SFT, RT, and D-thank you for the reviews! They are very encouraging. I mean VERY. I'm struggling to finish this story, but I refuse to leave a story hanging! At least on FF. :) SFT, I like your description of Angela as 'wicked.' She can be a little wicked. ;) Well put! D, I definitely agree that Booth is good for Sweets. I actually think he's helped Sweets overcome a lot of his insecurities on the show. Far more than Sweets' girlfriends have been shown to do. Booth's a good friend! RT, Any chance you can just end this story for me? In your nonexistent spare time? :)

Thanks to those still following! :D

Lance was watching "The Empire Strikes Back"—his all time favorite movie—with April on the couch. His arm was casually slung around her, and Knox was splayed out in his lap. Knox had grown a little bigger since he had first come to reside with Lance, but he was still smaller than the average cat. He was licking his little white socks with his absurdly pink tongue, while April, who didn't enjoy cats (as natural predators of fish), was eying the feline with loathing. Lance was so engaged in the movie that he didn't notice her shooing the small cat under her breath.

"Shoo, cat. Shoo," April hissed.

"Mew?" Knox asked her innocently. In response, the absent minded Lance patted Knox on the head. This made April roll her eyes. Her boyfriend wasn't paying any attention to her. In the movie, Luke Skywalker drew an enormous, throbbing phallus of a light saber from its sheath. April shook her head—surrounded by boys. Finally, she just shoved Knox a little until he jumped off with a sulky flourish of tail. April snuggled down into Lance's arms a little more and stroked his abs hopefully. She was watching his intent brown eyes reflecting the starry space scene on the big screen.

Lance for his part was watching but also pondering the Gormogon case at work. He was fascinated. The cannibalistic murderer actually killed, cooked, and ate humans, then collected their bones to reassemble into a new skeleton—a sort of perverted refashioning of Adam. He pondered this symbolism for a moment and had a sudden flash of inspiration. There were two—a master and apprentice, just like on "Star Wars"! His stomach tickled, and thinking it was Knox, he brushed off his midsection. He met human hand instead of fur. And the person attached to the hand looked very angry at him.

"So that's what you do now when your girlfriend attempts to touch you? Shove me off?" April's eyes shone with watery rage. She hopped up to her fully erect state—which was not very tall.

"April! I'm sorry, I didn't think. I was…I was analyzing a case in my head. I didn't mean it. Please sit back down." He reached out to her, but she was retreating.

"I'm going to bed!" She called abruptly.

Lance really wanted to sit on the couch and analyze Gormogon's victims, as his brain was forging a connection among them. He did this for about five more minutes before attending to his furious girlfriend.

Lance sighed. He loved her, but maintaining their relationship was a lot of work. Lance thought of words his father had once spoken to him: "Love is a decision you make every day. It's not just a feeling. It requires effort and patience, but it is the most rewarding work you will ever do." With those words ringing in his ears, Lance headed for the bedroom. April was turned on her side away from him, rather adorably attired in a frumpy nightgown with little yellow flowers and a ruffle at its hem.

Lance hopped in bed and encircled her with his arms, drawing her against his body. He held her in silence for awhile, unsure of what to say.

Finally, he decided on, "I know I get engrossed in what I'm doing. I'm focused to a fault. It's how I was able to finish school so fast, but it can be a burden on you. I can see that." She didn't respond, so he continued, "The case I'm thinking about is really important. A lot of people have died and a lot more will die if we don't get to the bottom of who this Gormogon is." To try and peak her interest, Lance added, "He's a serial killer, who murders and eats people from secret societies!"

April just looked repulsed. "I appreciate that you're helping to catch a murderer, but I'm your partner. Aren't I the most important thing in your life?" She looked as though she felt selfish saying it, but there it was.

Lance buried his face in April's curls and mumbled, "You are the most important thing to me, April. I'm really sorry if I implied otherwise. I love you."

Lance realized that nobody liked to feel rejected, and April was probably reacting to what she felt was Lance's rebuff of her sexual advance on the couch more than anything. April was not very aggressive about intimacy, which bothered Lance a little. Lance had to be the initiator most of the time and was accustomed to being rejected by her from time to time. At this moment, he fought the urge to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Instead he tried, "April, I wish you'd be a little more aggressive with me sometimes. It's easy to miss when you want to…get physical with me. I need to feel wanted too." He was afraid of how she'd take this, but as a therapist Lance knew that one has to ask for what one needs.

April reacted poorly. "If you weren't always playing video games and watching TV, then maybe you'd notice a little more often when your girlfriend wanted you. Instead, you give your affection to your cat!"

April had pushed Lance's buttons with that statement. Lance had grown to love his little cat companion. He backed away and swung his legs to the side of the bed. He was really angry and surprised by how quickly he'd lost his temper. He was usually much more even keeled with April.

Without even thinking, he responded too harshly, "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I've been hurting for quite some time. I just lost the two most important people in the world to me, and you haven't been very sympathetic." Therein was the rub, Lance realized.

"Don't make this about your parents! You didn't just lose them. You're going to have to move on at some point."

Lance's chest was heaving. Maybe he was being immature, but he was deeply wounded. It was mid-November, and his parents had only died in the summer. April couldn't possibly have expected him to move on already, could she? Lance hated fighting with anyone, let alone the woman he loved, and he wasn't sure how to proceed. He wanted to make up, but they hadn't resolved anything. He sat on the edge of the bed for what seemed an eternity, arguing with himself.

Finally, Lance asked gently, "Would you like me to stop playing video games? I can see it really bothers you. I know I don't have a lot of spare time, and we should spend it together. We can do more things, like…like our ceramics class."

April sat up and gazed at Lance sadly. "No, I don't want you to change for me. But I do enjoy our ceramics class." She looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry. I overreacted."

Lance climbed over to April and held her again, rocking her a little.

"I love you!" He said brightly and softly.

She nodded. "I love you too." Her grip on his arms was loose.

Lance was kicking himself for letting April get away with taking a jab at his perfectly legitimate grief. For a therapist, he really sucked at relationships. He just couldn't fight the feeling that if he messed up, she would leave.

The next day, Lance decided to drop in at the Jeffersonian to deliver his new theory on Gormogon. Everyone was already assembled and discussing the case when he arrived. Lance tried to brush off the fact that Dr. Brennan hadn't known that Booth had involved the psychologist on the profile and that she seemed thoroughly cross about it. For whatever reason, he and Brennan were engaged in a kind of professional battle between science and psychology. He hadn't signed up for this war, but now he was stuck with her antagonism. He imagined her hostility toward psychology had to do with his pushing her buttons in therapy and forcing her to confront the pesky emotions that she buried deep beneath her logical exterior. Further, there were more similarities between the two fields than either of them liked to admit, perhaps even putting their analytical skills in competition during cases.

Lance forged ahead and explained his theory that the Gormogon was actually a duo—a master and apprentice—as well as his hypothesis that the next victim would be a "corrupter" in the more archaic sense of the word. He was surprised that most of the team seemed fairly receptive of his ideas, even impressed. He hoped this was a sign that their initial hostility toward him was beginning to fizzle. Hodgins and Angela had seemed to detest him on the spot. Zack had appeared completely indifferent. Cam just seemed to regard Lance as another sheep to be corralled into place, bleating for her attention when she had very little time to give. He was desperate to turn a corner with them.

After the meeting, Lance strode toward the exit, feeling a little more at ease at the Jeffersonian than he had on his first visit.

Hodgins, who was heading toward his lab station, said to Lance in passing, "That's quite a triumphant grin there, Dr. Sweets." Hodgins pronounced his name with contempt. "Better watch out. You don't want to appear to relish comprehending the mind of a serial killer too much." He then brushed past the psychologist, who stood in confused silence.

Booth was also walking by. "Oh don't worry about Hodgins. He's kind of the resident conspiracy nut." Booth's smile confirmed that Lance shouldn't be concerned.

And yet…Lance had worried about exactly that going into profiling. The psychologist had his own dark past that could have easily led him down a path of crime and misanthropy. He had chosen another path, but how much did he really want to admit that he understood Gormogon? Wouldn't a truly good person not be able to get inside the mind of a flesh-eating madman? Was it actually a bad thing to be good at profiling?

For the hundredth time since his parents' deaths, Lance wished his mom and dad were here to reassure him that a virtuous man was constructed of his actions not his thoughts. Or at least he hoped they would say something like that. Now he had to dispense and take his own advice.