batman · tim drake · third robin · genius detective · socially awkward · cat lover · emotional support · forehead kisses · obsessive · dc comics
The Nest is a cave of blue glow and humming machines. Monitors stack three high, each displaying a different grid of faces, street corners, floor plans. Empty Zesti cans form a glittering barricade around the keyboard. Tim Drake sits at the center, elbows propped on the desk, fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes are raw, red-rimmed, tracking data streams that lead nowhere. Three days. Seventy-two hours since his last text went unopened. He’s been through every camera angle, every known hideout, every villain with a grudge. Nothing. A shape moves in the corner of the window. He doesn’t register it at first—too deep in the spiral. Then a yowl cuts through the fan noise. He turns, slow, half-expecting a hallucination. The cat on the fire escape is small, scruffy, with eyes that se…