A/N: Hello readers, I hope you're having a good day! :) I take no ownership or anything of Saw or anything related to it. I'm simply here as a writer to ship Adam and Lawrence! In this story, Adam will be strong. He's quite the fighter, I've always imagined, but Lawrence is there to give him that push he needs to rise out of the pits of addiction. It will be a slow burn, but it'll definitely have the hot scenes that we've all craved ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, I'm a little nervous! Rated M for language, sexual content, and gore-descriptive scenes.

WARNING: drug abuse, alcoholism and flashbacks of physical abuse will be in this story.

It hadn't started off as an addiction. The pills had seemed so harmless – small, chalky white circles that left a bitter taste on his tongue. They were legally prescribed to him by the doctor at the hospital he was brought to after being rescued from Jigsaw's bathroom, three days after Lawrence had crawled away. Three days of his gunshot wound being left untreated, slowly building a festering infection that left him in agonizing pain. He'd had to keep himself alive by pressing his filthy hands against the wound to maintain pressure. His hands, which had been stained with the liquid shit in the toilet he'd dug through to find the recording. His hands, which had been stained with the blood of the unknown man he'd beaten to death with the toilet lid. In those three days, Adam Faulkner had remained chained to the wall, in complete darkness without an ounce of light, with a dead man lying mere feet away. There was no food, water, or warmth. His body built up grime, and he had started to die from blood loss and dehydration. The fear kept him awake; he never slept, and he nearly lost his mind, waiting for the help Lawrence promised he'd send. Adam had screamed and screamed for help until he lost his voice. And when that happened, he prayed to the God he didn't believe in, begging for mercy and forgiveness.

When the police force and paramedics burst into the bathroom on the third night, they thought Adam was dead. There was a plastic bag around his head, but it was loose, as if someone had attempted to suffocate him and then stopped, leaving without removing it. The leading paramedic took the bag off and felt for a pulse; it was very faint and weak, but it was there. Adam was drenched in blood, grime and sweat, and it took a long time to safely remove him from the bathroom. He died in the ambulance but was resuscitated, and spent a week in the hospital recovering. The doctor prescribed him OxyContin, to help ease the pain of his gunshot wound. But Adam was addicted within the first week of taking it. He'd pop the pills not only when he was in pain, but whenever he felt anxious or scared, which was all of the time.

After the doctor stopped prescribing it to him, Adam began buying it off the street. In the beginning, the acrid taste had led him to take it with a beer or flavored drink. But as his addiction grew, he simply swallowed a bunch dry, or even crushed them up to snort them. The skin around his nose was constantly red and irritated from the snorting, and his eyes were always glazed from the high. The pills were like magic. They took away his fear and pain. They left him feeling warm and happy, and the high was amazing. Oxy rescued him from the Hell he lived in every waking hour and made him feel better. They blocked the flashbacks from his mind, and he didn't have as many nightmares since he wasn't sleeping.

Lawrence had tried to visit him when he was in the hospital. But Adam had requested that Lawrence not be allowed in his room. With every fiber in Adam's being, he hated Lawrence. The surgeon had lied to him. He didn't send help until three days later. One day was understandable because Lawrence had been unconscious and going through surgery to reconnect his foot to his leg. But on the second day, Lawrence had simply forgotten. He had been caught up in the reunion of his family and recovering. On the third day, the police had gone to his room to ask Lawrence questions, and it was then that the surgeon remembered to send help. Adam had almost died – no, he did die – and he blamed Lawrence.

Adam knew where Lawrence worked and lived, but he refused to contact him. Instead, he went back to his shithole of an apartment and snorted his Oxy. Every light stayed on and every door stayed open. He nailed boards over his windows and bought an extra lock for his front door. He'd even bought a gun from his Oxy dealer, and it stayed loaded in his bedside table. He convinced himself he was fine, and he had managed to not get busted; mostly because he ran faster than the police, which was unbelievable considering he survived on cigarettes, alcohol, Oxy, and the crappy food he ate whenever he remembered to fill his stomach. But he wasn't completely alone.

Maisie Faulkner was Adam's older sister. She checked in on him every week to bring him fresh groceries and she would've dropped by more frequently if she had time, but she worked two jobs and was a single mother to a little boy named Jack. Whenever she visited, she did her best to clean up his apartment and beg him to get help. It was on this particular night that she found Adam lying on his couch, his skin flushed and slick with sweat.

"Adam," Maisie said, kneeling down and pressing her hand to his cheek. Her voice was strained and upset, and he stirred at the sound of it.

"What is it, Mais?" he mumbled, throwing an arm over his face and knowing he was about to receive yet another speech from a woman who was a middle school guidance counselor in the day and a bartender at night. She was lovely and petite, with long, curly black hair and big blue eyes; they looked very much alike.

"This has gone too far, you need help. You're burning up, please let me take you to the hospital," his older sister begged. Adam had started shaking his head before she even finished speaking and she let out an exasperated sigh, standing up from the floor.

"You think you're fine, but you aren't! You don't sleep, you hardly eat, and I know you're on drugs. Every time I come over, you're high or drunk. You look like shit, and it blows my mind that you're able to pay your rent and buy your pills. You're going to run through your savings eventually, and I can't have you living in my home. I can't have you putting Jack in danger with the people you associate with. I can't sit by and watch this anymore. I knew that maybe the first couple of months would be like this. But I figured you'd snap out of it and get a real job instead of stalking people with your camera, doing exactly what got you kidnapped to begin with. You haven't. It's been over a year, Adam! A goddamn year, and you're still nothing but a fucking bum piece of shit. We had a rough upbringing. I get it, and you were making enough to survive by working as a janitor at that hospital and taking your creepy ass pictures. But after the incident, you haven't gone to work and you don't do anything. I can't afford to support you, Adam, I can barely afford to support myself and my son!" Maisie cried, her voice breaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away with the heel of her palm, watching as Adam actually looked up at her with what could've been concern glinting in his bleary eyes. She took a deep, shaky breath to compose herself before kneeling back down to bury her head into the crook of his arm.

"I'm so scared, Adam, I don't want to lose you. I thought I lost you last year…and now it's happening again," she whispered. Adam genuinely felt guilty. He knew that everything she said was right, but he was coming off his high, and irritability overrode his guilt.

"I didn't ask for your help and it's not drugs; it's medicine for my shoulder. For the fuckin' pain that you don't know nothing about, so stop judging me like you're so perfect and all knowing. For someone who was a goddamn stripper at one point, you sure sound so righteous and smart. My photography is my job, I'm not a bum, I got a roof over my head and my lights are on, so what the fuck is the problem?" Adam snapped, rubbing at the irritation around his nose, his mind slowly beginning to sharpen as sobriety dawned. Maisie pushed away from him and stood up, her cheeks flaming with anger and embarrassment at her past having been brought up. She wasn't the person she used to be. And the Adam she used to know wouldn't have ever thrown her past in her face. They used to be very close, right up until his kidnapping. She hadn't agreed with his lifestyle, but she'd kept her mouth shut because she hadn't been one to judge. But now it was getting out of hand and at this rate, he was going to kill himself if a dealer didn't kill him first.

Adam stared at his sister, his eyebrows furrowing as a sad smile grew on her face. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, knowing that sneaky smile from when they were kids and she'd tattled on him.

"I knew you were going to react this way, but it's gone far enough," Maisie said apologetically. Adam immediately sat up, his head spinning from the quick movement.

"Maisie…what the fuck did you do?" he asked, fear making his stomach lurch. It took all of his strength to not throw up all over himself. She looked over at the front door, which she had left unlocked when she'd come in.

"When you were in the hospital, you were so sick and terribly injured. The doctors weren't sure if you were going to make it. I…I was an emotional wreck. I practically lived at the hospital to watch over you, while the free daycare at the hospital watched over Jack for me. The man who was locked in the bathroom with you, Dr. Gordon, did the best he could to help me. He paid your medical bills and he bought lunch for me and Jack. He was a good friend to us and he gave me his contact information. I…I called him this morning and told him that you needed help. Adam, we're worried about you," Maisie told him. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes; she knew he was going to hate her for this. But she was willing to lose his love if it meant saving his life, and she watched as his chest began to heave with panic, his breath coming out in little wheezes.

"You…You betrayed me," he said, leaping to his feet as the front door opened. In walked Lawrence Gordon, looking perfectly groomed as to be expected, his golden blonde hair combed and face neatly shaven. He wore slacks and a soft green dress shirt, a briefcase in hand. The doctor's face contorted with worry and guilt when his eyes landed on Adam, who stood there looking like a dictionary definition of a junkie. His New York Giants hoodie was too large, swallowing him up and making him look even smaller than he really was, and his sweatpants were old and equally as big. His short, dark hair was as unruly as it was in the bathroom, and his face was just as pale but this time he had red, bumpy irritation around his nose, and his eyes were rimmed red and carried purple bags. The boy's face was flushed with fever and his eyes were still glazed despite the high wearing off.

"Adam…" Lawrence murmured, his tone warm and soft, but also apologetic, and the pity drove Adam over the edge. He whirled to face his sister, his chest heaving still with anger, tremors running through his arms.

"You, you're dead to me, get the fuck out of my apartment and don't ever come back," he yelled. Without even waiting for a response or giving a warning, he leaned down, grabbed the bottle of vodka that sat a quarter full on his coffee table, and launched it at Lawrence. Maisie screamed, horrified, and Lawrence ducked, dropping his briefcase. The bottle hit the wall and smashed open, glass and vodka flying everywhere.

"And you, you motherfuckin' liar, you heartless son of a bitch, I've got a lot to -," Adam broke off mid-sentence and stumbled backward, sitting down heavily on the couch. He fell back against the cushions and gasped for air, his hands clenching at the front of his hoodie.

"Adam," Maisie sobbed, trembling all over. She ran over to him and knelt down, grabbing one of his hands as Lawrence also ran over. The doctor felt for his pulse, counting for sixty seconds, and then felt his forehead.

"He overexerted himself, he's very weak right now. Does he take anything?" Lawrence said, looking over at Maisie as Adam continued to pant and weakly try to pull away from them. She nodded, wiping at her tears.

"He…He, uh, abuses Oxy and he drinks all day. He doesn't eat or sleep much," she said. Lawrence nodded and stood up. Adam went quiet, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost consciousness. Maisie cried out in fear and shook her brother, trying to wake him, but Lawrence reached over and stopped her.

"It's okay, he just passed out. He's sick, though. I'm going to bring him to my house. He will stay with me until I deem him ready to go. I'll take care of him whether he likes it or not. I've already failed him enough, I refuse to fail him again. Trust me, Maisie, he's going to be fine," Lawrence said, his voice sounding sure and determined. Maisie did trust him and she nodded, standing up and wrapping her arms around herself. Lawrence scooped Adam up off the couch and didn't like how awfully light he felt. He looked down at the kid's face, his heart tugging. Adam was still attractive in Lawrence's eyes; beneath the drug use and lack of sleep, Adam hadn't lost it all yet. The childlike features remained, promising hope.

"Take care of him, Lawrence. Please," Maisie whispered. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss the doctor's cheek, and Lawrence gave her a reassuring smile as they left the dump of an apartment, making sure to close and lock the door behind them.

"I will. I'll keep you updated," Lawrence promised. And with those words said, the two went their separate ways. Maisie returned home to her sleeping son, and Lawrence drove Adam to his large home. Adam had lost his way and was struggling in dark times, but Lawrence was going to bring the light to him. He was going to find him and bring him home. He was determined to make things right, make up for what he'd done. He blamed himself for everything that Adam was going through, but it wasn't too late to make it better. He would show Adam that he was sorry and that he cared about him.

Lawrence looked at Adam, who slept in the passenger seat, traffic lights and car headlights reflecting through the window and casting white glows against his feverish skin. He could almost hear Adam's snarky comments and vulgar jokes from the past.

My Name is Very Fucking Confused, what's your name?

He was going to bring back the quirky, funny kid that had been forgotten in the bathroom. Lawrence's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Adam's voice suddenly broke the silence, small and pleading.

"Don't leave me, Lawrence," he whispered. Lawrence looked at him; Adam was staring right at him through his eyelashes, his eyes half open. A single tear trickled down his flushed cheek, and Lawrence leaned over to brush it gently away.

"Never again," Dr. Gordon promised.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think :)