yorulun asked: Prompt 8 for Jason and Bruce where Bruce actually arrived on time to save him.


Jason's on the floor, covered in his own blood, and Bruce is having the hardest time finding it in himself to keep on breathing. There's a timer—a bomb. There's a bomb, and Jason's hardly stirring. There's not much time. Bruce needs to Jason out of here. There's no time.

And yet, he hesitates. Drops to his knees beside his boy—his son. Jason barely cracks his eyes open, but Bruce can see the pure relief in them, and coupled with the grateful grin—well. It's enough to get Bruce moving.

"I knew you'd come," Jason coughs out, blood at his lips. "I knew it."

"Stay with me," Bruce demands, scooping Jason up into his arms. But Jason's eyes fall closed, and there's nothing Bruce can do except yell, "Damn it. Robin, stay with me!"

Jason doesn't respond. Still, there's no time to make him. The timer is counting down the seconds and Bruce still has to get the both of them far enough away from the blast radius in order to make sure that they both survive. That Jason survives.

So, Bruce runs.

It's awkward with Jason in his arms, his body slick with blood and his lungs heaving for each breath, and Bruce is reminded so much of another Robin he'd held much like this after the beating of a lifetime. Bruce hadn't lost Dick back then, though, and he won't lose Jason now. He thinks he'd rather die.

Bruce manages to escape, the timer counting down in his head—except, maybe, for once in his life, he counts it wrong. Because he's ten steps from the building with a full four seconds to go and then—boom.

The earth feels like it's ripping itself apart with the force, and Bruce is pushed forward. Jason grunts from the landing, but Bruce doesn't think about that just yet. Instead, he makes sure Jason's tucked underneath him as the heat and pressure burn against his protective cape.

It takes a few moments for the explosion to die down to flame and smoke, but once it does, Bruce is sitting up again, checking over Jason.

Jason groans again, his eyelids fluttering.

"Hang in there," Bruce says—orders. It's easier this way. "I'm going to get you to Leslie's, and you're going to be fine. You got that?"

There's no answer, but Bruce refuses to dwell on it. He just lifts his son back into his arms and runs. He runs and he runs and he runs, and he's afraid that if he doesn't, he'll be too late. And he can't imagine what being too late will do to him.