Written for The Firm's April prompt, Reaper. (May prompts are going up on the profile page tomorrow--check them out!) A huge thanks to Jusmine and CunningMascara, both of whom betaed for me. Thanks, guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

Alex had heard the expression "stared death in the face" plenty of times in the past, but he thought he might've taken the cake on this one. Not Death with a capital 'd,' like some sort of Grim Reaper—that was taking the metaphor a bit too far, if you asked him—but death with a lowercase letter, the kind that would stop his heart and turn off his brain.

He'd faced his fair share of brandished weapons in the past. But there was something different about staring down a man behind a gun, the barrel pointed just so at his head, so that he knew the trajectory would take the bullet to a point exactly between his eyes. This man was good. His hand was steady; his eyes hard. He wouldn't make mistakes. But Alex had already known that.

"You do not seem scared, Alex."

He almost didn't dare to breathe, but he replied. "I'm just pissing my pants in fear, actually."

He didn't take the bait. Alex had wanted to distract him, but the man never blinked. "You should be afraid. You are about to die."

"I've had a lot of people tell me that over the years. But I'm still here."

"Obviously. You should have taken that as a warning, Alex. When you have that many people out to kill you, you must be doing something wrong."

"Or something right. I'm still alive. That's what matters."

"Is it? I have heard that it is lonely, the life of a spy. Do you still hold the childish notion that life is to be valued before everything else? Before happiness, and love?"

"You're one to talk. You're about to kill me to save your life—though I'm sure yours is none too rosy."

"It is very foolish to mock a man holding a gun, Alex." His finger tightened around the trigger. "And you did not answer my question. Have you found anything worth living for, besides the dull ritual of life itself?"

"I have plenty to live for." Alex's throat was dry, but he refused to let himself swallow. Instead he straightened his shoulders and stood tall. "It's why I'm willing to die."

The man's eyebrow lifted. "Perhaps I have underestimated you. But I hope you are not speaking of love for your country. Other than being an idiotic reason to die, patriotism bleeds out of spies more freely than blood."

Alex let a humourless laugh escape. "I'm no patriot." He shook his head, wondering why he didn't just get it over with already. The man was an expert. He knew not to gloat, to carry on a conversation. The longer he talked the more likely it was that Alex would escape. "But I don't let men like you just run around killing people."

"Ah, so this is revenge." If Alex wasn't crazy, he looked a little disappointed.

"I told you I would kill you."

"That was several years ago. I was wondering if you had forgotten."

"You know what they say. A spy never forgets. Or forgives."

"I was under the impression that that was Scorpia's catchphrase."

Alex shrugged, trying to look as relaxed as possible with the gun still pointed calmly at his head. "Why are you asking me this anyway? It's not your style."

"I was curious. I still am. But you are right." He straightened. "I wish you had listened to me. This would not have been necessary."

"I couldn't not do it."

"All the same, I am sorry. To you and your father."

Alex smiled a ghost of a smile. "Just pull the damn trigger, Gregorovitch."