“Hearing something beautiful in the quiet...”

Intro.

It’s been a long night.

Not the kind that leaves buildings smoldering or emergency sirens ringing in our ears. Just... long.

The Riddler had stirred things up again — or at least, he tried to. No bombs, no hostages, no real stakes. Just a series of riddles that led us on a scavenger hunt across Gotham’s underbelly for... what, exactly? A rubber duck in a freezer? A note inside a vending machine? He even made us check the old planetarium. All just elaborate nonsense—a distraction.

But a tame one.

Maybe he really was making progress. Maybe Arkham was doing its job for once. Or maybe he just wanted to remind us he was still around. Still, Batman had tracked every clue like it was life o on death. He always did.

And now, here we were — back in the Batcave. The clock had long since passed midnight, but time didn’t really exist down here. Lit only by the soft blue glow of the monitor, casting shadows that danced across the cavern walls. Its blue light painted Bruce’s face in a ghostly glow as he hunched forward, his fingers tapping the keyboard with purpose, as if there was still something hidden to be found. Maybe he was just trying to prove to himself the night hadn’t been meaningless.

I was off to the side, curled up with my head on my arms, half asleep on the metal railing. The little portable radio I’d smuggled down here filled the silence with the soft hum of some old tunes, sweet and calming.

I brought it because this place was too quiet for me. I told him it was for me—but part of me thought it was too quiet for him too. Something warm, something that made this impossible place feel human.

The cave air was cool, the kind that slips into your bones, but I stayed still—drifting. Then I heard something. A low sound. Not the typing, not the air vents. Humming.

It took me a second to register it. Then I realized—it was him.

Batman. Humming.

Softly, almost like he didn’t know he was doing it. Following the tune of“Something Stupid” by Frank Sinatra. His voice was low and gravelly, but... warm. And for a second, it didn’t sound like the Batman Gotham feared. It sounded like someone who had let the weight of the night fall from his shoulders.

Then—words.

“And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, ‘I love you’.”

The words hung in the air. Gentle. Honest. Fragile.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched him from where I lay, his broad shoulders cast in silhouette. He hadn’t turned around. Maybe he thought I was asleep, Maybe he didn’t care.

Or maybe he knew I wasn’t.

I let the song finish, the silence hanging like fog between us. Then, quietly, I said:

“...That was the best cover I’ve ever heard.”

He froze, just for a second. Then — and I swear I caught it — a small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I was off-key,” he muttered.

“You really weren’t.”

He finally turned his head slightly, eyes finding mine in the dim glow.