A/N: Here it is, guys. The big 1-0. This might turn out to be really long as I will be switching POVs frequently. Also, the climax is in this chapter so I'll make it as exciting as I can. DON'T START READING UNLESS YOU HAVE A LOT OF TIME TO KILL. THIS MOTHERHUGGER IS LOOOOOOOOOONG. Thanks for putting up with me!

It's late. I'm curled up on my side, despite the dull ache in my bad shoulder, absently playing with the sleeve on the opposite side. Alexis is sitting in the chair and I have my back to her. I don't want to see her sympathetic face. The only sound I can hear is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Tick...tock...

"You know, your evaluation is tomorrow," Alexis says, "I'm sure you'll do fine." Her voice is shaky, forcibly cheerful. I don't respond.

Tick...tock...

"I know...I know you're not crazy like all the doctors think," she starts again, "You haven't gotten a fair deal, that's all. I know the past few days have been really stressful to you and you don't deserve it...any of...what's happened to you. No one deserves what happened to you. It's sick and it's wrong and everyone deserves a life of their own choosing...not someone else's." Why the speech all of a sudden? And why does she sound like she's about to cry?

Tick...tock...

"You're going to get out of here, I promise. They haven't seen you these past few days. You aren't..." As she hesitates in search of a good word of what I'm not her cell phone rings. One of those annoying generic tones you only have if you're a fifty-eight year old cougar with a spray tan or if you just don't care enough to change it.

"I'm sorry. Hello? Yes? ...What?" She stands and moves behind the chair. I swallow my pride and turn around, sitting up in the process. A look of horror has passed over Alexis' face, her free hand pressed up against her mouth and her pale eyes wide. I tilt my head in curiosity and concern. She nods, as if the person on the other line can see her.

"O-okay. I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can." She hangs up and paces for a few seconds, anxious.

"What happened?" I ask softly, catching her attention. She stops pacing for a moment and looks up at me. She looks like I just appeared out of nowhere.

Tick...tock...

"It's my mom," she says, "She's in the hospital."

"Is she okay?" She shakes her head and starts pacing again.

"I dunno. They just said she had an accident and she's in the hospital. I..." I speak without even thinking the words.

"Go."

"What?"

"Go to your mom. She needs you."

"But-" I shake my head.

"I'll be fine. Just go." The tortured look in her eyes I take as gratitude. She grabs her bag and leaves quickly with the final words tossed over her shoulder,

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry!" I grimace. Worrying's part of life, honey.

Tick...tock...

I notice she left the door open a bit in her rush to leave. I get up to go close it...and make sure the square of paper is still there. Thankfully it is so once the door is shut I go back to the bed. Without Alexis there to babble about how she believes in me (what a fucking lie) I can actually get a bit of rest. I'm nervous as hell but I know I'll need my strength for when Jigsaw decides to show his ugly face.

Tick...

.

.

I'm lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking...Is he all right by himself? Should I have requested one more night? They'd turn me down but I just don't feel right leaving him there. He's too...Goddammit, what's the right word? Fragile? What, is he a porcelain doll? Snap out of it, Lawrence, he's an adult. He can take care of himself. I know, I just...I sigh and wonder why I'm thinking something so bizarre about some kid I met only a month ago.

...want to protect him...

It's not his fault we were put in that situation a month ago. It's not his fault I lost my foot and it's not his fault we both have severe psychological scarring because of what happened. Him worse than me...I sigh again. Something just doesn't feel right tonight.

.

.

I gasp myself awake, feeling like I stopped breathing while I was asleep. I cough harshly, having choked a bit on saliva, and sit up, hanging my feet off the edge of the bed. I hunch over, pressing my face to my hands, trying to rid my mind of the nightmare. I dreamed I was falling. Before you get all "that's normal" on me, hear me out first. I was falling for a really long time and then suddenly landed in Jell-O. Cool, right? Wrong. Jell-O has no substance to it. You just sink right through it and no matter how hard you try you can't climb out because there's nothing solid to grab on to. You suffocate. Well that's what was happening but then the Jell-O turned into rusted hacksaws. I was already flailing from the Jell-O so the saws cut me pretty easily. It's a lie that you can't feel pain in dreams. My body still aches from the sensation. I bet you wanna know what happened next, huh? Guess what? Nothing. I woke up. Spoiled your sadistic imagination, didn't I?

I run my hands up over my scalp and stand up, heading over to the mirror I so avoided in my time here. I look worse than I did the last time I checked, large purple bruise marks under my eyes, making them look shadowed and sunken, cheekbones poking out sharply from the tops of even thinner cheeks, almost ghostly white in the dark. As I'm looking, I notice movement in the glass...something behind me...Is that real? It's a huge black shape...and it's coming up right behind me. Jigsaw!

...tock...

.

.

I am pulling my jacket on when Alison's voice causes me to stop dead.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asks. Almost guilty, I turn to face her. She's in new silk pajamas (she bought nearly an entirely new wardrobe after the night with Zepp) and her arms are folded. She's glaring at me like I'm a four-year-old with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I've got to get to the hospital," I tell her vaguely, going to get my keys but finding them missing. A jingle from behind me tells me that Alison has confiscated them. I limp over to her, leaning rather heavily on my cane for support.

"I need those, dear." She raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"Why do you need to go to the hospital if that's where you're really going?" I sigh.

"Ali, please. Something doesn't feel right. I've got to go!"

"Is it that volunteer girl I saw you talking to? The young one with the ponytail?" Oh yes, jump to conclusions that immediately after being discharged from the hospital with an amputated foot I'm having an affair with a volunteer who all I know is her name and that she's polite. Real smart of you, Alison.

"It's not Alexis..." Shit. Wrong choice of words.

"Oh, Alexis, huh? How long have you been seeing her? How old is she? Is she one of those with an amputee fetish? Come on, Larry, I thought we were past all this!"

"It's not her!"A realization passes over her face.

"Oh, I see. They told me about this but I didn't think anything of it. It's that kid, isn't it? The one who was in there with you." I avert my eyes. She got a bullseye on that one. Incredulous anger takes root in Alison's expression and stance.

"I don't believe this!" she says, "My husband is leaving me for a twenty-something guy who he doesn't even fucking know!" My own anger flares up and I raise my voice slightly.

"I know him well enough! I know he's in trouble right now and he needs me. I don't know how, I just know and I need to go to him. Just please. Ali." I soften my voice to try to appeal to her sympathetic side. "Give me the keys." She hesitates then asks carefully,

"What kind of trouble?"

.

.

Move...Movemovemovemovemovemovemove! Despite the fear stiffening every inch of my body I force myself to jump to the side, Jigsaw missing me by a fraction of a second. I'm already starting to hyperventilate. The black shape straightens up. He's not as tall as he looked from the floor of that bathroom but still terrifyingly intimidating.

"Your flight sense is still strong, I see," he says in that awful raspy voice, "It outweighs your fight sense and that is why you failed." He starts stalking towards me again but now I've got an adrenaline rush on my side. I turn and bolt for the door, yanking it open and taking two fumbled attempts to rip the paper off the lock before slamming it shut behind me. I race down the dark hallway, the banging on the door an incentive to just move faster. I turn the corner and flatten up against the wall, trying desperately to calm down enough to figure out a plan. My lungs aren't listening and continue to work double time and it's starting to hurt. But glancing to my right I spot something that could quite possibly save my life: emergency fire axe.

.

.

"Listen, Ali, I don't have the time for this. I just know he's in some sort of trouble and he needs my help. I'll be back soon, I promise. Please..." I don't know if it's working or not but she's not interrupting or yelling anymore so that's good. "I'm all he's got." She considers this a moment, a deep struggle in her eyes. Finally she hands the keys over and starts to go back to our bedroom.

"If you're not back by morning you're not getting in the house," she warns and I can tell she means it. As I hobble out to the car I pull out my cell phone and dial the number Alexis gave me in case something happened. She's a smart girl and I'm thankful for her doomsday preparations.

"Hello, Alexis? It's Lawrence Gordon. I think Adam's in trouble. Yes. Yeah, I'm driving over there right now. Can you meet me there? Okay...Okay, good. Oh, and Alexis? Hurry."

.

.

"It was a freak accident. It was like someone set it up."

"Don't say stuff like that! It was an accident; you said it yourself."

"Yeah but it's just weird is all." I'm at the hospital my mother was admitted to, waiting nervously for a doctor to tell my brothers and myself what's going on. Our mother was found at the bottom of the staircase in the apartment building she lives in with multiple fractures and a concussion. But there's no way she could have tripped. It was like someone pushed her. And some of the other residents said they saw a young woman with very short hair they didn't recognize prowling around earlier in the day. I don't think this was a coincidence. The doctor walks out to where the three of us are sitting and tells us the news: she's going to be fine. The fractures are all minor and on her arms and legs and the concussion is also not severe. But the weight hasn't lifted yet. Just as the doctor is explaining treatment and how long she'll be here my phone rings.

"Excuse me," I say and answer quickly, "Hello?" It's Lawrence and he sounds stressed.

"I think Adam's in trouble." Oh no.

"Are you sure? Are you going there now?"

"Can I meet you there?" I pause and glance at my brothers.

"Is it that Jigsaw victim?" one asks. I nod.

"Just go," the other says, "We'll tell Mom you stopped by."

"I'll be over as soon as I can," I tell Lawrence.

"Okay, good. Oh, and Alexis?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurry." That doesn't sound good.

.

.

I pull up next to the curb in front of the hospital and get out to wait for Alexis. I know you're probably thinking I should just go in and get Adam right now but I know it's not the smartest decision to go in without backup, especially in my condition. Hopefully my paranoia is just that and he'll be perfectly fine but I can't be sure until Alexis gets here. It takes her about ten minutes since I got here to pull in behind my car. She nearly rushes out before turning her car off, hurriedly tying her hair into a loose ponytail.

"Have I kept you waiting?" she asks, somehow out of breath. I start walking to the front door and she follows.

"Not long," I reply, "We should get to Adam as quickly as possible. What the hell?" I pause for a moment when we get inside. The place is completely empty. Not even a custodian is around. This is weird...

"Where is everyone?" Alexis whispers. I head over to the front desk where some security camera feeds are. They show each floor in black and white. There doesn't seem to be anything going on...

"Oh no."

"What is it?"

"Third floor." She looks and a hand flies to her mouth. A tall hooded figure has just climbed out of the ceiling and is making his way down the hall.

"He wasn't making it up..." I glare at her.

"He told you about this?" Her face flushes with embarrassment.

"I-"

"Nevermind. We've got to move." I test the elevator down the hall. It still works. We're about to get in when suddenly Alexis says,

"Wait! I have an idea!" She runs back to the front desk. What now? We don't have time! She comes back with two drawers pulled from the desk.

"Were you planning on going up there without a weapon?" she asks. I gesture to the cane silently and hit the elevator button for the third floor. She doesn't smile. I don't expect her to. The ride up is slow and torturous but we get there. Alexis darts out, stands on the drawers, and pulls a box of matches from her pocket, lighting one and holding it to a sprinkler. The sprinklers set off and she hops down again.

"What was that for?" I ask over the sound of water.

"Distraction," she replies, "And he won't be able to hear us coming." I sigh.

"You have too many thoughts, you know? Come on."

.

.

I reach for the axe, my hand shaking tremendously, when suddenly the sprinklers go off. Adam Faulkner, you are the luckiest motherfucker in the world. I don't have anything to break the glass with though so bracing myself I use my bare elbow. Only small bits of glass manage to really stick in it but I'm not worried about that or how much it's bleeding (wow, it's bleeding a lot). I grasp the axe in both hands and wait. Wait for the murderer.

"Come and get me," I growl through clenched teeth. I can't hear anything over the sprinklers but I know he's coming. He's smart, smarter than I'll ever be, but no prey is born without strong survival instincts. He says my fight sense is weak? Come and try me, old man. Where the hell is this burst of confidence coming from? The sprinklers maybe? I don't know. I don't know, I just need to focus focus on fighting. I've killed someone dangerous before and I was injured worse than I am now. Thinking back on that (those memories are fucking vivid now for some reason) I probably shouldn't have hit him so many times. It ripped open my shoulder to something much worse than it was. But I was in a blind panic panic like I am now. No, not blind now but still panic, panic. I can hear a footstep close by. Adjusting my grip on the axe handle I turn the corner and swing with all my might...and miss. He isn't as close as I thought and in the aftershock of the swing he is able to grab the axe head. Still holding onto it with a death grip, I am easily tossed into the opposite wall. I grunt in pain as my bad shoulder connects with the wall. Jigsaw tosses the weapon aside and I watch helplessly as it clatters out of reach. He goes for me and I try to run. Not enough time. He grabs my left arm and wrenches it back, making sure to squeeze and twist the bandaged area making me mewl in pain. I try to pull away but he throws me to the floor. I skid a bit on the wet linoleum and whack my head against the wall. Shit...I see spots. Jigsaw steps over me and kicks me none too gently in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me and pushing me back to the center of the hallway. Where is everyone? I wonder, the walls spinning and my lungs aching for air, Why hasn't anyone come to help me? A long sharp metal object is suddenly thrust through my bad shoulder, so deep I can feel it went through the floor. I can't hear myself screaming but my complaining lungs are telling me what it probably sounds like. Whimpering pathetically I claw at the tiles (white tiles like a like a tiles like a bathroom!) trying in some hopeless way to escape.

"What..." I gasp out, "What do you want from me? I played your game!"

"You failed," he says, looming over me. Rage mingles with the terror.

"I did what I was supposed to do! My objective was to live, wasn't it? And I made it to six o'clock! I was alive after that! Why didn't you let me go?"

"You failed to locate the key, Adam. You chose to attack me instead. Then you were rescued. You didn't play by the rules. You didn't learn your lesson." I slam my let fist to the linoleum (my right arm is starting to go numb).

"Shut up! I got out! I learned my lesson, okay?" Shit, I'm crying now. "I'm a different person now! You've been watching me this whole time! You should know that!" Jigsaw shakes his head, rustling the fabric of his hood.

"These past few days I have been testing you. The test was to see if you could convince others I was not a hallucination and that you were perfectly sane." He's started pacing in front of me, telling this story like I was supposed to know all about it. "You failed this test."

"So...what? Are you gonna kill me now?"

"Yes. You are not grateful and not worthy of the life you have taken for granted." I'm practically sobbing now. I'm going to die. And there's no one here to save me. I couldn't save myself.

.

You know how sometimes the last thing you or someone else said gets replayed a million times in your head for no reason at all? Well that's all I'd been hearing in this blackness, that horrible raspy voice of the dead man come to life saying those two condemning words: Game over. I lay on my back, wishing for those blinding lights and Lawrence's voice helping me through it.

"Lawrence," I moaned pathetically, still more tears managing to leak out, "Lawrence..."

.

"Lawrence..." I whisper, closing my eyes tightly, "Lawrence...Lawrence!" And I wait for the death blow.

It never comes.

.

.

I limp along the soaking hallway as quickly as I can behind the younger, fitter Alexis, spotting the cloaked figure of Jigsaw up ahead. He's looking down at something...someone...Oh, please, no...Alexis picks up speed and with a loud grunt of exertion she throws the first drawer at Jigsaw. It glances his side, enough to hurt and catch his attention.

"Get the hell away from him!" Alexis snarls, readying the other drawer. I try to catch up but he is on her before I can reach them. She tries to hit him again as he approaches but he manages to dodge it and throw her against the wall like she was a ragdoll. She crumples to the floor, having hit her head, and Jigsaw faces me.

"Dr. Gordon. It's good to see you again."

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want a better existence for future generations. I want all the filth of the world to be rid of and to never taint the innocent again. I want to destroy everything evil from the planet."

"Adam is not evil!" I shout back, "Just leave him alone! We were helping him, goddammit! Are you so blinded by your false sense of justice that you can't even see the innocents anymore?"

"He is not innocent. You, who have a young daughter, should know this best of all." A sort of broken, triumphant laughter catches our attention. Alexis is sitting against the wall, her hair having fallen out of its ponytail and now hanging limply around her face, and she's holding up a cell phone.

"The police are on their way, genius," she says smugly, "You're gonna be a prison bitch for a looooong time." Jigsaw looks back at me.

"The game isn't over yet, doctor. I'll be watching." He turns and runs down the hall. I look pleadingly at Alexis who shakes her head and slowly stands.

"Let him run. He can't get far." The sprinklers finally shut off and I can hear the whimpering for the first time. I rush to Adam's prone form, being careful not to touch the metal pipe jammed into his shoulder (oh god what happened to you?).

"Adam? Adam, are you okay? Talk to me." He doesn't respond. He's scratching at the floor with his left hand and mumbling something I can't understand. I realize with horror what is most likely happening to him. There's only so much stress a human mind can take and I'm afraid he's taken too much in too short a time. I carefully touch his drenched hair in consolation. He doesn't react much more than a brief twitch.

"Help is on the way," I whisper to him (though he probably can't hear me; catatonics usually don't), "You'll be okay. I promise." What a half-hearted lie, Gordon.

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Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose you want to know what happened next. I apologize, I'm a little stressed out from last night. The police came along with a few of my colleagues. They took Adam away to be treated and I haven't been allowed to see him yet. All they've told me is he's been under a lot of stress and he can't respond to human contact at the moment. In other words it's like I said before: he's catatonic. What they won't tell me but I heard it early this morning is the screaming. The most pitiful cries I've ever heard started around five-thirty in the morning, coming from Adam's room. A few doctors had run in and sedated him but I knew exactly what was going on. It was too much for him. Adam has suffered a complete psychological breakdown. It pains me to tell you this, it really does, but there's absolutely nothing we can do about something like that. Mental wounds take a very long time to heal and they scar permanently. You have to be extremely patient and cautious around patients who have, for lack of a better term, lost their minds. As for me...I don't know if I could handle seeing him like that. I don't know how to treat a patient with his condition, nor do I think I should try. He needs time to heal and fortunately that's all I can give him right now. He's a prisoner in his own mind but he's also the warden. He needs to realize he can free himself and when he finally does...I'll be there.

A/N: There you have it, guys. The final chapter of TOW, part one of the Savagery of Man trilogy. Plot twist, huh? I never write sad endings so I decided to go for one and coat it five times over in angst. Please tell me what you think in that wonderful box! I worked hard on this story for you wonderful readers and I am excited to begin part two: Perdition of Adam. Oh yeah, and if you didn't guess, the one who pushed Alexis' mother down the stairs was Amanda. What a bitch, amirite? XD Jigsaw told her to do it so he could get Alexis away from Adam. Legolas walks in. "A diversion." I facepalm. "Yes, thank you, Legolas, for that wonderful Bing moment. Aragorn gives a definition, you give the term. Is this fucking Jeopardy! or what?" Okay, I'm done now XDDD.