Jane performed the standard bug check when he got back to his Citroen in a manic haze. A name. He finally had a name, after all these years. Jonathan Russo. Red John was Jonathan Russo.

He got in the car and stared at the dashboard, unseeing. Red John had been in the army. He was an engineer. Lisbon had been right about her dam theory. He drove back without attending much to the road, and when he got back to Sacramento, it was past eight. He'd been at the Plaskett's longer than he'd anticipated.

He thought about going back to the CBI, but Rigsby was on guard duty so the chances that Lisbon was still at the office were slim: they wouldn't have left too late because Rigsby got antsy if his meals were delayed.

He thought about calling Lisbon and to tell her what he'd learned, but discarded the idea immediately. This wasn't the type of news he could tell her over the phone.

On the other hand, if he didn't call her for his usual check-in soon, she would start to worry.

It wasn't ideal, but ultimately he solved his dilemma by calling Rigsby for his check-in instead of calling Lisbon directly.

"Rigsby, hi," he said when the other man picked up the phone.

"Hey, Jane," Rigsby replied. "How's it going?"

"Fine. Just calling in for my check-in."

"You want to talk to the boss?"

"No, that's okay," Jane said, keeping his voice light. "I don't want to disturb her."

"Okay. Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes."

"Find anything out?"

"The trip was very fruitful. I'll tell you all about it in the morning. Say good-night to Lisbon for me, will you?"

"Sure thing."

Jane hung up and thought about Rigsby relaying his message to Lisbon. He felt a little bad about it. Lisbon would be suspicious when Rigsby told her Jane didn't want to talk to her because he didn't want to disturb her. Jane disturbing her was a hallmark of their relationship. He knew she would worry that something was wrong, even if she had Rigsby's assurance that he, Jane, was fine, but at least having made the gesture of the check-in would prevent an outright state of panic. Also, hopefully it would prevent a squadron of police officers being ordered to track down him and his Citroen in the middle of the night.

He fiddled with his wedding ring and thought guiltily about the fact that not only he was skipping the standard check-in with Lisbon, but that he was also going to be skipping their now usual bedtime phone call. He hoped Lisbon would understand the message he'd given Rigsby when he'd asked him to say good-night to her for him and that she wouldn't wait up.

He was surprised how tempting it was to call her anyway. He was actually having to resist the urge to go over to her apartment and recount the whole story of Hardy's effort to recruit Drake and Noah's connection to Jonathan Russo to her immediately. He wanted to see her reaction, hear her insights. He thought about going over there and demanding that she rally the troops immediately to discuss his discovery. But no—there would be time for that later. He needed to process what he'd learned, determine his next course of action. As much as he valued her input, he needed to think clearly, and Lisbon was definitely a distraction. A decidedly alluring distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

He frowned. She'd already addled his thought processes more thoroughly than he'd realized. He'd been after revenge for so long, and he now had the means to achieve it. After all this time, he had Red John's name, and he was sitting in his car obsessing over Lisbon's reaction to him bailing on her for one phone call.

To be fair, he could hardly go haring off on his own to get his revenge as he'd always planned without at least a little more to go on. Though he had a name, he still had no information attached to it. No address, no place of business. He was pretty sure Jonathan Russo wouldn't simply be listed in the phone book. He was going to need the team's help to track him down, whether he liked it or not.

But if he did have an address… if he knew not only Red John's name, but how to find him—would he? Would he abandon Lisbon, the team, and seek his nemesis on his own?

He'd always assumed the answer to that question would be yes. That it wouldn't even be a question. It was a given. Revenge was his only priority… the only thing he cared about.

Things had changed. He used to not care about dying. He used to think revenge was worth any cost, even if it included his life. Now, selfishly, he wanted to live. He wanted to take down Red John, never have to worry about him anymore, and move on with his life.

He thought about the Carters' priest, standing in the garden, telling him to pursue the path to peace. And that Lisbon could help him find his way.

He knew he never would have gotten this far without the help of Lisbon and her team. Running off on his own now would be poor repayment for they way they'd stood by him all these years. He owed it to them to see this through to the end as a team, a unit, a family.

On the other hand, his first priority was Lisbon's safety. Red John's threat against her was very real, and Jane had every reason to think that he would try again, once he discovered his first plot had failed. He was reasonably certain Red John wouldn't entrust the mission to a delegate a second time. That was one argument in favor of the Lone Ranger approach. If he could quietly slip away and kill Red John, it would remove the threat to Lisbon once and for all, without exposing her to any additional risk by including her in any efforts to storm the castle gates, so to speak.

If he failed, though—if he went after Red John alone, and Red John killed him for his trouble, the team would have no way of knowing where he'd gone. He would have ruined any chance of anyone else bringing the serial killer to justice. Even if the team thought to talk to Noah Plaskett and got a line on Jonathan Russo, by that point, Jane's attempt would have alerted Russo to the fact that they were closing in on him. Red John would disappear for good, and Jane would be dead with nothing to show for it.

Then there was the fact that Lisbon would never forgive him if he died on her while chasing his revenge. Though he knew once he was dead, he wouldn't care what the living thought, his living self couldn't stand the idea of Lisbon being disappointed in him. He hated the thought of her remembering him with bitterness and regret.

Without arrogance, he knew his death would destroy her. She might go on, continue to be an excellent team leader—maybe she would even get married, have children—but if he went off on his own without telling her what he was doing and got himself killed, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this single action by him would break her faith. It would make her darker, sadder, more cynical. To destroy that faith would be to destroy the very core of who she was. Living with his betrayal would ruin any chance she may have had at peace.

He paused. He believed that if he died, it would destroy any chance she would have at finding peace for herself. For himself, he knew that following the path that contained Lisbon was his only hope of ever reaching that elusive goal. Did that mean that they could only find peace together?

Perhaps he was being overly romantic. There was always the chance that Lisbon would meet some tall handsome cop one of these days who shared her passion for justice but could also teach her how to relax. He scowled and shoved this unpleasant image out of his mind. Dwelling on such notions was hardly productive.

No more distractions. He needed to think.