Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing. I'll put'em back when I'm done.

Rating: G

Synopsis: The musings of a Peacekeeper captain.

Author's note: Inspired by the song by Limp Bizkit of the same name. :)

What makes a man lose himself? What makes a good man go bad? What exactly does it take to make a sane man lose his mind?

All valid questions. All questions he had asked himself a few times in his life. All questions he was beginning to seek an answer to. And why? Why should a man in his position, at the top of his game, seek answers for another man's dilemma? There was a very simple explanation for that, actually. An explanation that would make sense to most; even his superiors. Once a good man went bad, once a sane man lost his mind, once a man lost himself, he became dangerous to his surroundings and to himself.

The gloves were off now. There was no conscience behind those cold blue eyes any more, no sense of right or wrong. There was only vengeance. And now that he knew the entire story, he understood the hatred that had to lie behind the need for vengeance, the anger, the pain. The pain had previously been evident in those eyes, but no more. The care for others was gone. And why not? All he had ever had to cling to out there in the Uncharted Territories was gone.

Miklo Braca understood that concept even though he did not understand the total and utter loss of self. How could a man like that, strong of mind, cunning even, so completely lose himself? Granted, his cold-hearted approach to the goal he had in mind could win a war, take over a galaxy, even destroy the strongest enemy. But the anger was not in Peacekeeper favor, nor was it in favor of Peacekeeper enemies. It was like a shockwave of a plantery explosion radiating outwards through space, rippling through the cold emptiness out there and destroying all it touched.

There was really only one way to stop this rampaging being from destroying all and everything he himself held dear. Despite all the pain, all the agony this man had gone through, he had to be stopped before he destroyed everything in his path. Braca was sorry to give the order, sadder even when the team of Black Ghosts he had dispatched to find the marauder reported back with success. But there was really nothing he could do. The pain would stop once he died. The anger would burn out of those cold eyes when the body caught up to the ice in them. There really was nothing else to do. John Crichton had to die!

The End