A/N: Just a tiny little Nikita/Lucky Number Slevin crossover originally written for an LAS community on livejournal.


Purpose Driven Life

They slipped the bright and shiny needle into her arm and her veins began to burn, her blood rushing in her ears as the sterile white room faded away and Alex began to dream. It was vivid and intense, real yet surreal, as she floated like a ghost through someone else's life. She saw a boy, a normal American boy, whose life stopped being normal when his father did something stupid and his family was murdered by callous men. A boy who like her, should have died with his family, who had a secret part of him that wished he had died with his family, and whose life was never normal afterwards.

A man saved the boy and taught him and gave him a purpose – the same purpose that drove her and her teacher – revenge, burning hot and fierce in his dark eyes. The boy grew and learned, the same lessons that Nikita and Division taught her: deception, manipulation, seduction, and most importantly, how to kill. It wasn't an easy life – difficult, dangerous, potentially deadly – but the addictive taste of adrenaline and the memory of his parents' smiles drove him just as it drove her, and he learned his lessons well until it was time to use them in the one situation that really mattered.

There were missteps, surprises, and unexpected complications, but eventually she watched him kill those responsible with a strange sense of glee welling in her breast, the exultant taste of satisfaction burning on her tongue as if it had been her who'd won that decades long silent war, her who had destroyed the men who destroyed her life. When she came groggily back to in Division, the image of the boy's victory lingered on the back of her eyelids, a bittersweet reminder of what she was working towards, the best case endgame that she would sacrifice anything, just as she had sacrificed Thom, to achieve.

Later, in Nikita's apartment, still slightly dizzy with the intoxicating scent of free air, her teacher offered her the chance to leave, to be free in truth, and Alex wondered how the other woman could ever think she'd take that option. How could she just walk away? How could she pretend that life was simple and uncomplicated after everything her family had been through, she had been through, her teacher had been through? No, Alex had willingly chosen the purpose, the self-made cage that Nikita had shown her, and she would never be free of it until either she, or Division, was destroyed.

That was the truth that would keep her going in the seductive outside world, the force that would keep her focused on the goal, the possibly unattainable prize, on the dream.