This is just a little introspection, based on the prompt Character Death from Leverageland on LJ, but not submitted due to length. Spoilers for S4 finale, The Last Dam Job.

Eliot stood quietly in the shadows, watching as Nate set up the targets and loaded the gun. He watched as his friend fired and missed, reloaded and tried again. For ten minutes he watched Nate get closer and closer to the targets but never quite hitting the mark.

He knew he should say something, but words had never been his strong suit and he wasn't sure how to explain to a grieving man, just how much this was going to change him.

He closed his eyes, searching for another life; for the little boy who'd gone off to war; so full of hope and determination to become a man, serving god and country. He could see the smiling faces of his parents, so proud of their son, doing what was right, going off to fight for their freedom, standing up to be counted in the wake of an unspeakable tragedy. Eliot almost laughed at the memory, if only they'd known what was to come; what would happen to the sweet and relatively innocent young lad; if they'd known the man he would become, a man who had done as many unspeakable acts as he had defended against, he wasn't sure they would be so proud.

With a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye he shook the memory away and came back to his friend, his friend who was going to die if Eliot couldn't do something, say something to make him understand.

"You know a lot of things Nate," Eliot finally whispered, "you don't know how this is going to change you."

"You handled it," came the stoic reply of a man who didn't care anymore, a man who didn't have any limits and would do whatever he had to.

"Well you have no idea who I was before all this," Eliot faltered slightly, trying to find the right word, "started." He looked away from his friend, trying once more to picture who he'd once been. "That guy," he almost laughed at the description of himself, he wasn't a guy, he hadn't been a man before he left for war, he was a little boy, pretending to be a soldier, "kid," he corrected himself, "he had god in his heart an' he had a flag on his shoulder." He stopped once more, the lump returning to his throat as a clear image of who he'd once been finally came into view, "clean hands," he continued, faltering again as the image changed, the boy was gone, replaced by the killer who, for so long, showed no mercy, "and I ain't seen him in the mirror in over ten years."

Nate finally turned round to face him and Eliot just hoped his words, however inelegant they were, were making his friend stop and think about what he was planning to do.

"and believe me, I get up every morning looking for him." He finally looked Nate in the eye, not ashamed of the tears swimming there if they helped make his friend realise just how much Eliot wished he could take it all back, start over and be that carefree boy who'd dreamed of being a chef, or a guitar player, or maybe even both, but those dreams died, along with the boy he once was, replaced with a man who would never be whole again. "So you can trust me when I tell you," he continued, "you pull that trigger and two men die. The guy you killed," he paused for a second, hoping his words were getting through, "and the guy you used to be."

Eliot turned and walked away quickly, unable to stay still any longer. He had barely gone a few steps when he heard the gun fire twice and the distinctive sound of breaking glass. Nate had finally hit the target, Eliot could only hope his words had reached theirs as well.