(Althought highly unlikely) Adam pays a visit to Jigsaw's lair to thank him for changing his life.

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Date With a Madman

It had taken him months to track him down, but he had finally found him.

He hadn't told Lawrence about the search he had been conducting in his spare time. This was something he wanted to do on his own. His reasons weren't clear, even to him.

But now, he had the information he needed, an address given to him by an anonymous man who had investigated the death of Detective Steven Sing nearly a year earlier.

213 Stygian Street.

He had never heard of the place, and had no idea where to begin looking for it. He studied the city map and found it about thirty miles outside of town in the abandoned industrial district.

Lawrence had been called into the hospital for an emergency, and it was then that Adam decided to act on his plan.

He was unsure what would happen that night, and had made a point to hold Lawrence a moment longer than usual as they said goodbye. He lingered over their kiss, savouring the sweetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue.

There was no going back now.

Adam pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse; his heart was beating so fast that it was more of a hum than rhythmic beating. His mouth was dry and his hands were clammy.

He scanned the area, and even in the obscurity of the night, he knew there wasn't a single person for a least a mile.

Except Jigsaw.

He turned to the building that loomed before him. All the windows were black, but he knew Jigsaw was inside.

How he wished he could have called in advance, and have some clue of what to expect. Maybe then, this wouldn't have been so terrifying. But he doubted there was a phone in such a place.

The gravel crunched loudly beneath his feet as he approached the only door in sight.

It opened effortlessly, almost too easily. Would some trap be set to ensnare him, designed to keep unwanted visitors at bay?

A set of stairs loomed before him, illuminated only by small lights secured to the walls. His footsteps echoed loudly. Surely Jigsaw would hear him coming.

Would he be receptive to Adam? Would he be glad to see him? Would he listen to what he had to say?

At the top of the stairway was an open space filled with computer equipment. The doll he had once found in his apartment and beaten with a bat sat atop a desk, staring blankly, yet menacingly, into nothing.

Graffiti graced the walls. The K2K logo comprised a mural along the back wall, and Adam remembered a newscast he had watched in the past.

He noticed another room to his left. It was divided off from the computer area by a cage-like wall, and the door was locked.

Adam peered through the cage and scanned the room beyond it.

"Hello?" he shouted nervously.

The only reply was the echo of his own voice.

A burst of fear exploded in his chest when he heard footsteps. He couldn't see anyone, but he recoiled from the door. What the fuck was I thinking? He scolded himself. Adam's breathing came in short bursts, and his pulse thundered in his ears.

From around the corner, a figure appeared, dressed in a black cloak, his face concealed in the shadows of his hood.

"Who is it?" rasped the familiar voice.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Adam Faulkner," he said, unable to conceal the tremble in his voice.

"Ah, Adam," he said in recognition. "Come to shoot me, have you?"

Adam remembered the moment from so long ago, when he had attempted to shoot him. "No, that's not why I'm here."

Jigsaw remained still behind the door and made no move to unlock it.

"What do you want then?" he asked coldly, yet curiously.

"I want to talk to you."

Adam's words surprised Jigsaw. He studied Adam for a moment, and finally reached out to remove the lock from the door between them.

The door swung open with a rusty squeal and Jigsaw turned his back to Adam. "Follow me."

Adam followed suit and he gazed around the workshop. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dozens of prototypes. Hundreds of mannequins missing limps that had been tested in various contraptions. Blueprints. Notebooks. Textbooks. His heart stopped when he saw three small dolls in a small box that looked exactly like the room he had been trapped in.

Jigsaw sat behind a desk lined with papers and sketches. He slowly removed his hood. Adam gasped as he saw the face he had, at one time, believed would be the last face he would ever see. The only difference is that now, he had white tufts of hair.

"Please sit down," Jigsaw said, motioning to the chair.

Adam obliged, and Jigsaw coughed.

"Now tell me, Adam, what brings you here?"

Adam's mind went blank as the realization of where he was settled upon him. This is fuckin' insane, he thought.

"I wanted to find you, to thank you," he blurted out.

"For what?" Jigsaw asked curiously.

"For waking me up. For putting an end to my foolish ways. For showing me that life is a wonderful and precious thing."

Jigsaw smiled and said, "I live by one motto – those who don't appreciate life do not deserve life."

Adam sat in silence, contemplating the old man's words.

"You know, Adam, I would have let you go had you not made one fatal error. After all, you stayed alive until six o'clock."

Adam furrowed his brow. "What mistake was that? Trying to shoot you?" he offered, suddenly feeling like a student on college again.

"No, no," Jigsaw said dismissively as he folded his hands on the desk, his expression solemn, looking like an old and wise teacher. "I am a cancer patient, Adam," he sighed heavily. "The disease is eating me alive. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To know that your body is your own worst enemy?"

"No," Adam said, feeling a twinge of pity for the sick man before him.

"Do you remember what you said when Lawrence found that box in the wall and you discovered that there were cigarettes were in it?" he asked dryly.

Adam searched his memory and he sat up straight when he realized what he had said.

Give me that sweet cancer. I don't care. I really don't.

"Oh my god," Adam said. "I had no idea…"

Jigsaw dropped his gaze before meeting Adam's eyes. "It was all I could do not to get up and strangle you right then and there."

Adam said nothing, and the anger in Jigsaw's eyes faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"I decided right then that if you did survive, you were going to have to get out on your own. I wasn't going to release you, and that's why you're different than the others, Adam. Even in the face of death, you acted with apathy. Your screams and pleas evoked no sympathy in me," he said coldly. "Not after the indifference you expressed, the sheer disregard for your health and your life."

Adam said nothing, and prayed that Jigsaw wasn't going to turn the tables on him and take him back to that room. He'd die for sure if he did.

"Why didn't you bring Lawrence with you?" Jigsaw asked, changing the subject.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

"Oh, I see," he said. "It's probably better this way. No matter, I see him on a regular basis as it is."

"What are you talking about?" Adam asked.

"Lawrence is an oncologist, is he not?" Jigsaw said, allowing Adam to put the pieces together.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You're a patient of Larry's?"

Jigsaw nodded.

"Now I see the connection," Adam said absently.

"You know, Adam, I used to be an angry man. I hated Dr. Gordon, I hated myself. And I especially hated watching the pathetic people around me, wasting the precious life they had been given."

"Is that why you do all this?" Adam asked.

"I have made it my mission to use my remaining days to test the very fabric of human nature, and already, I've discovered some disheartening things. Man is weak and without the instinct, the drive to save his own life when it is threatened. Man had become complacent and comfortable, and I decided that it was time that I pull a few strings and shake things up."

Adam sat and listened in fear and in fascination as Jigsaw explained his thoughts, his theories. Adam quickly discovered the methodology and philosophy behind the man's madness.

"Do you know what you would do if today, Lawrence told you that you had less than a year to live?" Jigsaw asked dramatically.

"I'd be devastated," he admitted. "I'd live every day as though tomorrow may never come."

He raised his arms in a dramatic gesture, like a preacher might when caught up in his message. "Why does it take death to make one appreciate life?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know."

Jigsaw leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. "Well, I suppose you're going to run to the police now that you know where I am," he said.

"Um…no. I didn't plan on it," Adam said. "Don't the police already know where you are?"

"I thought they did, but I guess they aren't as bright as they should be for the profession they chose."

"Uh…Jigsaw -" Adam began.

"My name is John. Please call me John."

"Okay, John…how many people have you…. tested?" Adam asked hesitantly.

"Fifteen."

Adam nodded. "And how many made it out alive?"

"Three."

Only three, Adam thought.

"Yes, you're part of a rare group of people, Mr. Faulkner."

John reached into a drawer and pulled out a book and handed it to Adam. He took it and opened it. The pages were lined with articles that had been clipped from the local newspaper. Paul Stalberg. Mark Rodriguez. Amanda Young. The Amanda article was highlighted in yellow, as was the article about Adam and Lawrence. A picture of Zepp Hindle, the man he had killed, graced the following page.

Adam remembered hearing about the first three people because at one point in time, Lawrence had been a suspect in their cases.

"Strange beginnings you two had," John said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes," Adam said. "Quite unexpected how it all happened, really."

"It's really amazing," John said. "Amanda, my first survivor, is now like a daughter to me. My other two survivors are now lovers. I can't help but think that I'm doing some good," John smiled.

"You brought us together, and I thank you for that," Adam said, "Even though you set us up to die."

"No, no. Don't you see? Surviving is the entire point! I don't set out to kill anyone. I want them to live. I want them to come out and see life though eyes that have met death and live to tell about it."

"Well, your lesson hasn't been lost on me, or Lawrence, for that matter," Adam said.

"I'm happy to hear you say that, Adam, and I'm touched that you took the time to come here and tell me so." He erupted into a fit of coughing. Once he regained control, he continued. "That makes three for three."

"Three for three?" Adam asked, puzzled.

"All three of my survivors have expressed their gratitude to me."

"You've talked to Lawrence about it?" Adam asked, his shock evident.

"Yes, we've talked about it, but he doesn't know who I am. I talk to him as a patient concerned about his doctor. And he has said that if he could find 'Jigsaw', he would thank him for you."

Adam was surprised by the revelation.

"You're the last person I ever thought would turn out to be grateful."

Adam shrugged. "I've had time to think about what happened. Because of you, I have Lawrence, and a reason to live. I was compelled to find you, and thank you face to face. I guess it sounds really strange when you stop and think about it."

John smiled. "No, Adam. It doesn't. You're are grateful to be alive, and that gratitude changes things. You do things you wouldn't normally do for fear of missing your opportunity. You see the good in the bad, just like you've seen the good in what you went through."

Adam nodded as he looked at John. He had once been so frightening, so cold. But now, Adam forgot that this man had nearly killed him, and saw him as a man tormented by death, a wounded soul desperately trying to make up for the same mistakes his victims had made.

Pity. He felt pity. Compassion. And Adam's heart ached for him. It wasn't what he had expected to feel at the end of all this.

"Well, I'd better be going. I want to be home when Lawrence gets back." Adam stood up, his gaze never leaving John. "Thanks. For everything," he said, extending his hand.

John looked to Adam's outstretched hand, then to his face. He took his hand and shook it.

"Goodbye, Adam."

With that, Adam turned and left. John watched him as he walked away, back into the world, back into his life with Lawrence.

Adam walked back through the cage door and was met unexpectedly by a young woman dressed in a bright red cape. She startled him, and she smiled.

"Hello, Adam," she said, before walking past him, not waiting for a reply.

Adam knew who she was, and he quickly left the building. Jigsaw watched from a darkened window as he got into his car and his taillights disappeared into the night.

The drive home took about twenty-five minutes, and he was lost in his thoughts the entire time.

He couldn't believe all he had learned. He had come here intending to do most of the talking and had ended up spending most of his time there listening. Adam decided then and there that John – Jigsaw – wasn't a killer in the normal sense. After all, he had only killed in Adam the things that shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Adam pulled into the drive and noticed that Lawrence was already back from the hospital. Adam still found it hard to believe that John was more than just Jigsaw – he was one of Lawrence's patients, a human being. A human being with a strange way of thinking, nonetheless. Still, most of his ideas boasted the ring of truth, and it was a scary thing to consider.

A light went on in the bedroom and Adam smiled. Lawrence was a man of habit, he had learned, and he usually read before Adam came to bed. And even though the day always ended the same, there was nothing habitual about it. Even the mundane now seemed strangely comforting. We find comfort in our habits, in the familiarity of routine. But normalcy and complacency went out the window a long time ago, and for the first time in his life, he felt that even though he had made many mistakes, taken many wrong turns that nearly cost him his life, he was right where he had always been meant to be. And when he saw Lawrence's smile when he appeared in their bedroom doorway, he was sure of it.