A/N: Not much to say about this fic… It's a pretty short and dark one-shot with my favorite slash-couple: Adam and Lawrence. Oh, by the way: Those of you who have read my other Saw-fic, 'I'll Be Okay' are familiar with Adam's headvoice. Those of you who haven't read it: Adam has a headvoice in this fic, and you'll know when it's talking. It's the tilted paragraphs in the parentheses that says very mean stuff to our beloved Adam. Enjoy!


He's here pretty often now. More and more.

I know I'm expected to be grateful for that, and I am. Of course I like it when he's here, of course I'm grateful, the more he's here, the better. And it's not like he's keeping me from anything, it's more like I'm the one taking up his time. I'm supposed to be happy for the time he's at my place, not moaning about the time he's not.

It's a part of our settlement. Our unspoken settlement.

Lawrence is here as much as he can.

I'm happy for the time he's with me.

He doesn't ask me what I think about the time he's not here.

That's our settlement. And I'm pleased with it. I know he has to work to come to me, and I can't be the most important thing in his life. He's a big-shot doctor. And what am I?

(Nothing. You're a big, fat nothing, Adam Faulkner.)

The headvoice. It seems to be a bitchy mood today.

I'm supposed to be grateful for the time Lawrence spends with me. And I am.

But sometimes, I can't block out that feeling.

Sometimes, when I'm lying on the couch, waiting for him, I can't keep from wondering.


Why can't he leave her?

It sounds the same every time he comes here. He's going to leave her, but he can't do it right now. No, he doesn't love her, I'm more important, of course. But he can't leave her right now, she wouldn't be able to put up with it. He recently came out of the blue with a missing foot, he can't ask for a divorce just like that.

I nod along and understand. Try to understand.

But all the while, that question is nagging in the back of my head. The question that has always been there, ever since he started coming here, the question that will never go away and that I'm never supposed to ask.


Why can't you leave her?

You say I'm more important, you say you'd be with me every day of you only could.

But you can, Lawrence! You just have to take that first step, you just have to ask for that divorce, then we could be together every day!

That's what you want. At least, that what you say you want.

I don't know if it's true. Not anymore.

(And why would he ever ask for that divorce?)

I grunt and put my head in my hands.

(Why would he give up a beautiful daughter, a beautiful wife and a beautiful house to be with you in this shithole? Who would you choose to be married to between you and Allison? You've seen her, you know hoe gorgeous she is!)

No. Stop it. If Lawrence were all about the appearance, would he be with me at all?

(Come on. Don't fool yourself. Lawrence doesn't come here because he's madly in love with your inner qualities. You're plan B. Or have you ever thought about why he only comes here when he's got problems with Allison?)

That's not true, I know that. It's actually very rare that Lawrence talks about troubles with Allison when he's here. It's more common that he hugs me, quickly strokes the tiny hairs at the back of my neck and gets two beers from the fridge.

No. I don't believe you. It can't be that way.

(And why do you care?)

The headvoice is dripping with mocking.

(Ever since you started your little thing on the side you've told yourself that you don't really care, that you just give in this one time. But you start to care about him. No, by the way, you've always cared about him. You're starting to love him, Adam Faulkner.)

No. I don't. he's just my friend. But…

(Please. Don't do this to yourself. He's your lifeline, he's everything to you. You're just whining because you're not everything to him.)


I've always refused to believe that. I've always thought that Lawrence and me were…

No. I haven't thought that we were friends. We share something bigger than friendship. We're more like lovers.

(Lovers? You're not even that. Because he doesn't love you. You're just his affair, his own little sex slave that he goes to when Allison's not in the mood. You're his whore, nothing else.)


Can't Lawrence get here anytime soon? So I can talk with a real person?

(See? Jesus, you can't wait 'til he's here!)

Please, God, let this be one of those times when the headvoice is wrong.

I can't love Lawrence.

It's too hard.

(You think that matters? He's all you ever think about, and you know it.)

The headvoice sighs overdramatically.

(Well, it's just adorable with your little school girl-crush, but I just don't want you to get your hopes up. I know your tired of being Lawrence's mistress, but let's face it: That's all you ever will be.)

No. Please. It can't be that way. It can't!

You'd think I'd be used to not being first by now. Actually, I can't remember one time in all my life when I was first priority.

I guess it's not that I'm not coming first that bothers me.

It's the promises that hurt.

The promises that he will leave her. The promises that I actually do comefirst.

It's those promises that really hit me, like a blow in the stomach.

Because it's not that way. And the big question is: Will it ever be that way?

My discussions with myself get interrupted by an opened door.


He closes the door behind him and enters the living room. He smiles when he sees me on the couch.

"How are you?" He asks and pulls me onto my feet and into a hug.

I close my eyes for a brief second. When he lets go of me I feel how the corners of my mouth form something that almost looks like a smile.

"I'm fine."

He strokes me cheek. And all the sudden, the entire, black, god-awful reality comes to me.

I will never put an ultimatum to Lawrence.

I will always be the one he sneaks out to at night.

I will always be wrapped around his finger, and even though we both, no matter how long I've tried to deny this, love each other, our love will always be so ugly and dirty in other peoples view that it has to live in the darkness.

Together we can live in the darkness, Lawrence and I. Sometimes, and on his terms.

Not to long, and I wrote most of it when I was half asleep, but… Review! Please with sugar on top!