Chapter Text
When Tim walked into English this morning, he didn't expect to have to write letters to nobody.
But here he was, sitting at his desk, staring at a blank piece of lined paper, trying to come up with something to write.
Just get it started, it's only a few lines
So he put the pencil to the page, and started to write
'Dear Stranger...
Dear Stranger,
For the next two months, apparently my English class is writing letters to imaginary strangers every few days. I was told we are supposed to introduce ourselves in the first letter, so here I go.
I'm in advanced English. I like skateboarding, photography, and coding. I'm a big fan of Batman, but Robin's my favorite. The current Robin specifically, but the old one was cool too.
We're also supposed to ask questions to "get to know our recipient" So, Stranger, what are your favorite colors? Where's your favorite Asian Restaurant? Least favorite rouge?
I don't really understand this assignment to be honest. What's the point of writing to someone who won't respond? And we are not even turning it in, just writing for 15 minutes. I think Mrs. Eliot just wants some time where she doesn't have to teach. But I need to keep my grades up. Last time I got a B, my dad was so upset with me, he cut off my allowance for a month. I think I'll just dump this letter on a rooftop.
That's all for now.
Until the next time I'm forced to do this,
Tim.
P.S. Am I doing this write? This is how a Postscript works, right?
Smol break
Dear Stranger,
Today we have to write a letter again. I asked Mrs. Eliot what's the point of writing letters to someone who will never respond, and she said that we should just pretend someone wrote back every time and imagine what response we would get.
I told her that was silly, because why didn't we just write letters to actual people, and then she got really annoyed and told me to just sit down and write my letter like the rest of my class.
No one else had a problem with this assignment.
On the brighter side, my parents are taking me with them to Metropolis for a work thing. If I'm lucky I might be able to get some photos of Superman! Hes not as cool as Batman but I still like him.
Maybe next time I'll write about my trip
Until next time,
Tim.
Over the next few days, nothing of note really happened. Tim went out into Gotham at night, took photos, and went home every day like clock work.
Then Saturday happened. He climbed out the window as normal, camera in hand and climbed down the tree outside his bedroom window before heading out to the bus station to catch a ride.
For some reason, he also brought the two letters he had written during the week.
As he was sitting on his favorite Bat-watching rooftop, he decided to just leave them there. Who knew, someone might find them and find them entertaining.
Right as Tim was about to leave, Robin landed on one of the gargoyles lining the building, crouched down, positioned himself into sitting, and pulled out a cigarette.
Tim froze, then slowly backed up behind a pile of forgotten bricks.
Please don't see me please don't see me please don't see me
Tim carefully pulled his camera to his eye, zoomed in, adjusted the lighting, focused, and snapped a photo.
Robin sat there, taking slow drags, for a good five minutes before he suddenly spoke.
"I hear ya,"
The blood in Tim's veins froze.
Holy crap I'm so dead
"I'll be there in two B,"
Tim's heart restarted.
Not me. Thank Gotham
Robin laughed.
"Don't worry, I was just...stopping to survey the area. No reason to panic,"
With that, he pressed the end of the cigarette against the gargoyle, put the remains in his pocket, before swinging off into the night.
Tim waited a solid minute before he was confident that Robin wasn't returning before crawling out back onto the empty space of the roof.
"Holy crap," he whispered to the cold Gotham air, "I was 20 feet from Robin. Robin smokes."
Sunday morning Tim got up early. His parents were going to be in town, and he wanted to be sure that he was ready to go as soon as they got home.
He was busy figuring out how tot work the waffle maker when the house phone rang.
"Timothy?"
His mother. Strange, she was supposed to be on a flight at that moment.
"Yes Mother?"
"There's been a change in schedule. Your Father and I won't be home for another few days. Mrs. Mac will be over with groceries in a few hours. I trust you can continue by yourself for a short while longer?"
"Of course Mother."
"Very well then. Your Father says hello."
With that, the call ended with a click.
Tim gave up on the waffles, grabbed a granola bar and retreated to his room.
"It's okay. You knew this would happen." He whispered to the cold, empty house.
Dear Stranger,
My Metropolis trip got canceled. My parents had a "change in schedule" and were not able to take me like they said they would. It is ok through. I kind of expected it to happen. My parents are busy most of the time but its ok because I know they love me. They just have busy jobs.
I did get to see Robin over the weekend! He was sitting on a Gargoyle smoking a cigarette which I don't think hes supposed to do. Mom told me I should never smoke anything because it will kill you, but Robin smokes every few weeks and he's not dead yet.
I have a test in math next period, so I'm ending this letter early to review.
My teacher said we shouldn't end every letter the same so
Sincerely,
Tim.
Tim's math test went decently well (only a few problems he didn’t know!), and as he was walking from math to science he saw a new flyer on the wall
Photography Club!
All experience levels welcome! Come make new friends, share your photos, and use state of the art editing software!
He grabbed the flyer, shoved it in his bag and continued on his way.
That night Tim stayed out later than usual, desperate to catch a good shot. Due to staying out later, he missed the last bus and had to walk back to the manor alone. It was raining (as it does in Gotham) and he was cold and soggy and feeling awful by the time he reached the front doors. He quickly changed and got into his bed, falling asleep quickly to the splattering raindrops against his window.
He awoke the following morning to the sound of voices from the bottom floor, alongside the familiar sound of suitcases on tile.
Tim dragged his tired body out of bed and crept down the stairs.
"Mother?" He called.
"Timothy! Why you look awful, doesn't he dear?"
His mother and father apparently from around the hall.
"Are you feeling well?" His mother inquired.
"I don't really know. Why are you home?" He redirected, not wanting attention on his current state, or the events that led to it.
"The dig ended earlier than expected and we managed to catch a quick flight home. Do you have a fever? You look flushed." His mother put the back of her hand on his forehead.
"You feel warm. Perhaps you may miss school if your father agrees."
"It would be a shame to let him out in public looking like that," his father responded from across the room.
"Very well. You may stay home and rest."
Where did my real mother go? She never lets me miss school
"Yes Mother. I'm going to go rest in my room. I'm.. I'm glad you're home."
With that, he retreated to the comfort of the nest of blankets on his bed, and fell back asleep.
Two days of resting (and playing chess with his mother while his father worked) later, Tim was back at school, sitting in English staring off into space.
"Timothy!"
Uh oh.
Mrs. Wry was yelling at him. Again
"Are you paying attention whatsoever? Eyes on the board please. And for heaven's sake, stop bouncing your knee."
He stopped, which he hadn't noticed he was doing. He could hear snickers throughout the class and Tim felt his face go red with embarrassment.
"As I was saying, your character analysis on Great Expectations is due in a few weeks. Keep that in mind, and there will be minimal class time to work on it. And please, learn how to use commas." She finished.
The bell finally rang, setting Tim and his classmates free from the tortures of English.
The rest of the school day was normal. As Tim was putting away his computer after his last class, the Photography Club flyer fell out of his bag.
The first meeting was that day.
Might as well go check it out
When Tim walked into the classroom the meeting was held in, he vaguely recognized some of the kids already there from his other classes.
"Hi, I'm Mr. Thomas. I'm in charge of the new photography club. What's your name?" Mr. Thomas reached out his hand as he talked.
"I'm Tim. It's nice to meet you" Tim said, taking the hand and shaking it.
"Nice grip you got there. Why don't you go and sit down. We're waiting a few more minutes for some other kids then we'll get started.
Tim took a seat, and waited.
The meeting was amazing! They talked about all sorts of different parts of photography such as lenses and aperture, and even things that could be done with simple cell phone cameras, such as proper lighting and scene composition. At the end, they had each been challenged to take three different unique shots so they could practice editing them the following week.
Tim was still thinking about the club a day later as he arrived on his roof to dump his latest letter.
What. The. Heck.
All of his previous letters were gone. In their place was another letter, but not one of his.
He carefully opened it, and started to read.
Dear Tim...
Dear Stranger,
Apparently everyone else came up a name for their stranger. I'm going to stick with Stranger if that's ok, because it feels weird to change now.
It's been getting colder again, and I got a small fever a few days ago but I'm ok now. My mom was home from the trip, and she let me stay home for school, which she normally never lets happen.
I joined Photography Club at school yesterday, which is awesome because I've got access to editing software I've never used before!
Other than that, schools been ok. I'm doing great in math and science, but English is something I'm struggling with. I just don't why we need to read all these old books. Why do they even matter?
I don't think my teacher likes me very much. She's always annoyed at me, especially when I fidget. She hates fidgeting.
Most of the other kids don't like me either. They think I'm weird because I'm younger than the rest of them.
Write to you next time,
Tim
Tim,
I recently came across these letters and they intrigued me enough to respond. To answer the questions you posed in the first letter, my favorite colors are blue and red, I'm not a fan of Asian restaurants, and my least favorite rogue is currently Catwoman.
I understand your frustrations of being required to do a task that bothers you, and I respect your perseverance in continuing to complete this assignment.
I am also a somewhat fan of Batman and the Robin's. Though I do have to ask, what were you doing out late enough to see Robin on the Gargoyle you mentioned? Gotham is no place to be wandering around after dark.
Nether the less, I hope you don't mind my intrusion on your assignment.
With Regards,
Stranger