As per usual, Lisbon didn't get home until very late, but Jane didn't even think of trying to sleep. Now that he'd seen the article, he had to read it, and read it he did, over and over again, wondering why his past had to keep coming back to haunt him even now. In terms of solid facts, the article was sorely lacking, which only made it worse; essentially, it boiled down to the fact that Charlotte Grace Jane looked a great deal like Charlotte Anne Jane, and an 'anonymous source' claimed that, once she was the same age as her predecessor, on the anniversary of the night Red John murdered Jane's previous family, the remaining friends of Red John, who were 'rumored to still number in the hundreds', would come and attempt to recreate the event in place of their fallen master out of revenge. There was no real evidence for this besides the 'anonymous source', whom Jane's sister-in-law never elaborated on, not even in terms of gender. Mostly, the article was sensationalizing the idea, as newspapers did, and though Jane couldn't quite bring himself to fault Lisbon's sister for doing her job, the whole thing made him feel ill, especially the picture of Charlotte Anne Jane that his sister-in-law had dug up from somewhere to put on the front of her newspaper beside a picture of his living daughter.

When at last he heard his wife start up their driveway, Jane lurched to his feet and tossed the paper aside to stand at the door. Part of him wanted to act casual, like he just happened to be awake, but he knew he was too wound up to manage it this time. Instead, he ended up pacing, hyper-aware of each sound: the car door closing, footsteps coming nearer, the key in the lock.

At last, the door opened. Lisbon glanced at him, not surprised he was there, but didn't register the look on his face as she closed the door and locked it behind her. "Sorry I'm so late," she began, shrugging off her jacket. "The Murdoc case has been a-"

Not giving her time to rattle off her usual excuses, Jane stepped forward, pulled her close, and kissed her. She kissed him back, and for a moment, in her arms, he could pretend to believe everything was going to be okay. After a long minute relishing her touch, he released her and took half a step back to meet her gaze. They stared off for a few moments, not speaking; then, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"You read it."

Jane lifted his hands palms-out, as though to push back her irritation. "In my defense, I wasn't going to," he began.

"Mm-hmm," she grumbled, turning away to hang her coat on the coatrack.

"No, Lisbon, Lisbon, I wasn't!" Jane insisted, putting a hand on her arm to make her turn back and face him; once a mark of their professional life, their last names had essentially turned into their pet names for each other, and they used them now out of fondness, even though Lisbon had refused to change her last name after they got married, insisting that being referred to by something other than 'Agent Lisbon' at work would be too confusing. "I wasn't going to! All I was going to do was put the newspaper on that table without looking at it, to make you think I'd read it, then say I hadn't gotten around to it when you asked. That was all!"

"But you couldn't help yourself, could you," she finished.

"Yes I could!" Jane exclaimed, mildly offended. "And I almost did! But…but Charlotte saw the pictures on the front and asked about them, and…"

"Charlotte saw?" Lisbon asked sharply. "What did you tell her?"

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't need to tell her anything," Jane answered sheepishly. "I, uh…I kind of gave her a paper cut when I pulled the paper out of her hands, and - well, at least it distracted her from asking again!"

"You gave her a paper cut?!"

"It was an accident, Lisbon, I swear!" Jane told her pleadingly. "You know I wouldn't hurt her on purpose. It was just a tiny cut, she's fine, I promise!"

Lisbon took a deep, steadying breath. "I believe you," she said at last. "But you should have listened to me in the first place."

"Yes, Lisbon, you're absolutely right, I shouldn't have even bought that paper for a prank," Jane responded readily. "I would much rather have heard about it from you, and I'm sorry I tried to make a game out of it."

"Apology accepted," Lisbon stated.

There was silence for a minute.

"Well…at least I don't have to go over it with you," Lisbon said at last.

"Uh, no, that wouldn't be necessary," Jane agreed.

She nodded again, then looked up at him with softened eyes. "Jane, I'm sorry," she told him.

His brow creased. "For what?"

"For the name," Lisbon replied. She shook her head. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have told you about that stupid promise I made with my sister-"

"No, Lisbon, don't do that," Jane said firmly. "You made a promise, and there was no way you could have known what it would mean at the time, it's okay. Besides, even if we'd named her something else, she would still have the same face, and the same birthday-"

"So it is the same birthday?!" Lisbon gasped. "I read that, but I didn't…it's not…How is that even possible?"

"Lisbon, there are billions of people in the world, and only three hundred and sixty-five days in a year," Jane told her indulgently. "Literally every single day is the birthday of tens of millions of people."

"Still," Lisbon said, "on top of everything else…"

"Stranger things have happened," Jane pointed out.

"Can't argue with that one." She took a breath, then looked at him again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?" Jane repeated. "Why should I have told you? What would have been the point? What good would have come of burdening you with that knowledge? You didn't choose what day you gave birth, it would only have ruined Charlotte's birthday for you every year."

"Like it did you?" Lisbon asked pointedly.

Jane wobbled his head in a noncommittal gesture.

"Jane, I'm your wife," Lisbon said, stepping forward and taking his hand. "We're a team. Even before we got married, whatever life threw at us, we were always in it together." Gripping tightly, she emphasized, "You don't have to bear your burdens alone, okay? You should have told me. I'm here for you, just as you're here for me."

"I appreciate that," Jane said softly. "I just…didn't want to cause you undue pain."

"And I appreciate that," Lisbon conceded. "You still should have told me."

"Well…you know now," Jane responded.

"Yeah," Lisbon said with an empty laugh. "The question now is, what are we going to do?"

"Well, I mean, we can't exactly change her birthday-"

"I mean about the threat," Lisbon cut him off, releasing his hand as her eyes hardened seriously.

"Oh, right, that," Jane said. "Uh…I don't know. Well, what do you think we should do, Lisbon? Should we take it seriously? You've spent time with these people, you know them, what do you think?"

"Honestly?" Lisbon asked in response. "I'd be willing to bet Charlie's 'anonymous source' is one of them. Either because they wanted to taunt us, or…maybe one of them feels bad and wanted to give us a fighting chance."

"Would they feel bad?" Jane asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Kristina might?"

"Oh yeah, Kristina," he said. "I forgot about her."

Lisbon crossed her arms. "The hell you did."

"So anyway, you're saying we should definitely take this seriously?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied with certainty. "Knowing them, this is something they would absolutely do. I'd be much more surprised if nothing happens when the time comes."

There was a pause, as this sank in.

"…So what do we do?" he finally asked. "How do we stop them?"

She closed her eyes, her arms falling to her sides. "I don't know," she replied in a hollow voice. "I don't know…"

"Do we even know how many there are? 'Rumored to still number in the hundreds'…" he muttered.

"Hey, give Charlie a break," Lisbon told him; "the only reason she even knows that much is because I know that much, and she's still not going to tell anyone that story even though it's her job because you asked her not to."

"I'm glad your sister prioritizes some amount of your privacy over her job," Jane said in a tone that could have been sarcastic but was impossible to interpret for sure.

"As for how many…" Lisbon hesitated, then said slowly, "Four hundred people died the night of Red John's execution. Fifty of them were women who committed suicide. Red John had fifty zombies, those were probably them. The names of everyone else who was murdered were on lists the women had with them…and they weren't witnesses or jurors, so…maybe they were friends of Red John you managed to convince of his true nature."

"Only that many, though?" Jane asked. "Out of more than a thousand?"

"Hey, having tried to convince them of the truth myself, I'd be impressed if you managed to convince even half that many," Lisbon told him. "They're completely blind, Jane, they believe in Red John beyond to a fault, there is no reasoning with them. Believing those murders were the group rooting out traitors is a stretch, but it's probably the best we can hope for."

"That would still put their numbers over eight hundred," Jane pointed out.

"Yeah." Lisbon's face fell. "Yeah, it would. And that's the best-case scenario."

Again, silence fell as they both mulled this over. When no simple answer presented itself, Jane sighed.

"Lisbon, it's late," he said. "We still have a few weeks to figure this out, and whatever we decided to do, we won't do tonight. Come to bed, and get some rest."

"Uh-huh," Lisbon smirked as she headed for the stairs; Jane followed. "'Rest'."

"Hey, if you want to-"

"Oh, hush."