A/N: Content warning, death mentioned
"Hey Gordon?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you… have you ever, y'know... killed someone?"
Gordon sighed softly in the dim lounge. It was just the two of them tonight, everyone else out on missions or collapsed into bed. For some reason the two youngest both had a bout of insomnia and they'd been watching a nature documentary together (not Into the Unknown for once but the latest on the Supreme Barrier Reef by the BBC). Alan was drowsing, half lying on Gordon with arms slung around him and Gordon's arm resting on his shoulders, when a late night breaking news bulletin had interrupted both the show and their peace.
'Attack on Marineville, WASP headquarters' the scrolling banner beneath the news reader had blared in lurid crimson. 'Multiple casualties reported. Unknown terror group claiming responsibility.'
For all of Virgil's assertions that 'this is 2060, that's not the kind of world we live in', some people unfortunately did.
Gordon had muted the presenter, not wanting to hear it, and a moment later Alan had posed his question.
Both his and Scott's time in the military wasn't exactly a closed door, it just… wasn't discussed. He'd long promised himself that if someone asked he'd answer. He just hadn't expected that question from this brother and hoped his answer wouldn't lower himself in his brother's eyes.
"Yeah." He admitted quietly. "They were pirates, ambushing ships off the Horn of Africa. I didn't want to, but he was going to kill me."
It wasn't surprising that he could recall the moment in crystal clear detail. It had been deep in the night when they'd finally tracked down the rusting hulk the pirates had dared to blemish the seas with. The orders had come down to board it because sensors had picked up hostages in the hold.
One of the pirates had screamed and charged him, the rifle in his hands spitting fire and lead with wild abandon. His training kicked in just as it was supposed to and Gordon dropped to one knee and fired back twice, felling the pirate. When he'd stripped the balaclava off him, Gordon had been horrified to see a face as young as his own.
Some of his fellow cadets had boasted about how they were looking forward to making their first kill. It was probably just locker room talk from scared kids, but Gordon had mentally marked them down and avoided them anyway.
Each and every one of those boasters had cracked in real combat.
Back in the present his answer hung in the air and Gordon waited for his brother's judgement, his back twinging in protest as all his muscles tensed.
Alan's arms tightened around him and he shifted to snuggle closer.
Gordon relaxed. His brother still loved him.