Guts Over Fear ◇ NIKITA

Trust Me, I'm a Doctor

Each second out here Owen was drifting further from sanity. His nervous system has been cooked and cooked and now, without that heat, it was starting to fail. The extent of such was made clear to Alys when she got an email from Birkhoff. Mass sent, none of their personal touches to let the other know how they were doing, St. Christopher's church on Jamestown road, sent to likely every agent and team in London, with orders to terminate on sight.

Quickly studying her surroundings and deciding how best to reach him, Alys took off running, her coat and long hair bouncing with the force in each step she took. By the time she reached the massive stone building, it seemed the Guardian had teamed up with Michael's strike team, but Michael himself was nowhere in sight.

She extracted her gun as she came around the back of the building. There weren't any doors back here, but after finding a window that opened into a room that was hidden from the main one and carefully opened it, using the grace she'd picked up long before Division and even the Gordon's, back when she was still a Tasarov. Her father had always appreciated the art of ballet, and in a hope to gain his attention she'd taken it up. She couldn't quite remember how it turned out, but she was put in someone else's care one way or another.

She could hear someone playing the organ inside and half hoped that it was a self-playing one, as unlikely as it was. The sounds of a body dropping to the floor above her head caught her attention, trying the door to the stairwell she found herself in and found that it was locked. With a growl of frustration, she took the stairs two at a time and quickly made her way up to the second floor, only reaching the door after hearing a large amount of gunfire.

Wanting to be as quick but also also as quiet as possible, she tried not to fight this door as much, getting it open and rushing over to the balcony that overlooked the main floor, she pointed her gun at the two men wrestling between the pews.

They were too tangled together for Alys to tell which limbs belonged to which Guardian, she was too far away to get a clear shot with her handgun. The brunette Guardian got his hands around the blonde one's throat and Owen was quick to wrap his legs around the man's arms, somehow managing to snap his neck with his ankles. Reminding herself not to pick a fight with him, she lowered her gun as the other blonde stood. "Owen," she softly called, the paranoid man snapping his gaze to where he'd previously killed the Division agent at her feet.

Alys held the gun beside her head, along with her other empty hand. "I'm alone." Owen dropped his gaze to the floor and squinted back at the girl skeptically. "I just want to help you. I can stop these headaches." Grunting something to himself, he moved to the wall holding the locked door to the stairwell, unlocking it and giving her a quick glance before moving to the Guardian's satchel.

By the time Alys reached the first floor again and got the door open, Owen was trying to access the Black Box. "How're you gunna do it, then?" he asked, his back turned to her as he pricked the Guardian's thumb with the Box.

"There's another program, for detoxing safely off the regimen." Owen gave her a skeptical look and she shrugged, unsure of what to offer him. "You and Nikita hadn't been leaving very many people alive" -- she guestured to the church and bodies around them -- "I had to spend my time in medical doing something. All that access I was given, I was gunna do my research."

"Michael says everything was discontinued," he grumbled, hooking the textured thing up to a laptop.

"Then how have you been getting your supply before now? How has he?" Alys asked a bit dubiously, pointing to the dead Guardian. "It's out there, Owen. And if it isn't, I'll make it. I know how." Alys moved instinctively, drawing her gun at the sound of footsteps and keeping it raised when Nikita and Michael advanced on them, a gun held between both of Michael's hands.