Author's Note: Next chapter. Well, it looks like my plan to have this one finished by now did not work out...Oh well...This one will still be short though...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

Rankor01: I agree completely with that idea. I often thought that a major point of the show was to show this group of flawed but good people work to overcome their pasts and flaws, and thus they are bound to make mistakes. But as you said, it seems like everyone but Sweets is allowed to make said mistakes...I am hoping that the writers will do more with this new wrinkle on Sweets' character and will treat this as a step toward some growth for his character.

Super Ario: Yes, I can be prolific...or easily distracted. I'm not always sure which. :) But yes, there is never enough time to explore everything they could with Sweets' storylines...one of the reasons why I love fic writing. :D

D: Thank you. I enjoy spending some time with Booth in my fics. But as you will see, there will be more than one viewpoint in this fic...

JoanneLikesVolleyball: Haha well, I've gotten used to the idea that my readers know what they are getting into with me...that and that certain episodes are bound to inspire me. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic.

Peanutmeg: Thanks for the review. I agree that it would have been conflicting for Booth given how he feels about Sweets. Especially since he's already had to deal with this in regards to Brennan. I hope you like this chapter as well.

Charlotte Thornton: Since they seemed to make a big deal about Sweets getting a gun, I am hopeful that there will be more done with it. As to what that might be...hard to say. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter too as we change perspectives...

The Shift in the Perspective—part 2

As soon as Sweets felt the white-hot sting of a bullet slicing through the flesh of his arm, his mind could only register one thought.

'I screwed up…and now there is no way that I'll pass.'

When Sweets made the decision to tell Booth about his intention to start carrying a gun in the field, he had expected some resistance on the agent's part. He knew how protective Booth was of his co-workers and how seriously he took the use of weapons on the job.

Sweets did not, however, expect the flat-out refusal and lack of consideration about the decision that he got.

"Shrinks have couches, not guns."

"It's crazy for him to carry a gun."

"You're not getting a gun."

Sweets had bristled at Booth's tone. The rational part of his mind tried to tell him that Booth was probably concerned about him, despite his snarky demeanor, but right now, the part of him that was hurt and insulted had taken over.

"I'm going to get certified to carry a weapon, and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The therapist pointedly ignored Booth's attempts to discuss the issue further out of pique, but if he was honest with himself, he was grateful that Booth didn't get a chance to ask him more about it.

After all, Sweets was more than a little anxious about what might come out and more than slightly determined to not allow his anxiety to show.

Over the last couple of years, the psychologist had gradually went from only counseling his co-workers in his office about various professional and personal matters and giving profiles to sitting in interrogations and helping Booth sort through evidence all the way to eventually joining Booth and Brennan in the field. At first Sweets had been excited about the change. Granted, it had felt a little strange to be doing so much work outside his office, but he quickly learned to relish the change of pace, the opportunity to have a more "hands-on" experience, and the camaraderie that he had with his co-workers and friends.

The more he did all this, however, the more that Sweets started to consider the idea that being out in the field more also meant that he was taking great risks with his personal safety. Initially there had been only isolated incidences that gave him pause, like the time he and Brennan had been run off the road in his car by a murderer, and most of the time, he didn't worry about it because of how secure he felt with Booth working by his side.

Still, he did worry at times about what would happen if the agent ever got hurt….and this worry reached its fullest potential during the Broadsky case.

It started with the assassination of Taffet right in front of him. The psychological assault that Taffet had inflicted on him had been bad enough, but the moment that he had watched her head explode into blood, brain matter and shards of bone had been terrifying. To this day, Sweets continued to be grateful that Booth had been there to yank him out of the line of fire because the therapist was sure that he probably would have gotten hurt somehow if he had been allowed to continue to wander around in shock. For weeks afterwards, Sweets grappled with the fear and sense of helplessness that that event had brought forth in him.

Those feelings continued to persist as the case wore on and they reached a climax again when Broadsky killed Vincent Nigel-Murray in the Medico-Legal lab. It was then that Sweets felt himself fall into a pit of uncertainty and apprehension about what he was doing.

None of that, however, was able to destroy his desire to work with Booth, Brennan and everyone else at the Jeffersonian. He had already been given a taste at one point of life without them when they all left their jobs and many of them left DC for about seven months not too long ago to pursue personal and professional dreams. Sweets found that he was far more afraid of returning to that reality than of any threats to his physical well-being.

The only solution to his worries that occurred to him after months of consideration was to make it so that he could defend himself in the field. That meant that he would have to carry a gun of his own.

It had not been an easy decision to come to. Despite his traumatic background, it had always been the therapist's first impulse to want to help people, not to hurt them. Using a weapon seemed to be the antithesis of that. Also, Sweets had remembered how concerned his parents had been when he announced his intentions to join the Bureau about the possible danger involved in such a career. The main way that he was able to ease their worries was by assuring them that he would mainly be doing office work and that he wouldn't be involved with anything truly hazardous. Working even more in the field and carrying a gun almost felt like lying to them.

In the end though, Sweets had been able to move past these reservations. He now understood, thanks to Booth, that having a gun have a person the chance to protect people, not just hurt them. Plus, Sweets also was certain that his parents loved him to the point that they would want him to be able to defend himself from harm and thus, would be understanding of his decision.

Reaching these conclusions had not been an immediate process, but it had gone faster than it normally would have because Sweets had fear driving him.

It was that same fear that drove him to the practice range on a regular basis and what had led him there that afternoon. His certification test was tomorrow, and he needed to be ready for it.

While practicing, Sweets tried to put himself into the mind of an agent. Agents were people who regularly handle guns and who were often responsible for other people. It gave him additional focus and helped him to suppress his more nurturing instincts, which he needed to do if he was going to assist Booth in the field this way.

After firing his latest round, Sweets was pleased at the results. He knew that he would probably never meet Booth's level of marksmanship, but he had worked hard to become a good, accurate shot at the very least.

Sweets turned to see Daisy cheering for him, and he had to admit that he had mixed feelings about her being there. On one hand, the psychologist was grateful that she was so supportive of his efforts, seeing as there was little in the way of support from his friends. But it soon became apparent that Daisy was more than a little "excited" about his using a gun, and he was worried about the potential for distractions. Distractions he could ill-afford right now.

His worries turned out to be warranted in the face of his next abysmal round of shooting.

"Damn it…I haven't missed all day."

Sweets was angry. Not really at Daisy since he knew that she was only trying to help, but at himself. That kind of performance only proved Booth's assertion that he shouldn't be carrying a gun.

'If I do this badly during my test tomorrow, there's no way that I'll be allowed to carry a weapon…And Booth would probably find out about it too. He'll never take me seriously after something like that. He won't want me to work with him in the field.'

'Then he'll realize that much faster how little I add to the team…and that could make it easier for them to discard me when I stop being useful…'

The psychologist tried to think about this as little as possible, but the truth was, deep down inside, that there was a persistent, overriding fear that he would be left behind at some point by his friends. They had left him when they scattered throughout the world, and it was happening again, albeit it in a much slower, more subtle way. Now, that his friends had started to focus more and more on their own relationships and families, Sweets was starting to feel increasingly like the odd man out in their group. He hated how selfish that feeling was, but was not able to completely shake it either.

The only solace he was able to find was in the ideas that as long as he was useful to the team professionally and as long as he was pleasant to be around, they would maintain ties with him. Since Brennan was having to spend more time in the lab due to her pregnancy, Sweets figured that this was the time for him to step up to additional responsibilities for the good of the team and to "prove" his worthiness to them.

Daisy encouraged him to view the targets as potential threats to her, and the therapist found this to be surprisingly effective.

'I need to help keep the people close to me safe,' he told himself as he surveyed his vastly improved results. 'Daisy, Booth, Doctor Brennan….I need to pass this test.'

Later that evening, Sweets found himself waiting in Booth's SUV so they could catch up with the victim's brother, who had become a viable suspect. While they were sitting there, Sweets noted how obvious it was that Booth had something on his mind. Eventually the agent worked up the nerve to share it with him.

"Look, it's not that I don't want you to carry a gun, Sweets. Do you understand that? It's just that I'm concerned about your welfare."

Sweets felt a slight pang in his heart upon hearing that. In the back of his mind, he knew that it had taken a lot for Booth to be so open about his concern, but right now his anger over Booth's earlier flippancy and his fear of failure were making it impossible for Sweets to appreciate the agent's show of affection. Not spotting the very person they were supposed to be watching for at the same time as Booth a few seconds later only added to the psychologist's agitation.

'I'm going to pass my certification test tomorrow,' he told himself later that night. 'There's no other option.'

The next morning, Sweets arrived at the firing range, keyed up, but ready….that is until he saw who the Range Master was going to be for the day.

"What are you doing here?"

"Called in a favor…."

Sweets could not deny that Booth's presence both annoyed and unnerved him, but then again, he was not entirely surprised by it either. It was classic Booth all the way.

So when Booth put forth the idea that Sweets would have to suck it up and prove that he could trust him, Sweets decided to just see it as a challenge.

"Let's rock and roll."

Once inside the testing range, Sweets felt his emotions shut down, and his mind becoming completely clear. He navigated the obstacles and targets as skillfully he could. Every bit of his focus was honed toward performing at his absolute best.

As a result, it had shocked him immensely when he felt a bullet tear into his arm, and he wasn't able to stop himself from crying out.

"Sweets, you hit?"

The psychologist found himself more than a little embarrassed by that. He could tell by the tone of Booth's voice that the agent was very worried about something that Sweets figured had been a mistake on his part.

Booth had had the test halted and moved to carefully examine Sweets' arm. As the agent gently checked him over, Sweets could not stop that one thought from flooding his brain.

'I screwed up…and now there's no way that I'll pass.'