No. It was so wrong. He wouldn't- couldn't accept it. No. Not now. Not here. Not with him.

It was too much. He wanted to break down; he wanted to hide – hell, if there was a way out…

There wasn't though, was there? How did he know nothing, and yet the guy he'd practically stalked knew everything? Just because… Hell, neither of them were saints. Did that mean they deserved to die?

According to Jigsaw it did.

"Fucking Jigsaw, this is just…" Adam breathed, although there was scarcely enough hate inside of him to care anymore. He was going to die. He tugged at the chain again, pathetic, futile, cringing, maybe even crying. No. No…

"Just stop it alright?" Lawrence cursed, still running his hands over the walls. He was desperate, but he knew there was no way he'd survive if…

The idea chilled him to the bone at first. Now it was just a numb ache, like the ticking of the clock – it would just happen, there was no stopping it. It was the only solution.

If he lived through it, maybe, just maybe, he'd see the sunrise. He would get help. They would get out of here, and that would be that.

Jigsaw would get a new target. And Lawrence would never forget any of this – and when anyone was reported missing he already knew he would not sleep. Maybe he'd join the army. It seemed death was the only way to escape this.

But he wanted to live, now more than ever, now that Adam was here with him, now that he was fighting for more than just himself.

He had to do it.

"Lawrence… What are we going to do?"

But not yet. No. Not yet. If he was going to die, he may as bloody well die by the sound of Adam's laughter.

If that was even possible anymore.

"Tell me about home," Lawrence demanded, deadpan.

Adam blinked. "I live in a shitty little apartment with no girlfriend or even fucking boyfriend or whatever and I take pictures. That's all I do. That's my life story, my everything." He looked over at the doctor tearfully. "I am so jealous of you."

Lawrence tried to smile, weakly, thinking of everything he was about to give up, regretting all the mistakes. What he wouldn't give to hold his children one last time…

"You've got everything, man," Adam continued, leaning back against the pipe, staring at the crumbling ceiling, the lone heart doodled on the toilet, the chains that kept him tied to his measly slice of life. "A wife, kids, a job… And you never fucking appreciated any of it. You cheated and ignored them and argued… Why, Lawrence? You're… you're such a good man…"

Lawrence had to look away. "Why…" he uttered, spitting out the word as if it were acid – and in this trap he'd had enough acid for a life time. "Because I'm a stupid, selfish, arrogant, bastard."

"Naww…" Adam hummed, gazing across the dingy bathroom at him. "You're a good man. Everyone loses track of things; everyone's got their problems. That's life."

He rubbed his eyes, laughing a little, almost maniacally. "Life, huh? Look where we are."

"Please, this place feels like home to me."

"Even the chains?"

"I told you – I'm single."

Lawrence snorted a little, shut his eyes, tried to inhale the scent of home, of family and friends, but there was only blood and metal and death.

They tried everything, but when the electricity coursed through his brain it jolted every last sense of sanity out of him. He had to get out. He had to. There was no other option.

"He electrocuted me," that was all he could say.

Adam knew what was on his mind, something crazy, something stupid – he knew Lawrence, he'd watched Lawrence, hell, he'd fucking well learned to care about Lawrence, despite everything, everything they'd been through. "I-I told you! Same thing happened to me, see? I wasn't lying, see?"

Meanwhile in his mind he was yelling, "No! No, Lawrence, no! You're a good man, don't… DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

But it was too late. No, Lawrence had to. There had to be a solution. He tore off his shirt, tied it around his leg, uncaring anymore about anything, about life or death, just escape. Escape. Get help. Live.

He didn't even know if he could manage that.

He was disorientated and crazed and rabid and unfeeling, hacking, cutting, dragging back skin and flesh and veins until he reached the bone, clamping his teeth harder on his shirt, trying to ignore Adam's screams, making him distracted and guilty and oh, he didn't want Adam seeing this but he had to.

All that he felt was the freedom. He looked down at what he had done – he had beaten the trap, he had won the game. Who needs two feet anyway? With a gulp he dragged himself along, grabbed the gun, knew it didn't make sense but hell, hadn't Adam been through enough? Hadn't they both been through all too much?

One bullet. That was all it would take. One bullet, right between the eyes or into the soft palette of his mouth or into his heart or… or…

Or Adam could die. Yes, save him. Adam wasn't going to get out of here. Even if Lawrence found help, they wouldn't be here in time. Jigsaw was always 4 steps ahead, always just too fucking smart. Hadn't they said that to Lawrence back in school? He was too smart; probably become a doctor or something. Look at me now, Lawrence thought. Fucking look at me.


Stick to the plan.

We'll make it. We'll make it.

Adam gulped. What if Lawrence changed his mind, what if he did actually kill him, what if he died of blood lose, what if he shot himself, what if Jigsaw had some other plan?

One shot answered every question.

"I'll fucking kill you…" Lawrence wheezed, dragging himself across the floor. Time was blurring together. He had to get out. He had to get out. There wasn't time, he'd bleed out: Adam would die, his family would die. "Where is my fucking family?"

Bouts of unconsciousness, of sheer pain as he looked up at that fucking… what was he? Janitor? He didn't care anymore. Zeb. It was Zeb. Yeah, he remembered him…

What was his name?


The janitor, right?

Adam… Adam…

"It's the rules."

He was up and alive and beating the life out of him, one hit at a time, every thump, every thwack jolting Lawrence slightly back into consciousness, until at last he was awake and Zeb was dead.

Zeb? Who was Zeb?

The janitor..?

"His name's John…"

Lawrence's eyes shot open. It made no sense, and yet… and yet… That was all he knew. That and that he had to get out, and fast. His memory was fading, his vision blurring, his heart stalling with fear.

"I'll get help," Lawrence promised, patting him on the shoulder, woozy, leaning in, as if he wanted to-

Adam pushed him back, pleading for him to stay alive. Everything could wait. This was their only chance. If Lawrence could survive… that was all Adam needed. It was the only hope he had.

"I'll be back," Lawrence managed, and Adam wanted to hug him, to cry in his shoulder, to apologise for everything and to explain that he…

It didn't matter.

"Live," Adam whispered as Lawrence dragged himself away. "Live…"

But as Adam watched the door shut he knew he never would. Four steps ahead. As Adam screamed he hoped Lawrence heard, and knew to never, ever come back here.

"Live… Please Lawrence, live…"