Author's Beginning Note Thingy: Please, please, please, please, if you are reading this, review, and tell me if the first two or three chapters are horribly excruciatingly boring... I promise it gets better after that, but for the start, I just couldn't find my niche... I'll change them if they're not good, and leave them if they are, but I need feedback to do either of those things... so talk! And enjoy... hopefully.

xxx

A pink sun was sinking into the bronze horizon, a typical postcard-picture if taken with this quaint little town in the foreground. The black van had just pulled up onto the cobblestone street. A little commotion from the rural inhabitants later, and people and equipment were filing out of the car. A haughty looking man stood to one side, shouting orders, and flailing his arms to indicate the direction various odd scientific devices were supposed to go. He stopped a moment to straighten his glasses, and pass a hand over the slick black hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and into his face. The hand was quickly replaced into the pocket of his lab coat.

Standing quite apart from the normal, cannonfodder ShinRa employees who wore simple work clothing, and were grudgingly doing the bidding of this man in white, was a tall figure in a well-fitting navy suit. He stared at the winding path between the decrepit mansion he would be calling 'home' for the next several months, and the cliffsides of the mountain... the seldom-walked grassy alley went on and on before fading into the haze of the late-afternoon sunset.

He was silent, and inattentive to the hubbub that moving in created. The man carried himself with some kind of pride, which did not stray into the realm of arrogance that the scientist portrayed so well. The blue Turk uniform he wore flattered his thin, however elegantly muscled figure. Mahogany-brown eyes disappeared slowly behind thick black lashes, as he turned around to survey the last in the long line of men going back and forth with boxes and bags. He sighed... it was his turn to go in. Bending slowly to pick up his small amount of luggage, he made his way in, inconspicuously dodging around delicate instruments, and slipping between people.

The grand ShinRa mansion seemed strangely smaller on the inside than it did on the outside, where it had the benefit of it's threatening gothic architecture, and the sprawling shadow it cast over half the town. Nevertheless, most of the men who were with them were going home the next day, and would stay in the local inn the night, so he found his way to a small bedroom on the first floor, tucked in at the back of a library holding dusty couches and a moth-eaten rug, as well as floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. There were two beds, but it wasn't as if he'd be needing to share it with anyone... he doubted if anyone would even find it, or consider staying there with him if they did, as the majority of the accommodations were upstairs.

He sat down on one of the beds, testing the mattress... it wasn't bad. Not the squishy, comfortable ones they had back in his quarters at the Turk base back in Midgar, but not the hard, unforgiving beds like the poor ShinRa employees would be sleeping on at the inn tonight. He smirked at this thought, and slowly pulled up his bag beside him.

His fingers ran over the smooth black leather on the top... the edges were fraying, and the little plaque above the handle was slightly tarnished, but still read in shallowly engraved, curving letters: G. Valentine. It had been his father's. He sighed slowly... that was a long time ago. Undoing the buckles that held it closed, he inspected his meager belongings... all intact, not that there was anything particularly fragile in there.

Carefully, almost reverently, he pulled out his spare uniform, for when the one he was wearing was being washed. Beneath that, even more meticulously folded was his dress uniform. This he also took out, and made a mental note to find safe housing for, somewhere in this room. There was also a nice black suit, with a white shirt. It was dated, also his father's, but it would be beneath the jacket, so nobody would know, and a red silk tie. Some casual clothes followed beneath that, and once these were all out, he set about placing them in their proper drawers in the dresser next to his bed.

The Turk kicked off his shoes, and leaned back on the feather pillow, which, due to years of not being used, was deflated, and smelled of dust. He slowly reached into the bottom of the suitcase and took out his most treasured belongings. Two came in the form of thin black cases... the first he merely glanced at, without opening, and then put aside. The second he rested on his chest, and opened, gently taking out a gun...

It was yet another antique having belonged to his dad, but was excellently cared for, and showed no signs of age. There was an iridescent shimmer to the white handle, and a beautiful gleam to the metal, which reflected the last glow of the sun setting outside his window. The window looked West, and down that mysterious little path which had captivated his attention for so long earlier that day.

He examined the weapon with scrutinizing eyes, searching for the smallest speck of dirt that dared mar it's glimmering surface. Gentle fingertips traced over the name, carved into the short barrel of the pistol: Quicksilver.

Taking the case off his chest, he sat bolt upright, and spun the weapon around his finger, before stopping the twirl by deftly grabbing onto the stock the next time it past his opened hand. He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring down the shaft to where the revolver was aimed. He followed the unwavering line between it and it's target, invisible to the eyes of all but a trained gunman such as himself. Caught up in this, he had been oblivious to the soft padding across the room outside his own, and when the door opened quickly, there was a startled shriek from the offending intruder as they walked directly into the sight of his gun.

The man's eyes widened, and he swiftly put the weapon down, fumbling it back into its case. The door which had been swung wide open, narrowed to only a tiny crack, showing that the person behind it had only sought entrance, and had no reason to run from him, despite the fact that he'd been pointing a gun straight at them only a second earlier. As he looked up, an odd silence lapsed. Finally, whoever it was behind the door cleared their throat, and a meek, feminine voice asked, stuttering, probably still from the shock of walking into a room and promptly becoming the bullseye of a target, "U-u-uhm... may I... may I come in?"

Swallowing, the Turk inside leapt from the bed and stood up in straight attention, replying with an equally shell-shocked tone, "Ye-yes." Normally, his voice would've been stern, deep, and commanding... one did not progress from a mere trainee to the decent position of Lieutenant he held without some semblance of dignity and firm-attitude. But the quiet youth had been intruded upon during a moment of peace and deep thought, and had very nearly fired upon the person who had walked in, having had no idea that it was a girl.

Slowly, the door opened again, and in stepped a woman in a white labcoat that matched that of the haughty man outside. She smiled nervously, holding a large brown leather bag in both hands. "I apologize. I didn't mean to barge in on you like this..." she began, casting her eyes to the ground.

"No need." he replied with a nod of the head, having regained his composure since she entered.

She smiled a nervous smile, "...yes, but... all the rooms upstairs have been taken by the senior scientists, and I was told to... er, fend for myself." she gave a half-hearted chuckle, and let go of the bag with one hand to brush chestnut hair out of her face. As a result, the weight of her things was shifted to one arm, and she began to lean dangerously towards that side.

"Here, let me help you with that..." the Turk began, rushing over to take the handle she'd dropped before the woman fell over.

She laughed, "Thank you..." he helped her carry it over to the second bed, as she continued to explain, "So... this was the only room I could find, I guess that means I'll be staying with you. I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head, "N-not at all." the stammer was from the immediate realization that he would be sharing a room with a woman... how embarrassing.

She nodded slowly, and glanced for the first time in his direction, sweet blue eyes beneath the glass shield of delicate opticals. This gaze lasted only a moment between them, before she looked away, past him, and idly remarked, "I see you've already unpacked."

The man's breath had been caught in his throat when her eyes fell on his, and he was glad beyond anything when she turned away just at the moment when he felt his face get hot with what was undeniably the rush of red blood to his cheeks. "Yes..." he replied, unsure what else what else might be proper to say.

"I should get to doing that myself." she said rhetorically, and he nodded, taking this as his cue to leave, and go back to his own bed. Taking the extra detour to get to the other side, he sat with his back facing her, and let out a long sigh of relief... how long had it been since he'd been in the presence of a woman who wasn't just a random passerby on the street? Years. The ShinRa hierarchy was run entirely by men, and likewise no women were yet permitted into the elite training program that produced ShinRa's greatest fighting force, the Turks. Beyond this, he'd never in his life shared a room with a girl, let alone one who was so... he stole a glance over his shoulder, ...good looking.

He occupied himself with reaching for his gun, straightening it within its red-velvet lined case, then closing the box back up, and replacing it within his suitcase, and the same with the first black box. Closing the suitcase, he set it down on the ground, and pushed it with his foot under the bed.

"So what's your name?" came the girl's voice, the soft sound of bare feet on a wood floor, and the tiniest creak of the bed as she sat down on it. He turned around to look.

"I figured since we're going to be roommates for... who knows how long... we mind as well get to know eachother, at least a little bit." her smile was so innocent. He found no immediate response, an act that would've gotten him some sort of menial task back in the Turk training program, where a prompt answer, 'sir', would've been expected.

In this time, he hadn't noticed her eyes expertly examining him. She smiled again when his attention was drawn back from wherever it had wandered. "You're nervous?" he almost wanted to protest, but didn't have the will or the heart, "Fine, I'll go first." She leaned forward, a pink silk nightgown gleaming in the moonlight... it had gotten late... and he hadn't realized she'd changed from her lab clothes since she came in. She stretched out her arm towards him, in an attempt to bridge the gap between them with a handshake, "I'm Lucrecia. Lucrecia Crescent."

Moving without thinking, he extended his black-gloved hand to meet hers, and her thin fingers grasped it as he gave the long-awaited answer to her question: "Vincent Valentine."