Leigh Whannell couldn't believe it

Leigh Whannell couldn't believe it. How could this happen?

Two weeks before Saw 6 was due to start shooting, and they were out a director.

Darren Bousman, director of Saw 2, Saw 3, and Saw 4, called Leigh's Australia apartment and told him that he wasn't going to be able to do it. He said "family problems" and refused to go into details.

He had hung up before Leigh could talk him out of it.

Leigh sighed. People were counting on seeing the sixth Saw. What were he and James going to do? Postpone filming for a few months while they looked for someone else? He knew that James's MySpace inbox was flooded with messages from fans about the new film. There was going to be hell to pay if Saw fans had to wait to see this new flick.

Suddenly, a thought struck Leigh, a solution to their problem that was so obvious that he felt like an idiot for not realizing it before: James should shoot this movie. He was a wonderful director, and his visions and ideas were incredible.

One thing was for certain: fans would be ecstatic. James had only directed the first Saw, and that first movie had been so much more successful than the others had been. Leigh knew that James was one of the reasons that the series had become so popular.

The only problem is, would James want to do it? He was planning other movies, some with Leigh's writing skills, some on his own.

Not to mention, James had been under a lot of stress lately, what with all the publicity with announcing that a sixth Saw was in the works. Not only that, but also with having to deal with the seventeenth anniversary of his dad's death. Not surprisingly, the time of year during which his father died always put a damper on James's usually sweet nature.

Lately, though, it seemed that the stress was becoming harder to deal with that usual. James was constantly on edge and tended to snap and lash out at almost everyone, especially, for some reason, Leigh.

Leigh was worried about his friend, but tried not to show it too often. James was a strong person who could take care of himself.

Just then, James walked through the door, coming back from his mom's.

"Hey," he said in his twang-y Aussie accent.

"Hey," Leigh said. "How's your mum?"

"Fine," James said. "She's a little pissed we're leaving next week, but she'll be all right."

James gave him a tired smile. Leigh studied his friend: jet-black hair dyed red, punk-style, at the bangs, almond-shaped eyes, skinny body, small build. He had known James Wan for ten years, and he'd never seen him look so beat. He felt awful for him.

"You OK?" Leigh asked.

"I'm fine," James said. "Just beat." He sighed and looked at his laptop, and then his watch. It was about nine p.m. "I'm gonna hit MySpace and then the bed."

"So I'm guessing you won't want to decide something tonight?"

"Whaddaya mean, Leigh?" James asked.

"Darren called," Leigh said. "He can't make the movie. Something came up, and he's taking the year off."

"So?"

"Do you wanna direct the movie?" Leigh asked bluntly.

"Me?" James asked. "Man, Leigh, I dunno……"

"Come on," Leigh said. "The fans would love to see you direct a Saw flick again. You know they would."

"Bull. They only see the movies because they remember you," James said. "How many people watch a movie for the director?" James grinned, showing he was teasing.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Why the hell not?" James said, shrugging. "Could be fun."

"Great," Leigh said, smiling at his friend. "Now we won't get lynch-mobbed by the company or the fans."

James smiled tiredly at him. Leigh picked up the phone and phoned Lions Gate to tell them about the change of directors. James, rubbing his eyes, sat on the couch and booted up his laptop. He connected to the 'Net and clicked into his MySpace account.

Good lord, he had about a thousand new messages, pretty much all of them from fans. Most of them seemed to be from horny teenage girls wanting to know how to get in touch with Leigh. He didn't bother answering them. Leigh had been kind enough to put his email address on James's MySpace page for all fans to see. It was on there in clear, plain sight.

He answered those he felt up to answering that night. Many of them were actually for Leigh, or at least referenced him in some way.

James was used to this by now. Ever since the first Saw came out, eighty percent of their fans had been mad for Leigh, remembering him as Adam Faulkner, the doomed photographer. Ever since then, he'd seen more sites for Adam and Leigh than he could count.

Forty-five minutes later, James told Leigh "good-night" and went up to his room. Opening the door, the first thing he noticed was Billy, the dummy he had made himself that had been used in all four Saw movies, sitting on a shelf beside the bed. The doll stared at its creator with blank black eyes.

Next to Billy was a framed photograph. James picked it up and smiled at the snapshot of his family. God, he looked young in this. He had been what, twelve or thirteen, maybe fourteen?

James smiled at the man in the shot: one arm around his wife, the other around his son, he grinned at the camera.

Miss ya, Dad, James thought sadly.

James had been just a teen when his dad died. It had devastated his mom, and James still found it hard to talk about him, even after seventeen years. Even Leigh, his best friend, didn't press the subject.

James often wondered what his dad would think of his son's career. Obviously, he'd be proud, but, like James's mother, would hate the fact that James lived in LA with Leigh so much of the time.

This made him think of what his mom would say when she found out he would be taking over directing for Darren. James knew that his mom supported his career wholeheartedly, but the months of separation were hard on her because he was really all she had.

Tiredly, James stripped out of his clothes and got into bed.

God, he was beat. The combined stress of moviemaking, worrying about his mom, mourning his dad, not to mention a million other things that he couldn't put into words was starting to take a toll on his body, mind, and personality, not to mention his friendship with Leigh and his relationship with his family.

He wasn't so sure he was up to making another movie right now. He considered telling Leigh to find someone else, to count him out just this once.

It was possible, wasn't it? He could take a year off, live in Melbourne near his mom, just clear his head and work through his problems. He could come back next year and be himself again.

No, it wasn't possible. Saw was a commitment he couldn't back out of for anyone or anything, not two weeks before it was due to start filming. He and Leigh were in this together. They had been from the beginning.

He'd have to muddle through as best he could and hope for some time off after it was released. That was the best he could do for now.

The plane ride to L.A. came too soon for James's liking.

One minute he was dozing in his and Leigh's apartment, the next minute he was sitting on a plane next to Leigh.

They had barely made the flight.

James had fallen asleep on the couch, and it had taken Leigh a good ten minutes to wake him up. By the time they'd left the apartment and said quick goodbyes to their families, they'd had thirty minutes to drive to the airport, sprint through the terminal, and get on the plane.

That had drained James, and he was now resting his head on the headrest of his seat, his eyes closed.

He forced his eyes open and looked down at the papers in his lap.

Everything from trap designs to the cast list was on these papers. James picked up the paper containing the cast list and looked down at it.

Through his fatigue, he couldn't help be impressed with the cast Leigh and Lions Gate had put together.

Paris Hilton was among them. It was noted on the paper that her character was written to die in the movie.

"James?"

"Hmm?" James looked up at Leigh.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, why?" James asked, a bit of an edge to his voice.

"I dunno," Leigh said, frowning. He scrutinized his friend carefully. "Maybe it's because you look like you're about to drop."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," James snapped. He wasn't in the mood for Leigh's sarcasm. "If you hadn't woken me up this morning, I would be fine."

Leigh didn't say anything. He just frowned.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Leigh said. "Maybe you should head back home when we get to L.A. We can get a different director. It'll be a stretch, but if I make a few phone calls, I can get someone."

"No, I'm sorry," James shook his head. "I'll be all right when get there. I just need some sleep. Besides, it's too late to get anyone else."
Leigh still looked doubtful.

"Leigh, trust me, I'm fine," James insisted.

Biting his lip, Leigh turned back to his laptop.

James looked out the window and watched Australia disappear as the plane flew farther and farther over the Pacific Ocean.

He appreciated Leigh's concern for him.

But how could he tell his best friend that he was part of the problem?

Sixteen hours later, the plane bumped into L.A.'s airport.

"Smooth," Leigh muttered as the plane violently vibrated.

James and Leigh were jostled and shoved as they departed from the plane.

James scowled. People sure were in a hurry these days.

"Hey, babe!"

Coming into the terminal, James and Leigh looked up. Leigh grinned as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman came bouncing over to them.

Leigh's girlfriend.

Nicole threw her arms around Leigh and kissed him. Leigh responded, lifting her off her feet.

James looked away, trying to seem casual. He couldn't stand it when Leigh and Nicole got all snuggly in public.

He admitted it: He was jealous.

The only woman in James's life was his mother.

It'd been awhile since he'd had a girlfriend of his own.

He knew that plenty of people, mostly people who were anti-Saw, thought he was gay, because of his sunny disposition.

James had always laughed the rumors off.

He let people think what they wanted to.

Those who knew him knew that the rumors weren't true.

"Hey, Jim," Nicole said, after she broke away from Leigh.

"Hey," James said.

"You OK?" Nicole asked. James looked down and watched as Nicole's hand snaked into Leigh's.

"I'm fine," James said. "Just tired. Jet lag."

I'm gonna kill the next person who makes me say that, James thought.

"Let's go," Leigh said.

They left the terminal and headed for Nicole's car. James slid into the back seat, Leigh in front, Nicole behind the wheel.

First stop was the local kennel to pick up Dylan, James's little white terrier.

Whenever James went home to Australia, Dylan stayed behind in L.A.

James's mother was allergic and the apartment he shared with Leigh in Melbourne didn't take dogs.

A mutual friend of James and Leigh's usually looked after Dylan while the guys were in Australia, but was currently out of town himself, and had put Dylan in the kennel after finding out no one else was available to care for the little dog.

"Hey, bud," James said, after taking Dylan in his arms. "How you been?"

The terrier gave James a lick on the cheek, and James smiled for the first time in days.

There was nothing like puppy love.

With Dylan secure in a pet carrier, James went out to the car and tried to open the door.

It was locked.

Frowning, he tapped on Leigh's window. The reflection of the building behind the car made it impossible to see inside.

The window rolled down, and James saw that he had interrupted Leigh and Nicole. Leigh had lipstick on his mouth.

"Sorry, man," Leigh said. "Can't be too careful in L.A. Besides, we got kinda sidetracked."
James heard a click and the door unlocked. He opened the door and slid into the car. He set

Dylan's carrier next to him.

"Hey, pooch," Leigh said. He poked a finger into the carrier. Dylan sniffed it, curled up, and went to sleep.

Lucky dog, James thought.

At last, at long last, they reached the apartment.

Home sweet home.

James opened the car door, grabbed Dylan's carrier and his suitcase, and got out.

He was two feet from the front door when Leigh called him back.

"Don't get too comfortable," Leigh said. "We'll drop our shit and Dylan off, but then we have to head over to the set."

James barely heard him. He opened the door and went up to the apartment.

Once he got into the apartment, he let Dylan out of the carrier. The little dog walked out of the carrier and began to sniff around, getting reacquainted with his home.

James went to his bedroom. He set his suitcase on the floor and sat down on the bed, looking around.

"Fuck it," James said out loud. He lay down on the bed, resting his head against the cool white pillow.

It was a big mistake.

Immediately, James felt his eyes droop.

He was asleep in two seconds.

"James?" Leigh called, coming into the apartment.

Leigh had left the car two minutes after James had.

When he got up to the apartment, he had set his stuff in his room and had gone back down to the car. He and Nicole had waited for James for about ten minutes.

James hadn't come down. At Nicole's urging, Leigh had gone upstairs to get him.

Slightly irritated, Leigh wondered how long it could take a guy to use the bathroom.

Leigh went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"James?"

No answer. Leigh opened the door and found the bathroom to be empty.

Leigh felt something brush past his ankle. He looked down in time to see Dylan streak into James's room. Leigh followed him.

He opened the door to the bedroom, and saw Dylan hopping onto it.

James was fast asleep on the bed.

Leigh's irritation vanished.

Poor guy.

He gave his friend an affectionate smile and covered him with a blanket.

He left the room, gently closing the door. Reaching the kitchen, he scrawled a note to James and went back down to the car.

He and Nicole could go to the set by themselves. James could be filled in on everything tomorrow.

He just didn't have the heart to wake the poor guy up.

Five hours later, James woke up. A blanket had been put over him.

The room was dark.

He heard the TV going in the living room.

Dylan was curled into a ball at his feet.

Smiling, James sat up and reached out to scratch Dylan's ears.

Pushing back the blanket, James got off the bed and out of the room. Rubbing his eyes, he went into the living room.

Leigh sat on the couch, dressed in a white T-shirt and boxers, watching TV. He looked up and grinned when he saw James.

"Greetings," he said cheerfully. "Feel better?"

"A little," James said, yawning. "I'm really sorry I didn't go to the set."

"Don't worry about it," Leigh said. "You'll get caught up tomorrow. Oh, quick thing: one of the actresses backed out. The one who's wearing the Reverse Bear Trap."

"OK…." James said, wondering where Leigh was going with this. "So what?"

"Nick's volunteered to fill in," Leigh said.

James rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Leigh frowned.

"This may be presumptuous," Leigh said. "But do you not like Nicole?"

"No, I do," James said. "She's just a little…well, too much sometimes."

Leigh gave him a look that said he understood what James meant. James sat down next to Leigh, rested his head against the sofa and closed his eyes.

"Damn, I'm bushed," James said.

"Go back to bed," Leigh suggested.

"Might as well," James said. He looked at Leigh. "Couldja take Dylan out before you go to bed?"

"No problem," Leigh said. "I'm heading to bed soon myself."

"Thanks," James said tiredly. "G'night."

"'Night,"

Leigh grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder. James smiled at him, got up, and went to his room.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, James woke up to find Dylan curled into a warm fluffy ball at the crook of his knees. James smiled and got out of bed, trying his best not to disturb Dylan.

For the first time in awhile, James felt more like himself. He wasn't totally sure why, but guessed it was either because he finally got a decent amount of sleep or because in just a few hours he would be doing what he did best.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he pulled a comb through his black, somewhat unruly hair. He then dressed carefully and went into the kitchen.

Leigh wasn't up yet. James shrugged to himself and got himself breakfast. He sat down and began to look through those papers that had been in his lap on the plane.

Soon he came across a list of the traps that were going to be in the movie.

He grinned as he read descriptions of them. Dammit, Leigh was a genius.

Just then, the said Aussie came into the kitchen, wearing the T-shirt and boxers James had seen him in the night before. His brown hair, as unruly as James's own hair, was all over the place, and his gray eyes were puffy from sleep.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," James said, grinning. Leigh stared at him.

"You're perky," Leigh said. He helped himself to the pot of coffee James had made.

"Ah, I'm just looking forward to getting to the set," James said. "Not to mention, I just feel better."

"Well, Perky James beats Gloomy James," Leigh said, grinning. He opened a cupboard and pulled down a box of cereal.

Just then, the phone rang. Being closer, Leigh beat James to it.

"Hello?" Leigh said. "Hey…um, yeah, she's supposed to be there about eight o' clock today, so in about an hour…yeah….yeah…oh, that sucks…so how's she gonna get there?"

James watched his friend frown. Leigh glanced at the clock above James's head.

"Man, I dunno…James and I are gonna leave for the set in a couple of minutes, got some stuff to do…it'd be cutting kinda close…well, I guess we can do that…yeah, tell her we'll be there…Bye."

Leigh hung up the phone. He bit his lip.

"Wrong number?" James asked.

"You're not gonna like this," Leigh said

"What?"

"We have to leave, like, in ten minutes."

"Why?"

"That was Paris's limo driver," Leigh said. "Apparently, the limo broke down and Paris needs a ride to the set."

"Can't she walk there?" James asked. "I mean, she doesn't live that far from it."

"That would the case, but apparently, she and Tinkerbell at an appointment that they simply had to be at," Leigh said. He snorted. "A manicure appointment."

James quirked an eyebrow. "She's getting a manicure? On the day she's beginning filming on a horror movie? And who's Tinkerbell?"

"Her chihuahua," Leigh said. "Anyway, she wants us to pick her up once she gets out of it. At eight."

"But we're supposed to be at the set by then. We can't do it."

"I know."

"Then why'd you say we would?" James asked. He could feel that familiar, irritated feeling coming back.

Leigh frowned. It was clear he hadn't thought this through.

"God damn it," James said.

Good feeling gone, he thought miserably.

Later, just before eight, James drove up in front of a hair salon.

Ms. Hilton was nowhere to be seen. From the front seat, Leigh peered through the car window and into the salon.

"She's still inside," Leigh said. "She's on a cell phone."

James closed his eyes in irritation.

This chick has no consideration for anyone or anything.

Leigh had to phone the set to let them know that they, the writer and the director, were going to be late. Just peachy.

"Hey, here she comes," Leigh said.

Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Paris Hilton, dressed in a gaudy pink dress and wearing a smug, arrogant smile, came striding out onto the street. She carried a pink handbag, in which a chihauhau tinier than Dylan poked its little head out.

Leigh jumped out of the car.

"Hi, Paris," Leigh said holding out a hand. "I'm Leigh, we met yesterday?"
"Yeah," Paris said absently. Rather than taking his hand, she pulled off her bag and gave it to Leigh. "You're the Australian guy."

"Well, yeah," Leigh said.

He opened the front seat door for her.

"I don't think you've met our director, James Wan?" Leigh said.

Upon seeing James, Paris did a double take and took two steps backward.

"Is something wrong?" Leigh asked.

"Um…you didn't say the director's…um, Chinese," Paris said, glaring at Leigh as though he'd made James Asian to personally insult her.

James cocked an eyebrow.

"Actually, Miss Hilton, I'm Malaysian," he said. "There's a difference."

"Oh, he has an accent, too!" Paris said. "But it's not Chinese."

"Actually, I'm from Australia," James said, liking this girl less with every word she said.

"Whatever," Paris said.

"Well, get in, we gotta go," James said, looking at his watch.

"Oh, are you driving?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah…" James said.

Why else would I be behind the wheel, you dumb broad?

"Are we really going to trust him to drive?" Paris asked Leigh in a whisper. "I mean, he's Asian,"

"So?" James asked, his temper rising close to the surface.

Note: The above scene with Paris is purely fictional. As far as I know, Paris is not phobic towards Asians or any other race. I'm not either. Paris Hilton just strikes me as the person dumb enough to say stuff like those things above.