A/N: My darlings ChainShippers, let me take you back to the day that's now almost a year ago. On October 31st, me and Merel had our Billy-makeup on, we went to see Saw 3D, and of course, like any true Saw fan who was disappointed in the shameless rape of Lawrence's character, we went home from the theatre dissolved in tears. (Or, Merel cried, I threw tantrums at everything that moved. And didn't move.) And then, when I'd calmed down a little, I started planning this fic, and that night, I wrote this short little prologue. Because if there's any time when fanfiction isn't only fun, but downright necessary, it's after seeing that movie. Since if the real writers can't provide us with a proper ending to the franchise, we're going to have to do it ourselves, won't we? ;)
Prologue: Wakeup Call
It's weird how powerlessness could once be his biggest fear.
When you think about it. It was only seven hours ago that the worst thing that Lawrence could imagine was not being in control. The structure was so important. Tic tac toe. Dates and times in the calendar.
Seven hours isn't long. He can reattach five fingers in that time. Maybe it's the fact that the suffering he went through during those hours is bigger than what most people go through in a lifetime. Yeah. It's probably that.
Or it's the fact that his wife and his daughter are dying or already dead.
Lawrence wishes someone could just walk in and tell him what to do. He doesn't want to be in control, he just wants to get away from here. He doesn't even want to die, he just wants to sleep. He wants to stop being in pain. He wants to go back in time. He wants to go back to the bathroom and put his foot back into the chain. He wants to sleep. He wants to sleep.
The fluorescent lights are swimming in and out of his vision. A burning worm in his brain. He wonders if he turned off the lights in the bedroom before he left home this morning. Is Adam okay? Is Diana dead?
Lawrence wants to sleep. He dies right after that.
A grip on his wrists. That's the devil dragging him to hell. Yeah, that's probably what's happening.
He didn't expect the ride to hell to feel like a concrete floor. But who is he to question the way he finally gets what he deserves.
When he stops being dead, the angel of death is still standing above him, for some reason.
Lawrence thinks it's granted that he's not going to go to heaven, so he's not surprised at all that the angel looks absolutely horrifying. What does surprise him is that he's lying on a bed, the pain in his foot is still unbearable but not in the way you'd expect from the fires of hell. Because why would the circles of hell reserved for men who cheat on their wives and mess up their daughters' childhoods be any less painful than the others?
The devil is standing before him. He looks familiar in some way.
"Congratulations, doctor Gordon."
In a while, Lawrence will get his senses back in order. And then, he will feel absolutely disgusted with himself for making not the devil, but someone almost as evil and black right down to the soul, be satisfied with him. But right now, mostly out of reflex, he gets an odd sense of fulfillment.
"You are perhaps my most valuable asset."