HAPPY HOLIDAYS, TYLAH!!!! This was posted on Jello Forever as a Secret Santa gift for Tylah. :D This is a multi-chapter so I will post each one separately. Hope you all like it. Her prompt: fear. Chapter One: Waiting


Jane knew fear. Rather more intimately than he ever wanted, actually. How could he explain the fear felt when he had read that letter—such a pristine white against the dark door—from Red John? The foreboding dread that mingled with that fear…

Or the fear that filtered into him upon becoming more lucid, realizing his surroundings, that he was within an institution. Wondering if he would ever feel once more like a man rather than a broken thing. Rather than someone who had fallen off the wall. And no one had bothered to put him back together again.

The fear that dawned when he re-entered the world, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Now that his family was gone, violently ripped from him. He couldn't go back to work as a psychic. He didn't have the patience or the desire to deal with that type of person again, to manipulate them, to pretend that he cared and believed in what he was doing. The world that had given him glitter and glitz, but could never give him what he truly wanted, could never give him happiness.

Could never breath life back into his family.

Or the more recent fear…feeling helpless at the wheel of the car. A stranger—a broken girl—in the passenger seat listening as shots rang out over speakerphone. His frantic call of his colleague. Friend. The oddness that accompanied the fear late at night, when he couldn't sleep, but instead relived that moment and truly thought about how dangerous the line of work was. How many times his colleagues, friends, put themselves at risk.

He wondered if he would spend the rest of his life watching those around him die as some sort of penance. Bosco and his team…

He shuddered to think that Lisbon would be next.

And the thing was: it could happen any time. And the blame may not lay with Red John, even.

Today proved it.

Today, he felt that fear, ten times strong. Mixed with anxiety and the need to just do something.

And yet all he could do was wait, sitting tensely in the stiff hospital chair under the sickly lights of the waiting room. Waiting…

Stomach clenched. Waiting…

Hands grasped tightly together. Waiting…

Fear outlining every muscle of his body.

Waiting…

To hear that she, too, hadn't been stolen away from him.