"Hey, Frank. How's it going?"

Frank looked up from the work table where he was packing his arrow quiver. Smoke from his stubby cigar floated into one eye, making him squint.

"Mornin', Hector. Sup?"

"Not much. Had the evening shift is Paris. Lots of clents but easy-peasy."

Frank nodded and rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Sure. Paris. No moving targets. Lots of atmosphere. You got a break."

Hector nodded, the movement causing his whispy thin hair to float angelically around his nearly bald head.

"Tomorrow it's Moscow in February," he said with mild complaint. "Lots of cabin fever and dissatisfaction; not a lot of anything else. Gonna be a dull day."

Then he gestured toward the quiver. "What's with you? You're loading for bear?"

Frank pinched his cigar between short, fat fingers and drew in a mouthful of smoke. With a sigh, he blew the smoke out again and flicked ash onto the mist-covered ground.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. That's why they pay me the big bucks. They're sending me out to shoot bear."

"Who? Mr. Potter?"

Rheumy blue eyes glared at Hector a moment.

"I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"Hitler?"

"No."

"Scrooge?"

Frank rolled his eyes before giving Hector an annoyed glare. "Scrooge is not one of ours."

"Would have been a good case though. You have to admit."

Frank shrugged and went back to selecting arrows. He pushed a few aside and picked up a vicious looking red one that sported a wicked barb head. Something about the glint on its point screamed that it could pierce kevlar if launched with expert technique from the right bow. If an arrow could have heat-seeking capabilities, this had it. Hector floated back with fear.

"Whoa! Where did you get that?"

Again Frank rolled his eyes. "That's why they pay me the big bucks," he repeated. "When the prey is this wiley and elusive, you have to compensate with better armaments."

"Yeah, but-"

"Yeah, nothing. We were ordered by top brass to lay off for two years. Now that it's open season on Jane, I'm gonna bag him but good. He owes me. He's mine."

"Him? That's who you're going after?" Hector's tiny wings fluttered in nervous excitement. They'd been trying to shoot Patrick Jane for twelve years!

"Cupid's direct orders."

"Daaay-am. What about Teresa?"

Frank's cherub face flushed under the five o'clock shadow. He didn't want to talk about that incident. Damn that Jane leaning forward at the exact wrong moment! Poor Lisbon was never the same after taking that arrow full in the chest.

"She's...she's been fine. Lady Luck's dice rolled snake-eyes and sent the FBI to make her job disappear. She hasn't been exactly pleased with Jane of late. It was a good distraction."

"But still..."

"Listen! It's done. And I'm still trying to live down only nicking him on the beach. I'm not going to make that mistake again!"

"Well, you're the pro, I guess..." Hector began nervously.

Frank clamped the cigar between his teeth and rearranged the quiver contents in order to accommodate the deluxe Undying Love 2000 arrow.

"Have a lovely day," he said gruffly as he picked up his bow and quiver, settling them bandolier style on his torso, carefully avoiding trapping his battle-scarred wings. With the equipment in place, he fluttered his little cherub wings and flew out of the locker room.

This was going to be the job that he could finally retire on. This time he was going to finally bring love to Patrick Jane.

Author's Note: Frank's trials and tribulations continue. -