Spot the DC Cinematic Universe easter egg here

During my tours there were many hilarious moments. When Christa put her bullets in backwards on the first day of training we all laughed, even her. There were sad moments, heroric moments and, obviously, awkward moments.

But nothing compares to this. 

Nothing compares to a family dinner between Wayne and Perich. It's silent and I don't know who is copping the evil eye worse. My father is giving it to myself and Ethan. After we blindsided him with Chris' proposal at my wedding, it's no surprise. Bruce Wayne and Grayson are getting it from my younger siblings, I imagine for taking me away from them. Timothy and Hallow seem to be glaring within their own world. 

Asshole brother went back to Gotham while we were in Paris, apparently.

No one is talking. My mom has a fake smile plastered on her face which is not convincing anyone. I've never gripped my fork tighter, stuck between Ethan and Grayson without raising my eyes.

"Cleo," my youngest brother Logan begins, making almost everyone jump.

I barely scrounge up a tired sounding, "Uh, what is it buddy?"

"When are you leaving? Do I get to come home early from school?" He asks. He is clearly oblivious to the tension surrounding him as he puts some steak in his mouth.

Time to act. 

"We leave in two days," I say slowly, "You can come out of school early."

I know Grayson is frowning at me when he starts to correct me, "Actually, it's-"

He stops talking when I give him a fair kick beneath the table. He seems to understand and settle, though not without giving me a confused glance.

No one likes goodbyes. To me goodbyes have been desperately applying pressure to a gunshot wound and begging one of my team to hold on. The last time I said goodbye to these kids I was heading off to a war that was not my own. I refuse to have to say goodbye again.

We're leaving tomorrow when they're at school.

"Are we going to have a party?" Klover asks. She looks daunted at the possiblity.

"No," I smile at her.

"Thank God," Gordon rolls his eyes. 

My mother then seems to notice his head is bent particularly low. She glares, "Gordon. Do you have your phone in your lap?"

His demeanour changes because of the new big rule; no phones at the table.

"I want to have a party though!" Logan shouts over my mother at Klover.

"Why?" She snaps, "You end up going to bed half way through them!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

My mother is on her feet and demanding both Hallow and Gordon hand over their electornics immediately.

"Mom I don't even have mine!" Hallow shouts, emptying her pockets out. My mother's glare sharpens as she reaches into my sisters jacket and pulls out a phone where her bra strap would be.

"You guys are so loud," Demitri complains, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Them?" Fantasia snorts, "You do realise that you were exactly like that when we were kids, right?"

"You say 'when' like you're not still a kid."

As they argue and tease one another, I can not help but smile at them. They look happy even though they are fighting. I know when I'm not here, they'll be fine.

I turn back to my plate and see Grayson staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I ignore him and push my food away as my father tries to desperately apologise for his childrens' behaviour. 

The Waynes don't seem to mind. In fact, they almost seem jealous as most of the arguments turn into petty jokes. Demitri starts pelting Fantasia with peas which is where my mother draws the line, because food fights have happened before.

I'm going to miss them every second.

◊

◊

In the night I wake up in my bed with Mai shaking my shoulder. Groggily, I drag myself out from beneath the blankets and head over to the bathroom.

My last shower in Sunset City.

Before I left for the Elites nothing so small was on my mind. I wasn't thinking about my last anything. I was just thinking about getting away and working towards retribution.

Trading a life of luxury and ignorance for fighting the good fight.

I change into some soft clothes for the plane ride. It won't be fun; Grayson, both Waynes, Drake, myself and Mai. And my cats.

So fun. 

When I walk out she is glaring at me impatiently, tapping her watch. I ignore her and take one cat carrier and my suitcase in hand.

Everything else is already in shit city, which is why I slept at the house instead of my apartment.

We're as quiet as possible walking down the hallway, moving slowly so the sleeping children around us do not wake and demand to know why I am leaving early.

It almost seems we're home free as we descend the stairs, just nearing the front door before, "Cleo?"

I wince at the sound of Logan's quiet voice. 

He comes at Mai and I from the side with a cup of water in his hand. Big round eyes stare up at me as realisation starts to dawn.

"You're leaving now?" He frowns, arms swinging down, almost spilling his drink. No answer is good. If I say yes it means I lied and if I say no, how else am I going to explain?

It doesn't matter because I can see he knows. His face starts to contort. He is going to cry.

"Step to sailor," I demand, trying to keep my voice in check.

He shakes his head, "We were going to have a party. And-"

I place Cookie and my case down as I kneel. I reach out and place my hands on his shoulders.

"Listen kiddo," I begin, "We're a family who has a lot of freedom, but a lot of burden. I know you don't understand what that means right now, but one day you will. Sometimes we need to lie and keep secrets, but if it's to protect someone, it's okay."

He seems to contemplate the words as his cheeks flush and his nose reddends. His eyes are watering and I stand up so I can hug him. Mai remains to the side with her head bowed.

"I'll be back. I came back, didn't I?"

Didn't I?

Mai doesn't say anything in the limo. Maybe she realises I'm far too tired to talk. Instead she just hands me my medicine and pretends she doesn't see me holding both wedding rings in my hand.

I watch the beach pass by sadly. A sight I longed for while I was away will become just that again. No more rhythmic waves or salty tasting air. 

A chlorine pool on a balcony.

We enter the airport through a private section. Wayne's plane, the one we took to Paris, is resting there on the tarmac. Grayson, his siblings and his guardian seem to be boarding.

Grayson stops at the door when he sees our limo coming towards him.

Mai steps out first. I pocket my own ring and follow her. The chauffeur hands our luggage to the baggage handlers who start to load them up into the plane.

Grayson lets Mai in first. She merely nods to him before stepping past.

With the roar of the plane engine I struggle to hear him, but Grayson shouts, "There's champagne inside!" With a joking grin.

Staring at him, I realise the last thing I want to do is drink with him again or have sex with him again or even live with him at the moment. 

Selfishly I think of leaving that hotel alone.

So, I don't laugh or smile back. I reach for his hand and pull his open palm up between us. Without breaking eye contact, I press his wedding ring into his palm and step past him.

On the plane, Mai and I sit next to each other. She seems to be doing some work, as does Bruce Wayne who is far away from everyone, hunched over some papers. Damian Wayne and Tim Drake sit apart, but they too seem to be doing work. Almost competing, really.

Grayson is behind them sitting idle with a champagne glass in his hand, staring at the rim looking like a kicked puppy. 

I watch netflix on my tablet.

Back to square one.

◊

◊

Gotham city smells like blood and sewerage.

That is quite literally the only thought in mind as we cross the tarmac. 

I'm with Mai, but Grayson jogs up behind me.

"Uh, sorry but-"

"Let me guess," I interrupt, "You've gotta be somewhere." I know I'm being an asshole. 

I stop and turn to him once we get inside the airport. Mai halts but the other Waynes go on ahead.

"You don't have to tell me every time," I say, "We're not really husband and wife, remember? It's fine."

He frowns like I've confused him, "Right."

Without much choice we end up walking through the VIP section of the airport together. Our luggage is apparently already heading to the apartment. This whole thing is happening far too rapidly for my liking. It feels like our first horrible date with the texting and the flirtatious waiter and the paparazzi was only yesterday.

When we step back outside, at the front this time, it is raining. The first car to show up is a Rolls-Royce limo with an elderly man driving it. Bruce Wayne and his offspring, adopted and blood, give a completely fake goodbye before quickly piling into the car.

Next is a sleek black sports which Mai seems to instantly recognise as her own. Grayson and I stand aside as the driver gets out and hands her the keys.

Before she gets into the driver's seat she gives me a pointed look. I have to restrain myself from flipping her off before she gets in and speeds off.

"She really cares about you," he notes, watching her go.

I scoff, "That's what she's paid for."

He frowns at me but I ignore him in favour of glaring at the back of Mai's car. She got a black chevy corvette for herself. She better have picked me something similar.

"Uh..." Grayson pokes me in the shoulder and I twist around to glare at him, but something else bright catches my eye in the distance.

"You bitch," I choke out, watching as a Lamborghini rolls through the gates sporting the ugliest coat of bright purple paint I have ever seen in my life.

"Hey, it's our wedding all over again," Grayson jokes, nudging me with his elbow.

Stop touching me. 

"What, disappointing?" I snap on reflex, watching the burn roll over him.

I couldn't care less because all I can think about is driving around in a bright purple car like that, gaining the reputation of being a spoiled little bitch who gets everything in one colour like an idiot.

"At least it's a Lambo?" He tries to comfort as the driver gets out with a big smile on his face.

"Lamborghini Huracan for Mrs Cleopatra Grayson?" Egh. 

"Yeah," is all I say, heading over to him and holding my hand out for the keys. I sign two contracts before I open the door for myself, basically telling the kid to get lost.

Di-...Grayson lifts up Cookie's cage and helps place it on the back seat. This is followed by Luscious'. I put the rest of my carry-ons in this monstrosity before heading back to the driver's side.

"See you at home?"

He is back standing under cover. Headlights come into view and I assume that's one of his own blue sports cars.

"See ya'," I tell him, swinging myself into the front seat. I don't glance at him twice as I type the address of our penthouse into the GPS.

I won't lie and say that driving through Gotham is easy and doesn't make me nervous at all.  Gotham, the shit city known for Bats and clowns and riddles and poison. I can't help but compare it to somewhere like Relaysia or Ekastan.

Dangerous.

I feel like I'm driving away from the airport for a millennia in the rain.

It reminds me of New York in some way. It's late but people are out and about. Every second building is old with every first looking brand new. There's a homeless guy on each corner. People seem to instinctively be looking up now and again, like they're searching for something.

The inner-city, this part at least, seems to be fresh and new. It's clean and I wonder if this is where the assholes like me live. Rich people who can afford to keep their curb-side appealing.

"Your destination will be on the left." 

Guess it is where the assholes like me live.

Before I turn into the car park I peer up at the building. It isn't that tall but there are at least four in a row like it. I can see the trees of our rooftop terrace but other than that, it seems quite secluded.

Which means I can swim peacefully.

Underground there are two carparks stating Grayson on the head bump. I park in the closest one and only grab one bag so I can take the cats.

Inside the lobby is golden and white. Typical wealth-implying colours.

The guard there recognises me. An older man with a thick British accent. I wonder if he is paid to put it on? 

"Welcome, Mrs Grayson." Getting real sick of that. "Your luggage and Mr Grayson's luggage has been moved to your apartment."

"Thank you," I lie, "My husband will be home later."

He nods deeply again, almost like he is bowing, "I am the night guard. My name is Finbar. Should you have any concerns please contact me through your apartment's communicator. Would you like any help with your current bags?"

All I have is two carriers and a handbag.

"No, thank you," I smile. 

"Of course."

He opens the elevator for me and I quickly head in, wanting nothing more than to get some sleep before this charade begins again.

The elevator is lit up quite prettily. Thick gold bars line the lights like a Hollywood theme.

Before the doors slide shut, Finbar gives me a welcoming smile.

"Welcome to Gotham."

Official Half Way Mark.