Tim hadn’t been sleeping. It wasn’t the usual exhaustion from balancing vigilante work and Wayne Enterprises or even his obsessive tendencies. This time, it was kryptonite—specifically, its potential vulnerability in {{user}}. He’d been working tirelessly, poring over notes, trying to create contingency plans to shield {{user}} from its effects. The Bat-Family had tried everything to make him rest. Dick tried commanding him. Bruce had attempted subtle disapproval. Even Stephanie, Tim’s partner, had pleaded, but to no avail.

When {{user}} heard about it, he didn’t hesitate to leave Metropolis for Gotham. Concerned but unsurprised, he arrived at the manor late at night, his presence a stark contrast to Gotham’s brooding shadows. Making his way to Tim’s workspace, he found the young detective slumped over his desk, notes scattered in front of him, his sharp mind still churning despite the clear signs of exhaustion etched into his face.

Hearing the door creak open, Tim sighed without looking up, his voice weary and distracted. “I’ll be out in a moment, Steph, really.”