I woke up on a cold, stone floor. My head was throbbing, an aching pain that resounded throughout my brain. My body felt as if it was one giant bruise; I could barely sit up. Groaning, I pulled myself into a sitting position, rubbing one fist against an eye. My brow furrowed as I tried to push back the blackness that seeped into the edges of my vision.

Where am I, and how did I get here? I tried to remember, but nothing came. Emptiness... I couldn't even remember my name.

Finally, my vision cleared and my sight started to focus ahead-

Then I noticed the crimson eyes that watched me just a few feet away. I gasped, and immediately a pain seared through my lungs, cutting the gasp short. My breath caught somewhere in my throat, and I clutched at my chest.

"Don't breathe too quickly." The man said. He was crouching at my feet, still a short enough distance away to be close, but yet not pressing into my personal space. His hair was obsidian, the black locks falling down over his shoulders, held back from his forehead by a thick red cloth. A cloak in similar color draped over his chest, flowed back behind him, and gathered on the floor in abundance. He rested his armored forearm on one knee, the golden gauntlet gleaming in the dim light.

"Who are you?" I asked, expelling my breath slowly. The pain in my chest gradually relented, and I glanced up to meet his piercing gaze again. The sharpness of the color in his eyes nearly made my breath catch again.

He studied me briefly, his eyebrows knitting together for the faintest moment. "Vincent Valentine," he answered. His voice was a subtle growl, but yet non-threatening. "And you?"

I didn't want to take my eyes off this stranger. I still hadn't decided if I could trust him enough or not, but I needed to see my surroundings. "I don't remember," I said, peeling my gaze away and scanning the dusty, grey room. It was dull and bland, with layers of dust on just about everything. The furniture-consisting of two beds and a wardrobe-looked ancient; the wood looking as if the slightest amount of weight would send it crumbling to the floor. Groups of cobwebs hung from the ceiling in every corner, even draped down from the semi-elegant chandelier. But it was all unfamiliar to me. I glanced back uncertainly to Vincent Valentine. "Where am I?"

He shifted from his crouch first before he answered, bringing himself to a stand. He towered over me as he extended his hand down and waited for me to take it. "Shin-Ra manor. Or what's left of it, anyway."

I gave him my hand and he carefully pulled me up. Though I was extremely dizzy- the room was spinning endlessly around- I stood pretty steadily, only swaying slightly. "I don't think I remember anything about ShinRa." However, the name did leave a foul taste in my mouth when I said it.

"Count yourself lucky." He turned away, glancing around the room. I didn't know what he was looking for, and I didn't bother to ask. I just watched him silently, not really knowing what else to do. Finally he glanced back at me, his crimson gaze scrutinizing. "You're not really concerned that you don't remember your name."

I frowned. He was right. I was taking this lightly; I'm sure the proper reaction would be to panic. But I didn't feel the need. I met his gaze and shrugged. "I guess I know it will come back to me."

"Do you even remember anything about yourself?" As he asked, he shifted his weight on his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, the black leather sounding as it moved over his muscles. His bountiful cloak shifted with the movement, revealing the massive handgun holstered at his thigh. Somehow, this comforted me. If he had meant to harm me, he probably would have the barrel pointing at my temple right now.

"No," I admitted. I realized I was standing stiffly, so I tried to relax. I let my muscles ease, and they shrieked in protest. Slightest movement, just the faintest, seared pain through my fibers.

"Anything you remember at all?" He questioned again. He could see my pain, I was sure of it. But he could probably sense that I didn't want to be asked about it. That or he knew I didn't have an answer for why I was aching.

"Blank slate... I don't even know what I look like."

He actually frowned at this. I saw it more in his eyes than on his face. The shine had turned from concerned curiosity to mild bewilderment. He stepped to me and, carefully pressing his fingertips on my shoulder, he turned me around. Ahead of me was a simple, full length mirror. It sat propped up against the brick walls, dust covering its gleaming surface. Vincent Valentine removed his gloved hand from my shoulder and stepped to the mirror. He swept the hand over the silver surface, leaving a clean streak down the middle. Enough clean area for me to see my reflection.

And I did not know the person staring back at me.

She was an average height, with porcelain skin and waist length, curly brown hair. Beautiful, topaz eyes flashed from under the curly bangs. Her face was softly rounded, with elegant cheek bones and a firm mouth. Her body was lean and fit, but also flatteringly curved with rather lengthy legs. She simply wore faded jeans and a slim-fitting top as she gazed back at me with disbelieving eyes.

And I stared right back at her, wordless.

After a moment of silence and confusion, I wiggled my bare toes. I was testing my supposed reflection. Her toes wiggled, too. Then I glanced back up to her face, and noticed the one single tear running down that ivory cheek.

I spun to Vincent Valentine, desperation clear in my voice. "I don't know who I am," I cried. My eyes were wide, frantic. Reality slammed into me like a bus at ninety miles per hour. "Who am I?