I was watching some re-runs the other day and something hit me. In the season one episode "The Man in the Morgue", Booth showed up really quickly to help Bones out. I mean, REALLY quickly; the time it takes to get to New Orleans from D.C. on a non-stop flight is almost 3 hours. I'm guessing that dealing with a hasty packing, traffic, and waiting around for a flight would take Booth 5 hours realistically. So how does that explain that Brennan wakes up on the floor of her hotel, and then he barges into her exam in the hospital? There's no way she waited 5 hours to go in; she would be too pragmatic to even think about letting possible physical evidence of what happened degrade like that.

Sooooooo ... I'm thinking that something was up, and here's what I think that something was.

I couldn't let her go alone.

Not that I'd let her know that. She'd just get offended and spout off about how she was more than capable of taking care of herself. I know she can, hell I've seen her take care of herself with courage and strength that blows my mind, but I can't help but feel...

... uneasy...

... when I think she's diving into a situation that she might not be ready for.

Like this one. Granted, traveling to New Orleans on her vacation to help identify hurricane victims might just be the least dangerous expedition she's gone on ... and that's just comparing to the few recent trips she's actually told me about. But there are still people disappearing in the streets everyday even now months afterwards; people killing each other for basic needs or because they think that in the continuing chaos they won't possibly be caught.

Ever since the explosion in her apartment and James Kenton nearly feeding her to the dogs, I've found myself worrying more and more about this incredibly annoying woman. I don't know why. She's so smart, so capable, but so naive when it comes to human interaction that I can't help but worry about the next mess she'll find herself in. The next mess that I won't be able to get to her in time to fix.

So, I followed her. Of course, I didn't really follow her. That would be creepy. I just couldn't stand not really having a good excuse to call and check in on her or stop by the Jeffersonian to see her, so I hopped a plane after a few days and found myself in New Orleans. I made sure to stay an hour outside of the city itself most of the time and I found myself volunteering a lot in the recovery efforts in the outskirts of the area.

I just needed to know that if anything happened to her, I'd be able to get to her in time. I hoped that she would have the sense enough to call me if she got into trouble. I also hoped that my presence here would be completely unneeded.

Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen.

When I got the phone call, I thought she was maybe showing some humanistic courtesy you know? Calling me, her partner, to let me know that she was getting on the airplane and would be ready to get back to work with me tomorrow.

But then I heard the fear. I heard the way her voice quivered; the catches in her breath as she moved around as obvious signs of pain that she must have been in. I forced myself to stay quite as she tried to explain that she thought she had maybe been attacked, and as a result would most likely not be home as previously scheduled.

She thought she had been attacked? How can a person not know if they've been attacked?

I begged her to put the brakes on and really tell me what happened, not just give me the version that made Cliff's Notes look like a detailed thesis study.

She told me that she didn't know what that meant. Of course she wouldn't know anything about the tool so many students use to get the barest minimum of learning on a topic instead of actually doing their work. She would have been the type of student who not only read every word in a book, she would have made note of the exact punctuation to boot.

She tried to sound detached and calm as she explained that she woke up beaten and bloody on the bathroom floor of her hotel room, but I could hear the panic in her voice. That she had no memory of the day before, and only part of the day before yesterday. That she was pretty sure her wrist had been broken, possibly other bones as well, but she didn't want to make that assumption until she had the x-rays done.

I told her I was on my way.

I had to make up something fast to explain why I knew I'd be there way too quickly to be flying from D.C., so I explained that I was already in the South visiting an old friend from the Rangers on my own little vacation.

She told me not to come.

I told her I'd be there in an hour.

She demanded that I not come.

I told her to take a hot shower, relax, try and eat something, and that I'd take her to the hospital when I got there. Her reaction to that nearly killed me.

Bones's breath hitched and stilled for a moment before coming back over the line. She sounded dead.

"I can't take a shower or remove my clothes Booth. They'll need all of the physical evidence they can collect for a rape kit."

I magically found myself in my rental car, even though I could have sworn I had been nowhere near it moments before. As my foot pressed the accelerator to its limit I tried to stay calm as I asked her if she knew if she had been...

... I couldn't say the word. Not, as Bones probably guessed, due to my discomfort with discussing all things sexual with her. I couldn't say that word to her because it felt like just another possible violation; like I was shoving that in her face all over again.

She reminded me that she didn't remember anything. That it was just a precaution; that she couldn't be sure. She asked me once again not to come.

I told her there was no way in hell I wasn't going to show up before she told me that, and now that it was in my mind I would be breaking every speed limit to be there for her. That she shouldn't be without a friend right now.

"Please Booth, I'll be fine. I've gone through this before ... I'm not going to crumple like some weak-willed person."

Gone through ... this ... before?

I asked her what she meant by that. It couldn't possibly mean what I was dreading that it meant.

After a big sigh, she continued.

"This is going to have to be one of those things that I'll tell you about someday, but not today Seeley. I just ... I really can't. I need to keep it together right now. All I can say right now is that I have been to some very dangerous places in the world for my work, places where historically women are assaulted in an attempt to subdue them during times of conflict."

I could have sworn right then that I had felt a tooth crack. I must have been clenching my jaw way too tightly. I heard her moving around again, once more punctuated by little involuntary sounds of pain and discomfort. She told me she was heading out to the clinic. I asked her where it was; since she was too stubborn to wait for me I'd meet her there.

She told me one more time not to come.

I told her, through gritted teeth; that we were partners. That partners where there for each other when bad shit happened. That I wasn't going to let her face this alone even if she was strong enough to handle it.

Before she could argue, I hung up. That woman can make it really hard to be nice to her. So I called up someone at the Bureau and had them run her credit cards to find out what hotel she was staying at. Then I told them to look up any clinics or hospitals in the area that were still functioning. After getting the directions to the most likely one I hung up and continued to drive.

All I could think about for the rest of the way was that I had been so stupid thinking that being an hour away from her was enough.

I should have just gone with her from the start.

This isn't my fault, so why do I feel like I'm to blame?