It would probably bother her for awhile that she hadn't thought of this sooner. Bison wasn't the only one who was deeply entrenched in the supernatural. She had her own friends and allies, and she was damned if she wasn't going to try to get out of this body any way that she could. Especially before this awful bullfight. She thought it might be a sign of good fortune that a seat opened up on a flight to Genoa at the last second.

She inhaled deeply as she approached the old, small home in the countryside. The cab driver who took her out here seemed a little mystified as to why she wanted to be taken into the middle of nowhere like this. In that process, Cammy delighted in speaking pretty fluent Italian with the man. It was one of the more interesting things about inhabiting this body-Vega knew a few different languages, and she could use them through him with relative ease. It left her to wonder how somebody learned so much. He was, she hated to admit, a pretty smart person. Maybe he'd never solve some big paradox or synthesize a new element or anything, but she couldn't say he wasn't intelligent. He probably thought any lapse in knowledge was some glaring flaw that needed dealing with.

As she walked up to the little home, with its numerous potted plants, vegetable garden, gently tinkling wind chimes, a bird bath, she felt decidedly nervous. Rose intimidated her. No, outright scared her. How horrible it felt, to be so exposed to another person. Deepest fears laid out to her like a holiday meal. But...no, that wasn't it. Rose was her friend. The woman did intimidate Vega though, and she decided that was where the anxiety came from. She wasn't going to have any of that. After her problem in the car with Vega, she decided she needed to work harder at keeping herself in control. She couldn't keep letting Vega's brain get the better of her. This would be a wonderful way to practice that task. She forced herself to try to feel calmer. Rose wouldn't hurt her. Not if she could quickly explain and subsequently convince the woman that she was really Cammy.

With that reassurance in mind, Cammy rapped on the door softly. Rose opened it. She stepped aside, allowing her guest to enter. "Hello Cammy," she said, closing the door behind her.

"Hi, I know it may seem strange, but-" She stopped midsentence, then spun around to face the woman who was locking the door. "Wait. How did you know it was me?" Before Cammy had even had a chance to explain anything, Rose had greeted her by name, in spite of seeing Vega on her doorstep. She hadn't seemed surprised at all, which left Cammy a little flustered and confused. At least it was one less thing for her to explain.

Rose smiled gently. "Your aura is much less intense than Vega's. Kinder, less chaotic."

"Even though I'm in his body?" Cammy asked. She didn't know anything about auras and that, figuring most people who talked about them were hacks and fakes. Rose was the only person she believed when it came to these things. She thought about asking what colors hers was-they were supposed to have colors, weren't they? But then it seemed such a frivolous question when there was enough to talk about already.

"An aura is a signature of the soul, not the body," Rose said. "Yours is a sort of green, by the way. His is a shade of red that isn't positive." Then she smiled. "Complimentary. How interesting." Cammy felt Vega's brain panicking, and maybe it was a little unsettling to have your thoughts read. What else did she know? What else was she going to say? Was this really a safe place to be? No, it didn't make sense to come here. Rose would tear into him like a tiger with its prey, she was so much stronger than him. Knew so much of what he tried to bury. He was helpless around her, and she'd make sure he knew it-

Cammy was shocked out of the terrified runaway thoughts when Rose touched her lightly on the shoulder. She couldn't tell if it was something Rose did on purpose to clear her mind for her, or if it was just a coincidence. Either way, she was grateful for it. Rose nodded to the table. "Sit. I'm sure you have a lot you want to say."

"Well, you already know about a lot of it, it seems," Cammy said. There was already a cup of tea and a small pastry on the table waiting for her. Cammy smiled. There was nothing this woman didn't know. But then she frowned, remembering she wouldn't be able to eat it. "I'm sorry. I can't have this." She pushed the plate forward.

"Why is that?" Rose asked, appearing amused.

"I promised him I wouldn't eat sweets. Apparently he's some sort of health nut," she muttered.

"That's kind of you, to obey his requests." Rose took a seat beside her.

"I'm only doing it so he'll obey mine," Cammy said. "It isn't all that kind."

"I think he would still listen to your demands, even if you violated his," Rose said. "He wouldn't see you upset. You may be one of the only people in the world he feels that way about."

Cammy frowned, and crossed her arms over her chest. She sank lower in her chair, imagined Vega sighing angrily and shouting at her about him having better posture or something like that. "What is that nutter's absolute obsession with me? Why can't a nice boy love me so much?"

Rose laughed softly, and shook her head. "He isn't in love with you, Cammy."

That was a relief. If Rose said it, she knew she could trust the statement to be a fact. But there was still the unanswered question of why he cared at all. As Rose had just pointed out, Vega wasn't exactly concerned with the welfare of anyone but himself. He apparently held some degree of respect for Bison, and in that manner, he was eager to please the man, but this was the only example Cammy could think of that even came close to being described as consideration for the feelings of another. Other than, of course, all of the pretending he did as a matador. "Then what's his deal?" she asked.

"I don't think it's my place to tell you," Rose said. "Ask him."

"I did," she said, a little peeved. Rose's vagueness could be irritating sometimes. She often hinted at things, or spoke about them in roundabout ways that left her feeling confused and frustrated. She didn't want to have to decipher conversations after having them, even if they were always helpful in the end. "But he didn't give me an answer."

"Did you give him time?"

Cammy stopped to think. He'd seemed at a loss for words when she demanded that he tell her. But she hadn't really given him much time to formulate a proper response, snapping at him out of anger instead. She frowned. "Maybe I didn't. But you can see why, right? He's so...awful. I can't stand him."

"He is a difficult person," Rose said with a nod. Difficult was an understatement.

Cammy pressed her lips together, eyes flicking down to her hands before returning to Rose. It took a lot to make Vega's body look her in the eye. "Do you know how to fix it? Please tell me you do!"

Rose sighed, and the reaction didn't inspire a lot of confidence. "I can't fix this, no." Cammy whimpered, letting her head drop into her arms. "But rest assured, it will be fixed, sooner than you think. You must be patient."

"Do you know what he's making me do?" she whispered, shaking her head. "I have to fight a bull!"

"Why is that?"

"Because he's a jerk, and is top billing at this festival in Spain, and all of these people will be there, and I'm so nervous!" she blurted, her voice a bit muffled. "I don't know what to do! I'll feel awful if I kill the poor thing, it'll haunt me forever."

"It would die, whether you are the one to deliver the final blow or not. It is rare for a bull to come away from such savagery alive," Rose responded, hoping to assuage the Cammy's guilt. It would only help a little.

"Maybe...I just want to refuse. Really, what I'd love is to go to the stupid thing dressed in the Shadaloo uniform and everything, out him in front of everybody, and the whole world would know what an awful person he was," she said. She could see it in her head-the rest of the cuadrilla wondering where the torero was, and then out he strolls in the black and deep red of the commander's uniform, mask on his face and claw at his wrist. People would wonder if it was some sort of joke, but quickly they would realize something was wrong. Then, she could wrack his brain and confess to the murder of every individual she could dredge up. But she frowned, ultimately knowing this couldn't happen. He never kept weapons in his home, nor the Shadaloo uniform, and the mask alone wasn't enough to impress anyone. Beyond all that, she didn't want to spend the time in jail. If Bison was desperate enough for cover, he may yet kill her while she was still in Vega's body, leaving her own form to remain inhabited by Vega. She sighed. "But that won't work. Why did this have to happen to me?"

"There are no accidents in this life, Cammy. Everything happens for a reason."

"Well, what's the reason for this?" she asked, a little irritated with the typical response. How could there possibly be a good reason for this? It was just Bison toying with lives again. Sure, maybe this particular swap hadn't been intentional. But he was still playing god. Was this supposed to be a lesson for him? How would this teach him anything when she was the one suffering?

"One can only know what they've learned after everything is over," Rose said simply, rising from her seat and taking the pastry away. Cammy watched mournfully. If she'd known the other morning would be her last time eating sweets, she would've gotten more than some mediocre candy.

"You said it would be over sooner than I thought," Cammy said, tilting her head. "Do you know when it's going to be fixed?"

"Not before the festival, if that's what you're after." Cammy groaned, and buried her head in her arms at the answer. "But it will not take so long as you've been told."

"That's a small relief," she muttered. Only very small. She heard Rose sit down again, and felt soft fingers working through her hair. Vega's brain was torn between attempting to snap the woman's wrist for touching him, and indulging in this matronly show of affection. A strange feeling came over her as she forced herself to calm down. He was pretending it was someone else's fingers in his hair-his mom's. Immediately, sorrow overcame her, and she wanted to cry. But again, it was difficult to make him cry. This left her feeling even more upset. There was no catharsis, and the emotions simply piled up on top of each other. She thought of his mother. She couldn't help it, because his brain was already there. Maybe she could've turned it to some other thought, but she was too sad now to be bothered with the effort. Why did she have to die? Why did he have to be left here all alone, confused, angry? I just wanted things to be okay again, but I screwed up, I'll never get you back, I'm so pathetic and useless, I couldn't even protect you-

Cammy uttered a small moan and squeezed her eyes shut. "This is torture," she whimpered. "I hear his thoughts, feel how he feels, act like he acts! I don't want this!"

"Be patient," Rose said, withdrawing her hand, but Cammy reached out for it again. She needed somebody to tell her it would be okay in the end, that things would go back to normal. Rose understood that, and resumed stroking the blond head on the table.

I'm at my wit's end and I can't stop thinking about her dying-four years, to this day, four years that I got to live and she died when he really hated me and why did he kill her? He spoke of disrespect, there couldn't be a person on this planet who disrespected him more than me but he killed her and I just want her back, I want things to fix themselves, I want-

"Commander Vega."

I'm tired, I want to be asleep, why is she coming here to torture me? She continues: "It was requested that I deliver to you today's report on our progress." He makes me watch the Dolls, babysit them, teach them, they're barely human, shells of themselves, empty, waiting to be filled on the countless ways to kill a man and I just don't want to do it anymore, what's the point? "You appear distressed, Commander. Do you require medical assistance?"

I want to scream because she can't understand, I am distressed! She couldn't even begin to imagine, in the most literal sense, because she can't imagine! It isn't part of the programming! What's the point of her then?! I drop to my bed, and sigh, and wave her to my side. She complies. Does she want to? No, she has to-coming from me, the gesture is interpreted as an order. She sits beside me. I glance at her, she's staring straight ahead at the wall, waiting for further instruction.

And before I can contemplate what I'm doing, I lay my head in her lap, put her hand in my hair. She continues to sit and stare. I make her hand move, make her fingers rake through my hair. And she sits and stares. She doesn't understand what this means. It isn't part of the programming and I want to scream until my voice stops working. I sit up again, order her to leave and she complies without a care because caring isn't part of the programming.

It isn't part of mine anymore either.

Wasn't that pathetic? Overwhelmingly so, and she wanted still to cry. Or hurt someone. It was so hard to lose someone, to lose everything. Whole life ruined, everyone turns on you, who knows what really happened that night? Everyone knows you're a murderer, you killed him, your own parent, why didn't you just run? You probably wanted to kill him anyway for marrying your mom and you just made this up as an excuse. Maybe you killed her too and blamed it on him-with both witnesses dead, who's going to prove you wrong? You certainly let her die, so it's all the same isn't it? Everyone knows you really wanted to kill him, you aren't fooling anyone by claiming he killed your mom, by claiming he attacked you. You loved watching him die, don't pretend that you were traumatized or afraid, everyone knows it's a lie, no one believes you. That's why you're still doing it, death doesn't even phase you anymore, every part of your life is soaked in blood and half of them praise you for it while half condemns you and all you can do is keep passing those blades through warm bodies and laugh at what a big joke your life is-

"I want to go home," Cammy muttered into her sleeve, eyes screwed shut to try to stop the thoughts from taking over. She wanted her mother. Why did he have to kill her? Her husband did kill her, it wasn't his own fault, why were people saying that? His mother was beautiful and perfect, how could anyone think he'd want to kill her? It was her husband, that pig ruined everything. Or had it been him after all? Pissed him off so badly he decided to take it out on who he cared about most instead? Was it really all his fault?

She pushed away from the table, sitting up quickly, startling Rose. She drew quick, shallow breaths, tangling her hands in her hair. "Not my mother," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't have a mother." These weren't her hands? Why could she control them, flex them, curl them into fists? Whose hands were these if not her own? Whose life was this if not hers? Why was she so frightened? Her eyes widened slightly as she focused on the woman whose face was drawn with concern. "¿Quién soy?" His voice was shaking, so afraid, don't let on how terrifying this is, it'll give them power over you.

"Cammy. Remember, you're Cammy."

Cammy. That was her name. She was Cammy White, living in England, working with Delta Red in an effort to assassinate those individuals who stood in the way of Shadaloo's ultimate objective of General Bison's rule, with a day time job as an esteemed matador. Every part of him soaked in blood. "Wait, no!" she cried, standing up now, shaking her head. "I'm not a matador, I'm not an assassin!"

"No, you aren't. That's Vega," Rose said. This was not at all a good sign. She knew Cammy sometimes had trouble with her past identity, her lack of memories. Rose was always more than willing to help her friend get through those rough patches, but this was different. Cammy was apparently struggling with Vega's identity, now. "Vega is the matador, the Shadaloo Commander. You aren't like that at all, Cammy. You're a kind, warm person, a good friend."

Closing her eyes, Cammy fell back to her seat. "Right," she breathed. "I'm Cammy." It took her a few more nerve-wracking seconds to realize the full implication of such a statement. She was Cammy White. It was important, now more than ever, that she remembered that.

"How much longer is this going to be?" Vega asked. He let go of the phone, balancing it on his cheek. He wasn't sure why. He didn't have anything better to do with that hand. Talking on the phone was sort of boring, so maybe he just needed a game like this to entertain himself.

"The more you bother me about it, the longer it will take," Bison said.

Rolling now onto his back, Vega took hold of the phone again and groaned loudly. "Haven't you figured out anything more?"

"Very little. There is a lot more to be concerned about right now than just your unfortunate circumstances."

Vega frowned. That hurt a bit, to just be brushed aside so casually. "Don't you care at all?"

"I don't have time for this," Bison said.

Couldn't he at least pretend a little? It was like he didn't even matter, and something more important had taken his place. Jealousy welled up, and he felt like eating something. Anything, particularly something sweet would do well. He started to wonder how, exactly, that would help anything. But the reasons didn't matter. It would've just been nice to have something good to cheer him up after a comment as harsh as Bison's. "Well fine! Maybe I don't want to talk to you again until you fix things anyway!"

"That would lead to increased productivity on my end."

Vega blinked. Why wasn't the man hurt by being shunned? Why wasn't he apologizing and reassuring him he still mattered as a person? Time to change tactics. "Or maybe I'll just run off somewhere, so that you'll never find me again?"

"I don't know why that would necessarily bother me at this juncture," Bison said. He sounded distracted, and that just made Vega angrier. Like even paying attention to a phone call wasn't worth his time.

"Fine! Maybe I should jump off a bridge or something then if I'm so worthless!"

"What in God's name is wrong with you? You're behaving like a child."

"It's childish of me to want to hear that somebody cares about me enough to want me around again?" Vega pressed his lips together. Why was he even bothering with this jackass? He obviously didn't understand how he was feeling, wasn't even trying! He was worth caring about, he was sure of it, so why didn't anyone express it? Why did he have to wonder all the time what his value was as a person?

Bison sighed. "I see. Perhaps you should take a second and remember that those aren't your thoughts. They're Killer Bee's."

The name stung, an instinctive hatred of it welling up quickly. Vega shook his head. "Don't call me that!" he said. Those days were firmly behind him! "Besides, why would..." He stopped midsentence. Why would he what? Why would he want so badly for someone to care about him? Why would he want so badly for Bison to care about him? Cammy's brain was jealous, but in part, so was he. What else was Bison working on? Would he forget about his predicament? He thought he was important enough to be the priority here, but Bison seemed to disagree. Cammy's mind augmented these fears, dredging up an even more intense envy, and her mind came with a bit less self-control. He seemed to blurt out any thought he had.

He frowned. She wanted something, thought she was missing something in her life. The male figure she recognized as an authority in this conversation-Bison. It hit him all at once-she wanted a father, a mother, someone to look up to, to know she wasn't so alone in the world. She didn't have any kind of family, and missing something that big was so painful for her. She wanted someone to care for her, to love her in a way that only a family member could. And it made her upset that Bison-who her brain only slightly saw as a potential father figure due to Vega's own amicable relationship with the man-was more concerned with something else than her own welfare. He sighed, and shook his head at the thoughts. "You made me want to eat a pint of ice cream."

"How terrible of me," Bison said, bored of this conversation. Vega was not at all good with control. He needed to find a way to keep Killer Bee's emotions stuffed away somewhere instead of spouting it all out and being such a nuisance.

"Fiiiine," Vega whined, then bit his tongue. Had he really just done that? Why did he keep whining all the time?

"For future reference, I will call you when I have made progress on your case." His 'case'. Vega frowned, letting his hand fall back to the bed. He'd ended up a number. Again. Just another faceless nothing lost in a long string of numbers. Not a thing worth caring about, not even human. What was she worth, then? How could she know she mattered? I'm a person, I know I'm a person, not a thing, not a drone, not a robot, God, God, I don't want to think about this, it's so hard, so hard to find a purpose and know that I matter. Got to stay professional, got to persist, can't let anybody notice. I don't want to look so childish, like a lost little kid, but it's what I am! Why can't I tell that to anybody, that I'm so confused and alone?! That I don't know where to go or what to do?! I'm missing so much! Well, what would it matter to them? I'm an adult, supposed to be an adult, so I'll act like one! Do my job. Get back at Bison and Shadaloo. I'll take them down, make them pay for what they've done to me, to the others-I won't ever call them Dolls, none of us are toys and we never will be again. They're like me, they sort of know what its like, we've all been slaves to him, we...

We're like sisters. They can be my sisters. I'll help them, like a big sister helps a younger sibling. And I'll have a family. That's what I'll do. I'll make my own family.

He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose and tried to clear his head. The slightest whiff of an old memory tore its way to the front of his mind. Cammy worrying, despairing quietly. Unwilling to let anybody else in on her turmoil for fear of what they might think of her. It was only then he realized how profoundly difficult it must've been for her, to be so alone in her new life. To try to be an adult when you simply weren't ready for it yet. Why had he left her to go through that by herself? It disheartened him to see just how troubled her mind could be at times like this. He felt its anxiety, wondering who she was and what she meant. He wanted to tell her, but would refrain. It could only make matters worse.