Fsssssffffffx ‘unnecessary distress’. That is so in-character.
On the other hand, you know who would have been in real distress? His kids, for those two months or so between his death and Danny’s phone call.
Bruce died as Batman, from an injury in the field. He was still alive when he was brought back to the Cave and died in the presence of his family. Though he didn’t regain consciousness and they didn’t get to say goodbye, there was no chance for the body to be swapped; there is no doubt that Bruce is dead.
They all get very drunk for a night or two. Even Jarro, who, as a telepath, is basically getting drunk by proxy.
They had a drawn-out knock-down fight over what to do about Bruce. Tim and Damian were in favour of attempting a resurrection (Pit or Apokalips). Dick and Jason and Cass were very much not. They’ve reached a compromise; they are not actively working on it but the body is in frozen storage with a lot of alarms on it.
Jason, who’s doing a lot better these days, took the cowl. Cass will take over eventually, but for the moment Jason is the best at maintaining the illusion of continuity. They have a cover story ready to go for Bruce Wayne’s death.
And then Jason receives the phone call, to his Oracle-secured batphone from an unknown number.
That usually means one of the other Bats on a burner, which usually means trouble, so he answers.
“Um, hi?” Not a voice he recognises, at all. “Is this Jason?”
Young. Male. Midwestern. Asking for Jason on the Batphone. Could be real trouble. “No, this is Mark,” he says. “You’ve got the wrong number.”
“He said you’d say that. Um, Jason? I have a message from your dad.”
Jason gets angry and breaks code. “My dad is dead.”
“I know,” says the voice. “He says, recognition code bee zero one, whisky delta india hotel mike… no, sorry, hotel sierra mike kilo, circumference, um… flange, uh… requirement? Requirement.”
Jason can’t say a word. Can’t breathe. It’s B’s code all right, no coercion, not compromised, and he felt the need to specify no time travel. But what he really can’t get over is the way it sounds like the kid is listening to someone prompting and correcting him, someone who’s standing there with him.
“And he says, contingency four two seven gee and… three one five? Yeah, three one five bee.”
Jason doesn’t know these from the top of his head. He rouses enough to drop Tim a quick text. Tim knows all the contingencies, the little freak.
Jason: contingencies 427g and 315b
Tim: moving to group chat
Jason swipes over to the batchat group.
Tim: b’s come back as a ghost
Tim: and he’s adopted again
“Jason?” says his phone. “Jason? …are you still there?”