DISCLAIMER/TRIGGER WARNING:

This story contains content of a highly disturbing nature that may be offensive to some readers: including (but definitely not limited to): domestic abuse, rape, blood & gore, general violence, and torture. Please DO NOT read if you are likely to be offended! Vega's life is not a pretty picture!

Vega & other Street Fighter characters owned by CAPCOM. Victoria de Cerna, Miguel de Cerna, & Marc Antoní Gauldera belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a continuation of the last story, The Adventures Spanish Ninja in Japan. Please read it first if you haven't!
s/12993236/1/The-Adventures-of-the-Spanish-Ninja-in-Japan-Book-2-of-3

"Hm? Tears, Camilla? Yes, it is a sad story, isn't it? Very sad...but, I try to take comfort in knowing that we'll be together one day in Eternity…" I mused, "but which Eternity that is I do not know, because God never saw it fit to bless me. The one thing that gave me happiness in this wretched world He took away from me."

I stroked her hair and she mewled quietly like a kitten.

"Ah, but, I have you now. Is this mercy? I do not know; but then again…" I sighed heavily. "Perhaps it is because my beautiful mother, my Victoria, gave you to me. She found you, Camilla. Yes, I know it was I who took you, I who saw you in your bedroom window, but it was she who led me to you! We must be grateful for that and we must never forget."

She lay with her back to me, curled in a fetal position. I ran my fingers gently through her long blonde hair, caressing her and she remained silent.

"Ah, but alas, my tale isn't over…

The next day—or what I assume was day, I awoke to darkness...

My head swam, whirling in pain and my vision was hazy; I was uncertain if it was the darkness or my eyes. My eyes burned and dried tears stained my face.

I tried to move my arms, only to have the horrific realization that I was restrained to the bed somehow!

I began to scream, trying to thrash out of my bonds, realizing to even more horror that I had been completely restrained—wrist and ankles.

'Help! Help!'

'Calm yourself, Vega. You'll pull out your stitches.' said a voice I immediately recognized as Marc Antoní's and it did nothing to soothe me.

He switched on a small lamp on my bedside table and I glared at him.

'What happened? Where am I? What-what have you done to me? Untie me, you bastard!'

Marc Antoní sighed, folding his arms.

'So many questions, not that I can blame you, in your situation. Now, I can't have you trying to kill yourself again. Not after yesterday.'

My head still spun and I tried to comprehend him as I struggled to recall the past day's events.

'Wh-what? I...was not...trying...to kill myself!' my voice cracked and my throat ached.

Marc Antoní poured me a glass of water and lifted my head. I struggled to drink without choking myself.

'By opening your arm? I think not. I was there, Vega. I saw what happened; you sitting there, in a puddle of blood, cradling her in your arms, blood running down your mouth like a damned vampire! What were you thinking?'

'I was...trying to...save her.'

Marc Antoní's graphic descriptions churned my stomach; I frantically tried to roll over to grab the small garbage can beside the bed but the leather restraints padded in wool strained against me and I could not reach it.

Marc Antoní grimaced in disgust, diving for the trash can as I vomited into it.

'Yes, you did that a lot yesterday. How much blood did you drink?'

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, staring back up at him in disbelief.

'What do you mean? I didn't…I...I was trying to save her! So I gave her mine.'

He shook his head, covering his face with his palm.

There was an aftertaste of bile and the copper tang of blood in my mouth. I traced the faint memories of the day before, blocked by pain. I remembered the final moment I had given her a gentle kiss on her lips, how sweet I thought it would be to taste her blood just once, and now the bitter reality haunted me.

I stared at the wall, tears sliding down the corners of my eyes.

'He...killed her.' I choked back my tears and he nodded somberly. "Miguel, my...my uncle."

'I always knew he would, one day—the bastard!' he hissed, and then regained his somber composure. 'Still, you did the only thing you could do...but, after that, I'm afraid I don't understand.'

'You wouldn't,' I sneered. 'I wouldn't expect you to understand anything.'

The bed shifted beneath me as he sat down.

'Get off!'

'You know, I'm not as heartless as I may seem...do you want these off or not?'

I growled.

'As I thought,' he said, beginning to unbuckle the straps on my wrists. 'You were completely psychotic when I found you.'

'What?' I exclaimed, finally able to sit up and he smirked.

'Babbling, rocking her in your arms, and completely ignoring me, save but to kick and scratch at me like a mad demon when I tried to pull you away. I didn't think I would be able to part you from her. The doctor wanted to institutionalize you, you know, but I wouldn't allow it.'

I rubbed my wrists, wincing as I touched my wounded arm. It had been properly bandaged, blood staining the cloth.

'This was the solution that the doctor and I came to. A lovely dose of Haldol and strapped to the bed until which time you were deemed 'sane' again—or at least not willing to hurt yourself—or others. I will undo your legs if you promise not to kick me.'

'I am sane! And I would like to do more than that!' I spat, 'You killed her! You did!'

Marc Antoní undid my ankle straps with a heavy sigh.

'You really are delusional, aren't you?'

'I'm not crazy, old man! You have done nothing but ruin our lives since I met you!'

'I did no such thing! I merely showed you the truth of what your lives really were. You know, your constant rhetoric is exhausting, Vega. In fact, you should get some rest.'

'I don't need rest! Where is she?' I exclaimed and he drew close to my face.

'You know very well where she is! You don't need to see her like that.'

'Yes I do! I need her. I need to see her!'

Marc Antoní's eyes flashed dangerously.

'You don't and you won't. Try anything and you'll be sedated...again. The doctor is a good friend of mine and he has enough sedatives to knock out an elephant.' he smirked at me.

I rose up from the bed defiantly and he pushed me back down.

'Don't try to fight me. You're far too weak to do anything right now. Rest.'

'Go to hell!' I cried.

I flew up again, leaping from the bed out the door and I made it just outside her bedroom door, dropping to my knees, when he wrapped his arms around my chest from behind, beginning to drag me.

'You don't need to go in there right now!' he hissed in my ear, dragging me back towards my bedroom.

'Yes I do! I need her, damn you! I need her!'

Marc stopped, catching his breath.

'Your mother isn't in there!' he exclaimed.

'No! Mother!' I bellowed. 'Mother!'

'Not...not anymore…' his voice dropped to a somber tone. 'There's nothing in there now but blood and ruin. Your beloved sanctuary is no more.'

'My beloved Victoria…' I moaned. 'I cannot be without her! She is all I have ever known! I need her…' I hung my head, large tears rolling down my cheeks.

'I am sorry, Vega. I really am. I can assure you she's being well cared for until it's time.'

'I beg of you, Marc Antoní Gauldera! Take me to her! Now!'

'I can't do that.' he insisted, though his tone seemed oddly gentle.

'If you ever loved her at all, you will do this for me!'

Marc Antoní sighed. 'You know I can't—they won't even let me see her until it is time.'

He pulled me to my feet, his face seemingly emotionless.

'For god sakes, man!' I cried, 'You are not her blood! It is no wonder they would not let you see her but I am her only son! I am her blood!'

He shook his head and led me back to my own bed—a place I had scarcely laid in my whole life—it felt so foreign and all I really wanted to do was be back in the one place I knew would give me comfort. As per usual, Marc Antoní seemed to have other ideas.

He helped me back onto the bed.

'That much is clear! But it is also clear that you are not ready.' he said, leaning down to my face and I glared at him. 'I can have the doctor give you some more medicine so that you can heal properly.'

'I don't need rest! I don't need anything!' I hissed, sitting up.

At last, his familiar smirk appeared on his cold face.

'Oh yes you do. You have been through more than anyone could bear.'

'You don't know what I've been through.' I growled.

'Don't I? I lost her too.'

'Shut up!'

Marc Antoní chuckled at my outburst.

'You will never love her like I did. Never.' I insisted.

'Easy now, Vega. You will open yourself back up, or worse…'

'Do you think I care? I would rather die than listen to you!'

'Funny, I think I hit a nerve.' he chuckled at his own joke.

'Go to hell!'

'And leave you here all alone?' he smirked and my blood boiled.

He turned to go out the door.

'Go to hell!' I screamed again.

He sighed in resignation, looking over his shoulder at me.

'Fine. At least you'll know where I'll be if you need me.'

I found myself sleeping more than I ever had, either by my own exhaustion or the doctor's sedatives, which I grew to resent. I never trusted them when they were given to me, even though they insisted they would help me sleep. I had no way of knowing what Marc Antoní was up to while I slept and that alone made me uneasy.

It felt so strange to sleep alone after being with her my whole life; I stretched my arm out against the other pillow to feel the emptiness.

She was always there, no matter what. We had spent days reading to each other and talking, even sleeping—she was above all, my constant companion.

This may seem so mundane or trivial to some, especially for someone as rich and famous as I, but these are the things I treasured most in my life. Now she was gone and I had no comprehension of this.

After some time, I realized I could not continue like this. I left my forsaken room and went to hers; the door was not locked, as I figured—as I was the only one with the key.

I opened the door with no hesitation, unconcerned with what I might fight beyond it. The daylight streamed in, as it always did, lighting the room in a wash of white.

The sunlight hit my face for the first time in days and I stumbled into the room like a vampire burning from the daylight, shielding my eyes with my hand. I collapsed face down on the bed, taking a deep breath.

I laid there for a moment, listening to my breathing and my heartbeat, and my blood as it raced through my ears. All was quiet. Silent.

I lifted my head, heavy with sorrow and a vague sense of reality.

The air hung thick with the smell of blood, assaulting my nose and I coughed, unable to cope with it as I normally did. Her familiar scent lingered, mixed in with the heady scent of her blood, once my own sacred ambrosia, now it was all around me like a macabrely stale perfume.

The walls were covered with it; streaks of blood, contrasting dark against the red paint. I looked over to see the pools of blood where Miguel and my mother laid, dark and thick on the floor.

My chest tightened, tears welled in my eyes and I began to shake.

Nothing felt real, nothing was real anymore—the way my head spun told me this was true—and I knew I was dying…

I shambled across the floor with shaky steps, and I went to my mother's vanity and I flopped down upon the seat. My eyes fell to her hairbrush, still filled with her golden hair. I picked it up, caressing the smooth, ivory varnished wood.

Instinctually, I ran the brush through my hair, closing my eyes and remembering the feeling of her fingers as they gently combed through it.

I glanced into the mirror and my hands shook as it revealed the horrors in front of me; streaks of dried blood covered my face and my body. I dropped the brush, running my trembling hands down my face and I frantically combed through my hair.

Tangled and matted with blood, my long golden hair hung wild in my face, covering me in a feral mass.

I felt the air being crushed out of my lungs, squeezing me mercilessly. I put my hand to my chest, struggling to breathe.

I dropped to the floor, resting an arm against the end of the bed and resting my head in my other hand.

All at once, her scent invaded my senses and tears came to my eyes; heavy with despair, I dragged myself onto the bed, heaving hysteric sobs of agony as the one thing I treasured most brought me back to my cruel reality.

'Victoria! I beg of you! Don't leave me like this!' I cried into my pillow.

I rolled onto my back, tearing madly at my hair.

'Possess me, haunt me! I won't mind, I swear to you! I gave you my heart, my soul! Please, come and claim them! I won't need them without you now...only, come back to me. I beg of you! End my suffering!'

As I lay there sobbing, a sensation of warmth surrounded me, the touch of a gentle caress in my hair, stroking me just as she once did—and I knew she was there.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I chuckled.

'Victoria...mother? You're here! You're really here, aren't you?' I wiped the tears from my face and sat up.

I went to her armoire and I began to tear through her wardrobe, searching for every last trace of her scent, savoring it again and again; the room was saturated with it!

I caressed her satin nightgown against my face, once feeling so warm now feeling cool to the touch. I held it tight, clutching it to me, the faint trace of her floral scent still lingering.

My heart swelled with joy as I spun around the room, feeling at once rejuvenated.

'Mother!' I cried. 'I swear to you, I won't let anyone breach the sanctity of this room! Never! I will be the only one here, no one else.'

Suddenly, I felt air lift in the room and I could no longer feel her near me.

'Please! No! Come back! Please don't leave me like this! Come back to me!' I yelled.

I sank down on the floor, leaning against the bed, crumpling her nightgown in my hand and covering my face as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. A chill went down my spine, thinking of the times she would reach down and stroke my hair, comforting me. I longed for it now more than ever, but I felt nothing.

'Vega,' a voice startled me from my melancholy.

I looked up, pushing my hair back to see Marc Antoni leaning against the frame of the doorway.

My jaw and my fists clenched upon seeing him.

'Stay away! Don't you come in here!'

'Fine with me. I'll stay right where I am.'

'Go to hell!' I hissed, burying my face in my arms.

'I only wish to see how you are.'

There was something in his voice that told me he was sincere.

I looked back up at him to see his stoic face.

'How do you think?' I sneered.

He sighed.

'I understand.'

'You cannot possibly!'

'Can't I? Vega, you are not the only one who is grieving.'

I rolled my eyes and buried my face again.

'Do you think I care? You let her die!' I roared, glaring at him with enough force that I was certain I bore holes in his head.

'I was not there!'

'No! You knew he was there so you-you let us go! You let us go so she would die! I know that's what you had planned!'

'You are being ridiculous! You're paranoid!'

'No…' I growled. 'You liar!'

Marc pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh before looking back at me.

'Listen to me—I had no way of knowing your uncle was there or I would have stopped you both from leaving—in fact, I distinctly recall trying to in the first place!'

'You could not have stopped us.' I snickered at him.

'My, aren't we quick to change our mind? Vega, I have plenty of ways of stopping you...if I wanted to. You are not as powerful as you think.'

'You are wrong, old man! Dead wrong! I am a man now and I beat you! I beat you and I could have killed you in Japan!'

'Ahhh, but you didn't, did you?'

'I hate you.' I hung my head in defeat once again.

'I know you do, Vega. I know...and I loved her too, you know.'

'Do not remind me!' I hissed.

He chuckled.

'Shut up, you smug perverted son of a bitch!' I hissed. 'I never knew her like you did...and now, I never will.'

Marc Antoní shook his head.

'Ai, Déu meu! Your mother is gone and that is all you can think about? Really? Really? You are jealous...of me? Unbelievable!'

'Shut up!' I hissed, unwilling to listen to his mocking shrieks any longer.

He gave a heavy sigh.

'You were inside her for 9 whole months! Isn't that enough for you? You know, I wish you could understand how precious your bond with her was…'

'Don't you dare presume to tell me about our bond! You can never understand! Never! I need her and I will never see her again!' I snapped.

I looked at him and he stared at the floor.

'Truly unfortunate...your father and I could never have the bond with her that you did. We were not her blood. You are a part of her we could never be and it is sacred...no matter how...twisted it became by the end.' he looked at me with a sad smile. 'Your father and I were close...but, I wish that I could be connected to someone the way that you were, Vega.'

I snickered.

'It's you! You're the one who's jealous! You're jealous…of me! You wretched old man! You should be! You never deserved her—you or my father! I am the only one who ever truly loved her, accepted her for who she was...deserved her.'

Marc Antoní cleared his throat.

'Come, Vega. We must get you cleaned up.' he struggled to pull me up and I saw his eyes level with mine.

'Fuck off!' I growled, pulling against him. 'You desecrate her sacred space!'

'Mm, that pretty Frenchman gave you such a dirty mouth.' I glared up at him and the corners of his mouth curled up into a perverse grin.

'Fine. That's fine. You can lock yourself in here all you want, wear her clothes for all I care! But you won't be any closer to her.'

I bowed my head, gritting my teeth.

'Go to hell!'

I clutched the nightgown tighter in my hand, refusing to look at him.

'I know the truth hurts, boy, and it always will. But the only way you will be close to her again is to keep her inside of you.'

Just then, I felt the coolness of a washcloth against my face and realized that he was washing my face, far gentler than I could have ever imagined him being capable.

His gesture seemed as cold as the washcloth upon my face, for I could find no warmth in his touch. I repressed a shudder as the coolness met the heat of my skin.

'Why?' I looked up at him.

'Hate me all you want but, I am the only family you have.'

His cool green eyes looked back at me clear and bright.

'You're pathetic.' I muttered, staring at my feet.

'And so are you.' I looked back to see him standing before me with his arms folded.

He pulled me unsteady to my feet, held in his grasp on my shoulders.

'You need me.' he said and I traced his eyes again but he stared back at me resolutely.

My lips parted, anxiety squeezing my chest tight but I said nothing. A tear fell involuntarily down my cheek—or perhaps it was from the washcloth—I do not know.

I swallowed, licking my dry lips.

'No, I need her.' I insisted.

He nodded, looking down.

'I know.' I felt the grip on my shoulders tighten as though he was trying to steady himself as well. 'I know.'

I had never been this close to this man in my life, outside of combat. I could not understand his compulsion to be kind.

'Let me go.'

Marc Antoní looked back up at me, releasing his grip and I fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

He sighed heavily, turning away and disappearing out the door without a word.