Author's Note: While many people have focused on the 100th episode of Bones (And rightfully so. David Boreanaz's performance in it was very powerful and moving, IMO), I've noticed few have said much about the episode before it, Bones on The Blue Line. I think this is a shame, and those who know me by now know why I couldn't resist doing a response to it. ;) I know that I said originally that it would be a one-shot, but well....I'm bad about keeping things short. ;)

This is a re-telling of the episode from Sweets' perspective. It's a mixture of re-framing episode scenes from his viewpoint and additional 'missing' scenes that I wove in. I relate this story quite a bit to another one of my stories (The Heart of The Family). Knowledge of that story is not essential to read this. It just enhances the fun. ;)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters. Drat.

The Doubt in The Doctor

The day had started out like many others for Doctor Lance Sweets. He ambled onto the subway and ran for the train that was heading toward the FBI building and work. After catching it, he put his ear buds into his ears and leaned back to listen to his iPod while riding.

As he sat there, he let his mind drift, and started to watch the other passengers. It had become a sort of game for him. He would try to guess things about them from things like their clothing choices, their mannerisms, even what they chose to read while riding.

'People have no idea how much they reveal themselves in these little things,' Sweets smiled to himself.

He glanced over and saw a young man, he looked about his age, staring at his phone. The man fell into the seat next to him as he stared. Soon he put his head down and looked like he was about to cry. Sweets was immediately filled with the need to help him. He leaned over and yanked the ear buds out of his ears.

However, he was delighted to see that the man was not crying because he was sad, but because he was happy. He had been fighting leukemia for eight years and had just found out that he was clean. His joy was infectious as he began to tell Sweets about all the things that he planned to do now. Like traveling and sleeping with exotic women. Sweets laughed and shook the guy's hand.

Sweets knew that the man's happiness had nothing to do with him, but part of the reason he had become a psychologist was so that he could experience moments like this with his patients: that moment when everything fell into place, and they knew that life was going to work out. So he enjoyed being able to share in this happiness.

Suddenly, Sweets felt the train begin to shake and heard a deep rumbling sound. The lights flickered a bit. Sweets gulped as it happened again; he knew it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility for there to be an earthquake here in D.C. But he didn't like the idea of being underground while it happened.

Then he heard the groan of metal and concrete being strained to their limits and there was a rush of water onto the subway tracks. Sweets flinched as he saw the water hit the window of his subway car. All the sudden, he saw a mangled corpse splat against the window.

"What the hell was that?" the man he was talking to yelled. Sweets was startled too, but the truth was he had gotten somewhat used to seeing human remains in all sorts of gruesome configurations. Still, that did not make the sight of a half-rotted body slamming into the window any less disturbing.

The water pushed harder into the side of the subway car and caused it to shift violently across the track. Sweets grabbed his seat to hold himself in place. The man next to him was thrown into the pole in the center of the car and his head bounced off it. He fell to the floor limp. The train stopped moving and Sweets dropped down onto his knees and lifted the man's body up.

Sweets could see that the his were wide open, still and unseeing. Blood oozed from a cut in the man's forehead. Sweets shook him a little to try to get him to respond. He touched his fingers to his throat but felt nothing. 'He can't be dead. I was just talking to him.' He pulled him closer to see if he could feel breath coming from the mouth, but there was nothing. Just cold stillness. 'No…he just beat cancer…he can't be dead…he can't…it's not right…' Sweets began to tremble as he let the body slide out of his arms and onto the floor. The eyes kept staring at him; Sweets couldn't bear to close them.

The door opened to the subway car, and he was vaguely aware of people around him scrambling to get out, yelling and crying. But as he stood up, all he could see and hear were those dead eyes and his own breathing. 'It's not right…it's not right,' he kept chanting in his mind. He soon felt himself go numb.

He staggered out onto the platform and ignored the workers' attempts to ask him if he was all right. Sweets shrugged them off and just kept staring at the car he came out of. As he thought about the man in there, dead, he felt his breathing quicken.

'No. No, I can't lose it here. I can't,' he thought. It had been years since Sweets had been this close to a full panic attack. He struggled to calm down, but felt himself losing the battle. Sweets knew he needed to do something to help him keep it together. Instinctively, he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, and hit the speed dial. Miraculously, there was a signal.

"Sweets, look I can't talk right now," Booth's voice said over the phone. "Bones and I just got this call about some body in the subway and we…"

"Booth," Sweets interrupted. At the sound of his tone, Booth's voice instantly softened.

"Hey Sweets, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

"He…he's dead," he said. "I was just talking to him…and now he's dead."

"Whoa, whoa whoa. What's going on? Who's dead?"

"He…he said that he was going to do all these things," Sweets said his voice cracking a bit. "Things he had always wanted to do. But I watched him die." He tried to steady his voice, but ended up sniffling instead. "I...I held him while he died."

"Sweets, Lance, listen to me," Booth said his voice serious, yet concerned. "I need you to tell me where you are and if you're all right."

"I…I'm in the subway," Sweets finally gulped. "I was on the train that…crashed. I'm ok." He heard Booth give a sigh of relief.

"Ok, listen. Bones and I have already been notified about a body there so we are heading up there now" he said. "I want you to sit tight until we get there. All right? Just stay there, Sweets."

"Ok," Sweets said, his breathing finally starting to slow down. "Booth I…"

"It's all right, Sweets," Booth said. "Just relax and we'll be there in a few minutes.

After Sweets put his phone back in his pocket, he began to pace around the platform. He saw the EMTs swarming around and checking people for injuries. They tried talking to him, but he quickly brushed them off, and they soon ignored him when they saw that he didn't seem to be hurt. He watched as they began to lift the dead man off the train on a gurney. Sweets turned away quickly, trying to prevent the possibility of another panic attack.

At least they had closed his eyes by now.

A few minutes later, Sweets heard Brennan and Booth coming down to the platform. Brennan headed off to look at the body, while Booth headed his way.

Ordinarily he would have been a bit thrilled over the fact that Booth seemed to genuinely worry about him, but for now he was just glad that his presence helped him to not feel so shaky and scared.

He felt his voice quaver again as he told Booth about how lucky they all were. Subway car full of people, but just a broken arm for injuries. 'Oh except the guy who had just beaten cancer and was now dead.' Sweets was sure he was babbling like an idiot, but Booth just nodded his head and listened. After a moment, he began to guide Sweets over to a slab of stone and pointed down to it.

"Just sit and relax," Booth told him. Sweets was glad that Booth offered to take him to the office; he was sure that if had had to concentrate on walking or traffic, he would have run into a lamp post or something.

While riding with Booth in his SUV, Sweets quickly realized that they were not heading toward the FBI building.

"Hey, where are we going?" Sweets asked.

"We are not going anywhere," Booth answered. "You are taking the afternoon off. I'm dropping you at your apartment."

"Agent Booth, I'm fine," he protested. "I have a lot of work that I should…"

"Listen Sweets," Booth sighed. "You just watched someone die. Now, I know you'll start with all this shrink speak about 'post traumatic stress' and 'coping mechanisms', but the truth is that seeing something like that is never easy. I was in the Army, and I never got used to it."

"Agent Booth, I…if you want to…"

"No, don't try to psycho-analyze me," Booth interrupted. "You just need to listen to me and take the afternoon off. In fact, maybe you should take the next couple of days off." Sweets frowned at the idea.

"I'm not suggesting it because I think you can't handle it," Booth said. Sweets was momentarily startled at how the agent seemed to read his mind.

"I'm suggesting it because I know you," he continued. "You process things differently. Bones, she considers things from a rational perspective: she simply looks at the facts in front of her and makes a decision from there. You, on the other hand, pick at and analyze everything. You turn it around over and over again in that squint brain of yours to find some deeper meaning." Booth swerved hard to avoid getting hit by some woman who was texting away on her phone and then turned his attention back to Sweets.

"Something as big as this: you're going to need several go-arounds in your mind to figure out what you think and feel about it all," Booth said. "So take some time off to do that."

"Wow, "Sweets said softly, slightly awed by Booth's words. "That was…very insightful Agent Booth. Thank you."

"Yeah, well…I happen to know a few things about reading people, Sweets," Booth smirked. "Even without two doctorates."

After Booth left him in front of his apartment building, Sweets felt torn. He was truly grateful that Booth had tried to take care of him and a part of him wanted to follow his advice and go inside and relax. But another larger part of him could not let himself simply relax and do nothing. He needed to do something. Something to help 'restore the balance', so to speak.

He needed to help someone.

'Since you did nothing on that subway. Just watched as a life that was just beginning get snuffed out.'

Sweets shuddered at that thought. He strode purposely toward the apartment's garage to get his car. Despite his jitteriness, he was determined to reach his destination: the Jeffersonian. Doctor Brennan would be there, as would Doctor Saroyan, Doctor Hodgins and Angela.

'That earthquake was sure to unnerve at least one of them,' he thought. 'Well maybe not Doctor Brennan…' He could talk to them and help them deal with it.

That would be something, at least.