One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish...We have come to the end! Thanks to those who have read through, enjoyed, and especially reviewed. It's been a fun, if sometimes hard to navigate, journey. See you at the next Sweets story!

Christmas came, as the Gormogon case continued to flummox the Jeffersonian team. April left to celebrate Hanukkah with her family in New York. She'd invited Lance, but he'd politely declined. He needed to bear this first Christmas without his parents on his own.

The highlight of the holiday was that Lance had actually connected with Dr. Brennan, oddly enough, when he had donned an elf hat at their meeting at the diner. Brennan had been irked by Booth's insistence that it was acceptable and reasonable to lie to children, such as Parker, at Christmas. At the diner, Lance explained to Brennan that it is our responsibility as adults to sanctify the space of childhood and allow kids to believe in a better world. This was the gift Lance's parents had given to him. Amazingly, she'd understood and agreed with his advice right away, or so it seemed. She'd even spent Christmas with her father and brother in jail instead of migrating south to Peru. Dr. Brennan was making huge strides in her interpersonal behavior, and Lance couldn't help but take a little credit for guiding her.

The low point of the holiday was Christmas Day, which in the past had involved gathering around the fire with his parents and reading stories, drinking cocoa, and simply enjoying each other's company. This year it was just Lance and Knox. Knox was sick and vomited on and off throughout the day. It took all of Lance's attention to keep the little cat from barfing on his beautiful Mason and Hamlin grand piano. At one point, Lance heard Knox begin to heave while perched on the piano bench. Lance hurled his body across the space of the room just in time to grab a very frightened Knox, who puked on his shirt instead. Lying there, gripping the squirming cat with feline vomit streaked on his chest, Lance felt empty—like his body had opened up and dumped his essence out into space. He had no direction, no thoughts, except pain.

Lance felt terribly sorry for himself. He zapped a frozen burrito, devoured it, and went to bed at noon, while the rest of the world spun on in joyous seasonal revelry. He didn't wake up till the next morning, at which point he listened to his phone messages.

"Hey, Lance. It's April! Happy Hanukkah and Christmas, I guess! Whichever it is you celebrate." April had come to accept that Lance wasn't much of a practicing Jew despite where they had first met. "I wish you were here—we had the most delicious turkey. And…you've been distant lately. I just wish we could go back to the way things were when we first met. You know? I…I love you," her voice quavered.

That was not the kind of message one liked to get from a girlfriend on Christmas. She sounded like she was souring on him. A part of Lance began to prepare for yet another season of loss.

In the spring, however, things improved a bit with April, at least from Lance's perspective. His birthday came and went, and she seemed positively overjoyed to help Lance wave goodbye to age 22.

Lance's most irritating patients had also become his undeniable favorites. Booth's trust in Lance's profiling abilities almost made up for the snickers he got from the dynamic duo in therapy. Almost…

They were sitting before him, bantering as usual, and Lance had a flash of inspiration. Booth and Brennan spent too much time discussing their work. If they were going to confront what Lance saw as their obvious attraction, they needed to feel open talking about their personal lives with one another. Further, both partners were unhealthily fixated on their jobs and seemed to lack all hobbies or other diversions in their lives.

Besides, Lance couldn't help it—he really liked hanging out with Booth and Brennan, and lately his dates with April had grown a bit stale and constrictive. When he was around Booth's and Brennan's particular blend of wit and warmth, he could almost forget about his parents and enjoy life again.

He prescribed for Booth and Brennan: "an evening out with my girlfriend and me." He said it quickly, hoping they would just agree without too much dispute.

Booth was horrified at the prospect of a "double date," but Brennan appeared receptive enough. Lance found their disparate responses interesting. Perhaps Brennan was looking for an excuse to hang out with Booth in a less formal setting, Lance mused.

The "double date" of Booth's nightmares took place at April's and Lance's ceramics class. And it did not go well. Lance had warned April to keep the conversation light and non-work related, but she immediately picked up on Booth's impertinent attempt to discuss his recent case involving a paraplegic.

"April," Lance warned, when she expressed interest.

"Oopsie," she replied in faux innocence. Lance laughed nervously. She didn't seem at all concerned with upholding their agreement or helping him to save face in front of his patients.

Then the topic took a turn for the worse as Brennan asked April about her fish. Lance rolled his eyes inwardly. April was unnaturally attached to her fish—Booth and Brennan would never understand. He began to feel a bit embarrassed for her.

Sure enough, she brought up, "You can see their little souls. You can see it in their coloring."

Brennan was predictably taken aback and judgmental.

Lance swept in to try to help his girlfriend not appear to be a complete idiot in front of the anthropologist.

"April just means they're beautiful."

"Don't tell me what I mean, Lance! I mean they have souls." April snapped, looking murderous.

Lance couldn't believe they were fighting in front of Booth and Brennan—this was the worst case scenario. If he didn't look like he had his relationship together, why should they trust him to help with theirs?

Meanwhile, Booth was crafting a spectacular horse from his clay. Lance was shocked, considering Booth had been complaining about being forced to "make something" all week. The agent had artistic chops. Move over, Angela.

After everyone had complimented Booth's clay steed, Lance attempted to regain his footing. "Yours is good too, April." He nodded toward her pot.

"I'm not talking to you!" she defied her boyfriend.

In amusement, Brennan asked Booth, "Are they fighting?"

Even in Lance's panicked state he heard Booth come to his defense, which he greatly appreciated.

"You can't apologize for me, Lance," April continued.

She was glaring at him. Just when Lance saw no way out of his dispute with April, Booth attempted to save the situation yet again with humor. He slung some clay at his partner, who looked indignant, then tickled, then accepted his duel. Lance chuckled also, and in an attempt to get in on the fun, playfully tossed a bit of clay at his own girlfriend. April fumed and sloshed an enormous mess of clay right at Lance's face.

Gray sludge streaked his eyes, mouth, and nose. Lance tried to laugh as he mopped off the muck in misery.

"Yeah, this is fun," Lance said smiling but dejected. Booth looked sorry for him.

April and Lance hardly spoke that night. Lance thought: it's coming. She doesn't want me anymore. Oddly, he didn't take the time to ponder how he felt about her.

Lance's prediction was correct. April broke up with him several days later one morning before work, uncourteously leaving him devastated and unable to concentrate for the entire day.

"Lance, I think you and I both know this isn't working. You're just…too young, too immature."

"I'm too immature? Can you give me an example of what I've done?"

"Well, you try to speak for me. You are embarrassed of me! I'm a fine person. I don't need you to explain me to the world!" she exclaimed defiantly.

"I'm not embarrassed…" Oh God, that was true, Lance thought guiltily. "And you speak for me too—telling Booth and Brennan that I love our ceramics class!"

"You don't?"

"No, I like it fine. That's not the point. And you know what, you did embarrass me in front of them—you made me look foolish, fighting in front of patients."

"Why? Because my job isn't good enough, or because I wouldn't let you get away with explaining away my personality?"

Lance sat down. "April. I love your personality. Your vibrancy, your…"

"Lance, stop. It's over. We need to move on."

Her voice was shaking a little from nervousness, like breaking up with Lance was on par with performing a cello solo at the Kennedy Center. It was endearing, and made Lance all the more sorry to lose her.

"But…I'm still in love with you," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but you're a lot to handle emotionally. I'm exhausted. I talked to Dr. Brennan, and she agrees: you and I just aren't blue fish. I'm sorry. You're a good person. You'll find someone new."

Lance's eyes filled with tears. He was crushed that she had talked about their relationship to Dr. Brennan. Dr. Brennan belonged to Lance's world! Further, he had no idea what she meant by blue fish. But he couldn't speak to ask her; he was too choked up. This was like being rejected by his first girlfriend—Chelsea—all over again. She had seen his scars, been repulsed, and never spoken to him again. April was basically saying the same thing. His baggage was too heavy. He heard her gather up a few of her things and leave.

All day Lance moped around his office, fighting tears. By the end of the evening, he felt he would go insane if he remained alone any longer with his terrible thoughts. No one would ever love him. Even those who put forth a fighting effort like April eventually couldn't stand the burden of being close to him. He was too damaged, too high maintenance.

Lance had to admit fault in the situation. If part of the human quest for love was to be understood, then he had never really let in April. He had only explained enough about his past to account for his disfigurement. April knew almost nothing about the pre-FBI Lance. She hadn't seemed to want to know, perhaps from a general lack of curiosity (which was bad enough) or worse, a sense that she might find Lance repulsive if she knew the truth of him.

He tried to remind himself that for quite some time things had not been clicking in their relationship, but right now he just loved her and mourned her loss. Bereavement piled on bereavement was all too much. Without knowing exactly what he was doing, he trudged toward the Jeffersonian.

Lance searched the platform and heard voices on the second floor. Booth and Brennan were seated in the lounge.

"Oh, hey guys. I didn't know you'd be here," Lance explained pathetically, his face showing signs of recent tears.

Booth and Brennan called out his lie. They could see plainly that he'd been seeking them out.

"April dump you?" Booth asked gently.

Brennan was shocked and asked how Booth could tell. "He has that dumpy look on his face," Booth replied knowingly.

They invited Lance to take a seat. He felt oddly warm in their presence.

Lance asked Brennan, "Did you think April was pretty?" Typical of the brokenhearted, he was desperately seeking reassurance that April was not right for him.

After glancing at Booth, Brennan endearingly fibbed, "Not at all."

Lance smiled. Brennan was being generous.

"Come on, Sweets. What do you say we go bowling?" Booth asked.

This sounded like a terrible, if kindly meant, suggestion. Lance stunk at bowling and didn't feel like piling a big loss onto his already fragile ego. He declined, but before he knew it, Booth was wheeling his rolling chair toward the exit, like Lance was the paraplegic. It was a friendly gesture that said, 'I'll carry your burden.'

There was something ironic about the fact that the woman Lance had believed was so accepting of him had dumped him, while the two people he had perceived as initially hostile truly accepted him. They didn't even care that he was a mess at this moment; they rose to the occasion. Lance suddenly felt more at home in the Jeffersonian than he did in his apartment.

"Come on, Sweets. Get up. I'll buy you a beer at the bowling ally." Booth put a friendly hand on Lance's shoulder and nearly lifted the young psychologist's entire weight out of the chair.

Lance gazed at the encouraging faces of the two people he found he admired most in the world now that his parents were gone. He gave up, and let them handle things for once.