A/N: I tried to post this yesterday but the site's giving me fits. Thanks to Bone_Dry and Punky Misfit for their help!

Warning: I had reasons for rating this story T. This chapter is one of them. It's somewhat disturbing.

Disclaimer: I own the DVD's from Seasons 1-3. Not the show.

A Little Inattention is a Dangerous Thing:

They were chasing him. Over fifty of them, in various stages of decomposition, but always recognizable. Their wounds – the wounds he himself had inflicted on them – clear.

He ran through the earthen tunnel, feeling the walls brush his shoulders from time to time, praying there was a way out. He knew if he let them catch him, he was not only doomed in this life, but they would torment him for eternity. A private Hell, especially designed for one Seeley Booth.

He saw light filtering down ahead. A skeletal hand grabbed the back of his shirt: it gave him energy to push forward, hearing the fabric tear as he sped up.

He burst into a small open area. Looking above his head, he saw a circle of sky. Booth jumped, his fingers digging into the dirt, but couldn't stop himself sliding back to the dirt floor.

The – zombies? Undead? – waited in the corridor, their eyes bright. For some reason they didn't come any closer, something Booth was grateful for.

A sound from above made him look up. To his relief he saws Bones and Parker standing at the edge of the hole, looking down at him. Bones was holding a rope ladder, and he almost sobbed. His partner would save him. She always did.

"Bones!" he shouted. "Thank God! Hurry, throw down the ladder!"

She made no move to lower the ladder. Booth was frustrated, and a little bit afraid. "Bones, didn't you hear me? Come on, I gotta get outta here!"

Parker knelt down at the edge of the hole. There were tears in his eyes. "Daddy?"

Booth tried to calm his son. "It's okay, Parker. Bones'll get me outta here."

"You killed mommies and daddies," Parker sobbed. "Why did you do that?"

It was as if Parker had stabbed him in the gut. "W-what?"

His son pointed to the two or three creatures who'd come into view, cruel smiles on their faces. "They had kids – you took them away from their kids! I don't want a daddy like you!" Parker jumped to his feet and ran away, still crying.

"Parker – Parker, no, wait!" Booth again clawed the dirt walls trying to climb up. "Bones, get me outta here! I gotta talk to Parker!"

Her eyes were steel as the looked down at him, and her voice was laced with contempt. "I don't help murderers, Booth," she said, throwing the ladder behind her.

"What?" he stammered. "Your dad –"

"He killed to protect me," she interrupted, her voice sending chills down his spine. "You just killed. You don't deserve to live." She leaned down and began to swing a metal door over the opening.

"Bones!" Booth screamed. "Bones, don't do this!"

The lid slammed shut, leaving him in darkness.

He heard the creatures rushing towards him. Booth felt for his St. Christopher's medal, but his hand scrabbled his chest without touching it. Had God left him too?

Then the monsters were upon him, their sharp nails piercing his skin, teeth sinking into tender flesh as they started to tear him apart. His next scream was filled with anguish, and under it he heard a woman sobbing, "Booth –"

He heard himself scream as he bolted upright in bed, his hands covering his face, his body shaking violently.

Booth blinked and lowered his hands. Another nightmare. The worst one yet. Swallowing, he grabbed at his hair. Would they ever stop?

"Booth…"

He jerked his head up at the sound of his name. The voice was female, crying, and apparently at his front door if the tapping he heard was any indication.

Was it Bones? They hadn't ended the day on good terms. Booth had haunted the Jeffersonian all day as the squints went over the evidence they had. He'd made such a pest of himself that Cam threatened to sedate him if he didn't go to Bones' office and wait.

He'd paced her office, unable to concentrate on anything. When Bones came in, he could see by her guarded look that he wouldn't like what she had to say.

"The evidence is inconclusive," she said softly. "I'm sorry Booth, but we can't logically prove that Heather Taffet's accomplice is alive."

"But you can't prove she's dead either, right?" Booth pressed.

Brennan sighed. "Booth, her killing this unknown person is perfectly logical. She killed Vega, it stands to reason –"

He interrupted her with a curse and ran his hands through his hair. That was when the argument started. He kept telling her his gut was contradicting her findings and she insisted that her science was more accurate than his gut.

Booth decided to leave before he said things that he would have to apologize for. When he told her he'd pick her up for the hearing she coldly informed him she would be driving herself and meet him there. Frustrated, he muttered, "Fine, whatever," and stomped out of the lab.

"Booth…" the voice gasped. "Please, I need your help!"

It didn't sound like her voice, he thought. But it was hard for him to tell. He padded to the door and looked out the peephole. He saw a bent female figure, hair covered by a kerchief, shaking with sobs.

"Bones?" he asked through the door.

"Booth…" the woman gasped, slumping to the floor.

That did it. Bones or not, this person was in trouble. He yanked open the door.

Had he not just awakened from a horrible nightmare, had he not been sleep-deprived and stressed from everything that had happened over the past few days, Booth would have been a lot more alert and cautious. He would have remembered that the Gravedigger had caught him when he opened his door the last time.

But everything he was going through caused his attention to flag. And in this case, his inattention would cost him.

He opened the door and began to kneel down beside the shaking woman. "What hap-"

Her hand swung up before he could react. The taser in it touched the base of his throat. There was the sound of electricity.

Suddenly Booth couldn't breathe. He fell back, tried to get his hands up to his throat, but his body wasn't taking orders from his brain at the moment. The woman stood up, all shaking and distress gone, and kicked his shoulder with the point of her shoe. More pain was added to what he was experiencing, and he gasped as he tried to grab at her legs.

Someone else – Taffet's assistant! his brain managed to tell him – came into view and shoved Booth back into the apartment. Both his attackers followed him in and shut the door. "See?" the woman smirked, "I told you the neighbors wouldn't hear."

Booth fought to get his body back under his control. He wouldn't, couldn't let this happen to him again, not again –

The taser touched the back of his neck and his world exploded in pain and darkness.

A/N2: Hey, I'm not the founder of the Evil Cliffie Club for nothing!

I hope that I've made it plausible how Booth, a trained soldier and agent, could be caught again. I didn't want to make him suddenly stupid, but have a reason for his guard to be down.

Reviews are welcome, as always!