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

Other: Hey, guys, I hope everyone is doing well. :) Thank you so much for the reviews, I love and appreciate them. I'm sorry I've been taking so long to update. Life's kind of rough right now, and I'm trying to make things better. Anyway, hopefully my story is still pleasing you. Enjoy!

The week and a half turned into three months. Adam had eventually begun eating, much to Lawrence's relief. It wasn't full meals that he'd eat, however. Lawrence would bring him a fruit, vegetable, chocolate bar, or any other kind of snack food, and Adam would spend an hour or so consuming it. He'd lost too much weight, too much color. He looked even more fragile and vulnerable than he had ever looked in Jigsaw's bathroom. His flesh was a sickly, pasty white from the lack of sunlight, and the bags under Adam's eyes were so deep and dark that he simply looked like an abuse victim. Each time Lawrence looked at him, his heart broke more and more. Nothing he did or said would have any effect on the boy. Nothing.

The beginning of his small snacking, and the fact that he'd begun to fidget with his sleeves or the hem of his shirt were tiny signs of hope that Adam might recover from his shock soon. The past three months had been long, torturous, and lonely. Many nights Lawrence had broken down in the bathroom, resting his forehead against the cold glass of the bathroom mirror, his body quaking with silent sobs, tears of frustration and guilt streaming down his face, knowing that his traumatized lover lay in the bedroom, slowly drifting away from him.

Diana called every night. And every night she asked to talk to Adam. But Lawrence had to always give an excuse as to why Adam couldn't talk. Diana obviously realized that something was wrong by the first three weeks. Adam had promised a long time ago that he'd always be there to talk to her. And now he was…gone? She was confused and worried. But Lawrence assured her that he'd have him call her the minute he could.

The fourth month was approaching, and Lawrence didn't know what to do. He could never give up on Adam. Close co-workers and the neighbor Sue suggested that maybe Lawrence should leave him, take a break, show that he couldn't be with Adam if he wasn't going to even try to help himself. Adam couldn't help himself. Not now, not when he was afflicted with so much pain and shock. That would just make things worse. Then he would be completely alone, rejected by his family and lover. No, Lawrence wasn't going to leave. He wouldn't even dream of threatening him with such a horrible thing. But what was he going to do? Adam wouldn't talk, wouldn't look at him…It was so complicated.

A week before the fourth month would begin, Lawrence came home and took off his coat, hanging it neatly on the coat rack. He kicked his shoes off, tossed his brief case onto the couch, and walked into the bedroom. The bed was empty, the sheets rumpled and the blanket half-hanging off of the bed, as though Adam had been lying there but then had tossed the blankets off and rolled out of bed.

"Adam, where are you?" he called out, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He went into the master bathroom. He'd already been out by the living room, and if Adam had been there or in the kitchen, he would've seen him. He had no reason to be in the office or Diana's room, or in the bathroom by Diana's room since there was a bathroom right here. So this was his first and correct choice.

Adam stood there, wearing only his boxers, his dead eyes gazing blankly into the mirror at his reflection. Light tremors ran through his arms, snaking across his shoulders, spilling down his back and chest. His chapped lips were parted, as he took in sharp, small intakes of breath. His left hand was curled into a tight fist. Lawrence stared at him, unsure of what to do or say. Adam's gaze shifted to Lawrence, not turning his face away from the mirror, but simply looking at the doctor's reflection. It was the first time Adam looked at Lawrence in four months, even indirectly in a way like this. Lawrence looked back at him, afraid to move or breathe, as if anything would break this moment and Adam would retreat again.

There was silence for a long time. Lawrence heard a quiet dripping noise. He didn't know where it was coming from, nor did he care at the moment. He held Adam's gaze in the reflection.

"What do you see when you look into the mirror?" Adam asked. His voice was no louder than a quiet whisper, and it sounded husky, from the lack of use. Lawrence almost didn't hear him. But the room was quiet enough – despite the dripping – to just barely hear him.

"Myself; a tall, blonde, blue eyed, Caucasian man, usually wearing some sort of formal attire," Lawrence replied, still looking at Adam. The younger man flinched slightly, gasping, eyes fluttering closed. Lawrence was greatly concerned.

"Adam, what – "

"How can you say that when you didn't even look at yourself?" Adam interrupted. Lawrence frowned. What was the point of this conversation? Why did these stupid questions even matter? After four months of absolutely nothing, Adam was going to talk about a reflection?

"Adam, I'm thirty three years old. I've been looking into mirrors since the age of three. I know what I look like, I don't have to look," he said.

Drip, drip, drip

"Did I ask what you look like?" Adam asked, his tone never changing.

"No, but you asked what I see when I look in the mirror, so – "

"Then tell me what you see when you look in the mirror," Adam spoke right over him before he could continue. Lawrence grit his teeth. As happy as he was to hear Adam talking, it was slightly annoying and frustrating to be talking about something like this. And he knew that Adam would not allow the topic to change. If Lawrence didn't go along with it, Adam would simply ignore him and shut down all over again. He didn't want to break their gaze, but he did, and looked at his own reflection. He looked worried, confused, and stressed.

"I see a doctor. He's just come home from work, and he's tired. His lover, who means the world to him, is confusing him with crazy talk. His lover hasn't been himself for four months, so the doctor is really worried and stressed out. He wants to talk to the lover, he misses him, a lot. He's so confused. He doesn't know what to do. I see Dr. Lawrence Gordon," he finally said.

Adam was silent for a long time, simply looking at Lawrence's reflection. It didn't seem like he was going to talk again, and Lawrence felt panic ballooning within him.

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Lawrence whispered, palms beginning to sweat. For a couple of minutes, Adam said nothing, and continued to look at Lawrence. However, he finally slid his gaze onto his own reflection. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He swallowed with an audible click.

"I see worthless shit. An unwanted accident, a nuisance, a burden, a piece of trash blowing across an abandoned highway; useless, unwanted, disgusting. The shame of humanity. Mom, I see a voyeur. And what does a voyeur see when they look in a mirror? They don't see anything, Jigsaw. They see what they want to see, and that would be nothing. When someone was not meant to be on this planet, when someone has been hated and loathed their entire life, what do they want to see? When they had nobody and nothing, what do they want to see? When life has nothing to offer to them, why should the mirror offer them anything greater? There is nothing. I see nothing. I am nothing," Adam spoke, his tone remaining flat, lifeless.

"Is that what you see? Or is that what Jigsaw and your mother see?" Lawrence asked.

Drip drip drip

"There's nothing to see! There's nothing to fucking see! When there's nothing standing before a mirror, there's nothing to see. I am nothing! I…I feel nothing," he screamed. Lawrence jumped, startled badly by the sudden aggression.

"There's nothing, nothing is everything, and therefore everything is nothing. And if nothing is everything, and everything is nothing, than what is life? What is the fucking point of life if we're all going to die? Everyone dies. Why not just end it quicker? Speed the process. Death is nothing, because nothing is everything, because everything is nothing, which means that life is nothing since death is nothing," Adam shouted. He suddenly uncurled his left fist. Blood splashed onto the tile floor. A blood stained scalpel gleamed cruelly at Lawrence. Before he could even blink, Adam had slashed it across other arm, attacking himself, as if trying to release an inner demon.

"Adam, give it to me! Stop!" Lawrence shouted, running over to him. Adam threw himself to the bloody tile, curling up and screaming, continuing to slice his arms. They fought over the scalpel, Adam rolling around, covered in his own blood, shouting at Lawrence to get off of him, to leave him alone.

"Why are you doing this?" Lawrence screamed, struggling to pull the scalpel away from Adam's shaking bleeding arm.

"Because I can't feel it! I can't feel anything, I…I feel…I feel nothing, oh, man, Lawrence, there's nothing," he wailed. Adam suddenly burst into tears. His entire body wracked with sobs, and the scalpel fell from his hands. He curled himself into a tight ball, rocking back and forth rhythmically. Lawrence grabbed the scalpel, pocketed it, and then promptly threw his arms around Adam, bringing him tight to his body, not caring if Adam bloodied his clothes. He cried, too. Adam was so weak that he could barely support himself in Lawrence's arms. He simply allowed himself to be a sobbing, bloody mess in the arms of someone who'd been waiting almost four months to hear his voice.

Together, they cried, clinging together as though they were the only two people alive, as though they were each other's life lines.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lawrence finished cleaning and bandaging both of Adam's arms as well as Adam's left hand. The boy's flushed face was streaked with dried trails of tears, and his thin body shuddered uncontrollably from crying so hard. He buried his face into the crook of Lawrence's neck, and the man picked him up, carrying him into the bedroom and tucking him into bed. He then crawled in beside him, and Adam curled up against him.

"Adam," Lawrence said softly.

Adam said nothing, but his tears began to soak through Lawrence's shirt, dampening the flesh beneath. The shock had worn off. Now it was time to deal with the heart ache. Lawrence would be there for him – with him – every step along the way. To show him that everything was not everything, nothing was not everything, life was not nothing, and neither was death.

Lawrence hugged the shaking boy tightly, burying his face into soft, black hair, and silently promised him that everything would be alright. As if Adam had read his mind, he relaxed slightly, and drifted off to sleep.

I couldn't keep Adam so broken for long. I think I should've waited another chapter before having him snap back to it, but...It was really boring at every attempt I made. So finally, I decided to just have him wake up a little. Not all the way, there's still a process of healing, but...-shrug-

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed it. Please review! :)