And here we are again, at chapter 2!

I'd have forgotten- neither I nor silversrider owns Sherlock (ooh, how I wish I did)

Anyway, the role division went like this: I came up with a basic idea, then she expanded a little and I expanded on that, then she expanded it into the final version, which I checked for "spunctuation"

Kudos to her for transforming a "meh" chapter into a "WOW!" chapter!

WARNING: Mentioned (briefly) attempted suicide/suicidal thinking

Chapter 1

Her pale hands clenched the sheets of the hospital-bed, her steady breathing being in perfect harmony with the beating of the heart-monitor besides her bed. Her face seemed peaceful, sending out some childish innocence that had been gone for a long time, the deathly pallor of her face making the light dusting of freckles stand out against her raven locks.

Without her larger-than-life personality, despite her considerable height her form looked fragile and broken.

Something she had tried to hide for so long.

With a small sigh, Mycroft Holmes turned back to the newspaper that had been laid on a side table. For visitors. For people who had come to care. For people who had come to wait. For people who had come to be happy, or to be sad. It felt odd, he didn't belong here and feel the way he did. He wasn't meant to be here and hope, just hope for the best.

Hoping wasn't something he did often. He thought out a plan. He set the plan to work. He watched how the plan worked. He improved the plan. And that same thing, over and over again. Mycroft moved his interest back to the paper. Although the front page was had no longer been filled with the news of the tragic death of the Internet detective, still could Mycroft find more than enough 'news' about that what they now called the crimes of his younger brother.

Why had it come to this? He had promised his parents to take care of them. He had sworn it upon their grave. He had let them down.

Such a simple task. Especially for someone with his power, his intellect. But here he was. His brother had committed suicide, and she had almost gone in his tracks. Was it family fate? Would he follow? Mycroft shook his head. Of course he wouldn't. He was stronger than that, he had people, countries relying on him. Taking the first trip to another world wouldn't help anybody. Not even himself.

Her medical report read that she had shut herself in the garage with the engine on. She had been saved by her neighbor, who was walking his dog around the neighborhood. He had misunderstood the smoke rising from the garage for a fire, so he called the emergency services.

It wasn't as easy as it seemed, a small part of him tried to convince. Keeping them in line.

Sherlock was a sociopath with a strange obsession with solving murders to keep himself from getting bored and Jayne was maniacally paranoid, though she had inherited a sizable dose of the Holmes family shrewdness as well.

But you're not a regular man. You should have had no problem with keeping them in line.

Mycroft turned the page, not really looking at the contents (half of the news credited known politicians with his work, and the other half detailed mundane news that he could have gotten by simply observing the city), more just trying not to think. To tune out and forget. Because with every thought, he became more and more sure he had been responsible for their deaths.

No, his death. She wasn't dead. Yet.

The woman gave a small gasp, her eyes flickering open as she took in her surroundings. Mycroft immediately turned his head towards her and tried to give her a small smile, but she immediately withdrew herself and hid under the blankets. She collected herself and he could almost see the mental shields going up to cover her moment of unconscious weakness

Jayne's chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried her best to contain the paranoia fighting to take control of her. A little, innocent and childish part of her was glad to see her brother again, but a deciding majority of her was suspicious and accusing. How had he found her, when she had evaded him for so long? What would this mean for her, wasn't her life hard enough already without his meddling?

"Why am I here? How did you find me?" Her throat voiced the words before the rational part of her mind could stop them, before she actually could ask the question to herself instead. She mentally punished herself. What had she promised herself? Right. Not to trust anyone, especially not them, not [i]him. [/i]

Mycroft smiled gently, even though Jayne was sure that it was all an act, something he would keep up to try to get her into his large plans, like a spider in an intricate web. A web she couldn't climb out of easily, nets of his network under her, shielding her, keeping her from falling and destroying everything, but a web she hated being part of. It kept her from backing out and being invisible, and that was her goal.

"Do you remember what happened?" His voice sounded worried.

Suddenly, as if a long-waiting key left in an old and rusty lock was turned, the truth became crystal clear. Jayne gasped. Yes, she did. She did perfectly well. Perfectly too well.

Rose Adrian had just gotten home after a very long and tiring day of work. Not that her job was something important… No, she was a regular office secretary at the Greenwich police department, nobody important, but still… The office secretary heard everything, every little thing that was going on in the city, it was the safest place to stay. If anyone was onto her, she would be onto them and out of there before they managed to get any information about her. Why? Rose Adrian wasn't her real name, Rose Adrian had been Jayne Holmes' alias. The longest working yet. Until now.

She had listened to what seemed like thousands of seemingly innocent conversations, trying to analyze each and every one for traces of suspicion.

Anything and everything.

She heard it all. Every word, every letter spoken, every gesture, every implied meaning held silent. And then, she would unravel it in her mind, long webs of words, meanings, gestures, memories, stories and calculations. It all spun around her, day after day and night after night. It wouldn't leave her alone, it wouldn't get away. It drove her crazy, seeing everyone as a thread. Smiles to keep up the alias. Smiles to cover up who she was… Smiles to withdraw suspicions. But the mirror never lied. She couldn't look herself in the eyes. She didn't even trust herself, weaving her web around everyone else, trying not to get caught up in others.

She couldn't even trust herself because of how much she reminded herself of her eldest brother.

And that night. It was enough. She had decided she couldn't take it anymore. The tension rose to unbearable heights. The paranoia, the suspicion… the secrets, the lies- everything seemed to live their own life. Her own life. A life she could never live to the fullest. Her mind surrounded her, with his own thoughts, consuming every feeling of safety, sanity.

End it all.

The pain. She would not feel anymore, the black nothingness can't betray you. Safety in the wings of the never ending dead. Buried under the ground, where no one ever would come to get her. Her memories would fade away. No one would be able to scare her anymore, because she would be gone.

Would be gone. Would be saved from her living hell. Would be saved from the demons running and ruling her life. Would. Be. Gone.

But she wasn't.

"Why did you save my life?" She called out angrily, her face clenched in despair and anger. "What's in it for you?" Her voice shivered with anxiety- she was afraid of the things he might say or do. Still keeping a decent amount of distance, the sheets making a soft wall between them, she looked at him.

Mycroft watched his sister with mixed feelings. Anger, despair and sadness. He was supposed to save her, shield her in his arms when the world was cruel. He was her brother.

But she had pushed him away every time he tried, so he didn't approach her. He shook his head silently.

"There's nothing in it for me at all, Jayne." He said, keeping his voice soft, smooth and comforting. A manner of speaking he only used for her, not for anything or anybody else. He could see her fear behind her mask of blame.

But it wasn't the fear normal people know. Not the kind of fear people have before losing a loved one. Not the fear before losing life. Not even the fear of self-doubt. It was a fear far greater than all. The fear only a paranoid one could understand. The fear of intelligence.

The fear of her own intelligence, and the fear of the intelligence of others.

She had been told from the start of her life that she had been different. Her parents had told her, the teachers at school… The children. The hurt that came with it. Knowing what would come, but not being able to see a performable solution. Thinking and thinking and thinking again. But never coming out with the right answer, always going too far.

Going too far was what had come to rule her life. Seeing, or believing to see the bigger plan, the plan to hurt her was what had driven her insane.

Jayne still wondered, what was her bigger plan for life? Would and could she go on this way? She thought she had found the answer, but it had been taken away from her. Thanks to the man sitting beside her bed. Thanks to him, her brother, was she still here on earth. And she wasn't glad for it.

She had made the decision and tried her best to succeed.

And thanks to him, she failed. No rest, still being locked in the prison of her own mind. Still walking around on the piece of earth called her prison. Was she needed in one of his bigger plans, all aimed to hurt her?

Her thoughts swam darkly as she surveyed him, but something they had had to give her wasn't allowing her to focus.

"You drugged me!" She accused, as she fell back into the relief of no thought.