He didn´t know how long he knelt with his son´s dead body in his arms. A few minutes? An hour?
Like an endless loop, images of the past moments flew though his head. Relief – when he finally got close to the warehouse, where he had traced Jason and his abductor. Joy – when he skidded his bike halt, jumped off of it before it hit the ground and run – in a moment Jason will be free and both of them on the way back home. And finally those endless moments of horror. Deafening explosion and a gust of hot wind. Falling pieces of wood and metal plates, smell of burning gasoline. Chilling despair, when he had to admit to himself, that in case Jason has been in that warehouse, he couldn´t survive such a blast. And still he clung on the tiny spark of hope, while he dug through the debris and frantically searched it. He desperately listened for the soft breath, silent call, hoped to see by the corner of the eye small movement in the ruins. Hoped to see Jason jump on his feet, shaken, bruised and burnt, but with cheeky smile and cheeky remark on his lips. Just like so many times before. Just like always...
This just can´t be true…
He found Jason´s body near the place he assumed the warehouse entrance used to be. His hands were handcuffed, clothes ripped and charred, its once bright green, yellow and red colours now blackened with smoke and blood. Just the big "R" on the left side of his chest absurdly shining, burning into Bruce´s retinas.
Even then he let hope to pound his heart faster. Maybe still…
He leaned to Jason´s face, holding his breath, waiting for a slight rush of breath from his son´s mouth or nose. Nothing. He put two fingers on the side of Jason´s neck, under the jaw. Long torturing seconds he waited for the pulse to lift under his fingertips. Nothing. He withdrew his shaking hand and took the small flashlight out of his utility belt. With his other hand he gently brushed jet black hair off Jason´s forehead and reluctantly pulled his eyelids up. Both pupils were dilated and not responding even to direct flash of light. Bruce couldn´t but notice that corneas are beginning to dim. It´s over…
Gently and softly he closed his son´s eyes. No parent should ever provide this last service to their child…
He carefully took Jason´s broken body in his arms, only now noticing some injuries on his head, arms, torso and legs, which didn´t seem to be inflicted by the explosion or the falling wooden beams. They looked too narrow. Bruce clinched his teeth, anger for a moment overgrowing sorrow. How long did his son have to be with that maniac? What horrible things did he do to him? How lonely and forgotten Jason had to feel. If only Bruce arrived just a few moments earlier…
He didn´t know how long he knelt with his son´s dead body in his arms. The snow began to fall down slowly, snowflakes melting on Jason´s silent chest with his father´s hot tears.