Just something I thought up when I wondered what it would be like for Lawrence and Jigsaw to talk about his experience in the bathroom and the aftermath.
As with everything I write about Saw, I don't own anything that is not of my own creation.
All reviews/comments/critiques are welcome. Only one request though - please don't rip on me for writing so much about Saw!
The Seeds I Sow
John lay in the hard bed waiting for the doctor to come in. The weekly checkup had become dreadfully monotonous. There was never any good news, no reason to keep returning. Sometimes he was told his declining health had plateaued, yet still the clock kept ticking, the deterioration inevitable.
Either way, he was no longer depressed by the knowledge that his body was filled with an invasive, unwelcome monster that was slowly eating away at him from the inside out, stealing the life he so desperately wanted and cherished.
It hadn't always been this way. There was a time when he had been as angry and as shortsighted as those he placed in his games. After all, that was how they treated life, as a game. Isn't that what a parent does when trying to teach a child a new concept? "Let's play a little game," they would say. One had to speak their language to impart the message clearly and effectively.
He remembers the feeling of invincibility that came with youth. The freedom from concern that came with indifference. He remembers the boredom of complacency, and the panic when he felt the presence of the proverbial clock looming over his head for the first time. That's why time was always a factor. The games had to be completed by a certain time. Choices can't be mulled over indefinitely. Wait too long and life is over. The only time is now. The choices: live or die.
Eventually, everyone's time runs out.
He wished he could be like everyone else, blissfully ignorant of the knowledge of when the clock would run out. Sometimes he dwelled on such thoughts in self-pity. But there wasn't time for that. There would never be enough time for such frivolousness. He had to see his fate, his death sentence, as a gift. He would die trying to open the eyes of the blind and the ignorant to the precious gift they have, but aren't even aware of.
Pain had become as certain as the setting sun, but he knew that he couldn't let his pain interfere with his purpose. The soul is stronger than the flesh. The end will justify the means.
Dr. Gordon appeared in the doorway and interrupted John's thoughts. The fact that he now walked with a limp wasn't lost on him.
"Hello, John. Good to see you."
"Hello, Dr. Gordon," he replied.
"How are you feeling today?" John had been asked that question before, and this time, Dr. Gordon had asked not from routine, but genuine compassion.
"Same as always. How about you?" John asked.
Lawrence knew what he was referring to. Everyone in the city, if not the state, knew what he had been through. "I'm doing much better now. A lot of changes, you know."
John smiled. He hadn't seen Lawrence for nearly five months, as he had only returned to work a few days earlier.
"I read about it in the paper, and I saw a couple of your interviews with Adam," John said. "Is it true that you were approached by Hollywood producers to turn your experience into a film?"
"Yeah, can you believe the nerve of some people? The media had a field day with it."
John chuckled. "They sure did, but don't you think that there was as much interest in your ordeal as there was in what happened afterwards?"
Lawrence nodded, knowing he was referring to his relationship with Adam. "Yes, but that doesn't really matter. Life's too short to worry about what anyone else thinks about the choices I make."
John eyed Lawrence curiously. "I can see that this experience has changed you," he commented.
"It has, and as crazy as it sounds, I'm actually glad it happened.
John's eyes widened with surprise. "You are?"
"Of course," Lawrence said confidently. "It forced me to stop and completely re-evaluate my life. It's scary to know that you're trapped, knowing that the end is coming."
John nodded and sat in silence for a moment, knowing exactly what it felt like. He had been so angry at Lawrence's indifference when he had told him that he was dying from a particularly virulent strain of cancer, and that there was nothing he could do but try to make his last days as comfortable as possible. He wanted him to know what it felt like to struggle for his life, to feel utterly helpless and powerless in the face of death.
"Are you happy with Adam?" John asked.
Lawrence smiled at the mention of his name. "More than I have ever been in my life. All words fall short of describing how I feel for him." John smiled when he saw the twinkle in Lawrence's eyes and the glow he radiated as he spoke.
His choice of words was of particular interest to John. He had never intended for Adam and Lawrence to fall in love as a result of their experience. The thought had never occurred to him. It was a twist of fate that had required John's hand to be fulfilled.
"So, this Jigsaw fellow's 'game' served its purpose then," John said.
"Yes, it certainly did," Lawrence said. "If our paths were to cross today, I would stop him and thank him for waking me up."
John's heart filled with joy at Lawrence's words, and even though he wasn't aware of their irony, John silently accepted his gratitude.
John shook Lawrence's hand after the checkup was complete. "Thanks, Doctor. It's good to see you back. And good luck to you and Adam."
"Thank you, John. It's good to be back. Take care, and I'll see you next week."
John ambled out of the room and out of the hospital. The sun hit his face as he walked into the parking lot. It was a feeling he relished, and he basked in the warmth as though feeling it for the first time. It's how he reacted to everything these days.
He had been waiting to talk to Lawrence for months. He wanted to speak to him one on one; hear him talk about his experience and how it affected him.
Of course, he had never intended to tell Lawrence that it was he who had found him unconscious and bleeding profusely. Lawrence would never know that it was he who had summoned the paramedics. It was he who had removed his shirt and tied it around his severed limp in a makeshift tourniquet. It was he who had orchestrated the entire thing, from conception to completion.
No, Lawrence would never know that it was one of his own patients, John Kramer, who was the one behind it all. He had never been one to take credit for his work, and he wasn't in this for the recognition.
He began to cough. A stabbing pain ripped through his chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He inhaled sharply, and after a few moments, he regained control.
Yes, he had learned long ago that life was worth the pain. Every breath was worth its weight in gold. And, because of him, it was a truth Lawrence finally understood as well.