SAW Reverse Big Bang @sawrevbigbang - Tumblr Blog

Dec 19, 2025

Killer Inside (the Room) - Saw Reverse Big Bang Fic

Hello there! Here is my contribution to the filled with talent Saw Reverse Big Bang, with a Lindsey/Amanda fic based on the art bellow by the talented @irritableizzy

Title inspired by the song Killer Inside by Hydrovibe in which Shawnee Smith features (thanks again @irritableizzy for the tip to find the title).

(Main) Pairing(s): Lindsey Perez/Amanda Young

(Main) Character(s): Lindsey Perez, Amanda Young, Peter Strahm

Synopsis: Peter Strahm has noticed Lindsey is acting...differently lately, so he decides to follow her. What is his companion doing? She's fighting her toughest battle so far: how to be in a relationship with the star secret witness of the Jigsaw Case, Amanda Young.

Word Count: 6.014

CW: hints at depression, LGBTphobia and racism; cursing; mentions of murder, self-injury and substance abuse

Other notes: AU after Saw III, Amanda Young lives, other characters mentioned

AO3 link

@sawrevbigbang I hope this uploads at the correct time!!! (My very first time programming on Tumblr)

People unfamiliar with Peter Strahm thought he might be over his work-obsessive phase once he and (mainly) his partner Lindsey Perez took down the entirety of the Jigsaw…cult? Well, it was a way of referring to it, for certain, to describe the fanaticism that took over those implied, those accomplices that fancied to call themselves Jigsaw Apprentices. After all, only the trial was left, and due to his intensity aka borderline obsession, he was strictly forced to be involved as little as possible.

People that actually knew him well enough…they were painfully aware he would just move on to the next case that caught his attention. However, this was quite dissimilar to anything Strahm had dealt with before. The difference with his previous obsessions? He couldn’t really tell, but the one thing he was certain about was that Jigsaw had consumed much more of his thoughts than anything he had dealt with before. So, whatever came next ought to be really special.

Meanwhile, he had become almost apathetic, almost zombie-like, as if he had been dulled by the lack of horrible crimes to solve. This new situation was so unusual that, after he had fallen asleep on his desk in the middle of filling some paperwork, Lindsey Perez yelled at him in an uncharacteristic fit of worry:

"For fuck's sake, Peter! You need to do something else but work, now!" and, for once in his life, he listened to what other people had to say about his well-being. After all, Lindsey's recent refusals to get a drink after work and giddy smiles for no reason were suspicious, and focusing on that would, in theory, be less tiring and all-consuming in comparison to actual casework.

Besides, it wasn't really stalking if he had good intentions, and Perez had been the one to instigate it, telling him to do something else…

…right?

And so there he found himself, following his best (only) friend in the precinct (entire world) as she walked through the streets of one of the cheapest neighbourhoods of the city that, while still slightly run down, only had a slight increase in the crime rate, which, in reality, was not that bad for this New Jersey city that-should-remain-nameless.

She walked with purpose. She was almost humming, but only letting a subtle breathe escape her lips, almost inaudible. Still, as Strahm followed, he could tell.

"Well, she's excited, but trying to be discreet. What if they had chosen her to be in an undercover drug operation? It would make sense for her to not say a thing, because…" he trailed off his own train of thought.

"HOW COULD THEY NOT INCLUDE ME? Or, at least, tell me; I'd be proud of Perez! Even if they should…" his chain of thought was interrupted for a second time as Lindsey stopped in the middle of a dimly lit street, so narrow it almost felt like a mere alleyway between houses.

There, she muttered something to herself and made the gesture Peter had learned to recognize as "This Gives Me BAD MEMORIES-TM, but I must persevere" as she turned to face a door. The swift action almost got him exposed, in her line of sight. Good thing he was fast enough to hide on the spot. And, even luckier: Perez was clearly concentrated in something he wasn't able to see.

After a few minutes, where Peter almost sawed off his own feet so the nervous tapping didn't expose him, the door opened and she went through. In her rush, she completely forgot to close it, letting it hang open ajar ever so slightly.

As he rushed before it blocked his only way in, he took notice of what Lindsey had been fidgeting with: it was some sort of remote control device.

He became even paler than usual, recognizing the design of the goddam device "shit, there is already a legacy cult of Jigsaw and Lindsey is trying to take them down on her own, in case we have a mole!"

Lindsey Perez knew (and, sadly, not only due to her line of work) when she was being followed. However, instead of inspiring her some bone-chilling anguish, she felt almost tenderness, since she was certain it was Peter who was trying (and absolutely failing) to follow her without being noticed. For like, the umpteenth time in the last few months.

Very likely, she would be able to lose him after she had taken a few unnecessary shortcuts in streets far too narrow for Peter’s square frame to go through without him having to squirm into positions that would make him blatantly obvious. Though, maybe this time, maybe this time he would succeed.

After all, she had been late to work, and, therefore, had no time to fool around before getting to her destination; she knew the person waiting for her wasn’t in the best head-space possible. She was already putting distance the day after they said the “L word”, even if it had only been playfully…”Fuck”, she had thought, genuinely scared about what her lover reaction might be. Anyways: the point was, perhaps that night was the night she could leave the crumbling apartment building knowing her deepest secret was shared with her (only) best friend.

Still, there was a part of her that is absolutely terrified about Peter finding out about who she was seeing. It was no secret how he had a black-and-white morality that marked every single decision in Peter Strahm’s life since he was barely a newborn; he would never accept that a former criminal could truly become a better person.

Much less if they were a straight-up serial killer from a cult.

Just as Amanda Young had been.

When Lindsey was called, she was told that someone had survived the mess that had been the kidnapping of the Delons, she almost froze in place when she saw in front of her the perfect witness: Amanda Young.

Jigsaw’s long suspected collaborator was lying on her hospital bed, eyes open, mouth muttering, but completely unaware of her surroundings, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“We called you in because we want as few people as possible to know she’s alive, and your partner is, well, quite…”

“…yes” Lindsey cut the officer; she knew how her friend could be (and liked to remind him from time to time), but she didn’t appreciate other people speaking about him in such a condescending manner.

“Actually, we are thinking about just putting her in jail, but we thought someone related to the case should know. After all, she was nothing but a lackey, and a pathetically loyal one for that”.

“Then, you are extremely stupid, with all respect” the man scoffed. Lindsey was far too used to people condescending her, but putting their sexism also into how they view a potentially key witness, key collaborator_…she wouldn’t have it._

“Well, I give you two weeks”.

She didn’t bother to even turn her face towards him. Instead, she sat next to Young, and whispered:

“Hello Amanda” so close, she noticed, she was far prettier than her quite degrading official pictures would suggest, even in such a pale, deteriorated state.

She received only silence as an answer. In other words, she received one clear message:

Come back tomorrow_._

And so she came back the following day, and the next one, and, after a week of learning even the slightest imperfection on Young’s face, the addict that had exchanged drugs for a cult, finally spoke to her.

“He betrayed me, I was the only one that truly cared about the cause and him_, and he betrayed me…and what I did…he wanted him dead too…I just…the boy didn’t deserve to die_ that way_” Lindsey thanked the God she was almost certain she didn’t believe in (lo siento mami) for always having some useless paper and almost-useless pen with her._

And so she began taking notes (and, perhaps, a sketch or two of her new star witness).

“So…you are certain it is only these three?”

“Yep, and, knowing them, they might all think they should be the de facto leader. Though Hoffman is for sure the one that will be doing all those brutal murders, he’s not subtle” that was the nicest thing she had said about the man in all the days, turned into weeks, she had been visiting.

“_De facto, uh?” Amanda took a drag of one of the contraband cigarettes Lindsey had brought her as part of her two conditions: giving her the only drug she had sworn no never get clean off, and assure her Daniel Matthews would be taken care of, not left to those_ fuck-ass excuse for parents he got stuck with (literal words, she had forced them to write down in their agreement).

“What? Don’t look at me like that! I read” she scoffed before carrying on. “When your only objectives in life are dying young, and getting there by being as high as possible as much time as possible… Reading is another way to dissociate, right? Besides, it…”

“…it takes away the demons” Lindsey’s demons were very different from Amanda’s, but she got it.

“Changing subject, because there is very little more I could tell you before I have to declare in front of a jury…and finally get away from this shitty apartment…” she pointed around and, yeah, Lindsey got it, even the hospital had felt less hostile as a place of residence. “How was the date with your former neighbour, was she nice or, even better, a nice freak?”

Lindsey choked on the water she wasn’t drinking.

“I never told you my ex-neighbour was a woman” at this, Amanda gave her a tired smirk.

“It takes one to know one” Perez’s stomach dropped. “So, how did it go?”

“Luckily, a complete disaster” Young raised an eyebrow.

“_Luckily?”_

After that, Lindsey had left, unable to explain herself. The following day she was told there was no need for her to keep interviewing Amanda. They had all the intel they needed, and their lawyer team would prep her every Tuesday morning until the trial, a few months from then.

And, yet, she went back the next week, knowing Friday afternoons nobody would be there, and, to her surprise, what Amanda did was slap her.

She was so confused she didn’t even respond; not physically, nor emotionally.

“Where were you?”

Uh, working, house chores, pretending to be dead…and, no, I cannot elaborate on that one”.

“I almost used”.

Lindsey knew that was a lie: there was no way on Earth Amanda could have gotten hold of any drugs, and, as much self-destructive tendencies the former Jigsaw apprentice had, she highly doubted she had decided to get high on bleach or any other cleaning devices. Still, she played ball; this matched what could be expected of someone that had fell as much as Young had, and, furthermore, knowing about her previous self-harm…maybe the “I almost used” was an euphemism for cutting herself, and she wasn’t about to risk her getting even more harmed.

“And that is my fault because…?”

“I thought…I thought that, since the only people coming in wanted to do serious business_, there was something wrong. That my chance out of this was over, and, well, since I was going to prison for life, at best… And then I began thinking about John…” Lindsey felt her stomach turn every single time Amanda said Jigsaw’s name with such reverence, but held her tongue and kept listening. “…I think you might be my new addiction. Talking to you, of course”._

“Of course”.

She couldn’t really pinpoint exactly when coming to see Amanda became something else than being one of the two people Perez liked spending time with outside of work. She just knew one day she was sitting on a chair, almost felt to the floor and suddenly…she didn’t care how uncomfortable and cold it was, as long as Amanda kept kissing her.

And she knew that, as Amanda opened the door, seeing her was the best part of the week. Or so she thought, until she realised the new bandages in both of the other woman’s front arms.

“Amanda, what…?” she closed the door behind her, but making sure a slight bit of light still came out (she hadn’t forgotten about Peter following her, after all). “Amanda, I thought…it is because…something I said, something…did something else happen?” she knew it wasn’t a good idea for her to begin leaving the apartment. Apart from completely breaking protocol, there were too many stimuli, so many possible triggers…

…no, Amanda wasn’t weak, far from it, but what she had gone through was some of the worst experiences imaginable to mankind. However, not all of it was bad. As when Amanda had recounted Mexico, and about Gabriela, and how badly she had wanted to save her. Though a very dark, very hidden part of Lindsey, she could feel a stab of jealousy, making her glad she failed at saving her. Could she possibly be relieved Gabriela had failed her trap?

Instead of letting Lindsey spiral internally, Amanda calmed her down, quickly explaining herself.

“No, nothing happened, it’s just… even when I have a good day…something is never quite right, will never be anymore. And sometimes, it’s simply not a good day. Sometimes, for no fucking good reason, it’s a terrible day, and your head keeps telling you all the things you could have done differently and you cannot shut it up, no matter how hard you try. Today was one of those days, and the fact that you were coming… The fact that I SHOULD BE HAPPY just made everything crueller, worse. So, yeah, I went into an ugly place. However, thanks to that cutlery here, I am not dying again…High quality stuff, there’s even a med pack! Good thing J…” she struggled and didn’t finish Kramer’s name. “Good thing I know how to sew. Ey, how fucking not-awful was your day?” she turned to her, but Lindsey was not about to let it slide.

“As you said, my day was easier” it was a lie. She knew that their situations weren’t comparable, but being one of the very few women in a relatively respectable position within the FBI investigators, while also being a woman of color and queer…it was also far from easy.

She remembered all too well how it was when she began working. Her superiors questioned every single decision she made. She recalled with a stab of guilt how she used to be a bit too abrasive to certain suspects, with the sole purpose of gaining a sliver of respect from those that were meant to be her peers. Lindsey knew how easy it was to let cruelty wriggle its way into your soul, getting the best of you: it was the easiest way to get where she thought she deserved to be, to prove she was worthy of it…

…uh, maybe…maybe they could actually relate. She took Amanda’s hands in hers, carefully making sure not to caress even in the slightest the wounds she couldn’t help but to feel partly responsible for.

“Is this what love feels like, to believe the other person’s faith is as much of a by-product of you as you feel yours is theirs?” she mussed, before actually began talking:

“Listen; as much as I know I am a smart, intuitive person…I joined an armed institution for a reason: I’m not the best at dealing with feelings, or expressing myself when it comes to such…” Amanda let a tired smile crack. “Such, and I know I cannot do a thing to change your brain, and I don’t want to, but, I am begging you, next time…” her head, for once, went the poetic route: heard the call of the iron, your blood began to beg to be freed of all pain; but chose the most mundane approach, scared of how much she got why those words would lure her…her Amanda. “Next time you want to punish yourself when you shouldn’t, you call me, even if I cannot talk you out of it, at least I will know to drop everything and come to your rescue” at this, Amanda raised an eyebrow.

“At my rescue? And risk losing your precious job?”

Lindsey shrugged.

“Well, you said all cops are bastards. You repeat it constantly. Wouldn’t it make me a better person?”

“Likely, but I’ve never dated someone who wasn’t an entire non-bastard. I think it is impossible for them to be attracted to me. Don’t worry, I don’t think you are as bad as my past exes, you are actually pretty decent, but I know the moment guilt stops corroding you, you will be out of the door.”

There was a limit of self-hatred Lindsey could tolerate.

As much as she was conscious of how wonderfully reckless it had been to give up her morals and begin what could be called for the sake of honesty A RELATIONSHIP WITH A CONFIRMED SERIAL KILLER (no matter how much of Amanda’s crimes were motivated by righteous reasons, self-hatred, and the gaslighting of one of the scariest men she had ever the displeasure of investigating; no matter how she was conscious she was part of an institution that instigated systemic violence, how she had used said violence more than once in a rather questionable way), even with all that, she had never contemplated that it could come to this.

she had learned to appreciate the long and meaningless, yet fulfilling conversations, the shared comfortable silence and, yeah, as shallow as it was, the sex, and the absolute gorgeous woman that was Amanda Young, (even with her slightly sickened aspects). Seeing her hating herself so much, making herself so much less than she could be, and, in the process, also making her less than she was, made Lindsey physically ill.

She made it so sick she couldn’t even bring herself to word out loud the sensation that only a few minutes ago she had accepted was Love. She felt it blocked in her mouth, her mind scared of the chance it would make Amanda run away.

Just as her body was also completely blocked: she could have tried to walk out of the small apartment, understandably upset; or she could have shook the other woman’s hands too violently, and made Amanda's injuries even deeper. And, yet, she only stood.

Instead of acting on sight, her rationality took over and she managed to generate a more elaborate thought before acting: she was never going to be able to control where Amanda would go, both physically and mentally, but she had known that from the moment she had first kissed her, she was taking a step she could never return from. That was not news. She could keep being surprised by this person that hadn’t been okay since a very young age, or she could choose to support her, and try to make sure the harm inflicted to herself and others was minimal.

That, and, as much as when Young’s eyes checked her out from head to toe she believed she could forgive her of anything:,she could easily put Amanda first.

And maybe at the very least defend the institution she had pledged loyalty to for the rest of her working life, as much as she had to agree it was rotten in far too many different and haunting manners.

She didn’t know whether a few seconds or entire hours had passed since she last spoke out-loud, but she forced direct eye contact with Amanda (there was already enough intimacy between them so a concrete tilt of her head was enough for the former Jigsaw apprentice to pay complete unfiltered attention to her partner) and, once her hauntingly gorgeous brown eyes were completely focused on her, she began speaking:

“I am a good person”

“I didn’t say…”

“I am a good person, and you might not have been the best of people, but I consider you a good one too, and one that has been harmed more than enough already. I know it’s not in my hands for things to be really okay, that, fuck, maybe you will never really be really okay, but I will be there as long as you don’t do something I cannot forgive, and I will be the judge of what it’s unforgiving and what it’s not, alright? And, qué coño¸ you are Amanda Young: I didn’t fall for the nice-all-together girl. Maybe I want your chaos, even if it is confusing for me, even if I stop being a cop, as you said, and I am at peace with that”.

“You never speak Spanish”.

“Some people just bring it out of me”.

To this, she could see how Amanda’s eyes widened to the size of small planet satellites.

Amanda couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Yes, there had been people before who had allegedly cared for her, some even honestly so, but there had always been a catch, and she simply couldn’t see what that was with Lindsey, and that scared her. That scared her more than anything had ever scared her before.

Because,even though every single personal connection she had had ended badly, , there was always something about the other person that made her feel ever so slightly less guilty, so she could carry on. If she screwed things up with Lindsey, she didn’t know if she would be able to do the same thing.

And, seeing how she couldn’t even be the apprentice she put so much effort into becoming…letting Adam wither as John intended was too cruel, that hadn't been murder, it had been a mercy killing; he had already lost (or did he?)…; and some of her more irrational angry decisions…as much as the too kind ones, they made complete and absolute sense for her: those people were exceptions to John’s beliefs.

Beliefs that she had painfully realised weren’t as pure or righteous as she had thought. It had taken her being tricked herself, and, later on, hearing irrefutable proof from Lindsey to see that John had constructed a narrative around his own revenge.

Yes, what he had built was something Amanda had thought (and, fearfully enough, a part of her still thought) she could get behind, but there weren’t really his. And the children…Diana Gordon, Daniel Matthews, Corbett Denlon…they definitively shouldn’t have had to pay for the sins of their parents, and yet, he had used them as puppets in his sick and twisted games.She shook the thought out of her head; she gained nothing from overthinking the past, but she knew it would be a very long time until she had a clear view of both what she’d done, and what John had done.

To others, to himself, and, also, to her.

Perhaps, by the time she had actually made peace with that part of her life (if that was even fucking possible), she would have already gotten a boring-ass job. The kind of job she used to mock constantly.

Long ago, she used to dream of something bigger. Back when she was that little girl, scared of the darkness, and in dire need of someone holding her and telling her the world wasn’t as ugly as it truly was. The one who still tried to study as hard as possible, to get out, to be the Best Nurse Ever; the kind of nurse that would made all those stuck up doctors finally apologise for mistreating the people truly working their asses off.

Much later, childhood only a distant memory, she had come to believe there was absolutely no point in even putting in the effort: what was even the point? You were going to die either way, and there was no saving grace for regular people, much less for poor losers that seemed to repel honest love and care.

As her father had reminded how pointless she was her until the day he died, as her disastrous attempt to have a-boyfriend-as-you-should had told her constantly. As all the girls that had been with her because they (conscious or subconsciously) knew she was too messed up to publicly claim them. As all the cops but Lindsey had clearly thought she was merely a joke when she had presented herself as a true valuable asset against the Jigsaw murders. As John kind of had implied there was no salvation for her with his final game…

…SHIT FUCK, FUCK SHIT FUCK.

There he was again, haunting her as an awaken nightmare of her own creation. She had to stop, he was dead, and he had never been what she had made him to be in the first place…

…she tried to focus on Lindsey, on what life with her could look like. In this bizarre attempt of witness protection, even if she hadn’t been handed a new identity.

That’s how much they care; she mocked them, mentally, though not completely sure that wasn’t the case. Wouldn’t everything be harder for her, more dangerous, if she kept being Amanda Young?

And it wasn’t as if Amanda Young had much going for her, apart from whatever she was building with Lindsey (she would be better off without you) and her broken but not shattered (are you so insane you really think the knowledge you got from becoming a serial killer is going to help you in your work life? Do you really believe the drugs haven’t rendered you useless for anything but the lowest of collar jobs?) but not shattered dreams of being something else.

Hell, maybe she could become something short of nurse-ish. Maybe she could heal Lindsey when she got hurt; maybe she could manage to convince her to leave the FBI (even if the other woman felt kinda fond of that Peter-person, as insane as he sounded when she spoke about him), to be a private detective…

Maybe, she could even use what she had learned as an apprentice. She would be able to help in that business. She could be sneaky, she had become rather good at reading people as long as they were not emotionally involved with her…

…and, Hell, hadn’t she been kind doing one of the main jobs of a private detective the past few weeks?

Amanda had known from minute one that she wasn’t supposed to leave the flat unless it burnt to the ground. The FBI even got her a job that didn’t require going out, so she could have some legit income (she guessed Lindsey had insisted, and she wasn’t sure whether she felt grateful or resentful for it). Still, she was not about to be trapped between four (shitty) walls; she had enough with the entrapment within her head.

And, if the FBI had chosen to give her a half-ass witness protection, without the brand new identity where she could try again, she could also choose to only obey halfway.

After all, she would go out (which she shouldn’t), but she wouldn't be seen by anyone (which she should): she would follow Lindsey around at a prudential distance, to make sure she was safe. She was really worth it. She could actually accept her in her real life. She hadn’t told anyone about her (especially that guy that seemed to be his best friend or something like that -she didn’t have much experience in the best friend department-)…

The reason changed every time, because the truth, the bland, dull, scary truth was that she needed to feel she was something more than an intermittent presence in her existence, that there was more to them_. She was searching, almost pathologically, for the signs that she was missed, needed somehow._

Like the time she coughed her looking with especial empathy to a thin woman a bit older than her that had clearly ODed. Maybe she was simply being a sensitive person, but maybe it reminded her of her.

Or that other time, when someone made a quite disgusting joke about the Jigsaw case and Lindsey had to be physically taken to another room by Peter before she would murder her co-worker. Again: mere sensitivity, or a more Amanda-centric reason? It could be either, but she had to choose to believe it was the latter.

Even it, every single time she went on one of those little poorly called adventures, she felt ever so slightly guiltier of thinking so high of herself. For believing that her kind-of partner would have her so constantly in her mind.

And so she began spiralling, feeding her very self-deprecation circle, that kept growing and growing. So much that, one day, she truly contemplated letting it all behind and running away, completely on her own.

Yet, every single second said tempting idea invaded her brain and body as a metastasized cancer, she contemplated how it would affect the other woman’s career if they lost their star witness due to sentimental drama, and so she stayed.

At least, doing so she was left with the funny feeling that, by not acting at all, she was doing something truly useful for Lindsey.

Stalking wasn’t half as bad, and, at least with her current illegal activity, she knew there would not be a trail of corpses behind her.

Amanda had zoned out a few minutes ago, but Lindsey had learned that this wasn’t a bizarre occurrence, but something Amanda went through with a certain frequency. She even had promised herself to read on the matter in case she could help the other woman, but, as it usually happened in adult life, time had fought against her (and win).

Once she had come back, and seemed about to apologise, Lindsey stopped her.

“Ey, that’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been that dramatic. Hell, I’m usually not that dramatic” she sighed, and the part of her that was much less in connection to her feelings took over. “I think we have talked enough about…about. We'll have more time once everything is over. Now, the case: almost closed, we even physically got Hoffman, though he’s in a coma. The doctors think he won’t be waking up. Taking him down, that was…”

“…an absolute headache?” Amanda helped, smirking, as she sat and held her slightly tighter so she would follow promptly.

“You could say so, yes. But we have enough evidence to lock him up for multiple lifetimes if he ever woke up; him and the other two that were involved. Logan Nelson and Lawrence Gordon”.

“Let me guess: Logan is being a bit too normal-but-intense about the whole thing, and Lawrence just gave up without a fight and haven’t spoken since you took him in?”

Lindsey looked surprised for a moment; sometimes she forgot Amanda had actually worked, and almost lived, with those men. She was also surprised about how quickly she went for the clearly satisfied attitude when she told her about Hoffman, to the absolute boredom when mentioning Nelson, to almost pity towards Gordon.

“Yes, that is basically it. They are going down, for all the murders, for the torture. For people like Rigg, or Kerry…” when she mentioned Allison, she could have sworn she saw Amanda’s eyes glitched for a second, but decided to absolute ignore it for the time being. She'd rather betray herself, and live in bliss and oblivion than having to face the fact that it was irrefutably Amanda had paid a part in the murder of people she used to know (even if she hadn't been the main executioner).

At least, for the moment, when Amanda tried for the first that lie that was the normal life, then, she would be Lindsey Perez in her entirety once again.

In that moment, she just wanted to became whatever she was when she intertwined with Amanda Young.

And so she did, she began kissing the other woman, first with patience, then with indubitable passion, pushing her more and more into the couch, and even caressing a bit too tight her wounds. Somehow, in that passion, Amanda's wounds seemed to either have healed or turn from painful to glorious, their touch a reminder that both of them were alive and in that precise moment.

As she drowned in her partner (her partner, against all odds), a voice broke the moment.

"Is that Young?!!!"

Peter had had several concussions during his adult life (even before he became a cop), and had always thought he was extremely lucky, since he had never had further complications.

Maybe he had been wrong all along: what his eyes were showing him simply couldn't be real.

As his best friends in the Entire Fucking World jumped from over the allegedly dead serial killer from a cult they were investigating.

He repeated himself, in case Lindsey hadn't heard him properly. After all, she ought to have been insane up to some level to decide to explore that deep the throat of a proven murderer.

"IS THAT AMANDA YOUNG?!" his voice reached a high he didn't know was able to reach, and felt himself blush for a second (fucking male expectations…no one is free from them).

"I'm not a that, you pig" Young replied, as she steered herself without moving from the couch, giving him a stare that scared him more than the one much bigger, much more actively violent people had given him before. "What? You're really that surprised Perez has good taste in one thing in her life?"

At this, Lindsey sighed and turned to him, while muttering something of which he could only made "la puta fachada otra vez" ("that fucking face she put on again", he believed it meant -there were many Spanish speakers in his country, which made it statistically likeable for a lot of Spanish speakers to also be criminals; it was only logical for him to learn the language-).

"Peter, honestly, how do you think we were able to find Kramer's lair so easily? Pure detective instinct, and questionable use of public cameras? And, yes, sorry for not telling you, but our bosses know how…"

"I'm just devoted to what we do" from the couch, Young cracked up and Lindsey simply shrugged, pointing at her…casual lover? Proper partner?

He wasn't ready to know.

"Amanda's reaction is why you didn't know: too intense, and the opposite of subtle. You are so goddam lucky people believe we have something, they believe we are meeting in some dingy motel after hours. If not, people at the Bureau would have suspected of you following me, and I don't want them near her".

As much as he was still perplexed and would rather die than say he approved the relationship, he got what his friend was saying: as much as he didn't want to admit it, the institution they worked for sucked in far too many ways.

"So, the higher ups in the Bureau know?"

Both women laughed and Lindsey sat back next to the criminal.

"Not at all, we are just friends…and so you will tell if, somehow, it comes up. Please, Peter. You know…" she didn't finish, as if he could guess what she was referring to.

It could be all about how bad all her previous relationships had been, being the norm in her life; it could be about how he was the only person she truly honestly trusted…

…or both, and even more; he just knew his best friend needed him. So, after exhaling the deepest breath of his entire existence, he replied:

"Fine, I will try to get used to you two" until you find out something about her you aren't able to condone, or she does something anew that you cannot simply forgive.

Because, with people like Amanda Young, that day always comes.

But, for the moment, his best friend was happier than she had ever been, and he did something he had never done before.

Peter Strahm chose to relax.

#marlasomething #sawbigbang2025 #amanda young #lindsey perez #puppetshipping

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