Robert twisted the blade once more and then slowly pulled it out of the woman’s back and wiped it lovingly across his sleeve. He prodded her side roughly with the toe of his boot. Satisfied by the lack of response, he stepped over her limp form and walked out the door in search of the more valuable of his prizes, Malcolm Reynolds. He could always come back and collect her body later, the calm voice whispered reassuringly in his head.

Stepping out onto the porch, he looked around for a clue as to where Reynolds might be hiding. From a distance, he saw a tall, lean man approaching rapidly. Something in the determined way he moved set off alarms in Robert’s head. And then, his world went suddenly dark. He stiffened, trying to maintain his dominance over the other voices howling in his head. Unlike most of the other personalities inhabiting his mind, Robert knew that his dominant hold could be broken at random times. The desperation inherent in that knowledge was one of the things that made him the most deadly of them all. He stood absolutely still for a long moment, battling for dominion. And then, he slowly blinked just once, dropped the blade he found in his hands to the ground, and began to run.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marcus saw the man in the distance and pushed harder to achieve even more speed. He could make out little about the man beyond the fact that he was tall and thin and moved with an unnatural speed. Coming even with the groundskeeper’s porch, he slowed momentarily, some half-formed instinct pulling him toward the door. He saw the bloodied knife glinting in the afternoon sun and he let out a strangled cry.

Taking the steps in one leap, he slammed the door open, leaving it hanging crookedly by one hinge. “Elizabeth!” he shouted desperately. “Elizabeth!” Hearing no answer, he raced from room to room, terror at what he might find making his blood run cold.

With adrenaline-heightened senses, he heard the broken door swing from behind him. He whirled quickly and drew his gun in one fluid motion.

“Hey, hold on there, stranger,” the groundskeeper said in alarm, holding up his arms in the universal gesture of surrender. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this here’s a federally protected building. And it’s my home besides. You can’t just be breakin’ in here and carryin’ on like this.”

“Where is she?” Marcus asked, his voice low and deadly.

The groundskeeper blinked in confusion. “Where is who?”

Marcus jammed the barrel of his gun directly between the hapless groundskeeper’s eyes.

“Look,” the older man said placatingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been gone a coupla day, vacation you know, and I just got back. Came in to see you runnin’ about like a madman in my house.” As the gun was still pressed firmly to his forehead, he added. “I swear.”

Marcus stared at him for a long moment, his need to do physical violence to someone or something warring with his discernment that the man was telling the truth. Dropping his gun back into its holster, he said, “I’ve got no time to explain. Stay here.” Turning on his heels, he entered the last room at the end of the hall. It was the only one he’d not yet searched. The groundskeeper, dazed, forgot his admonition to stay put and trailed behind him in bewilderment.

An unearthly sound came from somewhere deep inside Marcus as he saw Elizabeth lying facedown in an ever-expanding pool of her own blood. Praying to every god he’d ever heard of and some he had not, he ran to her side and turned her over gently. Placing his hand against her throat, he waited for a long moment. He could discern no pulse.

Without another sound, he scooped her limp body into his arms, pushed past the astonished groundskeeper and began to run back toward the loader, his only coherent thought that Simon might be able to perform a miracle if he could just get her to him in time.

XXXXXXXXXX

The young man hid behind a boulder watching the people surrounding his ship. He felt an almost irresistible urge to be back aboard in the safety of his own home. The voices whispered low in his ears, but he paid them no heed. Robert’s masterpiece would have to wait for another day, he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that another opportunity would present itself. He had only to wait for it. And, he thought with a smile, Robert would just have to wait for it as well.

The first matter of concern was how to return to his ship with the least amount of complication. He, unlike Robert, did not thrive on complication, but instead preferred the easier course. Had he been dominant for more than a few minutes with Reynolds and the woman, he thought with a little irritation, he would have simply taken his pleasure in the woman’s body, slit her throat, and dumped Reynolds out into the vacuum of space. Easy as one, two, three. But, things being as they generally were, Robert insisted on his own brand of fun, and now they would all have to wait for a chance to get back to the ship and sort things out. Sitting back on his heels, he waited and watched.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jayne looked out in the direction Marcus had taken earlier. “I see ‘em,” he said.

Everyone turned quickly to follow his line of sight. “Looks like he’s carryin’ her,” Zoe said. “Everybody, get into the loader ma shong. Best we pick ‘em up and see what’s what.”

Mal’s weakened voice came from the back of the loader, where River was trying to tend to the worst of his wounds until they could retrieve Elizabeth and head back to the Hit or Miss. “Jayne, you stay here, in case the hundan tries to get back onto his ship.”

Jayne nodded, please inordinately that Mal was speaking coherently and that he himself was being left in a position where the possibility of doing violence to the man who had captured the Captain was very real. He fingered Vera, hoping that her services would be needed sooner rather than later.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’m telling you there’s something bad going on out there,” the groundskeeper said to the man staring back at him from the Cortex screen. “Came home and found a gorram madman busting up my house. Next thing I knew, he had found a woman lying in my office, near about bled to death, best I can tell. He ran off in the direction of the monument. You’d best send somebody to check it out.”

“We’ll have someone scout the area,” the inspector said calmly. “Don’t worry about that. You just stay inside and keep your doors locked. I’ll call you when we find the guy.”

The groundskeeper nodded appreciatively. “Hard to lock a door when it’s been torn off the hinges,” he said.

“Then I suggest you make use of your carpentry skills and let me get to work,” the inspector said, cutting the transmission.

The groundskeeper snorted, but did just that, secure in the knowledge that the whole crazy business was in someone else’s hands now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Robert roared back to dominance when he saw Malcolm Reynolds pass by in the back of the loader. But the calmer voice inside his head, while now subordinate, still spoke, advising caution. Assuming Reynolds lived, there would be time later to find him again, time to do all the things that were required to satisfy the bloodlust that coursed through Robert’s veins so relentlessly.

Reluctantly, Robert let himself be persuaded to the more cautious way. Slipping silently from behind the boulder, he considered the large man standing guard at his ship. Robert had no weapon, as one of his alter egos had foolishly dropped it at the groundskeeper’s office. He toyed with the thought of going back to retrieve it. It was his personal favorite. He thought fondly of the blood that it had shed so faithfully under his skilled hands. He would get it back, he decided. And when he had it in his hands again, the first one to feel its blade would be the man guarding his ship.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Jayne scowled at the lawman, but stood silently.

“Sir,” the man repeated, his weapon and the weapons of his men all trained on Jayne. “I asked you a question. Is this your ship?”

“No,” Jayne said grudgingly.

“I need you to drop your weapon to the ground slowly and step away from the vessel,” the man commanded.

Jayne was not about to put Vera in the dirt. He stood perfectly still, hearing the distinct sound of several gun safeties suddenly being released.

“I said, step away from the vessel,” the officer said.

Annoyed beyond measure by the sheer stupidity of the situation, Jayne shook his head. “No,” he said firmly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marcus laid Elizabeth gently into the back of the loader beside Mal. “Go,” he said urgently, swinging into the seat beside Zoe.

“Is she…?” Jim asked, looking at the paleness of Elizabeth’s skin against the red splotches of blood all over her body.

“Just drive,” Marcus replied hoarsely.

XXXXXXXXXX

The monster known as Robert rubbed the handle of his knife lovingly. He smiled, watching from behind the boulder as the ever-helpful authorities forced the large man who’d been guarding his ship into their hover and pulled away. Fate was once again smiling on her favorite son, he thought with maniacal glee.

Waiting only long enough for the hover to disappear beyond the horizon, he climbed back aboard his vessel with a satisfied smile. Powering up his engines, he pulled back the yoke, and the ship rose gracefully in the air, taking him beyond the reach of his enemies and into the welcoming arms of his renewed destiny.

XXXXXXXXXX

Zoe watched in disbelief as the vessel Jayne was supposed to be guarding rose into the air. Marcus, glancing up from watching Elizabeth for any sign of life, saw it too. “Gorram it,” he swore, beginning to climb out of the loader as if somehow he could pull the ship from the sky with nothing more than the fury that raged in his heart.

“Marcus!” he heard as if from a distance. “Gorram it, Marcus, get back in the ruttin’ loader!” Bear yelled, holding on to his distraught Captain by the sleeve of his shirt. “You can’t get him….not now. He’s already gone.”

Coming back to his senses, Marcus clamored back up onto the side of the loader and sat down heavily. Blood sang in his ears. “Ain’t gonna let the hundan live,” he muttered. “Hand to God.”

Bear released his sleeve carefully. “Can’t be thinking on that right now,” he said quietly. “Got somethin’ as takes precedence back there.” He nodded toward Elizabeth. “Dong ma?”

Marcus nodded jerkily, suddenly too exhausted to tell Bear that he’d been unable to even find a pulse for Elizabeth. He pushed the thought ruthlessly aside. Plenty of gorram time to deal with that later, he thought grimly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon carefully studied the layout of Elizabeth’s infirmary, knowing that if the others were successful, he would undoubtedly have two very badly damaged patients to attend. He did not want to be unprepared for any eventuality.

He heard commotion suddenly and knew that something was going on. He further knew with some degree of certainty that whatever it was would end up in the infirmary very soon. As usual, his assessment was on target. In scant moments, Marcus barreled through the door with Elizabeth in his arms, followed closely by the others, who carried Mal between them as gently as they could.

Seeing that Elizabeth’s wounds seemed more pressing at the moment, Simon motioned for Marcus to lie her on the larger table. He checked her pulse and quickly pulled the equipment tray to his side. “Get out of the way,” he said, his bedside manner temporarily altered by the seriousness of the situation.

Bear pulled the immobile Marcus quickly aside so that Simon could work. Mal raised his head from the other bed weakly. “Doc, she gonna be…?”

“I don’t know,” Simon replied tersely. The room fell into horrified silence as he began to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued