veilbreak | (no subject)

CHARACTERS: Kit & Jax
WHAT: Catching up on baby brothers and family. alternately: Angie's character doesn't know how to sit in chairs.
WHEN: Sometime in January
WHERE: Jax's room
WARNINGS: brief talk of parental death

"So." Kit takes the bottle from Jax's hands – it prompts a frown from the older man – and downs a gulp of bourbon. They're sitting on Jax's floor for no discernible reason— a chair or the bed would be more comfortable, surely, yet Kit is content to lean against the bed frame, long legs stretched out. "How's Archie doing?" A question he can only ask now that the alcohol is coursing through his veins; it still feels wrong to ask about the brother he had abandoned years ago when he sought out freedom for himself.

Jax makes no mention of that, though; it's not his place. He tips his head back with a considering hum. "He's doin' alright. Sure is eager," he admits with a smile. "It's nice to have a little more energy on the team; I can't carry that torch the whole time."

Kit smiles too. "The benefits of recruiting people when they're relatively young, I suppose." He'd been so eager too when he started. "It's still so strange that he's here," he admits before taking another swig. "He was 9 when I last saw him before this; I know it's been a few months but he's still a kid in my mind." He holds the bottle out for Jax.

It's graciously accepted, but no swig is taken just yet. "I can see how that'd throw you. Just don't treat him like he's still nine even though you haven't known him since," Jax recommends in his gentlest voice, brows raised. "It'll take some adjustin', but you'll get there."

"I've effectively been an only child for—" he grimaces as he does the math, "god, half my life by now. I don't even know how to be a big brother to him anymore, but hey, that means I won't be treating him like a child." There's a dramatic gulf between the child Kit knew, and the man Archie is now anyway, and Kit is still learning how to reconcile the two, to not look at Archie and see a stranger.

A hand comes down to knock Kit on the side of his knee. "Wish I could help with advice on that, but I was the youngest of three. You just do your best. Archie's a sweetheart — as long as you're here trying, that's what matters. I know you'll do right by him."

Kit nudges Jax's side affectionately. He wishes he had as much faith. He hasn't managed to upset Archie yet, but he can't fully believe that he would really forgive him for abandoning in the first place, sweetheart or not. "I'm glad he's got you looking out for him too. Couldn't ask for someone better."

"C'mon," Jax laughs with as much modesty as is believable. "You could, but it's already a built-in obligation as his boss. 'Course I'm gonna look out for him. Maybe he won't be anything like you." There's a raise of brows and the hint of a grin before he finally drinking from the bottle.

"That is the hope." Kit means it, but he keeps his tone light as if he's merely being playfully self-deprecating. "He was so young during the fall— I don't know if he even really remembers our mom— maybe at least he isn't as burdened by memories as we are." Archie still went through something traumatic, and there's no escaping that, but still, Kit desperately hopes that he's okay.

The bourbon bottle is balanced upon Kit's closest knee. "That is the hope." It's a nice thought, that Archie's mind could have protected him from trauma. Neither of them had been lucky enough to have that barrier. "What was she like? Your mom."

Kit smiles sadly at the thought of his mother. "She was great," he answers softly. He takes hold of the bottle but leaves it resting on his leg for now. "Clever and funny and one of the kindest people I've ever known. She was so supportive. I put a lot of pressure on myself, but it never came from her; she always made it clear that she was proud of me and only wanted me to be happy. I spent years furious at my dad for giving up and accepting the implant after she died, but now, I can understand it more." The immediate wave of grief after his implant failed had been brutal and devastating, and now, twenty years later, he isn't sure if he can fully blame his father from wanting to escape it, despite everything that cost him. It's not the choice Kit would have made but he can see how his father had been desperate for anything that would make him feel okay again.

He takes a sip now, trying to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that she died too soon. "What about your family?"

Before saying a word, Jax claps a hand on the younger man's knee and squeezes in solidarity of grief. "Last I checked, they're all still under the Veil. They've always been great, but my fondest memories are before the Veil 'cause they felt more real. My brother used to be so serious," he smiles fondly. "I think he felt some sorta responsibility to step in as a second parent after my mom left. Can't imagine that gave him any sort of complex."

"That's a lot for a kid to take on." Well intentioned, to be sure, and a sign of love, but. "It couldn't have been easy but I'm glad you had each other." The bottle is held out to Jax once more. "I know it's impossible but I wish there was a way to check up on them, the people we left behind. I know they're not themselves, really, but it's brutal, not knowing what their lives are like."

Jax allows his mind to sober at the thought while he studies the bottle in hand. Almost a decade spent away from his family had weighed on him, but somehow every day was a bit lighter. He wasn't alone up here, after all.

"I like to imagine their quality of life is still alright," he admits after a few beats. "I figure my brother and sister are still first responders. My niece is prolly a nurse by now. My parents, retired and living what I hope's an easy retirement." He does glance up, a weak smile pulling at his lips. "You gonna roll your eyes if I say we're the only family we've got now?"

That would not have been his first inclination but now it's the required reaction. Kit's eyeroll is paired with a dramatic groan, but he can't help the faint smile tugging at his lips. "Disgusting and cliche." A pause. "But you're a decent addition to my family."

In a show of mock offense Jax sets a dramatic hand against his own chest, before Kit is subsequently secured in a headlock by a single strong arm.

All they had – every member of this crew – was each other, up here in the clouds.