La Petite Mort

Chapter I: Kindred Spirits

Author's note: Okay so I'm bored, and since I don't like any of the normal pairings for Saw I decided to make up my own character to be with Hoffman. I mean I can't really see Hoffman with Amanda or Jill it just doesn't work in my mind. I doubt anyone will read this, but if you do, please review! If you wonder where I get my ideas, or other stupid facts, repeat to yourself it's just a story, and I really should relax.

She sat in the bar every night, just like him. Getting up the nerve to talk to him was getting easier and easier with every passing drink. She wondered why he was there, why he had to drink himself into oblivion every night like she had to. It was the only way she could even entertain the idea of falling asleep. She took another sip of her martini and looked over at him. He was downing tequila, something she wouldn't dare to touch because it made her sick in the mornings. Finally, he looked in her direction and she smiled at him flirtatiously. He was so amazingly attractive and she was drawn to his beautiful eyes.

Leila Dawson was far from being ugly. With her waist long chestnut colored hair and bright green eyes, she was envied. Her body was perfect, small waist, toned ass, and perky chest. She always felt like she could get any guy she wanted if she tried hard enough, and 99% of the time it was true. Her head wasn't so far up her own ass that she thought she was God's gift to men, but she knew she was attractive and that gave her an air of confidence.

The man, who's name she still didn't know, got up and came over to her table just as she was lighting a cigarette. He sat down and that's when she knew contact would be made that night. She had admired him from afar for the longest time and now it was time to talk. "Hello." She said and then took a drag from her cigarette.

"You were looking at me." He said, his voice was deep and gruff, she already liked him.

"I always look at you. If you've noticed I come in here every night like you do. What are you trying to forget?" She asked and then sipped her martini. She knew he was trying to forget something because she was too. An accident that had happened not too long ago, involving her sister. Something she might have been able to prevent if she hadn't been so self involved with her career and other things.

"Maybe I should be asking you the same thing." He replied, not offering a name. She shrugged, deciding that she would tell him why she was there. Maybe breaking the ice first would help him to lower his wall of defense.

"It's all about my sister. You see she called me from a bar to get a ride home. At the time I was working on a paper to be published in a medical journal. I told her I was busy and she ended up hitching a ride with a man who claimed he was sober. Needless to say, she never made it home." By the time she was finishing the story she felt her voice start to crack. She didn't like to cry in front of anyone, so she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears that she felt coming on. The accident had happened not too long ago and she didn't really like to talk about it, but this new man seemed to be a kindred spirit of some kind. She really wanted to talk to him. That's when she held out her hand, "Leila Dawson."

He looked at her for a moment, wearily, and then took her hand and shook it, then he said, "Mark Hoffman." She smiled, now she knew his name. Everything about him was so damn sexy, and yet it left her to wonder why he was there alone. He was the kind of good looking guy who could have any woman he wanted, and yet he was here. She guessed maybe they weren't all that different.

"So why are you here?" She asked, picking up the toothpick in her drink that held the olives. She put it to her mouth and pulled one of them off, chewing it slowly before taking another drag from her cigarette.

"Because of a man named Seth Baxter." Hoffman replied. The name definitely rang a bell in Leila's head. She remembered headlines from a time back, she thought that he was murdered, so why was he a problem?

"Wasn't he a victim of that Jigsaw killer?" Leila asked. She had a lot of things in her life to be ashamed about and when she thought hard enough it scared her to realize that she could very easily be a victim of Jigsaw and his weird rules about appreciating life. She most certainly didn't appreciate her life and around every corner she was just waiting to be put in a trap.

"Something like that." Hoffman replied and then motioned to the bartender.

"God, if Jigsaw knew about me, I'd be in his next trap. I swear to God." Leila said and then laughed, "Here I am drowning my sorrows, every night, boy do I appreciate life." She took another drag from her cigarette and flicked the ashes into the glass ashtray in front of her. The bartender came over with another one of whatever Hoffman was drinking and set it down. Hoffman offered him a nod and quickly picked up the drink, downing a few gulps before setting the glass back down.

"I appreciate my life considerably more now that you came into it." Hoffman replied. This caused Leila to blush, but the lighting in there was dark so she was sure he couldn't see. It was one of the most cheesy lines she had heard in a long time, but he wasn't a skeevy bar hopper trying to get laid. At least she didn't see him like that.

"Thank you. I think the feeling is mutual." Leila said and then finished her martini. She knew she was done for the night, any more and she wouldn't be able to even walk the few blocks back to her penthouse. "What do you do, Mark?"

"Detective." He said with a shrug, "You?"

"Psychiatrist for the rich." Leila said with laughter behind her voice, "I didn't start out that way, but the appeal of making more money was something I couldn't resist. See how much Jigsaw needs to get my ass?" Hoffman smiled and then chuckled a little.

"I'm sure we both are a candidate for one of his games." He replied with a nod. Leila's eyes scanned his body, he was in perfect shape. She knew that he would be able to throw her around the room and take what he wanted from her and she really liked that about a man. Hoffman downed the rest of what he had in his glass in a few big gulps.

"How about we go back to my place? The booze there is top shelf and free." Leila suggested, "I only live a few blocks away." Hoffman seemed to brighten considerably at this option.

"Let me pay my tab." He said and got up to walk over to the bar. A smile spread across Leila's face. For once she was going to take a guy home, not out of desperation, but out of a connection she had made. She was sure that this would not be a one night stand. He was smart, suave, and had a sense of humor that matched her own. She didn't know much about him, but she could save that for later. After all, he was coming home with her.

* * *

"You just didn't have to pay my tab, that's all I'm going to say." Leila laughed as she opened the door to her penthouse. She was surprised that he would do that, considering the fact that she was drinking twelve dollar martinis. The thing was, she expected to pay his tab for him. She definitely made at least twice his salary as a detective and she knew it.

"Don't worry about it." Hoffman said as he laid eyes on her suite for the first time. It opened up into a big room, there was a baby grand piano near the floor to ceiling windows in the corner. It over looked the city and it was incredibly beautiful. She lived in a very nice part of town. A few feet over, and away from the piano was a marble fireplace. It ran on gas, which Leila liked way more than just wood. Anyone who would choose to start a fire from scratch had way too much time on their hands.

In the middle of the great living room was a white sectional and an oak coffee table set in front of it. Behind that was a fully stocked bar, complete with every glass anyone could ever think of needing, to serve any drink. Leila's knowledge of mixology was small. All she ever really made for herself were cosmopolitans and martinis. She knew how to make other drinks, but rarely ever drank them herself.

"What's your poison?" She asked after locking the door. Her intent was to head over to the bar, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a passionate kiss. That was something she could totally deal with. Small talk was something she always hated and if he just wanted to get down to business then she was game. She immediately kissed him back, tossing her purse haphazardly onto the wooden oak table by the door. It landed with a clang and fell off, but she didn't care. It was time for him to take control.

As they continued kissing, he pushed her back, towards the couch. It was hard to walk in stilettos, even harder when she was drunk, and that was made much worse now that she had to walk backwards and everything was combined. She stumbled for a few steps, but his hand pressed into her lower back roughly, keeping it so she wouldn't fall. She wrapped her arms around him and kicked her shoes off, falling back onto the couch and away from him, breathing hard.

"Take me, fuck me, do whatever you want." Leila said, brushing some hair out of her face. Hoffman gave her an unbelievably sexy smirk and before she knew it, he was on top of her. She was wearing a business suit and skirt, with thigh high stockings, giving him easy access to her body. His hands flew to her blazer and quickly got it off. He had obviously done this a time or two before.

She helped him get her shirt off so she was just in her bra. He started to kiss down her neck, to her shoulder blade and down her chest. She squirmed and moaned underneath him. It would be way too hard to get her skirt off so she just pulled it up to reveal the black, lace thong she was wearing. He was still in his suit from work, and she was reminded of a song lyric from her days back in the club scene. He's as smart as a fox, someone you can't fool. He's dressed like Capone and he makes the rules...the song lyrics ran through her head. This caused her to smile.

When she opened her eyes again he had his shirt off, and her hands went to his chest, clawing at it as his hard cock entered her body. She screamed out in pleasure and wrapped her long legs around his waist. He was about six feet tall, she was guessing, but she herself was 5'9, giving her lanky, gazelle legs. As he thrust into her she moaned loudly. The only suite on this floor was hers, and since it was the top floor she really didn't have to worry about making too much noise.

She looked into his beautiful eyes and he looked down into hers. She had never felt more aroused than she did at that moment. There was something about him, his eyes, his body, his smell, his smile, something. She was quickly approaching orgasm, and that was rare for her. Usually she went through the motions of sex but hardly ever orgasmed. Now, it had been maybe two minutes and she was already there. She put her hands on his shoulders and dug her perfectly manicured nails into his skin.

"OH GOD! MARK!" She screamed and rode over the edge to orgasm. He, however, was not done. The thrusts now took on an odd sensation of pleasure and pain at the same time. She hadn't ever had multiple orgasms, but with the way he was going she certainly would. After trying to catch her breath, she looked into his eyes again. He looked down, an animalistic grin on his face, he was pumping her fast and hard.

"OH GOD! OH FUCK!" She screamed, his groans and grunts weren't very loud but every one of them was like music to her ears. The pressure inside of her was building and she clenched her legs around him even tighter, pulling him deeper inside of her. This time, they exploded together, his hot seed spilling and her walls clenching. It was the most amazing orgasm she had ever had. He let her collapse back onto the couch and she closed her eyes. The waves of pleasure still rocking her body, slowly diminishing. "Mark, that was amazing."

"It was." He replied, she could hear his labored breathing. When she opened her eyes again he was on the other part of her couch, still completely dressed in only his pants. Her eyes strayed to his chest and she felt a flush of arousal. What was wrong with her? She pushed her skirt down and sat up.

"You...wow, just wow." She said and after another moment of resting, got up and walked over to her purse. With shaky hands she opened it and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She walked back over to the couch and sat down, lighting one of them up and taking in a very pleasurable drag. She looked at him while exhaling, "Sorry, does this bother you?"

"Not at all." He replied and then got up. She was wondering if she was ever going to see him again. The thought that this might be some sort of one night stand broke her heart.

"What do you usually have for breakfast?" Leila asked hoping to draw out a response that would answer if he was staying or not. He turned his head slowly and looked at her.

"I'm sure anything you can make would be perfect." Hoffman replied and walked over to where she was sitting and took a seat next to her. She let out a nervous laugh and a hand strayed to her hair, tugging at a random strand that just wouldn't stay in place. She would see him in the morning and for that she was glad. Hopefully it would turn into more than just sex.

* * *

Over the next four days, they met at the bar every night. Always going back to her place when they were suitably drunk. They talked and talked, in fact the second night they just lay in her bed and discussed everything. Politics, morals, religion, everything. The sex was still amazing and she found that she missed him even when he just went into the kitchen to get a snack. On the morning of the fifth day, a muffin basket arrived at her front door just as she was getting ready for work. It was a thank you from a long time patient.

Hoffman and Leila enjoyed muffins and talked over coffee, before kissing goodbye and going their separate ways. It was unsaid that they were going to meet in the bar after work, but she knew that was how it would play out. Except when she got to the bar that night, he wasn't there. Knowing that he was a detective, she assumed that he just didn't have set hours, but then he would have called. The one time he was running late he had let her know. So what was with him? Was he just going to blink out of her life never to return?

As she was finishing her third, twelve dollar martini, she realized that he wasn't going to call and he wasn't going to show up. Her mind just screamed about what a prick he was. How dare he not call her? How dare he not show up? That was about the time the tears started to flow. That night she didn't get completely trashed, she just headed back home, alone. She didn't know where he was or if she would ever see him again. All she wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

The next morning she woke up to an empty bed, and one of Hoffman's ties left on a chair across from where she lay. This brought on a whole new bout of tears and she decided right then and there that she was canceling all of her appointments for the day. She had other stuff she could do around the house, and she really didn't feel like seeing anyone after what she had been through. Her heart had been thoroughly shredded.

With breakfast she had a mimosa, thinking that it would help her relax. As she was finishing another muffin from the gift basket her phone started to ring. She looked down at it and Mark's name came up. At that point she couldn't have been more happy. She quickly pressed the "send" button, and placed the phone to her ear. "Mark, oh God I thought I'd never hear from you again!"

"Leila," he replied and then there was a sigh, "I guess I owe you an explanation."

"You're damn right you do." She replied, sniffing back a few happy tears. She didn't want him to know how incredibly happy she was to hear from him again. One person always had to have the upper hand in the relationship and she wanted to be that person. "Where were you?"

"I met a man, who I think you should meet." Hoffman said, "I had a lot of thinking to do last night and meeting you slipped my mind."

"It's okay, I didn't even go to the bar last night. I was working on an article." She lied casually, not knowing if he could hear the tremble in her voice. "Who is this mystery man who changed your life over night?"

"A man named John Kramer."

Author's note: See, this story will progress into the Saw universe, I just had to start it at a place where it would make sense to bring a woman into Hoffman's life. I still doubt anyone is reading this but whatever. If I get a review I'll continue. Hope to hear something soon!