Lisbon escorted Charlotte around security, showing her badge and giving no chance for anyone to question her. She knew - or hoped - that there was at least a tape recorder in Charlotte's purse, and that was both exactly what she wanted and exactly what security was screening for.

"Wow, look at you," Charlotte said as they got on the elevator. "Little miss in-charge."

Lisbon smiled at her. "I've been a Senior Agent for over ten years," she told her; "I'm in charge of my own team and everything. There are only two levels of authority above me, and right now, I'm good with where I'm at."

"Wow," Charlotte said, shaking her head and smiling brilliantly. "You've changed, sis."

"Nah," Lisbon said, "just grown up some, I guess. You probably have, too."

Charlotte giggled. "Not really," she said.

Lisbon couldn't stop smiling. Her other half, the only person in the world she had ever been able to talk to completely openly…They had had to separate when Charlotte had decided she wanted to be a reporter - Lisbon had already been in law enforcement by then, and it was either separate or one of them would have had to give up their career.

"I'm glad you at least haven't turned into a robot since I last saw you," Charlotte kidded as they got off the elevator.

"Oh, other people picked up where you left off," Lisbon bantered; "I haven't been able to turn into a robot any more than I was able to when we were together."

"You make it sound like we were married," Charlotte joked.

Lisbon laughed. Truly laughed - the sight and sound would have stunned anyone who hadn't known her more than eighteen years.

Finally, they were in the office space. It was empty just then; the two boxes of Red John's case file were packed and stacked one on top of the other.

"So tell me," Charlotte said: "Why did you call? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but you said something about the biggest story ever…"

"Well, I need you to make it the biggest story ever," Lisbon amended, "and I really can't trust anyone else in the media business…at all."

Charlotte smiled. "How do you know you can trust me?" she teased.

"Charlie," Lisbon said, giving her a look.

Charlotte said nothing, still wearing a teasing smile.

"We made a promise long before I even became a cop," Lisbon said. "Sister Pledge, remember?" She smiled. "It's been a long time, but I still remember."

"Me too," Charlotte relented. "We're sisters, first and foremost, no matter what happens."

"And some sister you'd be if I couldn't trust you," Lisbon said, not as sternly as some people who knew her might expect.

"So what's going on?" Charlotte asked. "What's so big but so secret you need my help in particular?"

"It's not secret, not exactly," Lisbon said; "I just need to be able to keep it under some sort of control once it gets out; I figure you'll probably be the lead reporter, and I'm hoping I'll be able to direct or regulate the press with your help."

"And what's in it for me?" Charlotte asked. "Sisters or not, I'm supposed to listen to my boss, not a cop - even the newest reporters know to circumvent and extort law enforcement whenever possible to get a story. That's why we had to go our separate ways, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Lisbon said, "but you're not that ruthless."

"I have to be, at least at work," Charlotte said, shrugging.

Lisbon smiled. "So you have grown up some," she said. "Good. Once I explain to you what's going on, you'll understand what's in it for you."

"So tell me already!" Charlotte exclaimed. "You've kept me wondering all day!"

"It's barely been half an hour," Lisbon said, laughing - Charlotte's insatiable curiosity had been the main reason she had decided to become a reporter, and it looked like it hadn't changed.

"Terry," Charlotte said, exasperated.

"All right, all right!" Lisbon said. She took a breath. "Well…do you know about the serial killer known as Red John?"

"Red John?" Charlotte repeated. "That freak who paints smiley faces in people's blood?"

"That's him," Lisbon said, smiling at the faint irony of Charlotte calling Red John a freak without knowing hardly anything about him.

"Terry, every reporter in California knows about Red John, even if crime isn't their field - it's one of those big-name reporting legends," Charlotte told Lisbon.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," Lisbon said, feeling her spirits lift - if Red John on his own was that big a deal, then making this story a really big deal would be that much easier, and anything that would make this thing easier was a blessing.

"So what about him?" Charlotte asked.

"We got him," Lisbon replied.

Charlotte's eyes went round. "You caught Red John?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, don't shout," Lisbon said, smiling. "Yes, we got him - his real name is Doctor Mark Doe, he's a local oil company tycoon, freakishly smart and very powerful."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of him," Charlotte said, and Lisbon's spirits lifted even higher. "He's not a huge deal, but I've heard the name once or twice."

"Well then, this should be quite a story," Lisbon half-teased.

"Uh, yeah," Charlotte said, her eyes still wide. "What do you need me for?"

Lisbon smiled; what she was about to do was a huge risk, but Jane had told her that it was ideal if she could do it. Without a word, she walked over to the desk and picked up the two boxes, then brought them over to Charlotte. "This is the entire case file for Red John - it's everything we have on him as of yesterday. Take it."

"Take it?" Charlotte repeated, surprised. "Like, all of it?"

"All of it," Lisbon confirmed. "Share it with every news network in the state and all the national networks as well - this information needs to be everywhere, now."

"Won't you get in trouble?" Charlotte asked.

"Possibly, but this is really important," Lisbon said as Charlotte took the boxes and tried not to let her purse fall off her shoulder.

"Must be, if you're breaking your own rules," Charlotte muttered.

"I heard that!" Lisbon said.

"Good," Charlotte bantered.

Again, Lisbon laughed. God, she hadn't laughed like this in nearly two decades…Jane did his best, but he was more annoying than anything - only Charlotte brought her to life like this.

"I missed you, Charlie," she said fondly, only just realizing then exactly how much she had missed her sister.

"Yeah, I missed you too," she said.

"Uh, so, anyway," Lisbon said, getting back to the matter at hand, "that's all we had as of yesterday - today, there have been some huge breaks on the case, mainly thanks to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI getting involved."

"Are there records of that, too?" Charlotte asked.

Lisbon smiled. "Better, I was present for all of it, it's fresh in my mind, and I will tell you everything on record," she replied. "Did you bring a recorder so you could do interviews?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Sis, I take my tape recorder home with me," she said, smiling; "yes, I have it with me now."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said, half-teasingly, "I had no idea you could be so serious about your job."

Charlotte shrugged. "Hey, I never know what'll happen," she said, "and it doesn't weigh that much; it's just as much an accessory as my makeup."

Lisbon resisted rolling her eyes at that. She sort of understood the idea of fashion - appearances do matter, she wasn't completely oblivious - but there were more practical things a person could do with their time than paint their face.

"Come on," she said, taking a step away; "I'll get us a room, and then I'll tell you everything I can." Her mind had been racing, grappling with the story she would have to tell on and off since Jane's directions, and she thought she'd pretty much figured out how much she could tell without revealing any of her own personal experiences with Red John.

Charlotte followed.

~o~

Dr. Mark Doe had never thought he would wear a prison jumpsuit, or see the inside of a jail cell in person. Of course, it was all the same to him - the only thing he really missed was his surveillance room. Well, that and his knife - he'd had to hide that, and quickly; no one could touch his knife except him. He hadn't been lying, after all - after all the blood he'd spilled with it, it pretty much was a part of his body, or at least he valued it as such.

So…his Old Friend hadn't acted according to plan…No doubt he was scrambling to try to find some other way to stop him now. Why that was puzzled Red John, but he decided not to question it; in any case, it meant that he would go free, wreak terror and havoc once more.

He wasn't worried. Even a conviction wouldn't stop him - if anything, it would mean more killing, and he'd almost be grateful for that. Especially considering…

"…Get this pathetic excuse for a human being out of my sight right now!"

Oh, his Old Friend would pay for that - he'd pay for it in the blood of dozens, even hundreds if Red John could manage it. No one disrespected him, ever - his Old Friend should have learned that by now. Then again, he was a complete and utter moron…

Mark was drawn from his reverie back to the prison cot he was casually lying on at the sound of his prison cell door opening. Curious, he got to his feet. The police led him out without a word, bringing him to an empty room with a table and two chairs, the sort police interviews were sometimes carried out in. Was that what was happening? If so, it would be completely pointless - he was never at a loss for words, and he could talk circles around almost anyone.

The door opened again, and in came a somewhat-attractive brunette woman carrying a file. She smiled and held out her hand to Mark.

"Dr. Mark Doe?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, shaking her hand and giving her a warm smile.

"I'm Alyssa Lamb, I'm going to be your defense attorney," she told him.

The name meant something to him - one of the best defense attorneys in the country, Alyssa Lamb was just as good at manipulating a jury with emotions as she was with facts.

"I don't recall asking for a lawyer," Mark said, somewhat perplexed. "I could do things on my own just fine."

"I was asked to try your case, Dr. Doe," Alyssa said. "I'm more than happy to defend you." She opened her file. "The CBI has almost no evidence against you," she told him; "I'm not entirely sure on what grounds you were arrested, to be honest."

"I've been accused of being the serial killer known as Red John, I know that much," Mark said. "A mister Patrick Jane led the charge, I believe." He shook his head. "Terrible, what happened to him - Red John murdered his entire family ten years ago, and he's been seeking revenge ever since, the poor fool." Mark took a breath; he couldn't risk revealing that he actually was Red John, not just yet at least. "I think he's just tired of the chase and wants a scapegoat," he told Alyssa, "and I can understand that. Ten years…must have been torture for him. Of course he'd want it to be over. He murdered an innocent man a few years ago because he thought the man was Red John, but he was wrong then, too."

"So you're definitively saying that you aren't Red John?" Alyssa asked.

Mark smiled. "Ask anyone who knows me," he said; "I'm not a killer." I'm a monster, but you don't need to know that.

Alyssa flipped through her papers, then stopped. "Dr. Doe-"

"Oh, please, call me Mark," he said; "no need to be formal."

Alyssa smiled. "Mark," she said. "According to this, the main evidence against you comes from the work of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"The BAU?" Mark asked. "I've heard of them, if vaguely…criminal profilers, aren't they? Professional criminal profilers." He smiled. "I've studied criminal profiling a tiny bit," he told her, knowing he had the credentials to back him up.

"Well, apparently, the profile put together for Red John matches you," Alyssa said, not accusingly.

Mark smiled again. "Criminal profiling isn't an exact science," he told her; "even professionals aren't completely right all the time. And in this case, they're wrong." He had to pause for a moment before he could make himself say it, but he hid it with another smile. "I'm not Red John," he said.

Alyssa nodded. "Well, I think it would be a good idea to make a statement," she began.

Mark held up his hand. "Please, Alyssa, there's no need for you to work on this case," he told her reassuringly. "I'll come up with what to do - I know enough about law enforcement to know how we should handle this. Not that I'm ungrateful to have your help," he added warmly.

Alyssa's smile widened. "I must say, Mark, I've never defended anyone like you," she said; "most wrongly accused people are upset or angry."

"I've been put in here on the words of a very upset and angry man himself," Mark said dismissively; "I forgive him for that. It won't do any harm to anyone in the long run, and as they say, no harm, no foul."

And with that, Alyssa fell just the tiniest bit in love with him. He had to suppress a smirk; this girl was so easy to manipulate, it wasn't even fun. She was the sort of person who believed that everyone has good in them, that much was more than obvious - it was what made her so good at her job.

He wondered how she'd feel if he were to cut her open, again and again, enjoy her flesh as her lifeblood slowly poured out of her…

He smiled, and was able to make Alyssa believe that it was because he felt the same spark for her as she had felt for him. Oh yes, she would make very nice prey.

~o~

Two hours later, Lisbon was leading Charlotte away. The two boxes containing the Red John case file were several whole recording tapes heavier; as it had turned out, it was a good thing Charlotte stayed as stocked with tapes as she did her makeup. Never thought I'd be grateful for my sister's feminine obsession with having stuff, Lisbon found herself thinking as they walked.

Suddenly, she stopped, remembering something she wanted to do sooner rather than later.

"Hey, sis, how about you, uh, wait in the office space, there's something I need to do," she said to her sister. "I'll only be a minute."

"Yeah, sure," Charlotte said; "I'm not walking out of here with these boxes without you and your badge, after all."

Lisbon chuckled, more lighthearted than she had been in a long, long time.

In her office, she found Van Pelt - exactly who she had been looking for. Van Pelt was sitting in a chair, her eyes distant.

Lisbon's heart twinged with sympathy, her mood slightly darkening again - being targeted by Red John was traumatizing, there were no two ways about it. Just learning Red John's true nature was traumatizing for most, especially for those who hadn't experienced his evil firsthand before…

Van Pelt actually jumped at the sound of the door opening. She turned.

"Hey boss," she said with a very fake smile.

"Hey," Lisbon said, not even trying to force a smile back. "How are you?"

"I, uh, I'm okay," Van Pelt said, far from convincingly.

Lisbon nodded, then walked over and sat down next to her instead of in her desk chair.

"I wanted to talk to you about Red John," she told Van Pelt.

At the very name, Van Pelt's face paled.

"It's okay," Lisbon said. On a burst of inspiration that probably had something to do with having her sister back in her life, she reached over and took hold of one of Van Pelt's hands. Van Pelt's hand shook, and Lisbon held tight.

Van Pelt looked at her uncertainly.

"Red John is…the most evil thing that couldn't possibly exist," Lisbon said. "The devil himself couldn't be more evil, I know."

"Yeah," Van Pelt said, not even trying to pretend to smile anymore, either.

"Even after I got away from him…I was never the same," Lisbon went on. "Jane helped me get myself back together, but I'm still not the same as I was before…It's impossible to face Red John and not carry scars."

Van Pelt's expression turned confused; clearly, she had thought that Lisbon had completely left behind all of Red John's torture.

"Even now…I don't have that…particular nightmare anymore, but…well, I do have nightmares sometimes, like everyone does," Lisbon continued. "I…never saw his face - not while I was his captive - so I guess I'm lucky in that that couldn't haunt me, but something else…did. There is something, that I guess made more of an impression on me than anything else, that still haunts my nightmares…even when I'm awake I think I hear it sometimes, though I try not to show it."

"What?" Van Pelt asked, her voice shaking.

Lisbon met Van Pelt's eyes. "His laugh," she told her. "The sound of his laugh haunts me to this day." She hesitated, then asked, "What's haunting you?"

Van Pelt took a breath. "His eyes," she replied, sounding like her voice was about to crack; Lisbon held her hand a little tighter. "The way he looked at me…especially right at the end there…Like he'd never wanted anything in his life more than he wanted me just then." She shuddered.

Lisbon nodded. "Van Pelt, I'm not going to lie to you," she said; "you…are Red John's ideal victim."

"What?" Van Pelt gasped.

"Most of the time, you're strong, brave, clever, resourceful, and most of all, vivacious - you're full of energy and life," Lisbon said. "You also haven't quite lost all of your youthful naïveté yet…which means that when you get scared, you get very scared. Fear is like a drug to him - he can't get enough. No doubt between one thing and another, the sheer amount of fear you can feel…makes you very…desirable, to him."

Van Pelt's breath started coming harder.

"But I also want to tell you that he won't get you," Lisbon said.

Van Pelt looked up, surprised.

"Jane is working on a plan to make sure he never hurts anyone again, including you," Lisbon told her. "He will not lay hand or knife on you, I promise. Jane promises, same as he promised to save me." She met Van Pelt's eyes. "Okay?" she asked.

Van Pelt nodded, still badly shaken.

"I have to go," Lisbon said, releasing Van Pelt's hand and standing up. "You hang in there, okay? Whatever you need to do to feel better, if there's anything at all, do it - nothing is more important than fighting the effects of facing Red John."

"Okay," Van Pelt said softly.

Lisbon nodded and left, headed back to the office space so she could get her sister - and the Red John case file - out of the building without any further delay. Helping Van Pelt handle Red John's evil and desire took priority, but she'd hold up for the moment, and there was nothing else Lisbon could do for her just then anyway.

~o~

After standing around for a couple of minutes, Charlotte walked over to the couch that sat a little beyond the desks, set down the boxes, and sat down. She figured there was no reason she couldn't start looking at the files while Terry was busy with…whatever.

So it was that Patrick Jane walked into the office space and found a very pretty woman with waves of golden hair held back by a pink headband, blue eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and a very nice small purse over her shoulder, looking through papers while sitting on his couch.

He walked over to her. "Uh, excuse me," he said.

The woman looked up, but even when she saw him, she didn't seem embarrassed. "Yes?"

"Get off my couch," he said bluntly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're sitting on my couch," Jane said. "I spent a lot of time on that couch, it's mine, please get off of it."

"Uh…okay," the woman said, confused and slightly offended, and she put the papers she had been looking through back in the box Jane hadn't noticed because he had been so focused on someone sitting on his couch and stood up. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay, no big deal," Jane said, waving her halfhearted apology aside.

She blinked. "Huh?"

"In fact, I apologize," Jane said, contrite; "I assumed that you knew that this was my couch and were sitting on it with the intention of annoying me. Evidently, I was mistaken."

The woman stared at him in speechless astonishment.

"You know what? Let's start over, we got off on the wrong foot," he said, and he held out his hand and smiled. "Hi, I'm Patrick, nice to meet you."

"Uh, nice to meet you, too…I think," she said, still a bit taken aback but taking his hand and shaking it all the same. Jane's smile helped her gather her wits, and she smiled back. "I'm Charlotte."

Jane worked very hard to not betray the fact that this woman's name made his stomach turn over; his smile faltered ever-so-slightly for a moment, but not much. "Charlotte," he repeated. "Lovely name."

"Uh, thanks," Charlotte said, taking her hand back.

At that moment, Lisbon walked in.

"Okay, sis, sorry about that, let's-" She stopped as she saw Jane. "Oh," she said. "Jane. There you are."

"Yes, here I am," Jane said. He looked between Lisbon and Charlotte, then turned his attention on Lisbon. "I thought you had three brothers."

"I do," Lisbon said; "you can still think that."

"Then how is this woman your sister?" Jane asked.

"Oh! Foster sisters," Lisbon clarified, walking over and joining them. "After my dad…" She trailed off, sadness and pain in her eyes.

"Ah," Jane said, understanding. "I did wonder - I mean, you two look nothing alike at all, not even in the slightest…" He looked at Charlotte, then back at Lisbon again. "Was this the, uh, friend you'd spent fifteen years pretending never existed?"

Lisbon swallowed hard. "Yeah," she said. "Eighteen years, now."

"Because she's a reporter?" Jane asked.

"Yep," Lisbon replied.

"Well, I'm glad you two got to reunite," Jane said, and he smiled again. "Very nice to meet you, Charlotte," he told Charlotte. "Now, uh, I believe you and your sister have somewhere to be."

And that was when he noticed Charlotte staring at him with curious eyes. Through them, he could almost see the questions buzzing around in her head like bees.

"What did Terry call you?" she finally asked.

"Terry?" Jane repeated, looking at Lisbon. "I thought your nickname was Reese."

"Different family, different nickname," Lisbon said with a slightly sad smile.

"Ah, I see," he said. He turned back to Charlotte. "To answer your question, Charlotte, she called me by my last name - it's protocol for people who work in the CBI."

"Jane…" she said softly, cogs spinning in her head at the speed of light. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "YOU'RE Patrick Jane?!" she exclaimed.

Jane blinked. "You've heard of me?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlotte practically squealed. "Every reporter who knows jack knows about you! You're a legend!"

"I am?" Jane asked, genuinely surprised.

She grinned at him. "Big-time psychic gets his whole family murdered by a big-time serial killer, quits his job, and now works in law enforcement to catch murderers," she said; "the bare bones of your story alone are any reporter's goldmine." She reached out and took Jane's hand again, shaking it enthusiastically. "Mr. Jane, it is an honor to meet you," she said with a bit of genuine awe in her voice.

"Oh, uh, my pleasure," Jane said, somewhat taken aback.

"Thanks for turning up his ego a few more notches, that really helps," Lisbon said sarcastically. She turned. "Come on, sis," she said; "the sooner we go, the sooner Red John gets his time in the limelight."

Charlotte's eyes, bright with enthusiasm and questions, darted between Jane and Lisbon. "Oh my god," she said, turning on Lisbon. "You're his boss! You're! His! Boss! Aren't you?" She was practically jumping up and down.

"Yes, that's right," Lisbon said, "and let me tell you, it's not a fun job."

Jane shrugged. "Meh, it has its moments, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Lisbon said dryly; "you've had more than enough of an ego boost for one day as it is."

"Sis!" Charlotte exclaimed.

Jane smiled at Charlotte. "Oh, don't mind her, she talks to me like that all the time," he told her. "It's fine. It's true, I do make her life very difficult sometimes, and I am kind of full of myself."

"I'm sorry, could you say that last bit again?" Lisbon asked, fluttering her eyes with mock innocence. "I don't think I've ever heard you admit it out loud before."

Jane looked at her. "Uh, yes, Lisbon, I am kind of full of myself," he said again.

"Thanks, I'll remember that," Lisbon bantered. She looked at Charlotte. "Come on, sis-"

"Agent Lisbon!"

Everyone turned to see none other than Director Gale Bertram approaching them.

"Director Bertram," Lisbon said.

"I got ahold of Faith Chesterfield," he told Lisbon. "She's waiting to talk to you right now." He pointed.

Lisbon opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked back at her sister, then back to Bertram. "Sir, I, uh-"

"No, go on, Lisbon, I'll keep your sister company," Jane said.

She turned on him. "Yeah, I'm really going to leave you alone with my sister for five minutes," she said mockingly.

"What are you afraid he'll do to me?" Charlotte asked with a naughty twinkle in her eye that both Jane and Lisbon ignored.

"Relax - when you come back, she'll be more or less the same as you left her," Jane told Lisbon; "right now, go talk to whoever you need to talk to."

"She better be exactly the same as I'm leaving her or you'll be in big trouble," Lisbon said pointedly, and she turned back to Bertram. "Thank you, sir, I'll talk to her right now."

Bertram was looking at Charlotte. He gave Lisbon a look. "Do I want to know?" he asked.

"No, sir," Lisbon said.

Bertram nodded. "Alright then," he said, and he left.

Lisbon turned to Charlotte. "I'll be right back, sis," she said.

"No need to rush," Jane told her. "Go on."

Lisbon gave Jane one last warning glare before turning and going on her way.