Pixie, First Daughter of Anarchy

Family Reunion

Pixie was sitting in between Tig's legs as the guys chattered amongst themselves, exchanging raunchy jokes and jibes with each other. Pixie watched them interact with a smile, taking comfort in their voices as she idly played with Tig's bootlaces and leant with her back against the chair. Her eyes settled on Jax's face, he'd zoned out of the conversation some time ago and his fingers were toying with a loose thread on his hoodie, his blue eyes vacant and there were worry lines on his forehead. Pixie guessed that even though they were past the trouble for the time being, Jax was still well and truly stressed after keeping it bottled up for so long. Pixie decided that Jax was in need of support, so she clambered to her feet, kissed Tig on the cheek and then walked over to Jax, who didn't even acknowledge her presence until she gently kicked his trainer with the toe of her boot. He startled for a second before his mouth turned up in a smile and his brow furrowed in his signature questioning expression.

"C'mon." Pixie said grabbing his wrist and hauling Jax up to his feet.

"You gonna tell me where we're goin'?" Jax asked with a laugh as Pixie towed him out the back door and towards the tree where Opie had hung the swings.

"We're going up." Pixie announced as she climbed the tree, going higher than she did before. "C'mon slowpoke!" She called down to him.

"A'right, a'right." Jax laughed as he worked his way up the tree, trying to remember the last time he'd done this. He reached where Pixie had got herself to pretty easily and sat on the other side of the trunk to her, so they were level and could see each other, but were still supported. "Now we're up here, what're we doing?" He asked her. The golden light from the cabin's outdoor security light made their eyes glow.

"You go for height when you're upset or stressed, and since we can't get onto the cabin roof, and it doesn't look stable enough, I picked the next best thing." Pixie explained.

Jax nodded, finally understanding what Pixie was up to. "What makes you think I'm stressed?"
Pixie stared up at the night sky, looking at all the stars and the phosphorescent moon. "Because today was hell for you, trying to come up with shit and keep everyone together so when Clay finally gets his butt out of the police station, he comes home to a fully functioning club, just the way he left it." Pixie explained, she watched Jax's face as he looked away from her, stony features letting her know she'd hit home. "In my humble opinion, and speaking solely from my experience here, so correct me if I'm wrong, Jackie boy, but being Vice President is the hardest position in the club. You're expected to be a leader, but stop when the president decides to take charge. You're expected to delegate jobs, choose which brother gets the worst end of the stick without stepping on nerves. You're supposed to be able to calm tempers, raise morals, protect, fight, bolster egos and keep track of everyone, day in, day out. You're the spokesperson for the club, the president's the figurehead, but the VP is the one who talks to all the allies, makes deals, forces hands, smooths over issues and sorts payouts. You're the person everyone approaches when they've got issues, so you hear about everyone's problems whilst nobody asks you about yours. You're supposed to deal with the minor issues so only the worst take up the president's time, and he thinks the whole operation is running smoothly whilst you're kicking like fury to keep everyone afloat. You're supposed to bring together drastically different brothers with drastically different experiences and get them to all agree on the same thing, which is like pushing magnets with the same sides facing together and expecting them to stick, so that when the president comes to the table, he sees his club unified, not divided." Pixie finished, still staring up at the stars. She looked across to Jax, who was looking at her with a mixture of emotions on his face, his mouth slightly open in shock as Pixie had taken the words right out of his mind, saying stuff he'd never spoken about, but dealt with on a daily basis.