Chapter Text
"What's this?"
Kori smiled lightly. Her hair was already starting to fade into shades of gray and lines of wrinkles were visible on her face. But she still looked every bit as vibrant as the moment he first met her all those years ago on that island. In her hands was a stark photo of Red Hood and the Outlaws, posing in front of her old ship.
"It is us. Us and…" Kori breathed in; it was still so very difficult to talk about him. "…Roy."
Jason couldn't help it. He trailed his fingers against the visage of the man who, even now, was his best and closest friend. A man that had been dead for decades, and yet whose loss still felt so very fresh in his mind.
A man he'd be seeing very soon.
"Why now?" He couldn't help but ask. "It won't be long until I see him. Hell, I've already promised to Lian to give him her love."
Kori reached out to take his hand, gripping it tightly. "To remember the good times, and to give you some comfort. For when it is time. I will not be here when you go, but I will still be here, Jason." She tapped his chest, directly where his heart was.
Jason laughed, and beamed up her, looking younger than she had ever seen him to be.
"Thank you, Kori," He breathed out, then looked wonderingly at her, "Shall I send Dick your love as well?"
She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I am sure he already knows. But I am also sure he would not be opposed to a reminder."
Lung cancer.
Suddenly all the jokes made at his expense about his probable second death no longer sounded funny.
There was great irony to be found in the fact that what was finally going to kill him for good was not one of the hundred gazillion ways the various rogues of Gotham regularly tortured the city's populace nor some reality-breaking catastrophe that seemed to affect the universe every couple of years, but rather his old smoking habit coming back to bite him. He had dropped smoking years ago, but it seemed the ever so polluted atmosphere of his home (not to mention the many explosions he had been a part of and even caused) were more than willing to pick up the slack. And here he, Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, was now, bedridden in the Manor, with only his books and various family members for company. Plus the occasional visitor to break the monotony.
Like now.
"Oh, little one," Artemis said, sounding every bit as exasperated as she usually did whenever he did something particularly stupid and reckless.
"Artemis," Jason grinned weakly, "Here to admonish me for not taking better care of myself?"
"From what I understand the damage started long before Bizarro and I entered the picture," Artemis responded dryly.
Jason hummed. "That sounds about right," he admitted.
The Amazon rolled her eyes and sat down on the chair that was now permanently stationed next to his bed. She pulled one of his hands towards her, clasping it between her own. Gently, she wiped away a stray hair from Jason's face, studying it with a fond eye.
Jason had long since lost the youth that softened his sharp features the first time she had met him all those years ago. His black hair had washed out, losing its sheen, and there were wrinkles, both from stress and laugh lines, carving into his face. But even with all this, he was still quite a handsome man; there was a certain ruggedness to him now, an attractive maturity that only came with the passage of time. And his eyes… the eyes were the window to the soul, as so many had often said. And when she looked into them, when she saw the way he looked at her, she could only be reminded of why she had fallen for him all those years ago.
That was enough for her. She had made the right choice.
"I brought someone to meet you," she told him, lacing their fingers together.
"Oh?"
"Penelope," she called out. Jason blinked at the name, watching the door open to reveal a young girl who couldn't be older than ten.
He felt his breath catch in his throat.
Penelope was the spitting image of Artemis. But her hair, her eyes…
"By the time I found out, I was already back on Themyscira," Artemis confessed as if her actions were a sin, and perhaps they were, "I wanted to tell you, but I kept on thinking up excuses not to. And then when word of your diagnosis came, I realized I couldn't delay it any longer."
"Penelope…" Jason muttered, eyes transfixed on the young girl.
Taking it as a summons, his daughter soon planted herself on the other side of his bed, taking his other hand. She smiled sadly at him.
"Hello, father."
He couldn't keep his eyes off her. "I'll have to call my lawyer, rewrite my will. You are my daughter, a Wayne. I'll be damned before I leave you with nothing when I'm gone."
"That's not necessary, father," Penelope protested immediately, "We'll be returning to Themyscira after…" she trailed off.
Jason snorted. "It doesn't matter," he insisted, "You are a member of my family. You will always have a home here if I have anything to say about it."
Penelope felt her face go flush, and she diverted her eyes to the ground. Artemis sighed fondly, and planted a kiss on the side of Jason's head.
"You never did do things halfway, little one."
Talia didn't come like the others. There was no way his family would ever let her walk through the front door, like they had with Kori or Artemis and Penelope. No matter his own relationship with the woman herself, there was simply too much bad blood on both sides for any Wayne to cordially welcome her into their home.
So, when he finally did see her, it was night. Close to when he usually turned in. There was no indication of her arrival, and yet Jason had sensed her anyway. He set down his book onto the right dresser, careful to make sure the bookmark was placed just so, right where he had stopped, and turned to face her.
Unlike him, she hadn't aged a day. With her father gone, at his hands no less, she had near-exclusive access to those blasphemous waters. The same waters that had given life back to him over almost forty years ago.
"The offer still stands," she speaks gently, softly.
Jason shakes his head. When he had first heard the diagnosis four years ago, the thought of using the Lazarus Pit to heal his affliction had, admittedly, crossed his mind. But it was a thought he immediately dismissed. Once was enough for him.
"I want to see them again, T," he said instead.
It had been twenty-two years since he had last seen one of his first three brothers; twenty-nine since Bruce had been taken from him. He had lived his life, had been happy with it, as much as one could while bearing the mantle of the Caped Crusader. Only Penelope made Talia's offer tempting, but he knew in his heart she would be fine. Jason may have only known her for a short time, but he could see that she had the same strength to her as her mother, the strength that drew him to Artemis the moment he first saw her. She would survive his death.
Talia smiled sadly. It was the most expressive he had ever seen her.
"When you see them — both of them — tell them that I'm sorry for everything. That I'm sorry I couldn't be better for them," she took in a deep breath, "That regardless of everything, there was not a single moment where I stopped loving either of them."
"I will," Jason solemnly declares, giving her a short nod.
Talia peered at him searchingly, then returned the nod, satisfied. Yet, as she turned to leave she could not help but give one last remark.
"When I saved you all those years ago, all I saw was a chance to finally win the heart of my Beloved," she started. Jason blinked, but hardly reacted to her words; were he still a child barely in the stages of adulthood, they would've hurt, but now all she was saying was something he already knew about. He turned away and began to reach for his book.
"I never thought I would be gaining another son."
Jason whipped his head back to the window, but Talia was already gone.
"The diner is doing well."
"Of course it is," Jason winked. "Even if you're the one running it."
Carrie Kelley let out a bark of laughter, giving her old mentor a playful nudge. He was joking, they both knew; while the diner did well when it was under Jason's ownership, it absolutely thrived once Carrie got her hands on it. She had expanded the menu, refining old recipes and adding new ones, and began a franchise that had extended throughout all of Gotham and beyond. Their own little carved out corner of the Wayne empire, they both liked to joke. Something Carrie never expected to have when she had bought that Robin costume all those years ago.
"I've got your name on a plaque outside the original diner," the former Robin held up her hands like a pair of quotes, "'Founded by Jason Wayne, 2014' — and, of course, a sanitized version of your story inside the front cover of the menus. That way, the world will never forget you."
"I was Batman, Carrie."
Carrie shook her head. "Not Batman, Jason," she insisted. "You. You did just as much good as Jason Peter Todd-Wayne as you did as Batman. Many would argue more. You deserve to be remembered as more than just a mask."
Jason clicked his teeth in amusement. "You always were a sweet one, Carrie. Always saw the best in people, thought the best of them, even when they didn't deserve it," he looked at her wistfully, "just like the first Robin."
"Dick Grayson, right? Maybe that's why you took me on as your Robin."
"Maybe so," Jason shrugged.
A bout of silence fell upon them. It was heavy and heady with feeling, the weight of what was to come blanketing the atmosphere. Carrie's face was solemn, bordering on tears; Jason's expression had morphed into something comforting and accepting.
"I've made a stack of recipes for you. Cass will give them to you when I'm…" Jason said nothing else, but the implication was heard.
"You want me to add them to the diner's menu?"
Jason shook his head. "Only if you want to. I made them for you. So you'll always have something of mine to remember me by."
"Oh, Jay," Carrie said sadly, reaching over to caress his cheek, "There's nothing in the world that could ever make me forget you."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Are you really working right now?" Jason asked dryly, looking very unimpressed. "When I'm on my deathbed?"
Helena Wayne returned his expectant look with a deadpan one of her own. "I can't put everything on hold just because my dad could bite it any day now."
"You know, I'm technically your brother."
"Don't remind me. Now let me type in peace."
"By God, it's like dealing with Tim all over again. A raging workaholic running on coffee and spite — I bet he's laughing at me right now."
"Of course he is. Nothing is more amusing than your pain."
That was it. That was the breaking point. Jason laughed long and hard. Helena cracked a small smile, chuckling alongside him.
"They would have loved you," Jason wheezed out, his laughter starting to subside, "They would've adored the shit out of you. You would have had them all wrapped around your finger and they would all know and they wouldn't have cared. And your mom, she would've just egged you on just to annoy our father."
"Would she really?" Helena couldn't help but ask teasingly, though there was a hint of yearning in her voice. Selina Kyle, after all, had died when she was ten years old. What memories Helena had of her mother were sparse and ragged.
"Of course! There's nothing your mom loved more than screwing with our father, in more ways than one," Jason wagged his eyebrows suggestively, causing Helena to slap his shoulder accordingly. Jason let out another laugh, before his expression turned nostalgic.
"Seriously, though. It was the basis of their whole relationship. The Bat and the Cat, chasing each other around Gotham's rooftops. Everyone knew about them, wanted them to do something about it, but every time they got close, one of them got cold feet. When it came down to it, neither of them wanted to give up the game. They didn't know what their relationship would be like without it," he sighed. "I think if there's anything your mother regretted in the end, it's that she didn't give them a chance to make it work."
"And our father?" Helena pressed on.
"If there's anything our father regretted about their relationship, it's that he didn't push for it sooner," Jason confessed. "I loved our father, Helena, as did Cass, Steph, Duke, Babs and all my brothers did. As your mother and Talia did. But if there was anything we could all agree on about him, it's that he wasn't the most open man, especially when it came to his emotions. The death of our grandparents closed him off in ways so very few of us could pry open, and then my first death nearly sealed them off for good."
"Your mother, however, was one of the few that could slip through the cracks, and no matter how many times he tried to expel her from his heart, she always found her way back in. And by the time he finally figured out what he wanted from her, what he wanted with her, your mother no longer saw a future with him without this game that they played," Jason smiled mirthlessly, "We all resented the Batman identity in our own ways, but I think no one resented it more than Bruce, when your mother left him at the altar for it. I think the only thing he hated more than Batman was the fact that he couldn't give it up, no matter how much he wanted to. Because being Batman may have cost him Selina, but it was also the only way he could find his way back to her."
"And yet, despite all that, they still had me," Helena said slowly.
Jason nodded. "They never stopped loving each other, Helena. Nothing in the world could've made them stop. When it came down to it, Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle were the loves of each other's lives. It's why they were never able to completely let each other go, no matter how hard they tried," Jason gulped. "I think our father knew he wasn't coming back, that last night he shared with your mother. That he sensed his time was coming soon. And think, deep down, she knew it too."
"So for one night, they forgot everything. All the troubles, all the heartbreak. For one night, they allowed themselves to be happy," Helena let out a breath, "And then nine months later, I was born."
"Basically. Honestly, I was more surprised Selina was able to hide you for so long. I can understand why, just not how."
Helena shrugged, "Maybe one of you knew and helped her out."
"Maybe. I'll ask when I see them again."
And that was like dropping a bucket of cold water on all of them. Another reminder of his impending demise. Helena looked at him, heartbroken, but Jason simply smiled at her. He already made his peace.
"Wayne Enterprises will be yours when I'm gone. Try not to turn into a corporate overlord."
"I won't," Helena whispered. "I'll make you proud."
"Oh, my sweet Helena," Jason whispered back, wiping away the tears that had begun to slide down her face, "You already have."
"Hey, hey," Jason patted the back of Matt McGinnis comfortingly, rubbing small circles into the nape of the young boy's neck. "I'm not gone yet, Matty."
"I don't want you to go at all!" The boy cried out tearfully. "Mom and Dad are gone already! Why do we have to lose you too? It's not fair."
"No. No it isn't," Jason agreed. He let go of Matt to look at the boy directly in the eyes, "I remember thinking the same thing when friends died, when my own dad died, when my brothers followed him, one by one. It wasn't fair for them to go and leave me behind like that. But it is what it is, Matty. You, your brother and I all know that life is rarely ever fair to anyone, least of all to us."
Matt sniffed. "I don't like it."
"I never said you had to. God knows I never did," Jason nuzzled his head fondly, "You just need to accept it, Matty. It's something you can't change. And besides, you'll still have your brother, Helena, Carrie, your Aunt Cass, Uncle Duke, Aunt Steph and Auntie Babs. You'll have your friends, so many people that will come into your life." Jason thumbed away another tear. "You won't be alone, Matty. I promise."
Matt sniffled again and nodded, rubbing his face back into Jason's chest. The bedridden man continued to rub circles into his back soothingly for the next half-hour, until exhaustion finally kicked in. Soon, soft snores came from the sleeping boy, and Jason adjusted his position so Matt was settled into his side, beneath the covers.
"I can move him, if you want."
Jason turned to the door of his room to see Terry McGinnis leaning against the sill. The eldest of the McGinnis brothers was staring at them with an uncharacteristically soft expression.
"It's fine, Terry," Jason waved the offer off, "I don't mind."
Terry had nothing to say to that. Instead, he went ahead and sat in one of the chairs, on the other side of where Matt was laying. There was no need to wake up his younger brother with their upcoming conversation.
"You alright, old man?" Terry asked once he was seated, concerned.
"As alright as I can be, in this situation," Jason replied, leaning back into the pillows of his bed. "Of all the things to do me in, I never quite expected it be this."
"Life always did like to throw curveballs at people like us," Terry agreed, taking one of the books on Jason's nightstand to finger through it. "I, for one, never thought I would one day end up becoming Batman."
"Neither did I," Jason muttered. "I was never supposed to be Batman, but I guess fate had other plans. And here we are now," he turned to Terry, beaming. "Thank you, Terry. For everything."
"I should be thanking you," Terry responded, eyes landing on the sleeping Matt, "You're the one who gave us a home when no one else would. You gave us a purpose."
"And now I'm leaving you to take up a mantle that you are far too young for. A mantle that is a curse as much as it is a burden," Jason blew out a lock of his hair. "Promise me you won't let it rule your life, Terry. You do that and you won't just lose yourself."
"I won't."
"Good," Jason let out another breath. "When I die, you'll have complete access to all of the Bat-Computer's files. Every sordid secret of this family will be at your fingertips, under layers of encryption that not even Babs can break. Any questions you have, you'll find your answers there."
Went unspoken was the one question that had always lingered between them. The one that went unasked and unanswered. For Terry too was a detective, trained by Jason and his predecessors Carrie and Helena. His observation skills were top-notch, but even if they weren't, he would have to be blind to miss the physical similarities between him and Helena, the ever-growing resemblance between him and the first Batman, whose portrait still hanged in the main foyer of the Manor. When he was younger, he was too afraid to ask, and as he got older, he came to believe it didn't matter. It still didn't, even now.
"You know, when I first saw you in that alley, I couldn't help but think I was looking at myself," Jason said suddenly, cutting into Terry's thoughts. "And as you continued to grow, I was so desperate to make sure you don't make the same mistakes I did."
"And looking at me now?" Terry asked, one of his eyebrows raised.
"I know you won't," Jason grinned, the skin around his eyes crinkling a bit. "You'll make your own set of mistakes, and you'll learn from them, just like every Batman before you. I just wish I could've been better for you, so you wouldn't have to take this burden on so soon."
"It's okay, Jay," Terry smiled. "You did better than anyone could have asked for. And quite frankly, I don't think I could have ever asked for more."
"B's going to cuff you."
"Probably."
"Followed by Dick throwing himself at you, shouting 'LITTLE WING!' at the top of his lungs."
"And while Dick's hugging the stuffing out of him, Damian's gonna come from outta nowhere and try to shank him."
"All while Tim, Kate, and Selina are making snarky commentary on the side."
"Then Alfred will pop in with tea and cookies and everyone will abandon Jay to get a bite."
"I feel so loved," Jason commented sarcastically to his sister as Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, and Barbara Gordon continued their roast.
Cassandra Cain-Wayne giggled and rubbed the top of her little brother's head. Because no matter how much Jason protested, he would always be the younger brother. The fact that Steph and Babs wholeheartedly supported her claim didn't help either.
"You are loved," she said sincerely, letting out another giggle when he blushed.
"Cass…" Jason whined, getting a few pats on the cheek in return.
Stephanie snickered. "Don't bother, Jaybird," she told him, linking her arm with her best friend, "There's no point in denying the truth."
"Yeah man, it's gonna be a complete riot when you see them again. Every bit as wild as a Wayne family reunion can possibly be," Duke claimed, no doubt remembering when he first joined their eclectic and wild family, the sole voice of sanity before he too got swept up into their antics, a fate anyone who joined the Bat-Family could attest to.
Barbara looked to the sky longingly. "A perfect mix of chaos and violence…" Her face pinched, "And none of us except you will be there to rib on it."
"Don't worry," Jason said dryly, smirking, "I'll be sure to tell you about it when you get there yourself."
"Why would you?" Cass asked him, genuinely curious, "You know the circus will start up all over again every time one of us joins in."
"Exactly."
It would seem morbid, talking about their potential deaths like this, but unlike all his other visitors, these particular ones had been through the same things he had, living on the edge of death every day and night, knowing the next patrol could potentially be their last. They had known and loved the same people he had, had stuck with him through every disaster he'd endured since he had begun his return to their family, through thick and thin. While all his previous visitors had been family in their own way, none of them had been family like these four had.
The laughter continued into the night, and one by one everyone began to turn in. They all had long since had their own rooms designated in the Manor, kept clean by the housecleaning staff for their weekly visits with their own families. Soon, it was just Jason and Cass left, all on their quiet lonesome. Not to say they had stopped communicating; Jason just had to keep his eyes on his sister for her to know what he was saying.
It was soothing. While Cass had long since gotten over her muteness, there was a certain familiarity and intimacy to conversing with just body language. All the members of the family had learned to do it, as it was a particularly useful skill when working with her out in the field, and it wasn't long when they started doing it in their regular lives, for more mundane purposes. Especially during galas and balls, where a single gesture was enough to stave off comparative boredom.
They had only started to do it more as more of their siblings died off until it was only them and Duke left. With all that pain, speaking became harder and harder to do, and it was just easier to use their bodies instead to talk. While neither Jason nor Duke, nor Steph and Babs, would ever be as good as Cass at reading body language, they were all sufficient enough to have full conversations with her just using it. It was only when the children started coming into their lives that the habit begin to taper off, though they still occasionally fell into it from time to time. Like now.
It was towards the end of their current conversation that Cass saw it. That slightest bit of hesitation in Jason's body was a blatant show of self-doubt in her eyes, and there was no way she was going to let it go. She tapped his shoulder, looking at him in a way that he could not mistake.
Jason pursed his lips, and spoke.
"Do you think I made them proud?"
Was that it?
Cass sighed sadly at him, "Of course you did."
"How do you know?"
Shaking her head, she reached over and softly slid her hand along his cheek in a comforting gesture. Her silly little brother; how could he still be so blind?
"Because I am proud of you," she stated firmly.
Jason smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it gratefully.
It's night when he sees her.
He's seen her many times before. She was there when he died the first time, a comforting presence that took him by the hand to After. And when it was time to come back, he saw her again, and she placed her lips on his and breathed life back into him again.
He didn't think he'd ever see her again, not until his second death. But then came Damian and Ra's, and then there was a sword in his gut, and he swore, just for a moment, he caught a glimpse. But then the sword was gone, the wound healed, and he had another sword, this time in his own hands, much longer than his All-Blades, all vibrant and glowing with mystical fire. Then came the duel, the final duel of the Demon's Head, where he had to pour every ounce of will and skill into his body just to survive, let alone win.
It was only when his sword pierced the heart of his opponent that he saw her for real. She had her hands on Ra's, but she was looking at him and while he couldn't hear her, he could read her lips.
"I'll come for you again. I promise."
And then they were both gone and it was just him and a corpse that remained. Life went on.
Now she was here again, and Jason knew that could only mean one thing.
"It's time," Death says, holding out her hand. Jason does the only thing he can do.
He takes it.
When Cassandra Cain-Wayne wakes up to find her younger brother dead, all of Gotham mourns.
Jason Peter Todd-Wayne had been a staple of the city for decades. Everyone knew about the scrappy young boy from Crime Alley that had somehow caught Bruce Wayne's eye and became the newest member of Gotham's First Family. From his unexpected death to his equally unexpected resurrection, Jason had been an enduring subject of public fascination. This especially held true as he took part in more and more of Wayne Enterprises as a series of tragedies rocked the Wayne family one by one, forcing him into a position he never expected to have.
From rags to riches, he stepped up to the plate, and WE thrived under his leadership, remaining an industry giant to become the top company in all of the world, above even LexCorp. A well-known philanthropist, Jason never forgot his roots, and reinvested his wealth into the good of Gotham, promoting infrastructure and affordable housing and all sorts of good causes. Slowly but surely, Gotham began to drag itself out of the pit it had been drowning in for years; recidivism went down, Arkham began actually fulfilling its purpose and started rehabilitating its residents back into functional human beings, and the criminal element all and all began to recede.
Crime Alley was no longer Crime Alley but Park Row, another neighborhood in an ever-bustling city. But even so, they never forgot one of their children, and when his time came, so did the memorials. The walls of the buildings were decorated with graffiti, expanding across the entire area and even into other parts of the city. Yet, they all had one singular purpose — to pay tribute to one of Gotham's greatest citizens, and to wish him the best into the next life. These memorials would endure for many years, another mark Jason would leave upon the city he had loved so much.
And while Gotham mourned, another service was held in the annals of the Justice League's famous Watchtower. Whereas Gotham had lost a citizen, the League had lost one of their own. A stalwart member, a vaulted leader, a man who had overcome his bloody past to become an inspiration to the super-community, the third Batman had proven himself to be every bit of a credit to his mantle's legacy as his predecessors had. So, under the watchful gazes of the greatest superhero team in the world, before his successor, the fourth Batman, a statue of him was erected in the memorial hall, to stand side-by-side with his father and brother and to endure as long as the Justice League continued to function. Etched upon his stand was his true name, along with his previous aliases, as a reminder of the past that he had never allowed to define the person he would become.
A week later, a private funeral was held on the Wayne grounds. Despite knowing it had been coming for a long time, Jason's family was no less devastated. It was a long service, with just as many stories as there were tears. And when it was finished, he had been buried in a new grave, so far away from the one given to him upon his first death. It was in-between the graves for Dick and Tim, a spot having been left open so all the children of Bruce Wayne could be buried with him when their times came. And thus, with Jason's death, the set was close to complete.
But Jason knew none of that.
He was being guided by the hand of Death following her to a place he had been once before, for far too short of time. A place that he sometimes wished he had never left. A place where most of his family and friends were all waiting for him.
And as they approached, it was bright. Almost blinding, really. And he could feel it, feel how his soul was settling into peace. This was it. He was ready.
And then they stopped.
Why did they stop? It was there, right there! Wasn't it his time?
And then Death was looking at him, and her smile wasn't as sad as it could be.
"I'm sorry. It's not your time yet."
What did she mean? Had Talia disregarded his wish after all?
"Don't worry," Death says, and he could do anything but worry, "It's a gift."
How could denying him a chance to be with his family be a gift?
Before he can voice anything, Death's lips were on his, and Jason feels the breath of life enter him again.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
He reached forward, his arm piercing the surface, and then there was someone else there, helping to pull him up. He didn't fight it, desperate for air, breathing in chunks of precious oxygen as he coughed out the water threatening to fill his lungs.
And then he heard it. The Pit.
Even as he gained control of himself, the whispers of the Lazarus Pit never completely went away. But as the years went by, he had developed a system to fight them off. He remembers every happy memory, cycles through them like a desperate mantra, and allows them to overcome the cries for blood, for mindless violence.
That time Dick took me to watch one of his dumb concerts, forcing Tim to eat real food after he tried to binge on pizza during work again, Damian showing me a sketch he made in class, Cass and I going to karaoke night with Steph and Duke… Already the whispers are beginning to recede, that green fog slowly diminishing away. As his mind began to clear, he saw Talia's visage, and immediately escapes her embrace. He wants to shout at her for betraying him like this, for forcing him back into the Pit.
And then he sees his reflection in the eerie, glowing green waters, his face of all of sixteen years old.
It takes Jason all of his strength not to scream.