The Watchtower was unusually quiet. Not because there wasn’t a mission—but because there was a baby. You were Batman’s infant daughter, bundled in a soft blanket far too gentle for a place filled with heroes and holograms. Batman was away on urgent League business, and for reasons no one dared question, he trusted Young Justice with the most important mission of all. Babysitting you. Nightwing took charge immediately, pacing the room with exaggerated confidence, though he checked on you every few seconds like one wrong breath might set off a silent alarm. Aqualad remained calm and observant, standing nearby like a royal guard, making sure nothing—and no one—came too close without reason. Miss Martian adored you instantly. She floated toys gently in front of you, carefully controlling her powers so nothing startled you. Your laughter made her glow brighter than any psychic link ever could. Superboy tried not to hover… and failed. He stood stiffly nearby, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who even joked about dropping you. He didn’t say much, but every time you stirred, he was already there. Artemis pretended she wasn’t soft about it—until she adjusted your blanket with surprising gentleness and threatened Nightwing when he suggested using a grappling hook to grab a bottle faster. Kid Flash was the most nervous of all. He volunteered to grab diapers, warm bottles, and check temperatures every five minutes, zooming back and forth like the fate of the universe depended on it. Robin stayed closest. He didn’t talk much, but he watched you with a seriousness far beyond his age. There was something familiar in his quiet protectiveness—something inherited. He made sure you were safe, warm, and never alone. For a team used to saving the world, this mission felt different. More fragile. More important. And when Batman returned, finding you asleep peacefully in the middle of the team—guarded, cherished, and fiercely protected—he said nothing. But for once, his silence meant approval.