Disclaimers: I don't own Saw or any of the characters.

Other: Alright, so here's the next chapter. ^^ I hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you for the reviews, it encourages me to continue with this fanfic. :) Well, in case I don't upload the next chapter tomorrow, I hope that everyone enjoys their Thanksgiving. Those who celebrate it, of course.

Okay, to whoever left a review going '*yawn* another fanfic about an anorexic Adam...' or whatever it was along those lines: Adam is not anorexic. I never said he was. I stated in the first chapter that he is very low on money. He hasn't been able to afford food for a couple of days, because he used most of his money to pay his rent. I'd appreciate reviews that aren't rude and without sense. Thank you. :\

Not only was this added input placed for the anonymous reviewer, but I also added this to clear up any confusion for other people. I don't do food disorders. I just don't. Anorexics lose their muscles, by the way. Once your body realizes that you aren't taking in any food, it goes into a sort of panic mode, and begins breaking down your muscles and storing fat so you don't starve to death. Though, obviously if you remain anorexic for a long time, you will starve to death. So, another way to realize that I didn't make Adam anorexic was that I said in the first chapter that he had a body of lean muscle. Lean muscle is usually acquired through running, swimming, or light exercise. As a voyeur, a job that can be dangerous at times, Adam runs.

Now that this issue is cleared up, enjoy the chapter. ^^

The young man collapsed into his strong arms, mere centimeters from hitting the ground. Lawrence pulled him up, carrying him bridal-style, and looked down at his pale face. It was obvious that he hadn't slept in ages, and he was so light in his arms that he probably hadn't eaten, either. No wonder he'd fainted; not only was he weak from lack of food and sleep, but Lawrence's random appearance had startled him rather badly.

The splintering wooden door of Adam's apartment was still open, so Lawrence walked in, kicking the door shut behind him, and looked around. The place was disgusting. For a minute, Lawrence didn't even want to move from his spot. With wide eyes, he inspected the practically bare but very dirty apartment, considering the very plausible idea of bringing Adam to his own apartment. A rather large cockroach scuttled by, and Lawrence quickly shuffled out of the way. This was horrifying.

But he hesitantly stepped forward, going into the living room and gently placing Adam's unconscious body onto the worn couch. Then, with the confidence of the doctor he was, Lawrence went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. There were a couple of beers, and that was all, aside from the food stains and dead roaches. He shut the door hurriedly, and opened a cabinet, grabbing a glass, and filled it with clean water. At least he could hydrate himself. Maybe, if Adam allowed him to, Lawrence would buy him some food.

Lawrence went back into the living room and set the glass of water down on the ground, grabbing Adam's wrist and feeling his pulse. It was kind of sluggish, but some food and water would fix that.

He looked so vulnerable, lying so still and relaxed on the couch, his face so pale, drowning in his hoodie. Lawrence reached out and brushed his knuckles along Adam's smooth cheek. The flesh was slightly warm, but it was…nice. His eyes flickered downward, at Adam's hidden shoulder. Shifting slightly, he carefully nudged the heavy material over, suddenly itching to see the scar. The scar he'd given him by shooting him.

But Adam stirred, blinking his eyes open. For a dazed moment, he stared at Lawrence, who froze. Then those grey-green eyes moved to glance at where Lawrence's hand was, by his shoulder. Adam glared at him, and shoved him away.

"Adam – "

"Don't say a fucking word," The young man hissed, dragging himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed his face with his hands. The silence was long and uncomfortable – for Lawrence, at least. Adam curled up against the cushions of the couch, eyes drooping with exhaustion, and studied his guest.

"You're not going to ask me any questions. You're just going to answer mine. Do you understand?" Adam said, fidgeting with the large hem of his hoodie. Lawrence licked his lips, hesitated, then nodded. Adam stared at him, as if debating whether or not to actually talk to him or just kick him out. But finally, he nodded too, slowly.

"How'd you find me?" he asked. Good question. It had taken a couple of weeks, actually, going through hospital records and calling in favors.

"I'm a surgeon, Adam. I just went through hospital records. You…You have an impressive record. And it included your address. So I wrote it down, and came here," Lawrence answered. Adam frowned.

"Why?"

Lawrence sighed, looking down at the stained carpet, idly picking at loose strands. It wasn't an easy question to answer.

"I…I wanted to see if you were alright," he said. Glancing up at the tired young man, he knew the answer had angered him. Adam's eyes had narrowed, and his hands had curled tightly around the hem of the hoodie, his knuckles turning white.

"You wanted to see if I was alright? It's been two fucking years, and out of the fucking blue you decided to drop by?" Adam snarled. In those two years, Adam had never left Lawrence's mind. He'd thought of him, dreamt of him, absent-mindedly talked about him to Allison, and never had he considered visiting him. Though, he couldn't deny the fact that whenever his phone rang, or the doorbell sounded, Lawrence's heart leapt, as if he were expecting Adam to suddenly pop up.

"I know. I'm…sorry. I should've visited you, or called you. But I didn't. And I wish I had. I couldn't get you out of my head," Lawrence said quietly. Adam snorted in disbelief, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at the doctor.

"You're a real fucking joke, man. Leave," he said. Lawrence took hold of Adam's arm in attempt to get his attention. But Adam, his body twisting as quick as an angry cobra, pulled away and snapped his arm back, and once again introduced his fist to Lawrence's face.

"I said get the fuck out!" Adam shouted, chest heaving, his fingers knotting tightly into his own hair. His eyes gleamed.

"Adam, I know you're angry. You have every right to be. I – " Lawrence tried to speak, blood gushing from his nose as he stood up. Adam lunged at him, knocking him back down to the carpet. Lawrence was too stunned to say anything as Adam practically straddled him, jabbing his finger in Lawrence's bloody face.

"I have every damn right to be angry, you bastard! You left me there! I was trapped in that hell hole for four fucking days. You were only there for, what, six hours? You promised me that you'd send me help, that you wouldn't forget about me. And what did you do, you fucking asshole? You forgot about me. Don't even fucking deny it. You didn't remember until after you were recovering from your operation, when they managed to connect your foot back to your goddamn leg. Do you have any idea what it's like, Lawrence? To be trapped in a pitch-black room, where it's so dark that opening and closing your eyes makes no difference? Where some…some psychopath mocks you and talks to you, but you don't know where he is? To have some sicko touch you in total darkness? To be in agony because some guy shot you in the shoulder, and then have it become infected because you're lying on a shit covered floor? I almost lost my arm thanks to you!" Adam shouted.

Lawrence noticed, though, that Adam's voice wasn't dripping with anger. It was fear.

"I thought I was going to die. I was either going to die of infection, or Jigsaw was going to kill me. I gave up all hope of escaping. I knew you'd forgotten me. You didn't care about the fucking kid locked away in that bathroom. You just wanted to get back to your daughter and stupid wife. I saw. When they rushed me into your hospital on one of those stretcher beds, I saw you all nice and comfy in your bed, with your daughter reading a book to you, and your wife sitting in a chair beside your bed. That was the last thing I saw before losing consciousness. You're an ass. I – I was all a-alone in that fu-fucking room, and, and – " Adam broke off, bowing his head as his throat constricted.

Lawrence raised his hand to put it on Adam's shoulder in a comforting gesture, but Adam smacked it away.

"Don't fucking touch me," he screamed. He rolled away from the doctor and stood up with difficulty, leaning heavily against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. Lawrence got up, guilt flooding through his body. It was his fault that Adam was like this. Adam was practically out of his mind.

"Adam, I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry. I…I didn't mean to forget. I was just in a bit of shock. After all, I'd cut my own foot off. And I did end up remembering. I did send people back for you, like I promised," Lawrence begged, stepping closer to him.

"Lawrence," Adam said. His voice was strangely calm and soft. Lawrence stopped walking, and waited for Adam to talk again.

"I want you to leave. And don't come back. Just forget about me, like you did two years ago. Shouldn't be too hard."

Lawrence felt the backs of his eyes pricking with tears. He was frustrated and ashamed and angry. He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave Adam like this. He hadn't meant to stir up such strong emotions. He wanted to make things right between them.

"Adam, please, just give me a chance," Lawrence said, taking another step closer. Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of tissues. He threw it at Lawrence, not looking at him.

"Clean up your face, Lawrence. And then go home to your wife and kid," he mumbled. Lawrence held the packet of tissues and stared at Adam unhappily. But the young voyeur didn't say anything else, nor did he look at him. He simply walked away, entered his bedroom, and shut the door. After a second, Lawrence heard the lock of the door click.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, honey, how was work?" Alison asked, lying on their king-sized bed, reading a book. Lawrence had cleaned his face, like Adam had told him to do.

"Honey?" Alison asked again. Lawrence stopped by the door leading to the master bathroom.

"It was fine," he said. He then went into the bathroom and began removing his clothes, twisting the shower handle. Hot water began spraying from the shower head, and for a moment he just watched the steam curl into the air.

"Who were you with?"

Lawrence blinked out of his daze and turned around. Alison was standing there in her white silk night gown, her hands on her slim hips.

"What – "

"You were with a woman, weren't you?" Alison interrupted. Lawrence stared at her, shocked.

"No, I stopped by a friend's place," he said. She glared at him, her face twisting in anger. Great, now the stupid bitch is going to start an argument over an assumption.

"You're lying to me. You were in bed with another woman. You're cheating on me, you bastard!" she hissed. Lawrence rubbed his face with his hands.

"Why do you say that, Alison?" he asked tiredly.

"Because I know it's the truth!" she yelled. Lawrence sat down on the edge of the tub, tugging his socks off. She always accused him of cheating on her. This was nothing new.

"Alison, just stop. I'm not in the mood for this," he said. Alison promptly turned on her heel, stormed out, and slammed the door behind her.

Thank God for small miracles.

Thanks for reading this, please review! :) I think I might update another chapter later, but I'm not sure yet. I still have to update my other fanfic. Once again, thanks for reading. :)