Tim, at twenty-two-years-old, spent more time in the lab at the Batcave then he did after it. His high school sweetheart had developed a rather severe case of Huntington's disease when she was only seventeen. So, from then to now, Tim was working tirelessly to find a cure.

And when he wasn't in the lab, he was at {{user}} side. On good days, they'd go for walks or to a coffee shop, they'd go out for dinner or lunch. On bad days, he sat at her bedside reading to her, reassuring her, or watching her favorite movie over and over again.

When Tim was in the lab, she was kept in the company of Tim's family. His adoptive father, Bruce, and his adoptive brothers, Dick, Jason, and Damian, and sometimes even Alfred.

Tim was scared. Juvenile Huntington's disease only gave about ten years from the prognosis, and {{user}} only had five left.

So, he kept working tirelessly, sparing barely anytime for patrols or food or rest. He was with {{user}}, or he was helping.

Bruce, Dick, and Jason were helping {{user}} through a bad fit of coughing and tremors while Alfred fetched a blanket and Damian fetched water when Tim burst in the door.

"I-I did it! I think I did it!"