When the door opened, Cammie's head shot up, taking in the man entering the interrogation room. It was the one the CIA used for witnesses, the one that didn't get as cold as the others, the one that had the chair that didn't wobble, but still the one with everything proof one way window. The air was slightly cold, but Cammie had dressed warmly and comfortably for this exact reason. Still, the cuffs on her hands were eternally cold and she couldn't pull her sweater tightly around her when the vent in the corner kicked on.

"Townsend." Cammie greeted as the older man closed the door behind him, "I thought they'd keep me locked up for the full two and a half hours. Not just one."

"You're not a criminal, Cammie," Townsend sat down in the chair opposite her, "This is not an interrogation."

"I wouldn't say that."

"What? That this isn't a interrogation? I can't say that?"

"No," the eighteen year old woman – girl. She looked so much like a little girl with her hair down, spilling onto the pink sweater, covering the t-shirt with superheroes on it – stared evenly at him, "That I'm not a criminal."

Townsend was surprised, but didn't show it, "Whatever you did, it was probably done in self defense."

"I'm not even sure of that right now."

There was a beat of sience, before Cammie asked the question again, "Why didn't you wait the two and a half hours? You all waited one, why not the rest?"

"You're not a criminal," Townsend repeated.

"Why the one then?"

Townsend just stared at her. She knew exactly why and he didn't have to say anything.

"Mom obviously came. You can't question me without her. Did the girls come?"

"Of course they did," Townsend snapped.

Cammie remained calm, "I was hoping they would. I just didn't know for sure."

"They've been worried sick about you this whole time. They were piling into the car the minute your mother told them you turned yourself in."

"And Zach?"

"With them."

"In there?" Cammie asked, pointing to the window.

"Yes," Townsend said, tired of her playing this game.

"Good."

Then, her questions were answered, and Townsend could ask his, "Why did you turn yourself in, Miss Morgan?"

Cammie just stared at him and Townsend sighed, "Honestly, Miss Morgan? I gave you your answers."

"Exactly. And now I have them. I don't need to bargain you for them."

Now, Townsend felt stupid. He had thught that it would be easy to get information out of her once he had gained her trust, but now he knew that giving her the information had done nothing except make him lose one of his cards. He knew now that the only way to get her to talk was to give her exactly what she wanted.

"Okay, Cammie. What's it going to be?"

"Another interrogator."

"This isn't—"

"You know exactly who I want."

"Cameron. HE just came back from the dead."

Her face remained stony, a startling difference bbetween the girl she had been as a student, laughing and smiling with her friends and the stony, experienced operative in front of him. Maybe that's why she wanted to talk to him. To bridge the gap between the girl she used to be and who she was now.

"Fine."

"You look good for someone who just rose from the dead," Cammie said.

Mister Solomon smiled as much as he could in this situation, "Well. I didn't get up and get in the car to come see you. I've been out of the coma for a while now. I woke up a couple days after my name was cleared."

Cammie nodded, and Joe's head tilted a little, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? About the papers that got leaked from the Circle? The ones that talked of my unofficial termination from the Circle."

Cammie stared at him evenly, "You can't get fully out of the Circle, but it seemed that when you betray them they don't necessarily want you coming back."

She looked at the window, staring at her reflection like she could look through and see her friends, "I didn't know if that would be sufficient so I sent their most wanted list with your name on it."

"I heard that's what did it." Joe said, "How'd you get those papers, Cammie?"

She looked down at her hands, "Want to play 'Show the Scar'?"

Mr. Solomon, Cammie's godfather, her father's best friend, could do nothing but nod and try not let the tears come to his eyes. She had scars. Scars she got trying to help him, trying to find out what happened to her father when even Joe couldn't.

Cammie extended her hands towards him and Joe took out the key to the handcuffs, silently unlocking the metal chains.

The girl he had watched grow up breathed a sigh of relief, flexing her wrists to get the feeling back into them. She took off her sweater and – God, she had scars all up and down her arms, some of them newer than others.

She saw him looking at them and sighed, "Most of them were gifts from Catherine. Do you like them?"

Mr. Solomon said nothing, and Cammie shrugged, "That's okay. It took me a while to appreciate them, too."

Her face remained stony.

"Should we start at the beginning of the summer then?"