hollow heartbeat... (Discontinued)

Chapter One: Dead Men Don't Flinch

Bruce had been twitchy since the mission last night-more than his usual brooding gargoyle nonsense. Fear toxin clung to a mind like wet cement, and his had hardened around one particular hallucination: Jason, broken on the floor of that warehouse again, lifeless in a way that even memory struggled to replicate.

So today, he hovered.

Jason noticed. Of course he did. Red Hood wasn't oblivious; he was just tolerant. Up to a point.

"You've been staring at me for ten minutes," Jason snapped, leaning back in the Manor's armchair like he owned the place. "What? Did I get uglier?"

Bruce didn't react to the jab. That was the first warning sign.

Bruce always reacted.

"...Jason," Bruce said finally, voice low, almost mechanical. "I need to check something."

Jason raised a brow. "If this is about the ammo in my jacket, I swear to God, old man-"

Bruce didn't answer. He stepped forward, faster than Jason expected, and grabbed his wrist.

Jason froze.

"The hell?" Jason yanked, but Bruce's grip was iron. "What the fuck, old man? Let me go!"

But Bruce wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed, unblinking, brows tightening as his thumb hovered over Jason's pulse point.

Nothing.

Bruce's pupils blew wide.

"Jason..." His voice cracked. That alone was terrifying. "Your pulse."

Jason blinked. "...What about it?"

"You don't have one."

Jason snorted. Loud. "Bullshit." He tugged his arm free, pressing his fingers to his own neck. "See? I'm-"

No beat.
No rhythmic thud against the pads of his fingers.
Nothing.

Just that eerie Lazarus-pit stillness that had been there since he clawed his way out of the dirt-but Jason had never thought about it. Never needed to. He walked, breathed, bled. He was alive. End of story.

"...Huh." Jason's voice was too flat. Too calm.

Bruce was not calm.

His breathing stuttered once-just once-but Jason caught it, and that alone made his stomach twist.

"I should've-" Bruce's words broke. "I should've checked years ago. I should've-"

"Oh my God," Jason groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Bruce, stop. I'm fine."

"You don't have a heartbeat."

"And?" Jason gestured at himself. "I'm literally right here. Functional. Annoyed. Hungry. That counts as alive enough."

"No," Bruce whispered. "It doesn't."

---

The Family Meeting From Hell

It took seven minutes-seven-for Bruce to gather the entire brood like a deranged mother hen.

Tim showed up first with three coffees and a tablet. "Did Jason kill someone important or...?" He stopped when he saw Bruce's expression. "...Oh. This is worse."

Dick arrived second, still in sweatpants. "Who died?" He paused, looked at Jason. "...Again?"

Jason flipped him off.

Cass ghosted into the doorway silently, expression unreadable but posture alert. Steph barreled in right after, already mid-rant about how she had been in the shower and something better be on fire.