Disclaimer: I Don't Own Nikita
Owen sat there staring at his regiment half way through done. He had stayed on the regiment telling himself he would go off of them easily. He had told Nikita he needed time alone to figure things out and to get off the regiment on his own. It was true he did. He couldn't put this on someone else. He had to do this on his own. He had hurt so many people and he had to face what he did. He had to watch himself to see that he didn't go overboard. He avoided people and crowds and stayed in as much as possible trying to find a way to improve to face his sins and to not be dependent on the regiment. It was easier said than done. He tried to lower the dosages and going off easily but that didn't last long. Headaches came and then the shakes and then he went back going over and over all of the drawing that symbolized all of his kills. He went over and over newspaper clippings and any sign of the families of his victims. He didn't have to use the black box to face them. He could see them and help them in some way. He knew it wouldn't make up for what he did but it could be a start. He saw their faces every day. They haunted him every day. Their cold dead faces looked up at him and shivered and said, "You did this."
The regiment helped. It helped him forget, but he didn't want to forget. He deserved this. He had to feel it. He could no longer hide from his sins. It would be so easy to take the regiment and forget about his quest. He could just take them like he had been and he could let himself ignore the guilt, the pain, and he could forget and let it numb all of the pain. He could let it distract him but he couldn't do that. He owed it to Emily, Daniel, and everyone else death he was responsible for to keep on going to fight through this and to feel the pain and the guilt and find a way to seek some sort of redemption. He had to find and face the families and loved ones at some point.
So he looked at the pills and he put them away and he decided that he had to just go cold turkey. He could do this. He had endurance. He locked himself in his apartment and made sure he wasn't around anyone he tore down the newspaper clippings and he got ready to face this. He had to face it alone.
XXX
Alex put on her quant café waitress uniform on and put the Alexis name tag on. She looked at her self and fixed herself up in perfect detail to be this regular struggling girl who took a waitress job to pay the bills. It was nice honest work. No espionage, no seducing, and no killing. She was no longer a Division agent, she was no longer a Mole, she was no longer Nikita's protégé', or Michael's recruit, or Nathan's girlfriend. She was now Alexis; simple waitress trying to start over on her own.
She was all ready for Nikita and Michael to help her fake her death so she could walk in the sunset and not let revenge consume her. Then she realized Nathan was a Division agent under cover sent by Amanda. She was all alone. And she was fine with that really. Nikita always under estimated her. She loved the girl like a sister like a mother even but she wouldn't stop coddling her. She was always so protective of her. She never wanted her to be the mole. Alex knew she always wanted Michael for that. Every chance Nikita got she tried to take her out. In the end she wanted it too but then everything imploded and it didn't look like Michael and Nikita's plan would work. It hurt her so much to even think about. They still were her family but she couldn't stand waiting for them to make everything better. She was capable of taking care of herself and she would prove it to them. So she faked her death and ran to Europe. She found the crowds and found the fake ID's and reinvented herself again. This time this fresh start would be real and she would do it all on her own. She would show them that she didn't need to be protected. She didn't need to be coddled she could do this and start all over and she could do it alone.
XXX
Owen lied there on the floor sweat trickled all over his body. Sweat soaked his hair and he shacked in cold chills. He had withstood the piercing head aches and the pain and he had with stood the obsessive urges and now he was in too much pain to obsess over anything. He had to keep on reminding himself that you feel pain before you can get better. It's how we heal. He had to repeat it over and over like a mantra. Everything became so blurry and fuzzy and all he could think about was the pain, the aches in his body, the spasm, the rush of hot and cold sweats.
He tried to hold onto anything. He tried to remember his determination. He tried to remember the faces and why he was doing this. He tried to concentrate on anything but the pain was to strong and everything faded. He crawled on the cracked hardwood floor to get to regiment. He needed them, the pain would stop. He could come off of it easy. He'd just needed his hit. He needed to think clearly. It was all he could think about was for the blurred pain to go away and he could be in focus and in control.
He crawled to his hiding place and got the regiment frantically. As he fumbled he dropped the pills and then suddenly he heard noses someone was picking his lock. Really? Now? He proceeded for the pills. The shabby looking teenage guy with hoodies looked like a total junkie. Their eyes were bloodshot and they were on edge. They had a gun were carrying it all wrong. If he had his strength he wouldn't have a problem with disarming him and kicking the punk's ass. Everything was still so fuzzy and he knew what he looked like. He looked like a strung out junkie trying for his next hit.
He tried fighting the punk kid off but he was so far gone. He knew it. He barely could move. He hated this. He needed his drugs with the regiment he could kick this punks ass and then some. He couldn't let this punk kid get away with this. The kid had ran out with the drugs like a kid on Christmas. Owen crawled on the floor and breathed deeply and tried to mutter all of the strength he could to stand. And stumbled slowly and held onto the wall as he very slowly chased after this guy. He hated this. He couldn't wait until he got his regiment and got his control back and show this punk kid a thing or two.
When he finally managed to get to the alley he saw the kid hassling some girl. Oh great. Now he really needed to kick this kid's ass now. He breathed heavily and took deep strenuous breaths and tried to mutter all of the strength he had left.
The girl tried to ignore him and block him and then the punk kept on going at her pressuring her and tempting her with drugs promising her a good time. Owen focused on the girl.
She had brown hair, slender, trying to hunch over putting her hands in the pockets of her trench coat, giving the world a vibe of leave me the hell alone. He then was about to proceed and took all he could to set this guy straight and kick his ass and save the damsel in distress.
Then the girl took his arm and twisted it in his back and proceeded to beat the kid until he ran away crying. Owen was impressed and slightly relieved he didn't have to interfere. He wasn't quite sure if he could. The kid left the drugs behind. He could just wait for her to leave and get them and he could get his strength back and feel in control again. Then the silly girl decided to take the whole bag of pills and put it in her purse. Great. This was just getting better. He kept on breathing in and out taking all of the strength he could mutter and follow the girl home. He could be subtle. He didn't want to attack the girl and just steal them back. One, his strength was too weak and two the less human interaction the better. So he followed her to her apartment and would wait for her to leave hoping she would leave the drugs there. Soon he could feel that sweet release and the pain would go away and this girl will help weather she realizes it or not.