Injury

disclaimer : I own nothing, that goes to our dear Leigh, James and Darren

foreword :

I know I'm not the only one who thought that John and Amanda were actually lovers. In fact, I'm sure that was the original plan, but Bousman and Wan figured that no one wants to see a love affair between two sadists and that they should tie it in with the whole good parenting theme (that Jigsaw was trying to say he was a better father than Matthews). Anyway, if they had been lovers, here's their story.

Review if you'd like. Tell me if it's good. Tell me if it's crap. There are some issues I see with it myself, but I'll take other people's word first.

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"What did you feel?"

His voice startled her. It was a sudden intrusion in her thoughts, and as much as she adored him, she hated when he did that.

"I felt...alive." Amanda looked up at him. His mouth was a thin line, but he nodded.

"Anything else?"

Amanda's mind fluttered back to that fateful day. What had she felt? Panic. Confusion. Anger.

"Sure, lot's of stuff."

John scoffed, "That's it?"

She hated how he prodded her, made her relive painful moments all the time.

"That's all I want to talk about right now." She turned her body away from him again, seeking refuge from his questioning.

His hand moved to stroke his goatee, thinking to himself, "Tell me about prison."

Well, that was a new one. He never asked her about prison before. "It was dirty, and cold, and lonely." she said flatly, "And that's all there is to that."

One of his spiteful smirks graced his lips now, "Somehow I doubt that's it."

Amanda's brow raised, "I guess it wasn't." She should've known he'd see through that, "At least the heroin was nice."

"Why the heroin?"

"Nothing better to do." Amanda wrapped her arms around her waist, "Sitting in a 9 by 9 cell all day isn't exactly stimulating. All you've got is your mind, and some dirty bitches in the bunk next to you. You think of all the time you're wasting and it just gets to you. At least when you're high, you don't think about that. You don't feel that gaping hole in your heart. Even only a few moments of that sweet coma, something seems right."

John could feel he was breaking through, finally reaching something that Amanda needed to open up to.

"Tell me about what you missed when you were in prison."

"What I missed? Everything. Being able to go out with my friends, a night on the town, being dumb girls like we were. I don't have those friends anymore, you know? I went to jail, they got married and don't have the need to live like that now. They didn't understand what it was like to go to jail. You know what else I missed? My boyfriend. I missed waking up and being able to talk to him, everything we did together. He left me. My sister, she was fourteen when I was arrested. She's nineteen now. We used to be best friends. I don't even know her anymore." Amanda fought the tears welling behind her eyes. "Why? You know? Why did this happen to me?" her head sunk slowly into her hands, yet she forced the tears not to come.

Now was the time. Amanda needed release. She wasn't going to grant it to herself. John had to up it a notch.

"What about Jennifer?"

In one swift movement Amanda turned back to him, her eyes wide and jaw dropped, "How in the fuck do you know about Jennifer?"

"I read your diary." The smirk on John's face was gone, replaced with sympathy, "Must have been humiliating."

A rage burnt in her, "Humiliating?" she said now through gritted teeth, "Oh, you can't even imagine!" she shouted now.

This was good. It was the emotion John needed to get out of her.

"Jennifer...So, she made you perform sex acts for a fix?" he said plainly, "Beat you, kept you away from other inmates? Stole your food?"

"YES!" Amanda shouted with force, "Yes, alright! Yes! She was a fucking dyke, a fucking whore, useless!" the blood rushed to Amanda's face, "Her only pleasure was from other's misfortune! Every time I shot up or was beaten, or even cried, she got some sick fucking high from that. Of all people in the world, I despise her most! She fucking violated me, John! She violated me!"

Amanda clenched her fists, ready to pound them on something, "All I felt in that place was hurting, every second, every moment, just pain... Make it stop, please make it stop..."

Her balled fists started pounding against her head, "I don't want to feel this way forever!"

"Amanda, stay with me - that hurt, feel it - you need to feel it. Hurt, as painful as it is, makes you feel alive..."

With a thud she fell to the ground. John gasped, afraid that he had pushed it to far. Amanda was slurring, but her hands moved to the area near her mouth. She was moaning.

John could barely hear the inaudible words, Amanda kept repeating them, clawing at her face,

"Get it off..."

John got down next to her, "Amanda?"

"I..I'm hurting," she sobbed, pulling at invisible metal trap around her mouth, "Everything hurts..."

"Shh..." he tried to soothe her, running a hand in her hair.

"You hurt me John...please don't hurt me any more..." her face was soon buried in her hands, her hair sticking to her wet mouth and eyes.

His arms moved around her, pulling her firmly to him. His thin lips met the top of her head. Amanda whimpered a bit, seeking out his embrace like a child. She found her cheek pressed against his hard chest, the tears suddenly stopped.

"Shh..be quiet." he said above her. She looked up to gaze into his eyes which were just as red as her's. No words were spoken between the two, just a deep stare.

"I'm sorry." Amanda finally said, laying her head back onto him.

"For what?"

"For breaking down."

She heard him chuckle, "Don't be."

He strained hard but managed to pick her up, and that was quite a feat for him. Instead of bringing her to the couch she usually slept on, he carried her to his bed. Gently as he could he laid her down, "Go to sleep, I'll just be in the next room."

John was about to hobble away when Amanda called, "John! Don't. Come to sleep with me..."

He thought to himself. He had a lot of work to do, his design for the blue print of the house was almost complete. There was no time for sleeping. Amanda laid huddled in the bed, her hair askew and eye makeup dripping down her face.

"I just want to finish the blue print, that's all."

"How long will you be?"

"Oh, not too long. A few hours, I suppose."

Amanda nodded, "Fine.", she pulled a thin sheet up around herself.

John shrugged and left, heading over to his drawing board. Amanda was making progress. She just needed to go through the final phase - just one more time, one more game, and she would complete her apprenticeship.

It was perhaps a half hour later. John had just finished the final draft of the razor box. How lovely the consequences of it could be. Either way, someone's blood would soak the glass, although he hoped they might live. The trick to pulling one's hand out is to twisting it slightly and pulling them out one by one. He would make sure to make that clear in the directions, since most people would probably only slice their wrists more.

He heard his name called, drawn out long and lazily, like a child calling their parent, "John..."

John sighed and stood from his seat at the desk, momentarily putting the draft in a folder. It wasn't that he didn't want to be at Amanda's beck and call, he loved it. The problem was that she was so high maintainence, and clingy, and he was just too busy or tired to be there all the time. What about a time when he wouldn't be there anymore? He didn't want to think about it, not tonight.

Hobbling into the room he saw Amanda laying there, her arms over her head, her eyes closed.

"Please come to bed." she murmured.

How could he deny her?

He shrugged off his robe and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Amanda rolled over a bit so he could fit in, since he was quite tall he had to curve his body around her's.

"That's better," she smiled at him, her eyes still half closed and groggy.

"Surely." he responded, facing her so that his breath touched her lips.

Amanda ran a hand nonchalantly through her hair, trying to wake herself up.

"Have you ever been in love, John?"

He arched his brow, "What does it matter?"

"I just want to know."

"Once," he said, unable to lie, "She left me."

Amanda suddenly sat up, looking into his eyes, "But why?"

John shook his head, "I wouldn't marry her. It was stupid."

They shared a glance for a few moments, Amanda's hands finding their way to caress his shaved head, "Why would she give up you?"

At that, John laughed, loudly in fact. "Ah, because I'm an old goat, that's why!"

Amanda, on the other hand, didn't laugh. There was a serious look in her eyes and John wondered for a second if he had offended her.

"John, don't you love me?"

"Uh," he hesitated, what could he tell her? "Of course I do, Amanda. You're like my daughter."

"Oh." she seemed dejected, "Your daughter?"

"Well, yeah, I mean...isn't that how I should feel for you?"

"I've never seen you as a father."

"Oh really? Then what, an uncle? A billy goat?" John chuckled again, but was caught off guard as she began to pull at his shirt.

"As a lover."

John gasped as she touched the deep scar where he had been impaled by metal from his crash. Her fingers treaded over the still healing wound as she lifted the shirt off of him. She caressed another scar from a bullet shot at him by Detective Sing, it went right through his shoulder.

For once, John felt utterly vulnerable, sitting there with his body and scars exposed to her. His eyes widened as she took off her own shirt, but didn't get much of a glimpse because soon she was busy kissing his scars.

"..Amanda, stop, this is wrong!" he found the words to say, although her mouth on his heated flesh excited him to no end.

"Why is it wrong?" Amanda almost whimpered like a puppy that had just been rejected, "If I want it, and you want it, then it's fine."

"No, Amanda, I'm your teacher. I could be your father.." John couldn't finish those last words. He was a dying man. He needed love for these last few months. Deep in his soul he knew he loved Amanda endlessly, more than he thought possible to care for another human being.

Amanda placed a loving hand on his chest.

"I love you," she whispered to him, a hand caressing his goatee.

"I love you, too, Amanda," he said, his voice shaky, not sure if he was certain about it.

She kissed him then, gently, moving her body slowly against him. His older and now ill ravaged frame could've broke down at her gestures, but instead it built him up. It gave his body meaning, and he felt like himself again for the first time in a long time.

In his bed they made love until they both collapsed from exhaustion, and John hadn't felt as happy and releived in many months. The ailments of his fading lungs didn't matter as he stared into the sweet, ecstasy ridden face of his lover. They led each other in their intricate dance but it was over all too soon for both.

She laid with her head upon his chest, feeling his heart which beat slowly, feeling his desperate lungs expanding. He sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly extremely spent from their love making. But god what wonders it had done for him.

"So what is is like, fucking an old dying man?" he asked, his fingers tracing her jawline.

"Perfect." her breath tingled his chest, her fingers such sweet torture as they ran down his skin.

They soon both fell into a deep sleep, their dreams tainted with love and passion and the flow of ecstasy, but then the screams of their victims, the blood that flowed from the inflicted wounds. How bittersweet life is.