Disclaimer: I don't own Saw or any of the music or movies I may reference.

Did you ever see the world around you change before your eyes?
The people you ignore before they took you by surprise
Then you look at me
And I start to see
That something happens when I'm next to you
-Simon and Milo

PRESENT DAY

Lawrence stepped into the bathroom. The floor was made of tiny porcelain hexagon tiles. The walls were large, rectangular blocks, and the lights were perfectly calibrated fluorescent bulbs.

To the right of the door were two sinks jutting from the wall below a wide, rectangular mirror. Across from that, two toilet stalls—one standard, one handicapped—and to the left of the door, a cylindrical trash can with a domed top and swinging lid.

The doctor immediately began scanning for abnormalities. How new were the light fixtures? How shiny was the mirror? Was anything in this room brought in recently? What things in this room had been here since the building's construction and what had clearly been put here for him to notice?

He hobbled over to the mirror, rested his cane against one of the sinks, and gripped the fixture to steady himself. He was sweating and shaking now. Adam was in danger. He was alone, off somewhere in this building, possibly being tortured or strapped into some horrific device that would rip him apart if he didn't solve a puzzle or if Lawrence didn't find him and rescue him imminently.

OK, hold it together. You can do this, he thought to himself as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Whoever's doing this isn't as slick as they think they are. They don't necessarily know anything about your past that the cops don't already know. They know about the bathroom, they know about the hacksaw, they know about Adam's life as a spy of sorts, they know that he was in that bathroom, too.

Lawrence felt tears well up in his eyes at the memory of Adam pulling at his chain, crying in pain at being shot and pleading desperately for Lawrence not to leave him there.

No matter how detached from reality Lawrence thought he had become, no matter how numb to the suffering of those around him he thought he was, he couldn't stop the rush of feelings that came over him whenever he thought about Adam.

His heart clenched in his chest, feeling like an iron weight pulling at all his nerves, dragging him downward. When Adam had been by his side, all they had done was sneer and bicker with each other. But now that they were apart, Lawrence felt like his greatest source of strength and support had been ripped from him.

He realized at that moment how much he needed Adam.

He needed him.

Maybe just as much as Adam needed Lawrence.

Adam thrashed and wrestled in the arms of his captor. They had one arm around his mouth and another around his waist.

"MMPHH! L'T M' G'! MMM!" he cried. He reached his hands up to grab at the arm that was around his face. The arm around his waist suddenly loosened, and he felt something hard and plastic against his neck.

"I pretty much insist that you shut up!" hissed a voice. Adam froze as he immediately recognized this voice. More specifically, the words 'shut up' were what triggered his memory. He knew this woman.

His breathing increased rapidly as he pulled all the air he could into his nostrils. This woman was sick and dangerous, and now she had her hand over his mouth.

"You're going to be quiet and do what you're told, aren't you?" she whispered into his ear.

He nodded as best he could while being restrained.

"Doctor Gordon still has that shock collar on, you know. Think he might like a few thousand volts? I can flick this switch and render him unconscious, and then no one will come to save you. That what you want?"

Adam shook his head, concluding that the object in her hand must be the remote control for Lawrence's collar.

"That's a good boy. You're going to come quietly, aren't you? Yeah," the woman breathed as she began to walk Adam through the dark over to an elevator.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, focusing his anger and frustration on whoever was doing this to the two of them, Lawrence stood up straight, and gathered his wits.

No more wasting time.

No more wallowing in self-pity.

No more games.

"Remember," he thought. Alright, what did he remember about the bathroom?

The mirror. Adam had thrown his broken hacksaw at a mirror, which had broken off a piece, revealing that it had in fact been a two-way mirror with a camera set up behind it.

Lawrence glanced at the reflection of the large trashcan in the mirror, turned around, walked over to it, picked it up and threw it against the mirror.

The smash of aluminum on glass was deafening, and Lawrence didn't even think to cover his face to shield himself from the fragments of mirror that came flying off the wall towards him.

He was delighted to see some spray-painted red letters on the wall behind the mirror, and he reached up his cane to poke around and knock down the rest of the mirror to reveal the full message.

What it said was,

YOU'RE ON THE RIGHT TRACK

Fuck, thought the doctor. But he allowed himself to take the compliment, however backhanded and mocking it might have been.

He had remembered something about the bathroom. It hadn't exactly been beneficial, but at least he had figured SOMETHING out and been rewarded with acknowledgement.

What else happened in that bathroom? he asked himself.

He closed his eyes and went back into his memory. He recalled the tape recorder, the clock on the wall, the toilets…

Suddenly, he turned around to face the toilet stalls. He stepped into the first one and took the lid off the tank and looked inside.

Nothing.

He stalked out of the first stall and went into the handicapped one and lifted the lid off that toilet.

This time, he did find a small plastic Ziplock bag. He reached inside and took it out.

It contained a key.

The doctor got it out of the bag and applied it to the lock around his shock collar and heard a click. He unfastened it and dropped it to the ground.

Was that it? Was that the only reason this room existed—to provide him with that key? So now what? Now he was no longer bound to stay in this game. Did that mean he could find a way out of here?

Was this supposed to tempt him to abandon Adam again?

Before, he knew if he escaped this warehouse and tried to run away, he could get shocked. But now he was free of that.

Was that the choice he was being given? With Adam taken away from him, was Lawrence's loyalty being tested again?

Well, it didn't matter. He was not going to abandon Adam again.

Lawrence now had nothing to hold him back. He looked around the room and saw all the pointed shards of mirror on the floor.

His eyes landed on a particularly angular one. It had broken off in the shape of a scalene triangle, long enough to be used in self-defense. He picked it up and gripped it carefully so as not to cut his own flesh.

He also realized he could use it as a guide—both to see if anyone was sneaking up on him, and to reflect light and shine it in front of him as he followed the path forward.

Unfortunately, the only place he could figure out to go was a stairwell.

This warehouse had at least five floors, and he was on the first.

Cane in one hand and blade of mirror in the other, Lawrence slowly began to climb the stairs.

I'm going to find you, Adam, he thought. I'm going to save you, and we're going to get out of here. I'm going to take you home, patch you up, and keep you safe. I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again.

It was difficult to go up the stairs without holding onto the railing for support, but Lawrence found the strength to do it. He had to be careful, but one thought kept driving him forward.

I'm coming to save you, Adam. Just hold on.

END OF CHAPTER 17
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