Timeline: A couple weeks after the last chapter

Rating: Pg-13

Chapter 7

Rebirth

"Do not be afraid, Amanda. Your life has just begun." –Jigsaw

The group counselor told her that as time goes on, the nightmares fade.

Life continues without us, Amanda. Eventually you'll sleep without seeing his face, and you'll live without feeling blame. But you have to give it time, and stop doing this to yourself.

The psychologist gestured towards Amanda's wrist, covered in rows of neat, straight cuts.

Amanda shook her head. She whispered something like an apology and bowed her head. The counselor sighed, reminding Amanda of a disapproving teacher, which made her feel like a child. No one understood how she needed the punishment, how she needed to feel the blood leaving her body. It cleared her head. It reminded her she was alive. And sometimes it gave her the high she had forsaken for this new life.

So eventually Amanda stopped going to counseling. As long as she was evading her old lifestyle and staying clean, she convinced herself she was still on the right track. And the counselor did say that the nightmares would end. All she had to do was wait.

And that might have been correct.

If the nightmare had truly been over.

John Kramer prided himself on many of his good qualities, such as his success, ingenuity, and resourcefulness. But one thing he knew he'd always lacked was patience. He always inwardly struggled with controlling his impatient tendencies, particularly when he saw the great potential in one of his newest projects. In his better days, that would mean an innovative building design. At the present, it meant a new pupil.

He sensed Mark's internal rebellion. Mark questioned his every action, and in addition to being irritating, it was also worrying. John knew that if he had enough time, he could definitely win Mark over. But he might not have the amount of time required. His sickness progressed and became more evident everyday. He needed a successor who wanted to be his successor, not someone who was there simply because he was being blackmailed.

He needed another accomplice. And then from Mark's own words, he found her.

"He helped me," Mark had said, quoting Amanda Young.

"That's exactly what she said?" John asked, his piercing eyes penetrating through Mark's calm expression.

"Yes. That's what she said when she was at the department. Can I go now?"

John dismissed him, now interested in a more pressing matter, the key to immortalizing his legacy. Amanda could be his true successor, unlike Mark, whose loyalty wavered with the test subject, eagerly obliging when the subject was a criminal and obviously resistant when he felt the subject was undeserving of the test. Mark could be depended on only because of the small box of information in his will that would incriminate Mark where he to try to rebel. But Amanda...could be something else entirely.

He stunk into Amanda's apartment rather easily and waited for her return.

When she opened the door, she didn't see John hidden in the dark shadows of her room. She sat on the bed, exhausted from the events that took place that day, ready to close her eyes and try to sleep, when his voice captured her attention and alerted her to his presence.

"Amanda, do not be afraid. Your life has just begun."

Her head gradually turned towards him Her expression was one of surprise, but not horror. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined this old man could be the instigator for all her grief and all of her rehabilitation.

"What are you doing in my room?" Amanda asked, her voice quivering with fear and uncertainty.

"How do you know my name?"

"There is no need for fear. I helped you. You said so yourself not long ago. I'm here to continue helping you. You and I both know you didn't get clean by yourself."

"You're..." she began to say, but then paused, momentarily dazed by the realization. She understood what he was saying, but couldn't find the words for a response. She felt an odd combination of fear and relief seeping into her. He was her kidnapper, yet he was her savior. She stood up, not sure if she should embrace him or run away and never return. She faced him, but mentally calculated how fast she could bolt out of her apartment.

"You're Jigsaw."

She couldn't make her face contort to express any emotion fully, but what he thought he saw in her eyes, glimmering for just a moment...hope. He nodded, causing her heart to skip a beat.

"There's no need to be frightened. You passed your test. All I'm here to do is offer you a choice."

"You're not going to hurt me?" Amanda asked.

"No," he said, as though it was an inconceivable notion. "It was never my intention to cause you harm. I only wanted to show you the value of life."

"I'm clean," Amanda said suddenly, attempting to defend herself. "I haven't gotten high since the night I escaped. I haven't done anything wrong. I've done what you said."

"I know!" he said, a smile cracking his serious expression. For the first time in their encounter he radiated a hint of emotion. Happiness. "You're clean! Sometimes it takes an unconventional method to help someone, as I've helped you."

"I am grateful to be alive. And I'm grateful to you. You saved me."

"Do you know how many others I could save...with your help?"

Amanda's eyes widened.

"What? Why do you want me to help?"

"Because you've experienced the process first hand. You understand how it works. And because I can help you. I can help you stay clean. You are needed for a purpose far greater than anything you have imagined for yourself. If you are willing, you can help others as I have helped you. I know you could be a very valuable asset. You don't have to decide now. Think it over. "

Amanda sat on the edge of her bed and looked at the floor, trying to consider what she'd possibly have left to give up. She was all she had left. And she wasn't so sure she had rightful claim to that anymore. If anything, she owed everything, including her life, to him. And it was the only thing she had left to give anyway.

"I think..." she said, her voice weak and cracking, "...that you should really consider getting someone else to help you."

"I have someone else."

Amanda trembled.

"You're working with someone?"

"No, he's working for me. I have some information on him that he would not like me to reveal, so we have an arrangement. But he's insignificant. It's nothing compared to how you would be helping me. "

"You did help me," she said in a coaxing voice, as though subconsciously she'd already surrendered and was now fighting on his side, trying to convince her conscience that this was the right choice. "I would still be a junkie if you hadn't taken me that night..."

"That's right. Amanda, this is your chance to change. This is the beginning of your new life. Your rebirth. I can continue helping you. You just have to let me."

She sat back down on the bed. Calmly, she asked a question that had been haunting her for weeks.

"If you want to help people...why didn't my cellmate have a chance to help himself?"

Jigsaw nodded his head. He'd anticipated this question.

"He was in a test before yours. He failed his test, and so he became a part of yours. Not everyone can be saved. But the ones that can...you, Amanda. You are proof that it can work."

"All I have to do is say yes," Amanda murmured. John stood up and sat next to her, taking her hands into his. He looked at her with tired, yet hopeful eyes.

"All you have to do is trust me."

How many times in her life had someone actually wanted to help her? When did anyone ever give a damn about her, unless she was half naked and hanging off a pole? And even then, it was only her body anyone cared about. When was the last time someone cared about her mind or her soul? How many times had someone asked her to trust them, only to be later burned by that nativity? Yet...this was the first time in a long time she actually believed in someone's promise. Nativity or not, she trusted him, felt the sincerity in his words. The heat from his hands that held hers felt good. Safe. Everything about him made her feel that way.

"I already trust you," she said, as though sealing the deal, offering her life to the man who rightfully owned it anyway, the man who had saved her, whose name she didn't even properly know yet. He smiled. It had gone even better than he'd planned.

For some reason, Amanda had expected something official. In retrospect, it seemed silly. But at the time, she felt anxious, as though at any moment he would pull out a piece of paper and ask her to sign her name in blood on the dotted line.

He's not the devil, and I'm not giving him my soul. He's my savior, and I'm giving him my life, a life that he rightfully owns.

But of course, nothing of the sort happened. John told her to pack her essentials and that he would wait. She didn't really know what qualified as "essentials". Since her apartment was pretty barren, it wouldn't take long to decide. She looked around her place and for the first time in awhile, evaluated her home. It looked like a stranger's residence. This could be anyone's home, she realized. No photos anywhere, no decorations. Not even curtains. It could have been a motel room. A cheap motel, Amanda thought.

About fifteen minutes later, everything that Amanda thought was important was in her bags. Clothes, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a few family photos she kept tucked in her nightstand. She looked at her phone and had the nearly irresistible urge to call someone. Anyone. But the only person who gave a crap about her was already in her apartment. No, she wanted to call for help. Someone to tell her not to do this. To run away with her bags, away from her savior. He may have been her redeemer, but that didn't mean he would remain that way. He was dangerous. He'd put her in a situation where she'd had to savagely rip a man apart to survive.

She found herself standing in front of the door to the hallway. She could walk out right now. She could leave him and start all over somewhere else. She was clean now.

But would she stay that way? Or would she revert back to her old self?

No, I still need him, she thought. He'll keep me clean. He'll guide me. He's already saved me once- that proves he really cares about me.

"I'm ready," Amanda said, looking at John but speaking more to herself than to him. "I'm ready for my life to truly begin."

Mark's reaction was, as anticipated, intense.

"You did what?" he growled, clinching both of his fists in an effort to control his rage. He felt like taking a swing at the old man, sickly or not.

"I brought someone here to help us," John repeated calmly. "She needs us as much as we need her. Maybe more. My decision is final. There's no need to protest. Everything is already arranged."

"If I'd known others were going to be involved..."

"You would have done nothing differently," John stated. "Our situation has not changed. I still have

information about you and what you've done."

"How could I possibly forget that? You remind me every time I see you!" Mark all but yelled.

"Just keeping you focused, Mark. Which reminds me..." John walked over to one of the various tables in the room. He handed Mark a manilla folder crammed with papers.

"The doctor," Mark said, glancing at one of the photos inside. "Let me guess, he's next?"

"Yes. Everything is almost ready."

"Dr. Gordon. Isn't he your physician?" Mark asked, glancing up from the folder to look John in the eyes. John's expression grew cold, his features hardened at Mark's mention of the name.

"That's correct, though, irrelevant."

"It's not irrelevant that you're still sick, and that he's the man who failed to make you better."

"Have you been spying on me, Mark?" He grinned. "I'm flattered, but it's really not necessary. If there's anything you need to know, you only need to simply ask me."

"Not spying. Investigating. Call it curiosity. And the fact that your sick is glaringly obvious anyway. I don't know why you didn't tell me before now."

"How touching," John said in mock flattery. "You care."

Mark rolled his eyes.

"I only care about when I'm getting out of this. I'm guessing that if your testing this doctor, he didn't do a very good job."

"His lack of concern for his patients is...regrettable. But that's not why he's being tested."

"Yeah, he doesn't value his life, got it," Mark said, not wanting to go through that argument again. John and Mark had very different ideas as to what constituted a worthy cause of being tested. Mark couldn't help but notice they'd been testing people that Mark suspected John selected with Mark's approval in mind. Criminals. Prostitutes, druggies, etc. Out of the dozen people they'd tested, most of them had a criminal background. And most of them probably won't be missed, Mark mused.

But now Mark was getting involved in a test where the subject was squeaky clean. A doctor. John's doctor. It seemed awfully personal, and thus, a biased decision based on vengeance. But Mark stayed silent. There was no point in bringing this up. Besides, he was still fuming over the arrival of this new assistant. It was yet another person who could turn on him and incriminate him for helping Jigsaw. This was getting more and more risky, and Mark didn't like that he had no control.

"I trust you can obtain Dr. Gordon by yourself?"

Obtain. Like he's an object. The word rubbed Mark the wrong way. An alarm went off inside him. There was something very, very wrong about John. He was right about many things, about the injustice of the law, about the way so many people take their lives for granted, but inside, Mark detected a spark of insanity inside of him. It was subtle, and that was perhaps why he was able to ignore it most of the time but sometimes it just struck Mark that he was obeying the commands of a mad man. And it chilled him to the bone.

"Yes," Mark said. "I can."

"Good. Now go do it."