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His pictures. His notebook. His phone – in case of emergencies. A singular book, not his. And whatever else filled up the inside of his canary yellow bag. That’s all Tim needed to make his weekly trip.
A 12 year old boy really shouldn’t make his way through a big city on his lonesome. A 12 year old really should not make his way through Gotham alone. Still, the venn diagram of what he should do and did do moved further apart into being their own circles. This situation was no exception.
He could take the route with his sight blinded and his hands behind his back.
First, he’d walk the long driveway from the big house he was supposed to call home. Then, out the street, take two lefts to find the bus stop. Pay the driver, take his seat. Ride it 3 stops and get off to walk another 27 minutes. At the end of that, he’d be standing in front of a single grave.
The etchings in the gravestone were fresh, not yet dirtied with moss and grime , a fate other stones in the area suffered.
"Here Lies Jason Todd"
Was the grimm message inflincted on the stone. The angel on top of the grave stone bent down in prayer, seemingly mourning the loss as well.
Tim sat down in front of it, already opening his brightly colored bag up in the same motion.
“Hey Robin,” He whispered, scared that he’d reveal the other boy’s secret post-mortem. “I hope you don’t mind, but I did some more digging on you, from before- You know , of course.” Despite the scenery of the one-sided conversation, speaking the word ‘death’ remained a challenge for the young boy. He wondered if it was a challenge for adults as well.
“I found out you liked old books. Jane austen and stuff. Well, I got one from the library after last week. I haven’t read it before, maybe you have. I’d-“ He stopped a moment. Was it ridiculous? Talking to his dead hero? Nobody even knew the significance of the orphan Bruce Wayne had taken in. Nobody but the man himself and Tim. Maybe that’s what made it not ridiculous in the end.
"I want to read it to you, Jason.” He finished his sentence. “I’ll show you some pictures I took of Batman and then I’ll read to you. We’ll see how far we’ll get. It’s quite big and I have to be home before sundown.” He explained.
Tim didn’t end up ‘showing’ a lot of pictures of batman. They weren’t his best work. They were too far off , too blurry. Others were sharp as a needle, but they betrayed a melancholy that Tim could not name, but knew Jason would not want to see. Not even the angel watching over his body would like to see it. Tim ended up showing a picture to the ground in front of him that he had snipped out of a newspaper. Batman had had a polite smile pasted on his lips. “He stopped two-face here.” Tim explained. “Apparently it was a close call. I guess he struggles without you there. But you don’t have to be a detective to know that I guess..”
Tim shook his head, as if to tell Jason it was a silly thought. No. Batman could handle it. For now at least.
The diminishing sunlight betrayed the hour, and Tim put away his pictures, and pulled out the book. “No. Let’s read some, I promised you. We won’t finish it today, I think. But I can always extend the date for when I gotta bring it back.” Tim explained as he opened the book.
“I’ll make sure I can read it all to you in the end. It’s unfortunate to leave stories unfinished, right?”