So, first of all and most importantly, I want to talk everyone who has read and reviewed my story. It really means a lot.

Secondly, I have some good new and some bad news.

Good news is, I will probably be able to post another chapter sometime tomorrow. Somehow each time I sit down to write a chapter, it becomes longer then the one to proceed, which is why this one took a bit longer to post. Also, work decided to get in the way :(

Now for the bad news, I have an exam on Friday morning, so it will be Friday evening or Saturday before I post again, after tomorrow.

As a reader, I know how frustrating it is to wait to find out whats going to happen, but I will appreciate everyone's patience.

Thirdly, and finally, I'm changing the rating to M, to be on the safe side.

Thanks again :)

Alex's POV:

"Alex? " Alex became aware of someone calling her name from a great distance. "Do you want something for the pain?"

It sounded like Owen, but maybe she was making him up. Her mind conjuring someone to look after her. Why she had chosen Owen, she wasn't sure, but the timbre of voice calmed her, making her feel protected. It did make sense, in a weird twisted sort of way, that she would hallucinate Owen over everyone else. She didn't want Nikita, Michael, Birkhoff or Sean to see her like this; so weak.

Owen, was the only other person that she had forged some kind of connection with. And for some reason, she couldn't put her finger on, she thought that he would be able to understand what she was going through. Or at the very least it seemed like he wouldn't judge. Not that the others would hold it against her either, but she didn't want to disappoint them Even if Owen was only a hallucination, it would be nice to have the company.

"No," she whispered, managing to shake her head and answer his question even as it caused a sharp pain down her neck. "Just… want to get rid of it. No, Nik…ita or anyone. Don't want …see me like this."

The strain of even whispered words was getting to her, making her feel exhausted. Then her entire body cramped up and she was gone. Lost in the darkness.

The first thing Alex saw when she woke, again, was a white ceiling. Was she back at home? No, looking around she found herself in a different, but familiar white room. Division, her home away from home.

How pathetic was that?

She felt more at home here, than in her own apartment. After all, it was in one these rooms that she had first woken up to her new life, all of her energy focused on taking them down for Nikita and her family. She had felt, not exactly happy about what she was risking, but proud that she was finally doing something to honor her mother and father's memory. It had made her feel strong enough to deal with Amanda, constantly treating her like an addict, despite the fact that Nikita had already helped her kick the habit. Amanda wasn't privy to that piece of information and Alex was loath to admit this, but her sessions with the witch had helped her to understand her addiction a bit better.

Once you became an addict, you never really stopped being one - Alex's felt her relapse was proof of that. She had hoped - almost naively so - that once you stayed clean the problem would go away, because it hadn't been her choice to take become addicted. It had been forced on her and after she managed to stay clean when Vald had injected her, she thought that she was cured.

But really, she had a reason to stay clean then. She still had goals. She had just learned to control that part of her mind telling her that she needed a fix to survive. The irony being that the drug only helped increase the chances of her death. She had to find that control again.

Alex hadn't been prepared for her addictive nature to sneak back up on her. Now, by her own hand, she was back in the position where she needed to she was in agony. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. Her mouth felt dry, so she tired licking her lips. It didn't work. It was as if her mind had disconnected from her body so she had a reprieve from the pain. It lasted long enough for her to turn her head.

Sitting in a chair, not to far from her bed, was a man. It took her a few seconds to figure out who it was, because she had a brief flashback to Michael sitting in the exact same spot.

Owen, sat there, watching her with those guarded eyes of his.

Maybe she was still dreaming. Why else would he be there? She opened her mouth to ask him why her subconscious kept conjuring him up, when her mind and body connected again. Her body arched off the bed, as a particularly bad all-over muscle crap seized her.

"It's going to be ok, Alex." Owen's voice penetrated the fog of her mind. "It's going to get easier." He put his cool, calloused hands on either side of her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. It helped to sooth some of the pain away, even as she slipped back into the blackness.

Alex huddled in the corner of the smelly, flea invested room, the sex slavers had locked her in. She could not stop shaking. Her breathes came in shallow little pants and it felt like she couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs. Any minute now one of the men was going to come through the door and beat her senseless.

But, Alex didn't regret what she had done. She was not going to allow any of those digesting creatures, that dared call themselves men, touch her without putting up a fight.

Alex didn't have to wait long. The door burst open and banged against the wall. She didn't know the name of the man standing in the doorway, but she liked to call him Piss Pock or Pock for short in her mind. It was a small

defiance, but it helped make her feel as if she wasn't giving up. He was a tall, lanky man covered in acne scars and he always smelled of urine.

Pock surged into the room and grabbed Alex's shoulders, dragging her to her feet.

"You filthy little whore," he roared in her face, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on her face. "You good for nothing piece of shit. You were supposed to just lie there and let him fuck you, but no, you had to claw at his face and kick him in the balls. You cost me money, bitch. I should kill you!"

Pock let Alex go, only to backhand her across the face. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. But that wasn't the end of it. Pock started kicking her in the stomach, back and legs, careful to avoid her face. Clients didn't mind a bruise or two, but a broken nose or black eyes were bad for business.

Alex curled up into a ball and switched off her mind. There was no happy place for her, just darkness.

She didn't know how long Pock stood there kicking her, but when he stopped, she was sure, there was no way in hell that she'd be able to move for days, if not weeks.

"Lucky for you child, I'm feeling generous today, so I won't kill you," Pock proclaimed, like he some kind of saint. Alex wanted to be sick, but her stomach hurt to much to even breath properly. He knelt down in front of her, so he could look her in the eye and watch her reaction to his next words. "What I will do, is introduce you to a drug that will make you fly. Then, my little whore, I will personally break you in."

Alex started shaking again. The fear she had before Pock walked into the room, was nothing compared to the fear she felt now.

Pock kept his word. Two days later - sufficient enough time for Alex to heal, according to the masochist - she was introduced to oblivion from a needle and broken in; at least physically.

Alex had been whimpering and thrashing around in her bed, for the last five minutes. Owen had been calling her to wake for just as long. He didn't want to touch her while she was having a nightmare in case she reacted badly when she woke.

"Alex! Alex! Come on! Wake up!"

Finally, Alex bolted upright and was once again faced with white walls. Her nightmare was still clinging to her and she felt dirty. But overriding that feeling was her need for someone to comfort her. To prove to her that the daily abuse she had suffered as a teenager was over. Taking a large, heaving breath, her eyes found Owen's and held.

Alex began to silently cry.

One of her walls was after crumbling, due to the strain on her body and she didn't have it in her to hide her anguish from him.

Owen started back at her for a long second, his face unreadable. Then, as if reading her mind, he walked towards the bed. He sat down beside Alex, without saying a word, placing one leg on the bed. He, then, gently, but firmly, wrapped one of his arms around her waist, watching her face, for any reaction. Alex couldn't speak or even nod, but something in her expression must have told him he was doing the right thing, because he pulled back along the bed until she was sitting between his thighs, her back against his chest, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He tugged the blankets back up, so that they covered her up to her chin.

The feeling of safety that engulfed Alex, was as sudden, as it was a surprise.

This time she chose to go back to sleep, knowing that Owen would protect her.