Francine took a deep breath to settle herself, lifted the gun to aim and then oh-so-carefully shot him right between the eyes. "There you go, you son of a bitch. Merry Christmas."

She pressed the button to bring the paper target back up the track toward her, feeling the wave of satisfaction at the tiny circle of holes through the dead center of the silhouette's chest and that last one, straight through the head. She pulled off her ear protection, carefully stored her weapon and turned away from the range. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

"Is that any guy in particular or just guys in general?" asked Efraim from the next firing station over as he finished his own gun check, applied the safety and holstered it.

"One in particular, but he's predisposing me to hate all the rest of you," admitted Francine in clipped tones.

"Anyone I know?"

"Jonathan Stone."

Efraim gave a long sympathetic whistle. He knew that her past was a sore point and although he disliked Stone on her behalf, he was secretly grateful for the implosion of that relationship because of the way it had led in the most roundabout way to the easy friendship he had with Francine now.

He'd been in over his head a little bit last spring with all the paperwork after shooting Kleiner, with Internal Affairs all over why he'd been the one with the kill shot when he was the most junior agent in the field and while cursing yet another form and wondering why he'd ever agreed to help on that job, Francine had walked by, and stopped to see why he'd just let fly with an expletive. That in turn had led to her helping him with the wording – because, as she said, long years working with Stetson had given her a fine-tuned sense of how to make things sound right to IA – and from there to a drink at Ned's because she said she owed him one for helping Lee figure out where Brody had her.

Not a real drink for him, of course – she had a glass of white wine and he had what she'd laughingly referred to as a virgin Long Island Iced Tea. Without the false bravado provided by liquor, he'd waited until she was into her second glass before asking tentatively why she was even there and not on a plane to Paris with Stone or wherever it was they were supposed to jet off to.

After eyeing him for a moment, trying to decide if he was genuinely interested or simply looking for gossip, she'd admitted that she and Jonathan had never even made it to the airport. The fight over whether she'd remain in a job that had almost proved fatal had blown up while they were packing for the trip and she'd realized that this particular leopard hadn't really changed his spots at all. And so, Stone had vanished as quickly as he'd reappeared and somewhere along the line, to the amusement of most of the Agency, he and Francine had become friends. Not friends like Lee and Amanda were 'friends' but still a better balance than when he'd acted like an idiot boy with a crush on the head cheerleader. Even if she did still give him a hard time about that day he'd hit on her in the Q Bureau, that teasing was a small price to pay to get to spend time basking in her presence.

"Stone's back?" he asked, trying to sound well, not uninterested but at least unruffled. The fact she was angry and taking it out on defenseless targets seemed hopeful.

"Yep," she answered. "But I shouldn't be talking about him with a weapon in my hand. Wanna hit Ned's for lunch and help me drink to forget?"

"Sure," he shrugged as if his entire insides hadn't just done somersaults the way they still did every time Francine talked to him like a sane human being. "But only because it sounds like you'll need someone to point you back at the office after that."

"And away from a lethal weapon? Good call," she laughed, bitterly.

Ensconced in a bench seat at the back of the bar an hour later, she'd finally stopped fuming long enough to tell him about it.

"Out of the blue, there he is on the phone. 'Francine, Darling, I'm back from Europe, I miss you, I want another chance – and what better time of year for another chance than Christmas?' she ground out, gripping her glass.

"He wants to get back together?" The somersaulting insides had now settled down into a queasy heavy mass.

"Well, that's how he started," she went on. "How Christmas is such a great time for renewal and reconnection – time with your family and friends – and relaxing vacations to really decompress and get to know each other – all that bull crap."

"You don't think he meant it?"

"Oh no. I was already suspicious since he used to be such a workaholic that he could barely stand to be away from the office for a weekend, let alone a long vacation. And then he showed his hand."

"I'm afraid to ask," he quipped. "It must have been good if you wanted to shoot a virtual version of him that many times."

"He started in with 'How are your parents? Still out west? Does retirement suit your dad? I bet he can't keep his nose out of all the old business, right?'" she mimicked Jonathan's apparently innocent queries.

"Your dad was an investment banker, right?"

Francine nodded. "Venture capitalist with a special interest in European markets."

"So you think this was less about reconnecting with you…"

"And connecting with my father's money? Oh yeah." She glared at the drink in her hand. "He wasn't even subtle so he must be desperate. I think it may be time to have my contacts check into the state of his finances again before I end up involved in another international incident."

"I can start pulling up some stuff on the computer tomorrow if you want," he offered. "The good thing about having an ex with a sketchy past is that Personnel is less likely to come after you for 'misuse of Agency resources' when you check up on them."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that." She paused, staring off into space for a moment. "You know what really pisses me off? That he knows how hard I've tried to keep my work life separate from my parents, to protect them from any danger my job might bring down on them – and then he swings in as a completely new source of risk to them, and thinks Christmas is a great time for that to boot! I mean, I barely get to spend enough time with them now that they're so far away… Even if I was going to see them this year, I wouldn't have brought him along to ruin it with work talk!"

"You're not seeing your parents this year? They can't be happy about that." He knew his own parents would be miserable if they didn't get to see him and his brothers at least one night over Hanukkah.

"Well, they understand that it's not the best time of year to travel, what with the crowds and worrying about bad weather, but I'm going to take some vacation time in January and go out for a proper visit."

"But it won't be the same," he commented, seeing the look in her eye.

"No," she admitted. "It was always just the three of us, so I'm used to a quiet Christmas, you know? But there's something a little bit magic about the day, waking up to the Christmas stocking. And yeah, my mother still does one for me if I'm home," she interpreted the smile spreading across his face and answered him before he could even ask. "And it was always the one day of the year when it was really truly just us – no calls from the office for Daddy, no bridge games for my mother… it was nice. I can remember once, I must have been about six, and we spent the holidays up at house in Maine that had a stable. We woke up to a huge fresh fall of snow and it turned out Daddy had arranged a sleigh ride for us. It was just the three of us snuggled together under a fur rug and the sound of the bells on the horse jingling, the smell of the pines trees, and the whisper of the wind in my ears... My nose must have been as red as Rudolph's by the time we got back. When we got back, there was a crackling fire and we had fresh hot chocolate with marshmallows and spent the entire afternoon playing board games. I think that was my favorite Christmas ever."

Efraim gave a long chuckle. "Even if that story didn't just remind me of a Rockwell painting and what a complete WASP you are..." he paused to acknowledge her smile, "I can't even begin to imagine a quiet house," he remarked. "I'm the youngest of five boys – talk about noisy."

"Five boys? Your poor mother!" she teased.

"My mother is the most amazing woman I have ever known – and I'm sorry, but that even includes you," he smiled at her across the table. "I've never met anyone with more optimism and joy for living, even with everything she and Poppa went through when they were young." A shadow crossed his face, unmistakeable in its meaning.

Francine leaned across and rested her hand on his, squeezing gently. "Tell me about them. Is it good to be the baby with that many in the family?"

"It had its moments," he was grateful for the change in topic. "The two right above me are twins, and they ganged up on me a bit, but Ben – he's the second one – he and I are close and he kept them from terrorizing me too much. Him and my oldest brother, they're both married with kids - all boys! What my mother wouldn't give for just one little girl to get to dress up and play with – I pity the daughter-in-law who ever gives her a granddaughter – she'll never see that child." His eyes lit up with laughter. "Our family pets were always female – she said she needed at least one person on her side in the house."

"What do they all do?" Even if she hadn't been genuinely interested, Francine was grateful for her interrogation training – it was rare that Efraim was this relaxed around her; she felt like she'd found the magic word to get inside his brain.

"Oh the usual successful things. Two doctors, a lawyer – every Jewish mother's dream."

"Wow, that must make your parents happy," she teased him. "What about the fourth one?"

"Caleb? He's up on the Hill – a behind the scenes guy." Efraim's face hardened a little – she could tell he didn't like this brother quite as much. "He's got his fingers in most bills up there – and when he's not doing that, he's the Beaman family version of Scarecrow, a different beautiful girl on his arm every night and all the best parties."

"The old Scarecrow," Francine corrected him absent-mindedly.

"Definitely the old Scarecrow," he agreed, momentarily distracted. "Although the new one still has the beautiful woman part down. Do they really think they're fooling anyone?"

Francine smiled to herself, thinking of the conversation she'd had with Lee not even half an hour before. "Well, they know they're not fooling me or Billy, but they do seem to at least try not to be obvious at work. On the other hand , I know her family's met him – he's over there all the time."

"Do you think the family knows what they really do for a living?"

"I doubt it – Amanda honed that filmmaker cover for a lot of years so they can stick with it for now. What about your family? Do they know what you do?"

"Yeah – I'm the total black sheep in the family. Intelligence work with a government job – such a disappointment," he laughed with the faintest trace of wry humor.

"I'm sure that's not true." She wasn't actually certain that it wasn't but he looked like he needed the encouragement.

"Well, either way, they think I'm just a big nerd who does stuff in a basement somewhere with computers so I don't have to talk to women – my brothers would never believe I know someone like you, let alone that I'm ever in the field."

"Well, you must have brought a girl home at some point, right?"

He gave her a pained look. "Oh please. I went through school as Caleb Beaman's younger brother – even his identical twin paled by comparison as far as the girls were concerned. Do you seriously think I ever brought a girl home with him there? The only reason any girl even talked to me was to get to him – and the jerk knew it."

"You should introduce me to him sometime – I'll beat him up for you," she teased.

"That is so tempting," he laughed. "Except I avoid him outside of family stuff."

"Well, take me to Sunday dinner sometime. It'll be fun," she offered without thinking.

There was a long pause and then Efraim asked carefully, "Would you like to? Come to family dinner, I mean? I think my mother would really like you." He started to backtrack at her stunned expression. "I don't mean as a date or anything, it's just… I don't get to share a lot of my life with them, you know? Ma's always asking about if I have friends at work – she worries I'm just alone with the computer all the time, I think."

She couldn't resist the puppy dog eyes. "Of course, I'd come meet your family. But only if you pick a night where the jerk brother is there so I can torture him a little bit."

"Well, the next time that'll happen is Hanukkah and I can't expose you to that – everyone's home for the last night and it's a zoo."

She put on her haughtiest expression. "Efraim Beaman, I'm a fully trained lethal professional – are you suggesting that I'm afraid of your family? Oh no, you're going to invite me and what's more, we're going to tell them we're dating. Consider it your Christmas present from me… well, no, your Hanukkah present, I guess."

He tilted his head and studied her, unsure if she was being serious, and she met his gaze with a cool look of her own.

"Chicken?" she asked.

"Nope," he answered finally. "Just trying to decide how I can get seven more presents like that."