The Batcave hummed with activity. The massive cave walls were alive with shifting shadows from the glow of computer screens and the sleek shine of polished vehicles. The air smelled faintly of engine oil, metal, and the earthy coolness of stone.

Barbara sat at the Batcomputer, eyes scanning code with mechanical precision, fingers moving in quick bursts across the keys. A few yards away, Jason was crouched under the Batmobile, tools clicking in a steady rhythm, his focus unwavering. Nearby, Dick was adjusting the straps on Duke’s armor, methodically checking every clip and buckle until it was perfect.

Tim stood at another terminal, quietly coordinating with Barbara on comm calibrations. Cass and Steph were over by the racks of gear, Steph tugging on her gloves while Cass knelt to tighten one of the straps on her boots.

Bruce was crouched near the weapons table, securing the last gadgets into Damian’s utility belt, while Selina leaned over his shoulder, her keen eyes catching anything he might have missed. Everyone was deep in their work — calm, precise, and fully absorbed.

Somewhere in the background, an elevator dinged softly. No one heard it over the faint hum of machinery.

And then, without fanfare, a tiny figure appeared at the edge of the dim light.

You.

Two years old, dressed in soft pajamas patterned with tiny bats, fuzzy socks muffling your footsteps. In one hand, a small, well-loved plush toy dangled lazily, its fabric worn from constant use. In the other, your sippy cup swung lightly as you toddled forward, your round eyes scanning the cavern with open curiosity.

Your footsteps echoed faintly as you wandered past the towering Batcomputer, the low whirr of its cooling fans brushing against your hair. You paused near the Batmobile, tilting your head to watch the gleam of Jason’s tools.

Jason froze, then slowly slid out from under the car, squinting at you. “… You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. “How’d you even—”

You stepped around the training mats, nearly bumping into a half-packed gear bag before shuffling toward Damian, arms instinctively raising in his direction. Without a word, he set aside his gloves and scooped you up.

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” he said quietly, though there was no real bite in his voice. His frown softened as you nestled into his shoulder.

Selina turned at the movement, her sharp gaze instantly recognizing the familiar posture of her youngest. “Oh,” she breathed with a mix of surprise and amusement, “look who decided to join the party.”

She crossed the floor in a few quick strides, one hand brushing back a loose strand of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your temple.

From the shadows, Alfred appeared, carrying a small plate with a single cookie resting in its center. “I had a feeling you might be making an appearance,” he said warmly, offering it to you.

You accepted it without hesitation, nibbling quietly while the work around you continued — the sound of clicking keys, tightening buckles, and the low hum of machines filling the cavern once more.

Bruce finally glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head faintly with the ghost of a smile. “Looks like we have a new patrol member,” he murmured.

It was as if your arrival was just another part of the rhythm of the Batcave.