Cleo, such a tsundere

Mushy parental love incoming

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I'm sure Dick can tell how nervous I am, and that's why he reaches under the table to squeeze my leg which has been bouncing anxiously for the past five minutes.

"Remember the first time we came here?" He asks warmly, casting a smile over the Seashell. It was the place of out first date. 

I snort, "It was awful. The waiter flirted with you. You were texting Barbara. I was texting Heather. We both cringed the whole way through it."

He chuckles, but it's reminiscent. 

"We've come a long way."

Those words don't come out how they were supposed to. It sounds tired and defeated instead of proud. He notices and simply squeezes me again before offering more of his kind words.

"I am extremely charming," or more of his vain words, "I'm sure all of your siblings will fall in love with me in no time."

Unlikely.

"Right," I smile at him. When I catch sight of my parents, Ethan and Ignatier entering the restaurant that smile turns into a grimace.

"Don't be like that. Your sister sounded desperate on the phone," he whispers, starting to stand, "Besides, they didn't do anything."

Even though he is right and I have been repeating similar words to myself, I'm still apprehensive. I want them to like him and him to like them, but the added weight of the previous night, the growing issues inside Perich Inc. I know he is investigating and the fact that this is me, their problem child, being soft, gives me doubts.

So I don't get up. Dad shakes Dick's hand and my mother comes right up to me, bends down and kisses my head. My heart bursts with the affection like it did last night. It makes me squirm away from her.

Used to it, she doesn't retreat, taking my frowning face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry baby," she says sincerely. I can see the desperation in her eyes to be taken seriously, "If I knew they were going to be so cruel..."

I shake my head stiffly.

"It wasn't your fault mom. Stop freaking out about it," I tell her, dismissively, moving her hands off my face gently.

Ethan and Dick shake hands in silence. Ig waves at him shyly before she turns to me. I give her a small smile as my mother moves around the table to give Dick a hug.

My sister steps up to me, long brown hair (exactly like mine) swaying prettily. Everyone says she's like a mini-me, but in truth she is a mix of myself and Fantasia, in looks and personality with her own softness stirred in. 

"Il est très attrayant," she whispers that Dick is attractive, breaking my small smile into a grin.

"J'ai de la chance, hm?"

She giggles, before Ethan taps her lightly. 

"I'm sitting next to her," she complains.

Ethan rolls his eyes, "You sat next to her last night."

Immediately it sparks an argument.

I glance away from the awkward battle to see Dick smiling at me, entertained by the familial dispute. My parents sit across from him and I can tell their hands are intertwined. 

Last night must have taken its toll on my mom. I wish I could lie to myself and assume that is the reason for the anxious vibes they give off, but I know that it's what is happening with the company. My mother's face has deflated without botox, her hair is graying, her eyes are veiny. My father looks the same but it's more obvious on him because he doesn't wear makeup. They clothes seem to not fit them either, as if they had shrunk.

Complete and utter stress.

Ethan is suddenly beside me and Ignatier takes the spot across from him, beside my mother.

"You cheated," she mumbles. Rock-paper-scissors I imagine.

As soon as everyone is settled, a waitress comes along and takes our orders. Just like last time, we have a secluded area and Dick and I order the same thing; calamari and prawn cocktails.

She asks about drinks, "I will have a pepsi and she," he points to me, "will have angry water."

"Soda water, thank you," I intercept sharply and flick his thigh.

Ignatier mutters his words to herself, laughing quietly. Ethan gives me a knowing smirk while my parents smile at the interaction, then each other, as if reminiscing.

"How are you liking Gotham, honey?" My mother asks.

"Not at all," I report happily, taking them aback, "I mean I like the aesthetic, grimey and dank, but the city still feels strange to me. It's fine though." Because of him.

I feel like bringing up another reason I hate it. That every time I go to work, I am haunted by my father's decision to shut down the free clinics and public health beneficiaries. The dark bags under his eyes and the way he leans into mom for support stops me.

"I know what you mean," she smiles at my father fondly, "We felt like strangers here for a long time. Long after we lost our accents even."

"You never told me."

She considers an answer for a while and I almost feel bad for pressing.

"You were three when we left France," she states, "Demi had only just been born and you were already a tough little nut, but still a baby. I suppose I didn't want you to miss home either."

Dick laughs quietly, "Three year old Cleo. That's an interesting thought."

"She was fearless," my father suddenly recounts, "We didn't live near the beach so when we came to Sunset it was Cleo's first time seeing the ocean. She walked right into the waves. Didn't even notice how cold it was."

As sweet as the story is, and that my father is telling it, I can see Dick recalling what I had told him last night. The other times I had entered the ocean with no hesitance.

"Is that when you started surfing?" He turns and smiles brightly at me. A good save.

"Yeah, dad bought me my first board within a week of living here."

Dad. I had forgotten it was him, for a while.

"It's not that pink one with the stripes, is it?" Ignatier suddenly asks.

My father chuckles, "It is."

"Wait, the one hanging on the wall in the boathouse?" Ethan adds.

It's the first I've heard of it. If my father isn't at the office, normally he's in the boat house, working on one of the yachts. Only Logan goes in there because he's been sailing since he was a baby. The rest of us never went in because we thought he was in there to get away from us.

"You hung Candy Cane on the wall?" I ask quietly.

My dad presses his lips together, as if not sure how to answer.

"It was in the basement for a while, forgotten," my mother explains in his place. Dad just nods along. 

"How did it end up on the wall?" Igantier asks, not knowing the fragility of the topic, because I can guess the event that lead to it. I got rid of most of my stuff before I left them all those years ago.

"I looked for you in the basement," he seems embarrassed as he says it, "I found it there the same time Hallow found your letter." Then it's my turn to be embarrassed. Ashamed, even. I remember every moment of writing that letter and leaving it in Hallow's room before going off to the Marines. "I hung it up in the boathouse."

"Why?"

It comes out before I can stop it, a whisper, staring him in face with nothing but compassion.

He smiles, "Because it connected us."

A warm feeling washes over me, one I haven't felt in many, many years. Tears sting my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. Dick squeezes my leg.

The only good thing to come of this situation with the company leak is that it has humanized my father. He could not understand connection before, would not have been able to put his reasoning for the board on the wall into such words.

When I told him that singing the alphabet was a comfort in my time away, he dismissed it. I bet he understands now. 

My mother starts to say something, but is cut off by my dad's obnoxious ringtone. It snaps everyone out of the familial moment.

He looks torn as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

"I've gotta take this," he murmurs apologetically. He gets to his feet and scurries off, greeting someone named Bronson on the other end before he disappears down the bathroom hall.

It leaves us in a strange atmosphere. There is something unspoken, a secret we're all in on but no one wants to admit it, probably because Dick is here.

"Your grandmother sold the building in Paris," my mother suddenly announces randomly, trying to keep the conversation on track.

I stare blankly, "Great." I don't care, especially if it's that grandmother. My mother's family are stuck up.

When our drinks arrive and no one says anything as the waitress awkwardly sets them all down, my mother finally propels herself off the seat and after my father, quickly saying that she'll be back.

As soon as she's gone, Ethan reaches into his satchel and produces a paper file.

"Bronson," he mumbles to himself, moving his drink and bread plate out of the way. "Bronson." Despite Dick's presence he goes into investigative mode, searching through the papers for something.

"Personnel file?" I ask, sipping my water. Dick pretend to be oblivious on his phone.

"If dad won't tell us what's going on, we've gotta find out for ourselves, right?" He responds. "I know there's a Bronson in here somewhere."

Between our chairs his satchel slumps to the side under the weight of all the files in it.

"Why aren't these computerized?" I ask, leaning down to pick it up.

"Not secure enough," he answers quickly. Ignatier nods along with him and I wonder what I've missed.

Among the papers strewn on the floor, an A4 covered in pastel colours catches my eye.

I bring it up into the light to find a few different graphic designs of the same logo. Art of gates, wings, clouds and rainbows fill up each page. Whatever it is must not have a name yet, because the words used for the title are "Name Here". The banner worked into each example though reads the motto "A Sanctuary Without Prejudice". 

Saying it out loud stops Ethan in his search.

"What's that?" Ignatier frowns.

My brother wiggles uncomfortably and I start to smirk.

"Tell me."

"You'll tease me," he murmurs, "Demitri did."

"Demitri's a piece of shit," I respond, flicking through the rest of the papers. All pastel and pretty. "Did he say it looked gay?"

"Yes," he grunts.

A Sanctuary Without Prejudice. 

"Is this a charity?" I ask.

His face twists and his head rocks side to side as he tries to come up with the words to explain. I guess this is the first time he's had to. Knowing Demitri he probably barged in looking to borrow some clean underwear or something and accidentally stumbled across them.

"It's a project. I was going to use the profits from my sector to build a safe haven for people who...don't fit in. Our city is one of the few who don't have anything like that. Gotham has heaps all thanks to the Wayne Foundation. I guess I felt a duty."

I nod slowly, pride blooming in my chest, "Like an LGBT+ safe space?"

"I guess," he says, starting his search again, "I hadn't figured out the details aside from where and how. Then all this leak crap came up and I almost forgot."

My own project which I had started in Gotham had to be put on hold as well for all of this. I guess it hadn't occurred to me that the others had good intentions as well.

"I was going to reopen several free clinics. Had all the planning and prep there before things got real," I tell him. "I'm proud of you, though."

Something has to be done. It's just going in circles. We're all just waiting until the leaks truly fuck the company into the dirt.

"Gordon and Hallow haven't opened any of their letters from the colleges they applied to, because they don't know what kind of situation we're going to be in when they graduate. Jer and Klover had some bad sportsmanship on the courts. Some kids calling them traitors. They haven't been back since. As for this one..."

Ignatier keeps staring down at her pink lemonade.

"I haven't been to school in a month," she murmurs.

The way she braces is like she expects me to explode.

"Were other kids messing with you?" I ask.

She nods, "That, and I wanted to stick with mom. Someone had to. Fantasia can't really handle the emotional turmoil so she's mostly been living in your apartment."

My insides twist. Did she have somewhere to go last night, then? While Dick and I were staying at mine?

"Demitri kind of shut down. He's always missing, doesn't answer his phone, pretends it's not happening. He only shows up to eat dinner occasionally. He spends a lot of time in Vegas."

I've had my heard buried in the grime of Gotham so deep I missed all of this. The resounding effect of this hit job on my family's legacy, on their well being.

It makes me disappointed in myself, but mostly, out for blood.

I have to do something, but I can't do it here.

We need to go home.

"Dick and I are leaving tonight," I say, getting to my feet. All three of them looks surprised.

"We are?" My idiot asks. I see him texting Damian on his phone, pictures of Cookie and Luscious popping up in the chat.

I nod, "There is work to be done." Maybe even with him and his family.

With that, I leave the table, passing the waitress with our food as I head towards my parents. I'm so stupid. My sense for warfare must have dulled among the pills and nightmares. How have I let it go this far? How has Amethyst the Purple Serpent not gone hunting for the culprit? Did I really need to witness the downfall of my family to get off my ass?

The two serpents on my body curl and hiss in excitement, a rage and fire boiling in me that has not had a placed in over two years.

 My father is talking on the phone still with 'Bronson' while my mother leans in to listen.

Without a single fuck given, I snatch the phone from his hand and hang up.

"Cleo!" He growls, straining to keep it quiet. "That was one of our lawyers!"

"Screw them, they're useless," I snap, staring at them hard with determination. Neither of them argue that, too stunned by my sudden demeanor, "I'm going to get Jacinda to help handle the press, okay? That's Bruce's main lawyer."

They share a defeated look, both showing how tired and stressed they are down here in this dark corner, only to me.

"Listen," I grab their joined hands, "Someone is trying to take everything you have built and make it into something evil. And I've been sitting on my ass trying to prove it was you instead ."

My mom sighs sadly, "Cleo honey-"

"When I get back to Gotham tonight I'm pulling strings. I'm going to find out who is doing this, and I'm going to make them pay, alright?"

Both their eyes shine. I've never spoken to them with such ferocity before.

"They're gonna pay. I'm gonna find them and they're going to pay."

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My mother holds my hand the entire car ride to the airport. I haven't held either of them since the wedding when my dad walked me down the aisle. He's on her other side, holding her other hand.

With Dick in the car some things feel impossible to say. He's across from me, with Ignatier in-between him and Ethan.

Words I've been meaning to say to my parents for years have been sitting in my chest since I got on the plane to come here. Despite the audience, it feels like the right time, the only time, to do it.

"I'm sorry."

Everyone looks at me, but I only focus on my parents.

"All those years ago...I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was leaving."

Their expressions are much the same. Fascinated, shocked and endeared. I suppose it's to be expected. I'm a stubborn person and generally unapologetic. Beyond that, I've often taken pride in the way I just up and left one night.

But here I am, laying bare the truth. I never should have left a letter. I should have sat them down, told them about this sense of duty I had. I should have told them I loved them and I hope they are proud of me.

"Do you remember the last conversation we had before you left?" Is the first thing my mother asks. She rubs her thumbs over the back of my hand.

My memory is foggy for many reasons. A combination of drugs, trauma, surgeries and experiments left a lot of black holes. But during my service I could never forget my last day in Sunset City.

"College," I snort, tiredly.

She nods with a soft laugh.

"I bought up college again. I knew it would make you angry, but it was the only way I could think of to get you to talk to me. You didn't explode like I thought you would, you just snapped at me and went to your car to catch a break. I didn't want you to leave so I followed you out, told you we were disappointed. That you were turning out like the girls you used to beat up at school."

I smile, sadly, and squeeze her hand.

"Don't know why we thought you'd be the moocher and not Demitri. That was stupid," my dad adds. It makes me laugh, but only until my mother bows her head.

"If you had died," her throat catches, "You would have died thinking we were disappointed in you."

I shake my head quickly, "No mom. I wasn't stupid. I knew you loved me."

The car comes to a stop, the furious tapping of Ignatier's acrylics on her phone the only sound in the small space. Dad moves to say something, but it suddenly feels too crowded.

Dick gets out first, giving me a wink, followed by Ignatier and Ethan. I have a feeling Ignatier is keeping the other kids updated on what is happening. The roar of the plane engine is blocked out when she shuts the door.

"We don't just love you, ma petite sirène," dad puts his hand on ours. My eyes meet his. "We're so proud of you."

Those words throw me. The stilled affection I had for my parents as a child, lost as a teenager, reignite. Years I thought they'd be trying to disregard forever lay acknowledged and now respected.

The doubt still creeps in, "I haven't even told you everything I did while I was there."

"Maybe not," dad nods, "But we know you. We know your heart. We know you were doing things for the greater good or else you would never have gone."

A pathetic breath, something like a sob, escapes before I can catch it.

"Next time," I say quickly, looking away, "Next time I visit, I'll tell you everything, okay?"

I lean forward and they both wrap their arms around me. It's a real, warm embrace, not done for cameras or reputation like those at the wedding. Not expected of me like when I'd come over for dinner before all of this.

Tears are soaked up in my mother's black cardigan. I let them fall as my dad gently rubs my back, my mom stroking my hair.

"I love you," I say, once and quickly, making sure my face looks red only from the friction of the material before I draw way.

I feel light. Free, in a way. Mushy and gross too. A stir of different things as I open the car door for them and follow them out onto the tarmac.

"Ma petite sirène. You haven't called me that since I was little," I shout over the roar of the plane.

They smile at each other, "You'll always be our little mermaid."

Dick gently presses his hand against my back, a lowkey tell that everything is ready. Time to say goodbye.

Ethan and I hug tightly. 

"You'll get your sanctuary," I tell him, loudly in his ear. 

I kiss his cheek as he draws back, smiling minutely, "I know."

When I turn to Ignatier, she looks torn. I open my arms to her but she shakes her head vigorously. I frown, looking to my parents, but they are saying goodbye to Dick.

My mother is holding his head close and she's whispering something that is making him nod.

"What?" I shout at Ignatier.

"Just...Just wait another minute!"

I'm about to ask why, but my question is answered straight away.

We don't hear the Range Rover that tears around the corner of the main building, but we do see it. The twins' car lurches and dives in a way that almost makes our mother pass out in Dick's arms.

Now I understand why Ignatier was so busy on her phone.

Dick retreats to the plane to avoid any more cruelty towards him. As soon as the car stops, Logan, Jeremy, Klover, Hallow and a few moments later, Gordon pour out of the doors.

"Cleo!" Klover and Jeremy scream together. All five of them come bolting towards me and fling themselves through the air with arms wide open. I feel limbs around my waist, my neck, my leg even. I stare at our parents between Hallow and Gordon's heads.

All I can do is smile, reminded why I ever wanted to fight for what is right in the first place. And reminded of what I am about to fight for now.