[Again. He aims down the sights. Two, center mass, exactly where James indicates. No matter how hard it is to keep himself from imagining the man bleeding out, he manages to push it away, replacing it with an image of Sam. Make that not happen again. Make that never happen again.]
[He misses Sam, he realizes with tears starting at the corners of his eyes. He blinks them away. Gonna mess up his aim.]
[It could be worse, he thinks, when he lowers the gun. It could be way worse. He actually did pretty well. Zacharov would be proud of him. His dad would be proud. But his dad's dead, and he's never gonna see Zacharov again.]
spam
[He misses Sam, he realizes with tears starting at the corners of his eyes. He blinks them away. Gonna mess up his aim.]
[It could be worse, he thinks, when he lowers the gun. It could be way worse. He actually did pretty well. Zacharov would be proud of him. His dad would be proud. But his dad's dead, and he's never gonna see Zacharov again.]
[Instead, he turns to James for approval.]