Chapter Text
Jason gritted his teeth and tried not to let the humiliation show on his face as he was given his new duties. Luckily the bruises hid many sins. His father had that look in his eyes; that look he'd had since Jason had watched him kill their neighbour as a child. Like he couldn't bear to look at him because Jason knew he was just a scared desperate man and he was still just a scared desperate man.
But scared, desperate, it didn't really matter, the almighty Bass Monroe had given him the authority to give Jason whatever shitty job he wanted to. And Tom Neville wanted to make him pay, not just because of the girl, but for all of it, and this way he got to keep Jason's mother happy as well as making his life a misery.
Being given the job of looking after the prisoners or prisoner was a job for someone still wet behind the ears, it was demeaning and the satisfaction he could see in his dad's eyes made him want to punch something. He was better than that.
It was like rubbing Charlie in his face. He couldn't go make sure she was ok, but he could wash the blood away from a mouth that looked almost the same as hers. He swilled the cloth in a bowl of water and watched the water turn pink before he looked back at the boy.
Danny. The brother. Charlie's brother who looked like her enough for him to take a second or third glance but had none of her...strength. He was weak and Jason hated the weak.
He was breathing heavy, trying to suck air into his lungs, and he lay stiffly like he hurt, and after a session with Strausser Jason had no doubt that that was the case.
"You know, this is all your mom's fault, if she just told us what we wanted to know..." He pressed the cloth against the bruise forming on Danny's forehead, a sure sign of Danny's smart mouth (the only smart thing about him) and Strausser's frustration.
Danny pushed his arm away, glaring up at him. "Fuck you." He wheezed out. "I don't need your fucking. Help."
"I'm probably your only friend here. Even your own mother doesn't care about you. If you can get her to talk...things might be easier for you both." Jason shrugged his shoulders. "I might be able to help you out."
It was all bullshit of course, Jason had no authority, his job wasn't to get Danny to talk, it wasn't even to get Danny to get his mother to talk, it was to wash away the blood and piss and make sure he wasn't dead.
But...If he could do what the great Tom couldn't do, well, that would make him happy and give him one over on his dad.
"You are not my friend." Danny pulled himself up on the sofa, the blood on his hand staining the flowered fabric. "Just because you helped my sister on the train doesn't mean you're anything to me."
Jason sat down next to him, his own body protesting at the move. "I know your sister is probably gonna get herself killed to find you, I know who your uncle is." Even if Miles hadn't recognised him. Everyone had heard of the infamous Miles.
"Shut the fuck up! Don't talk to me, don't say anything. Flush the shit, do your job and leave me alone."
Jason clenched his fists and had to physically stop himself from punching him. He didn't want to give anyone a reason to beat the hell out of him again. He took a deep breath and and left the torturing to Strausser.