I feel like this short walk through my father's second secretary's office will lead to the demise of my future.

And it's possible that I feel like that because it's absolutely what it is.

This meeting is to discuss the terms of this faux marriage. That is made especially prominent when I open the door to see my father's conference table being occupied by himself and two other suits, one of them being our lawyer.

The other must be Wayne's lawyer.

"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne. I hope you're enjoying Sunset City so far. Sorry for the wait," my father says, standing to greet my future father-in-law.

Egh. 

He also greets the three sons but barely glances at myself or Mai. I give her a look that she returns, before the two of us take our seats across from our lawyer.

My father sits at the head of the table, close to our side. Bruce Wayne takes the other head. Leaving one seat between himself and Mai, Richard sits down with his brothers between him and Bruce.

I patiently wait for my fathead father to get things started.

"Times are changing. The world is moving forward fast and in order for companies to keep up, new alliances must be formed. It may seem old fashioned and it may seem unnecessary, but a marriage is the best way to create a trusting relationship. Most importantly, it solidifies investor-confidence in our stock and will further promote out companies to them and the public. This marriage between the son and daughter of the two company's head's is what our new empire will be built on. We will have a new way to advertise to the public, a trusting connection, business deals that will go ahead because two of us are involved, and who knows? Maybe an air or two to the companies."

My eyes dart to the corner of the room, hooded and angry. In my father's dreams. 

His words sound absolutely ridiculous, like an over-rehearsed infomercial. I can see the glint of money in his eye.

Remember, Nightwing told us this is the way.

"First there are some terms that need to be agreed to," our lawyer Austin begins.

"Of course," Bruce says, nodding to his attorney.

"Would you like to start?" Austin looks at her. The woman opens up her files where a stack of papers live. I realise that they are contract sections.

Suddenly, the situation loses its grace. This is nothing but a contract agreement. My marriage is a piece of document paper that my father will file away as another business deal.

"First we'll agree on the term. Mr Grayson has asked for an eight month compulsory term. This is the duration the contract will last," she says. I look at Austin.

"Miss Perich asks for a five month term."

My father glances at me with an irritated frown.

"Five months is an awfully short marriage," Wayne's lawyer says. I'm going to call her Maroon; that's the colour of her blazer and skirt.

"Eight months is an awfully long contract," I say back to her. Austin smiles at me.

"A compromise; six months?"

I nod. Richard must too.

"Next matter; living arrangements," Maroon carries on.

"As Miss Perich will be taking over the finance sector of Perich Inc., she will be moving to Gotham, to attend the financial tower," Austin puts in.

Maroon looks at Bruce, "Mr Grayson lives in Blüdhaven."

Oh great. Moving from one of the most beautiful cities in the world to a gutter town of crime and blood-stained sidewalks.

"Blüdhaven?" Austin questions, seeing the confusion in my eyes. "Gotham is no longer where you live?"

Bruce glances at Richard. The hands folded over my crossed legs tap nervously. Gotham is more desirable. It's safer. I've been around guns and violence enough.

"I'm sure Dick won't mind moving to Gotham for five months," Bruce says. I don't glance their way, avoiding seeing Richard's reaction.

"Okay. Gotham. Living arrangements?"

"Mr Wayne has offered to buy the penthouse of a new apartment building, in the centre of the city. Is this suitable?" 

Yes. 

Austin leans over to my father. The have a quick discussion, before Austin turns to Mr Wayne.

"The Perich family will pay for half of this."

"Of course."

How romantic.

"Our next matter is publication and public displays of affection...."

My eyes drift off to the corner of the room, as they continue discussing the next few months of my life like they're building a tower. A tower that will ultimately crush me once it becomes too heavy.

There will be thirteen agreements, Austin had told me. Thirteen that I have to sign off on. Thirteen that I will have to live on. It takes half an hour, but Austin, my father and Mai seem to notice I'm away with the fairies.

It's the PTSD that does that. I feel it beneath my skin; the memories of trauma. Mines beneath my feet, gunfire over my head and I knife in my gut.

Every area of life is my life could be a war zone, with different dangers. Somehow every aspect here in this leading country can compare in a way to the conflict overseas. 

The mines beneath my feet are my family. I know they're there, but will they go off? They can tear me apart in an instant, or offer me a vantage point. I'll never know until it happens.

The gunfire over my head is everyone else. Friends, enemies, colleagues, the media. Do I care that they are there? Of course. Does their presence affect me? No.

And the knife to my gut could be love, if I wanted to be poetic. But I don't. Love is for weaklings who can not stand alone.

In this case, the knife to my gut is my PTSD. Slowly killing me; draining me one step at a time.

Or it could be this marriage and its short run.

We'll divorce in six months. I wonder what cover story they'll use? Maybe our company lives separated us? Perhaps our businesses no longer agree on anything?

Maybe one of us cheated?

The real word fades back into my mind with several different things happening. Everyone is looking at me, Austin is saying words and Mai is pinching my hand to draw me from my focal seizure.

She leans in, whispering about the clause I wanted to add. I straighten up.

"Miss Perich. I believe you wanted to add something?" Austin asks, making it clearer for me. 

So, I still have focal seizures. Interesting.

"The red head," I hear my own voice saying. I lean forward a little, meeting eyes with Richard Grayson. He looks confused. "She stays away. I'm not interested in reading magazine articles about your soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend being too close. I don't care for cheating rumours that reflect badly on me."

People being cheated on feel the shame too.

"Barbara Gordon," Mai specifies. I nod.

The family seem a little uncomfortable with that proposal. They glance at each other nervously. Bruce has his hands clasped beneath his chin and he looks to be contemplating an answer.

"Why should you get to dictate who he sees?" Jason Todd asks, an irritated expression on his face.

"Are you saying it's okay for him to dictate aspects of my life through the contract, but unfair for me to do the same?" I question him immediately, calmly. My solemn expression builds a hint of a smirk, "How very misogynistic and ignorant of you."

He glowers, moving to reply before Bruce beats him to it.

"We can certainly make arrangements to keep Dick and Barbara separate, for the time being," he says.

"Arrangements such as?" I demand before I can lose grip on the situation. 

Richard looks at Bruce, who gives him a small nod. My future husband looks pained to say it; "I'll never be alone with her," he says. 

Austin looks to her papers, "Clause reading; Mr Grayson will not be in the presence of one Barbra Gordon without the accompaniment of Cleopatra Perich-"

"I didn't say that," Richard interrupts. A look from Bruce and he draws back, folding his arms. Austin looks to me again.

"I get to bring my cats with me to Gotham," I state. The annoyance to my right gives me an audible kick, "Mai too," I add.

There is no way I'm leaving Luscious and Cookie with my sister or anyone but me. And Mai will have to keep me...sane. 

"You consent to this, Miss Sinshou?" Austin asks. She nods, so he makes a record of it. The two lawyers look at each other silently, as though conversing in a secret languge.

"Will there be anything else?" Maroon asks, looking at both parties. I can't think of anything else that may make this more comfortable for me, except for not doing it.

"Yes, Austin. One last thing. Something of confidentiality," my father puts in.

The world stops spinning for a moment as I can not quite contemplate what he is actually about to do. The moment he opens his mouth again though, I get to my feet

Mai does too and hands me my phone.

He's about to bring up my mental stability; my suicide attempts; the scars and the protection from nightmares.

"Cleo has had a very troubled past few years. If this were to get out to the public-" My mother answers her phone and I press it to my cheek, slipping my arm into my bag.

"Mom, dad's doing a code 12. Intercept immediately," I say. I don't hear her breathe before she hangs up. I'm halfway to the door with Mai before my father's phone begins ringing.

I stop, turning to see him answer it with fear clear on his face. Once I hear my mother roaring like a lioness protecting her cub, I look at Austin.

"Let me know when the contract is drawn," I say, as Mai opens the door for me. I do not even glance at Richard Grayson or the Waynes, who are probably confused about the whole predicament, before striding out of the office.

I'll be living in Gotham within a month.