A/N: I'm using first person in this chapter for a change of pace and because, when I plan it out in my head, it feels like it works better this way. If you have any thoughts about it, feel free to mention it in a review…even if it's to say don't ever do it again.
As soon as John enters the room, he knows that Amanda hasn't been there today. It looks identical to when he last checked it, nearly a week ago. John sighs, not because he's terribly surprised at this discovery, but still irked at the setback. Hadn't Amanda promised to perform this task, this basic task, hours ago?
It's been like this with her ever since John asked her to continue his work. Looking back, perhaps it's because he's been too hasty. After all, isn't gaining her trust the key to entrusting her to continue with his work? Everything had been going fine, better than John could have predicted, and then he went and blurted everything out before he could consider what he was doing.
John wants to blame Jigsaw, to place the fault with his alternate personality. The cancer in his brain feels like a ticking bomb, and Jigsaw is aware of every second that passes without a confrontation with Amanda. John tells himself that Jigsaw was crazed, panicked, and this caused his lapse with Amanda. Of course, Jigsaw does not want his work to die, and John's dying without an heir would kill him. Jigsaw values life above all else. It's not that he doesn't value Amanda. He values her, but only as a means to an end. She must exist, and participate in his plan, so that his work will continue and he won't really die. Her personality, her fears, even her appearance have no effect on the unflinching Jigsaw.
Had Mark or Paul survived their tests, Jigsaw would have taken action to ensure that one of them would become his apprentice. It would have been easier if they had both survived, because then Jigsaw would be able to test their dedication and choose between the two, but this was not to be.
Perhaps it was for the best. Had they survived, they probably would refuse to work for Jigsaw. Those men were not exactly strong, but they were self righteous. They wouldn't be able to get over their immediate anger at being placed in a test, and this would lead to their downfall. Then again, Amanda's trap had been the least painful of all of them, or so Jigsaw imagined, and she was already weak enough to accept help from him. She had no other place to go.
Yes, Amanda had been weak enough to need Jigsaw's lessons, John's physical assistance, and Jigsaw's plan to find an apprentice would go off without a hitch.
So while John nurtured, Jigsaw harassed until he finally broke through and got his way. Yet even though Amanda had agreed to continue Jigsaw's work, John often felt, resentfully, that because they had acted so fast it would have been better if Mark or Paul had passed. Even now, there was Zepp, ready to learn and always willing to betray. That, of course, was his downfall. He was selfish, a parasite. One you couldn't detect at first, until he turned on you. John had benefited from Zepp's parasitic tendencies, but he didn't know how long it would be before the orderly turned on him. Both are in agreement with this. They need to get Zepp out of the picture, though John would like to keep him alive.
John unlocks the door to his house and drops the packages to the floor without thinking. Then he proceeds to climb the stairs until he reached what he now thinks of as Amanda's room even though they both use it as a place to sleep.
John gazes impassively at Amanda, sleeping with her nightgown still on, shivering in her sleep. Jigsaw wants to grab her by the wrists, yell at her, and demand she stop pouting. He wants John to claim what it due to him. Where would this insignificant drug addict be without them? How dare she belittle his work, sleep while he goes out to look for birthday gifts for the girl? Jigsaw burns with anger, but John is used to this, and looks around the room to find a way to distract his alter ego. Soon, his eyes focus on a detail that softens the killer inside.
There are no blankets on Amanda; consciously or unconsciously, she threw them on the floor. It's late April, but it's been unseasonably cold recently, and John hasn't bothered to turn on the heat. The room feels like it's forty, maybe forty-five, degrees, and John feels a pinch of remorse. Sighing, he approaches his adopted daughter slowly. John removed some of the blankets from his bed—Amanda's are now dirty and need to be washed—and lays them on her shivering torso. Aside from a few grunts in her sleep, Amanda gave no indication of being aware of John's presence.
John sighs for the second time in the proceeding ten minutes. He tucks them under her exceptionally small body which feels like ice to his touch. He lays down next to Amanda on the bed and wraps his arms around her body. Slowly, he brushed some hair out of her face, and continued to stroke her forehead long after no stray hairs fall there. Within minutes, Amanda's eyes open, and enlarge in horror as she sits up.
"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, backing away from John.
John recognizes the unspoken question, and a pang of hurt briefly washes over him. Doesn't she know by now that he would never do something like that?
Yes, but you did almost kill her, and in her mind they're not that different, Jigsaw taunted.
Shut up.
"You were cold," John explains simply.
"Doesn't mean I want you warming me up," she snarls, but her actions don't match her words. Her head's pressed against John's chest, and seems intent on staying there.
"I'm sorry," John apologizes.
There's a long pause, which John breaks with speech. "Did you sleep well?"
She groans. "Until you woke me up."
The words sound harsh, but John knows that Amanda's anger, or professed anger, is a good sign. She has a rather sharp sense of humor, and he'd rather be verbally abused than stared at with her unblinking, wide eyes as though he is about to drive a knife through her face.
"Next time I'll let you freeze," he promises, cradling her head as her body retreats to beneath the blankets.
Amanda scoffs. "You wouldn't."
John nods, which is stupid because Amanda can't see him. "I'd never hurt you."
"Right." The bitterness in Amanda's voice strikes him. John visibly flinches.
"I'll turn the heat on if the weather stays like this," he promises. "It might be cold for the next few weeks, according to the weathermen."
Amanda shivers, even though she's no longer cold. "Fuck."
John shares the sentiment. He changes the subject. "Your birthday is tomorrow," he says. "I brought you some gifts." Amanda grunts noncommittally. "Most of them will be saved for tomorrow, but I have one that you might like to see today." He pauses. "Consider it a peace offering."
Amanda's eyes open suddenly. "What is it?"
John laughs. "It's by the door. Let me get it."
Amanda nods and John leaves the bed and gently picks up the box. He's glad that the creature inside hasn't betrayed him, but she had been exceptionally quiet when John visited the litter. He saw the sign on one of the side streets, and it feels like fate. The creature is free, but the owner claims that it may be small, but it's healthy.
John has poked holes in the back of the box so that she can breathe. She purred on the way home, and John needed to pick her up and calm her down, petting her for at least ten minutes, but now she seems fine. Amanda takes the box and removes the lid with a green plastic bow tied on.
She makes a noise John has never heard—it sounds like squealing. The kitten stares at Amanda with small brown eyes, eyes that are almost identical to her new owner's. The fur is a lighter brown, with white paws. She begins to meow as soon as Amanda picks her up, and before John knows it, the cat is cradled in Amanda's arms, listening to her cooing.
John stares at the two, not daring to blink. He has never seen Amanda so calm, so –dare he think it?—happy. She looks much younger, like a small child, oblivious to the rest of the world. The cat closes its eyes and she continues to make baby noises as the head rests against her chest. It purrs for a few minutes, and then falls asleep. Amanda looks up at John, smiling.
"Thank you," she whispers.
The cat appears to have broken the barriers that Jigsaw imposed. John smiles back and sits beside Amanda.
"Do you like her?"
Amanda nods vigorously. "Best gift ever," she replies. "Just look at her."
John doesn't need to look. The cat has already stolen his heart, grabbed onto it at first glance, and is now working its magic on Amanda. The cat seems to restore her old sense of trust, and even if she only forgives John and goes on with the plan because of the cat, well, it's a start.
Even Jigsaw is moved, and he marvels at the small size of the kitten.
"I think we should call her Mittens," Amanda says between petting the sleeping cat.
"That's a good name," John replies, enveloping Amanda in a hug.
She smiles back, tentatively, and Jigsaw is pleased. Now the work can begin.
Please r/r! I need five before I can start the next chappie.