He has to get there in time.
Bruce is screaming inside, fear and anger and sorrow, and he might actually be screaming on the outside too, he has no idea, because that doesn't matter.
He has to get there in time.
On his way there, he's already notified the Justice League, and they're working from the Watchtower to coordinate Superman and Wonder Woman to his location.
He has to get there in time.
They have to get there in time.
He has to get there in time.
Jason has to be okay.
When the warehouse comes into sight, Bruce tries to force more speed into the Batjet, but it's already about to burst into flames from overworking. He flies right to the warehouse and vaults out before the Batjet has even powered down fully. Bruce sprints to the door, flinging it open and hoping against hope he's made it in time.
"Jason!" The cry erupts from his throat, and Bruce falls to his knees beside his son.
His captured son. His tied son. His bloody, so very bloody son.
His crying son. Jason is crying, he's breathing on broken gasps of pain, faltering and heart-wrenchingly ragged. But he's breathing.
And that means there's time.
"Jason," Bruce croaks, relief flooding over him.
Jason continues to cry, but his eyes fly open. He rasps out a single word. "Bomb."
The flood of relief transforms into fear, and Bruce reassesses the situation. He had barely looked around the warehouse, only just long enough to find Jason, not aware of any danger, not aware of almost anything at all, only aware of his son, his son is alive. Now, he takes in the situation, Batman determined and sharp, and he hears the ticking of a bomb.
Bruce scrambles in the direction of the ticking on his hands and knees, not taking the time to get to his feet, not knowing if he has that kind of time. He reaches the bomb quickly, a haphazard-looking device, and he begins to fiddle with it, recognizing many of the parts from Joker's previous contraptions, disarming those and disengaging piece after piece.
By the time he's down to the core of the bomb, the ticks have gotten far louder. There's no timer on the front, no way of knowing how close he and his son are to annihilation. Bruce grits his teeth. He continues to work. Sweat beads up under his mask. He pries one part of the bomb open with his left hand and feels a fingernail split under his gauntlet with the force of the effort. His jaw aches from tension. Jason is still crying behind him. Jason's crying, he's sobbing, he's breathing, and that's all Bruce needs.
That's all Bruce hears.
The ticking has stopped. The bomb is disarmed. They're safe.
His son is safe.
Bruce tosses the last bomb parts aside and swivels around.
Jason is still crying, his chest heaving beneath his torn and bloodied uniform.
Flinging himself in Jason's direction, Bruce heaps himself in a pile at his son's side. "Jason, Jason, my boy, my son, Jay, Jason."
He's babbling as he unties Jason, ripping ropes apart and away from Jason, careless with the ties but careful, so careful, with his son, his living son, his son is alive, he hadn't known if it could still be true but his son is alive.
Jason is okay. Everything will be okay.
"Batman," Jason says weakly, still crying.
"It's okay," Bruce says.
"Dad," Jason says with more strength through the tears.
Bruce almost stops in his tracks, but he keeps pulling away the final ropes. Jason almost never calls him that. Jason is far more comfortable calling him "B" or "Bruce" or "Batman," and Bruce would never want to push him. The few times Bruce gets called that are treasures, stored safely in his heart alongside Dick's own "dad" moments and the times Alfred has called Bruce his son. This moment? This moment is a treasure and a curse wrapped into one.
"Wait," Jason says when the last rope is gone, the crying finally coming to an end. He tries to sit up.
Bruce eases him back to the ground and tries to pick him up.
Jason struggles. It's feeble, but he struggles, and he gasps again, "Wait."
Alarmed, Bruce pauses. "What?"
"There," Jason says, forcing himself into a half-crouch and pointing in a random direction. He starts to drag himself across the ground.
Bruce stops him with a cautious hand on the least-damaged part of his shoulder that Bruce can reach. "What?"
"There," Jason insists. "We have to-"
"We have to go," Bruce says. "You need medical help, you need-"
"I need to save him," Jason says, still trying to stumble-crawl forward, leaving a trail of half-dried blood in his wake. "We need to save him, Dad!"
Bruce is confused. He's so confused. He's confused and concerned and alarmed and overwhelmed, but-
Jason didn't seem to think Bruce trusted him. Jason felt that Bruce wasn't believing him with Garzonas. Jason was so hurt that he ran away. Jason almost died because he thought Bruce didn't trust him.
Bruce needs to show he trusts Jason, and if Jason says they need to save someone, then they need to save someone.