Part 1

New York.
5th and Jefferson was filled with it's usual passersby by the dozens, their minds about their own cares and worries as shoulders brushed, bags and purses knocked into one another in passing, hardly noticing others were there though the large sidewalk filled to the brim with people as it always had in the middle of the day.

One however, remained still though he moved with the crowd, his mind focused, in control – the ultimate power – he watched as he always did with dark eyes beneath thick brows studying each one individually as they walked, taking no notice of his gaze.

On the opposite corner a woman ran up the street towards the intersection, her bag flailing at her side, her shoes clattering on the hard pavement with each stride. She slowed to a walk at the corner and stopped at the back of a gathering crowd waiting to cross the street to catch her breath.

He tilted his head slightly at the sight of her. She was not beautiful per se but interesting. She held a fuller figure which was complimented, not accentuated by the clothes she wore; a soft pink blouse, a cream jacket and light gray slacks that belled at her ankles and widened over her shoes. Her hair was put up away from her face but there were short frizzies and fly aways that appeared to never be under her control.
The light glowed green and the crowd, as though a single minded entity moved forward to cross the street. The woman was one of the last to step off the curb.
SNAP!

It sounded like a firecracker underneath her and she fell, her ankle twisting beneath her. Her arms and hands automatically flung themselves behind her to brace herself for the impact but none would come. At long last she decided to risk opening her eyes and found that she was looking up into deep brown eyes. They warmed her as she stared at them.

"If you could help me a little, I'd appreciate it." He said, his voice boyish but not of a boy. He smiled at her as she realized the position they were in.
He held her under her arms barely keeping her butt off the ground, her shoulders and jacket were bunched around her neck and her legs sprawled out in front and beneath her.
"Um," he spoke again, "I'm not sure how long I'm going to last in this position."

She twisted her body around on her tangled feet, grabbing his shoulder for support she managed to pull herself up to a standing position and stumbled into him as he helped her back onto the sidewalk. Oh, she was special. He could feel it as he touched her. The tips of his fingers tingled with the anticipation of her power.

"Sorry." She muttered as she looked at her feet to find the cause of her stumbling.
"Dammit!" she said as she looked at her foot.

Her shoe was scraped up and the heel was missing. But more importantly, yet she hardly took notice, was her ankle was beginning to look puffy and swollen.
He followed her gaze and could see the bruising begin to form on her foot and ankle. He kept going and saw the small heel of her shoe resting on the edge of the curb.
"Are you alright?" he said though he knew very well what the answer would be.

She looked fully at him then, her eyes a bright, striking blue – the hot center of a flame. The shock of it made him lose his purpose for a moment – but only just.
She nodded but still looked flustered at her shoe, which she now held in her hand. For a small second he released her, miraculously balancing on her own as he retrieved the heel.
Her mutterings continued as he took the shoe gently from her, it looking small in his hand, as she leaned on his shoulder for balance. Examining the break closely he could see how simple the break was as the shoe wasn't as well made as it could have been in the first place.

"It's just on the seam here, it looks like." He said softly.
"I can get it fixed?" she said, looking disbelieving at her shoe he held.

He glanced up, braving her eyes once again, and managed a sheepish look, "I can fix it for you if you like. My work shop is just down the street." He cocked his head in the general direction of his shop.
"I don't want to be any more trouble to you – " she said sincerely, shaking her head.
"I'd be happy to if you're not in a rush." He said with a small smile.

She hesitated for a moment, looking in the direction she had been heading and back to the man who was supporting half of her weight and sighed.
"There's no point to it now anyway since I can't walk right?" she shrugged as he nodded and mimicked her shrug and allowed him to lead her down the street.

"I hope it wasn't important." He said after they had made a somewhat comfortable arrangement. His arm was wrapped around her waist, hers around his shoulders as the limped together down the sidewalk, the crowds of people kindly leaving a bit of a path for them when they saw she was injured.

"Not really," she said in between steps, "I was supposed to meet someone but he'll have to understand when I tell him what happened." She looked sidelong at him and smiled.
He heard her heart beat deepen and felt her eyes looking at him though he kept his on the path ahead of them. A pink tint shaded his neck and cheeks but he said nothing.
After a slow effort up the street he pointed to a corner, "It's just around here."

"Good, you won't have to put up with my weight for much longer." She joked though she knew he was stronger than he looked. She even felt as though her weight was lighter on him than she knew it should be.
They reached the corner and a few paces later they were standing together on a stoop to an older building. It looked to her as though it had been gutted, refurbished, gutted, and refurbished again and again over the years. At that particular moment she suspected it was going through another gutting stage.

He handed her the key as she was closer to the door lock. After stumbling in the dark room together he laid the broken shoe on the counter top at the front of the room and helped her onto it as well, his hands lifting her at her waist.
When he touched her she could tell he was a little unnerved by it, by being so close for that period of time. Perhaps it was because she was a stranger. His eyes broke contact with her often and he was so careful and meticulous about his behavior around her, as though he thought several times about an action before actually executing it.

She watched him move around the counter until he was behind her, smooth, precise movements, in search of tools. He turned on a lamp and began rummaging, stalling, as his thoughts calmed themselves.
He could do it now, no questions asked, nothing to stop him because of how perfect his ploy had been. She completely trusted him at this moment and that was always the key. His mind had become accustomed to the rhythm of her heartbeat – steady, confident – perhaps that was why he was hesitating. Why? There was always the small thought that haunted him before the kill, always. But this was not like the other times somehow. He would fix her shoe and then what?

Perhaps it was her scent that he only just then had come to notice, soft and airy, like an early morning after a night of rainfall. Then there was her words, sincere, flirtatious even. He didn't know what to make of it so he would be patient for now.

The room was dim despite the lamp he'd turned on. Sunlight from outside poured into the thin windows creating slits of light reflecting off of the dust that was in the air. It was small mostly because of the rows of endless clocks that lined the walls. Some were large and took up the full vertical space of the wall, others were small and delicate, easily able to fit into her hand. Along the edge of the counter were dozens of wrist and pocket watches, some were ring watches – not one of them like another.
She had noticed the soft ticking and clicks as she came into the room and was relieved to find out what it really was as her eyes explored the room.

"Did you fix these, or restore them?" she said, pointing about the room.
He came back around the counter, "I made them." He said softly, "Some are my father's work as well." he picked up the broken shoe to begin his work.
"Wow." She said quietly impressed. "They're all lovely." She looked at him with surprised respect but he only stare at her blankly for a moment.
Her smile faded, "You don't think so?"

He didn't answer right away, his dark eyes searching for a hint of farce, a glimmer of deception in her.
He found none.

"No – no," he stammered a little, "I don't think anyone's ever told me that before."
"That's disappointing." She said, "I don't think I know a single person who could do anything like this. They're pieces of art – only functional."

She slid along the counter, closer to where he worked, "Will you tell me your name?" she said.
He fixed her with his stare once more, only there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
"It's better story telling rather than 'the guy who fixed my shoe'" she said.

He still said nothing, though his mind was frantic.
"I'm Ellen. People call me Ellie." She said encouragingly.

He hesitated still until it spilled out of him before he could stop it, "Gabriel." He said.
"Thank you, Gabriel." She looked around the room again.

"Gabriel, the watch maker."
"Time piece." He said.