Well, this is the account of what Yassen does between Eagle Strike and my story, Challenge, as promised. The beginning is a bit dodgy I reckon, but you never know, you may find it worthwhile.

Chapter One, The Final Words

He didn't have the benefit of immediate death. No, his was a long, agonising drawn out fate and he realized that in reality, that had been the case for years. Death would have been a mercy, but it was denied to him.

Instead, he felt the brutal, rib shattering impact of the bullet in his chest as he stood before the madman that had been his employer. Then, the bruising fall, that inevitable collapse to a hard floor. He had maybe a split second to absorb the two faces. The first, a manically grinning older face. The other punctuated by wide, brown eyes with fear in them. Then, as he hit the ground, it began.

Fire burning white hot and lethally in his chest like a superheated knife. He felt like breaking every rule of self-control and screaming as countless others had screamed at his hands, but the sheer intensity of the pain devoured any air in his lungs, leaving him soundlessly gasping for air instead.

He tried taking in air, his brain registering for the first time the blood everywhere (his blood everywhere), and the fact that there was no possibility of survival…

'Stop!' He thought vehemently, 'Don't…Don't think about that now…Just breathing is all that's important…'

Then a horrible realization struck him. He couldn't breathe because blood was welling in his throat, and to his horror, he could feel it trickling from his mouth. For a second, the unfamiliar sensation of sheer panic dragged him down. He would choke, he would-

-No! He refused to die that way. He was not going to die choking on the ground. The panic still writhed within though, and it fuelled the agony that was smothering him. He slowly pushed the fear away and tried to think straight.

'What condition am I in?' He wondered weakly. Although he was in too much pain to register much beyond the blood and the faint yelling, he knew that at the rate he was bleeding out, it couldn't be good. For a moment, the panic peaked again but he pushed it away. He concentrated on trying to cough up the blood that was clogging his throat up again.

That simple action was almost the end of him. The tsunami of pain that crashed over him was enough to render him unconscious for a few moments.

When consciousness returned, the sight that greeted him was nearly enough to wake him wish he was still out cold. The world was a chaos of exploding jet engines, a boy's yelling and suddenly, 40 degree sloped floors. Looking around vaguely made him remember that he was on Air Force One; he'd killed the guards and crew to get everyone onboard.

Then, as the engine was totally obliterated, the plane lurched wildly, causing the entire aircraft to tilt down and then, disastrously, the undercarriage disintegrated and the plane came smashing the short distance back down to Earth.

There was no reaction time, just a split second of seeing a bulkhead rush up to meet him.

He thought that maybe he did scream then, but if he did, the hoarse, throat burning sound was lost in the noise of the crash. It felt like the world was ending.

And then he believed it did. The plane came to an unwieldy stop and a moment of crystal clarity enveloped him as surely as the sudden silence did. He was going to die. He had to do something first.

He managed to prop himself up against the bulkhead, shaking from the effort. He hoped he had strength enough for what he needed to do.

He looked around, silently fearful that what would greet him would be the sight of Alex's broken body, damaged beyond repair by the debris that had been thrown around dangerously in the crash.

There! Alex lay sprawled on the floor, barely conscious. He looked broken for sure, but no fatally injured.

He felt a wave of relief. He managed to take a breath in and speak.

"Alex."

Alex looked up slowly, looking battered. An expression of fear and miserable consignment crossed the boy's face. Alex thought he was going to hurt him.

He panicked anew, Alex wouldn't come! He had to get Alex to; Alex needed to hear what he had to say!

So, he tried again. It was harder this time; he felt the void shimmering at his edges.

"Please."

Alex's expression flickered. There was curiosity and even pity there now.

'Please let him come…He needs to hear this…'

Then, he nearly passed out from sheer relief as Alex gingerly crawled over, obviously in pain.

First things first.

"What happened to Cray?"

Alex's lips twitched.

"He went off his trolley."

He was confused by that, the blood loss and bullet wound was making it difficult for him to think straight.

"He's dead?" He asked.

Alex looked withdrawn and haunted now.

"Very."

He would have smiled, but all he could manage was a small, satisfied nod.

"I knew it was a mistake working for him," He said quietly, "I knew."

For a second, he couldn't breathe again and he had to squint to compensate for his failing vision. After a brief struggle, he caught his breathe again. He felt an odd unease now; he'd reached the point where he had to tell Alex what he needed to hear quickly.

"There is something I have to tell you," he said, trying to form what he said next in his head.

Alex just stared at him, blank expression offering no assistance. He gave in on trying to beat around the bush and adopted the blunt manner that suited him much better.

"I couldn't kill you," he was losing the control he'd exerted over himself all his life now. His emotions were trickling into his words. "I would never have killed you."

And then, the point of no return.

"Because you see Alex… I knew your Father."

"What?" Shock and fear crossed Alex's face and he wondered if he was doing the right thing. But then he remembered that day, fifteen years ago in the Amazon when all he'd been was Cossack. His resolve strengthened.

"Your Father. He and I…" His chest was burning, he had to catch his breath. "We worked together."

Alex froze and perhaps the realization was dawning on him because a new fear was crossing the boy's face.

"He worked with you?"

He nodded his head weakly.

"Yes."

A faint hope flickered across Alex's bruised and scratched face.

"You mean… He was a spy?"

He wondered why he felt so bad taking that hope away from Alex.

"Not a spy, no, Alex. He was a killer. Like me. He was the very best. The best in the world. I knew him when I was nineteen. He taught me many things-"

"No!" Alex looked angry now, "I don't believe you, my father wasn't a killer. He couldn't have been!"

'Why would I lie about this Alex? Why?'

"I'm telling you the truth. You have to know." He replied patiently despite the knowledge that his time was running out.

Still Alex desperately clung to vain hope.

"Did he work for MI6?"

"No." The boy's desperation brought a sad smile to his lips. "MI6 hunted him down. They killed him. They tried to kill us both. At the last moment I escape, but he…"

He felt blood rising at the back of his throat again, so he swallowed in order to speak. This was important now.

"They killed your Father Alex."

"No!"

"Why would I lie to you?" he asked, weakly reaching for Alex's arm. "Your Father… he did this."

And he traced the old scar on his throat. His hand fell to the floor and he knew with a cold certainty that these were his final moments, his final words. He suddenly wished he had something more meaningful then a fifteen year old story.

"We were in the Amazon… he saved my life. In a way, I loved him. And you, Alex, are so very much like him. I'm glad that you're here with me now."

The pain was back now, devouring him like flames. Although he didn't show it, he was afraid. He'd though that he'd accepted his inevitable death, but he realized now that no one could truly accept their end. Some small, deeply buried part would always protest against the end of existence. It was the nature of being human. Worried he wouldn't finish in time, he used the last of his strength to deliver the most important message.

"And if you don't believe me, go to Venice."

'I've never been in so much pain…I have to finish though…'

"Find Scorpia."

'Alex has to understand…How important…this is…'

It took every single morsel of his strength to deliver what he knew to be his last words.

"And you will find your destiny."

He just had a second to see the confusion and mingled sadness on Alex's face before he gratefully closed his eyes and gave into the void that pulled at him.

The last thing Yassen Gregorovich remembered was the sensation of relief and an abandoned burden.

'Alex understands now.'

Well, it wasn't much but I'd still like to hear what you guys think :)