Glad I could take care of the swimming business for you RT! Blue Fish continues...in this chapter I'm hoping to establish context for Booth's desire to have Sweets profile in The Boy in the Time Capsule, Sweets' next episode in Season 3. Hope it works out! Bernie, a new character, is based on a guy I used to work with-seriously. He actually did this...

Thanks readers! *hugs*

While Lance had turned a corner with Agent Booth, he still had to admit he was a bit intimidated by the guy. Lance found, however, that he didn't have much time to contemplate his sessions with the Bs for the next few weeks. They were too busy for weekly therapy, and Lance was suddenly inundated with profiling assignments. One of the higher ups had noticed the psychologist's impeccable work, and now his desk was covered with profiling piles that seemed to have no beginnings or ends. The influx of work was making it hard for Lance to even schedule time with April, and he was hoping to make some progress in their relationship. That opportunity might arise tonight, as they planned to have dinner at April's apartment for the first time—an exciting prospect. One that maybe even warranted stopping by the drugstore. A guy could hope.

Lance was grinning at this thought when Bob Snyder—a corpulent profiler at the FBI—walked into his office without knocking. Bob and Lance were basically arch nemeses. Lance had recently been given a number of Bob's assignments, since in Lance's opinion, the sour fellow wasn't very good at his job in addition to being an all around unpleasant human being.

Bob sneered at Lance, who wiped his own smile off his face immediately. "Big Boss wants us up for a briefing with some agents on a serial case, Sweetie."

Lance took the high ground and followed Bob out the door of his office into the elevator. A pleasant sight awaited him—it was Agent Booth and his cocky belt.

"Sweets," Booth nodded. He just looked at Bob. Did Lance detect a hint of derision in Booth's glance at the rotund profiler? This made Lance feel even better—Booth was on his side. It also comforted him to confirm that everyone hated Bob.

"Are you on this serial case, Agent Booth?" Lance asked conversationally.

"Nah, Sweets, not technically, but Andrew wanted me to pop in and check on it. It's not going very well—mismanaged. Poor profiling," he finished, obviously taking a shot at Bob. Booth was attempting to restrain his broadening smile. Lance figured Bob had already been working on this case and had failed miserably.

Lance was very careful not to hint that he was Booth's therapist. He reminded himself that he worked in more than one capacity with the agent, and it wouldn't do to make Booth appear weak in front of small men like Bob.

The three suited men entered a meeting room with a round table at its center. There were no more seats available, as the room was packed, so Booth leaned against a wall and Sweets stood next to him, his hands in his pockets. Bob inched as far away as he could manage given the crowded state of affairs.

Andrew, Booth's boss, was there and so was Lance's profiling boss, Bernie Carlton. Woah, they had pulled out the big guns, Lance thought. This case must be going badly.

He whispered to Booth, "This case must be going totally awry for them to pull in all these people."

The corners of Booth's mouth turned up. "Sweets, you have no idea."

Andrew called the meeting to order and began explaining that a serial killer had struck in DC, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. They couldn't find links among the victims yet, but it seemed they weren't random. He briefly laid out the details of the case. Andrew praised the hard work of a few dedicated souls but was also clearly riding Bernie for inefficiency. Yeah, Lance thought, Bob had flubbed this and Bernie was taking the heat.

Bernie had an enormous paunch—like he was concealing an overblown basketball under his shirt. The fabric by his buttons pulled precariously. But Bernie was jolly as a Santa, and Lance was actually quite fond of him.

Booth looked bored, so Lance chanced whispering to him again. "Agent Booth, do you talk to Bernie much?"

"Occasionally Sweets, why?" Booth whispered back, looking grateful for the distraction.

"Because you know he has that deep booming voice, but when he gets on the phone with his wife, he totally switches over to baby talk! Have you heard it?" Lance knew it was unprofessional, but he also knew he desired Booth's friendship.

"What?"

"Yeah, Bernie like doesn't hesitate to answer the phone in front of you and talk baby talk to his wife. And she's this straight-laced British woman. Just wait. You'll hear it someday. Everyone does eventually."

Booth lifted an eyebrow. He seemed intrigued. He smirked.

Bernie was directing his gaze at Lance, which made the psychologist blush like a school boy who had just been caught talking during an exam. "Andrew, I'd like to offer up my newest profiler—he's also a psychologist here. Lance Sweets. He's damn young, but I think you'll find he's the best we got. I have complete confidence in him."

Bernie's voice was hearty, and Lance was touched by the praise. He was also a little embarrassed for poking fun at him a moment before. It was immensely kind of Bernie to talk up Lance in front of everyone. He'd better do his boss's words justice.

From what little bit Lance had heard of Andrew's briefing, he actually had an idea on the profile. He did wish he'd been listening more carefully rather than soliciting Booth's attention.

Lance spoke up, "I think you've been looking for the wrong aged person."

Andrew looked surprised and uncertain. "Really? But ages 30-40 seems…"

Lance interrupted, "You're looking for an 18 year-old or around that age. I'm pretty sure. He's just graduated from high school—look for someone who caused problems in high schools here in DC." Lance approached the map of the locations where the murders had been committed. "See? Washington is where the murders began. This kid, he'd probably been fostered in his teenage years." Lance continued with more likely details. A few onlookers were shaking their heads, as if to say, how could this kid get so much from such a short briefing?

Andrew finally said, "Ok, kid. Write up your profile. It's worth a try since we haven't gotten anywhere lately."

Lance nodded. As he was leaving, his boss patted him on the shoulder and went out into the hall to take a call on his cell.

Booth came up behind Lance and said, "Sweets, you're not making any friends with the other profilers here. I heard Bob curse your name under his breath. He looked like he was thinking of sending you a letter bomb."

Lance smiled and then stopped.

Bernie was clearly on the phone with his wife in the hall, because he was cooing, "You widdle wascal. I told you I wanted pot woast tonight. I'll haf to make you sowy later!"

Lance gave Booth a knowing nod. Booth's mouth hung open in disbelief, and then he cracked up before shuffling off.

Lance hoped this was a sign that he was in with Booth…at least a little.