hard arm around him.

Benson's hands are cold and hard and careless with everything what wasn't the box. His stuffing hurt somehow.

…Bo's arm is comforting and careful. It's not the same.

Somehow Woody ended up on Bo's lap and Giggles was on lookout duty, and he managed to sleep most of the night. He only woke up once in a panic and Bo was there and hugged him for a long while.

Maybe he'd be fine after all.

Way past my bedtime but it doesn't really matter if you're already finding it hard to fall asleep, right. Right?