Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.

Chapter 1

It was a chilly early morning; the air moist with low-lying fog. An executive class sedan pulled up in front of a five-star hotel and the driver alighted to open the door for the sole passenger. A young man bundled in an overcoat got out and let himself into the building; it was still too early for there to be a doorman present. In the elevator, he leaned back into the corner, resting his head on the patterned interior; fatigue was the only thing tempering his toxic mix of emotions. His suite was lit by a single small lamp in the entryway, everything else was dark. It didn't matter – the city lights that filtered in through the large windows provided ample light for him to find his way to the cabinets where the liquor was kept.

Harry Osborn picked up the crystal tumbler holding the scotch and went to pour himself a drink, but froze with the liquid poised at the opening. A sigh escaped from deep in his chest and he set the tumbler down. He had to at least try manage without - he really didn't want to continue being one of those pathetic rich kids that needed a crutch, and he couldn't count on anyone else to keep him from slipping further into that pit. He had already drank more than enough that night, not to mention vomiting much of it back up. Harry felt around for a light switch and turned on some low lights in the kitchen. Tea was the best and likely only option for calming his nerves while maintaining his returning sobriety.

Soon he was standing by a floor-to-ceiling window, mug in hand, aromatic vapours rising up into his face, gazing out at the city. The sky was slowly lightening as dawn approached. Harry scanned an adjacent building, looking carefully for movement. It took a minute, but finally he caught a glimpse through the windows - there she was, just like clockwork. A few days ago when he had been awake and wandering about the suite he first spotted the young woman working in the neighbouring building, where there was a bistro on the top floor. She came in to clean Thursday through Sunday in the early morning – another person worked the rest of the week - and unbeknownst to her, Harry had a clear view of her while she worked. He wasn't sure why he had become so interested in watching just her, but it was verging on an obsession. Maybe it was the fact that she was consistent, or that she was hard-working, or that she more than anyone seemed alone.

Harry sat on the arm of a nearby sofa and peered through the glass, watching her mop the floors. She must have been listening to music as she worked; her grooving to the beat suddenly became all-out dancing. Harry was transfixed. It wasn't like the overtly sexual moves that he was accustomed to seeing in clubs; the way she moved came from pure enjoyment of the music. He sipped his tea and smiled to himself, wishing he could hear what moved her to an impromptu dance session.

After the summer and early fall that Harry had spent in Italy, Berlin was a welcome change. A fresh city, away from the hectic, drama-filled life of the French model he had been dating. He was exhausted with all of that, and with her. The latest stop in his tour of Europe was to be his return to being single, ruling the nightlife and reaching new extravagances; however, he had never felt more empty and burned-out. Nevertheless, he still went out to parties and came home late, still brought girls back to the hotel and then snuck out of bed in the early hours.

It was an occasion like that - Harry grabbing his clothing and creeping out of the darkened bedroom while the girl he'd been with that night slumbered on. It wasn't unusual for him to be awake at any given hour, he had not slept well most of his life, but when he would wake up and see some stranger lying next to him, he would panic. Who was she anyways? What was she going to be like when she woke up? Was she just there because of the Osborn name and money? He couldn't answer the first two questions, but the last was most likely a yes. It didn't matter; she would be gone by the time he returned. That's what personal assistants were for.

As Harry stalked through the living room he noticed the lights on in restaurant in the next building. He checked the time and realized that he had only been asleep three hours, and it was nearly morning. Despite himself, he paused and went over to the window just out of curiosity. There was the cleaning girl, just as he expected, mopping the floor. He was about to continue on, but then he noticed something. The girl kept wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrists. As Harry continued watching, she finally stopped what she was doing and used her shirt sleeves to wipe her eyes. That's when he realized that she was crying.

An ache rose in his chest and up into his throat. Somehow watching her like this was especially painful. Perhaps she hadn't slept at all that night, and only while the rest of the city slept, she could shed tears. Harry donned outwear, was in the elevator, left the building, and was walking across the street before he knew it. An overwhelming feeling was pushing him to find her.

Likely she entered from a service door at the rear of the building. By coincidence, there was a supply truck unloading there, and Harry easily slipped inside without detection. Now in the elevator, he took a moment to reflect on what he was doing. Just what was he doing, anyway? Why did he care? What would he say when he found her? Upon reaching the bistro's floor, he found a kitchen staff member entering the establishment, who informed him that she had just left, likely taking the other elevator down. Harry hastened back and pushed the ground level button with some impatience. At the ground floor the hallways were empty. The loading dock only had other workers. Harry strode out to the street and looked around. If she left by car then she was long gone.

Softly muttering a curse, Harry shoved his hands into pockets and started walking; he couldn't go back to his place anyways, with last night's hook-up soon to be kicked out. He hadn't gotten far when he felt his foot brush something on the ground. It was a glove, expensive-looking at that - suede material, expert stitching, soft lining. Whomever had lost it was going to be upset at that discovery. Movement ahead caught his attention. He looked up and he eyes met those of a young woman - the cleaning girl. Catching sight of what he held, her eyes widened.

"My glove! I'm so glad you found it. Thank you," she said in German.

Harry's lips drew up into a smile. Having learned some German, he was able to reply easily; "You're welcome."

They approached each other and he looked at her closely. Her hair was dark and curly, but pulled back into a braid. Her complexion appeared flushed and her dark eyes where red-rimmed from crying, yet she smiled back when she took the glove from him.

"My grandmother sent me the gloves; I would hate to lose one," she explained.

Harry noticed that she spoke without a native German accent. "Do you speak English?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied in the language in question, "I'm American."

"Same here. From New York."

"Washington State, for me." She kind of paused and gazed at him, her mouth moved like she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. "I... I should go. Thanks again." She turned haltingly, as though she had to force herself to walk away.

Harry noticed the helmet in her hand and saw the scooter parked behind her and spoke up. "Where do you have to rush to at this hour?"

She looked back at the young man, her eyes locking with his again. He recognized that panicky look – he had seen it in his own eyes many times when he looked in a mirror.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Harry asked gently, worried he would scare her off.

Her eyes suddenly glistened and she turned her head. "Excuse me, I have to go."

"Wait… where could I get some tea?"

"What?" she blurted, obviously confused by the sudden question.

"Tea."

She brushed away some tears with her fingertips and sniffed. "There's a place a couple blocks from here. It should be open by now."

"Would you show me the way there?"

She was silent a moment and stared down at her helmet, considering the implied offer. Finally she asked, "Why are you talking to me?"

"Because I don't want to be alone right now. And I suspect you know what that feels like."

"Sorry... I'm usually not such a mess."

Harry poured the tea for them both and answered without taking his eyes off the task. "I know."

"How would you know something like that?" she remarked, her tone incredulous.

"I'm staying in the hotel next to the building where you work, and I've seen you cleaning early in the mornings."

She was apprehensive. "You've been watching me? Are you stalking me?"

He glanced up at her. "Just watching, not stalking."

She stood up to leave, but her gaze lingered on the hint of a smile on his face. He observed thoughts and emotions pass across her face as she tried to decide whether or not she should stay. After a moment she sat down again.

"I'm not sure that you don't have ulterior motives, but as least you're honest. What brings you out to the streets at this early hour? Do you have insomnia?"

"Probably. Some people just don't sleep well; I've come to the conclusion that I'm one of them."

"That's unfortunate..." She put her face in her hands. "I can't believe you've been watching me work. I hope I didn't do anything embarrassing."

"Not at all." He smiled at her. "I'm Harry."

"I'm Zahra."

"A pleasure to meet you," he replied as they shook hands across the small table.

She stared down into her drink, then briefly glanced up at him. He was already looking at her, waiting for her eyes to meet his again.

"Sorry, I don't know what to say; I feel kinda awkward right now."

"It's ok. I'm enjoying just having someone to sit with."

"Yeah... I can't remember the last time I did something like this," she murmured.

"Don't you ever go out for coffee with friends?"

"Well, yes, but..." She squirmed in her seat a bit. "Not often."

She was so uncomfortable; it was almost fascinating to watch.

"I don't do the whole 'coffee' thing that often either," Harry commented. "So, are you studying in Berlin?"

"Yes, but I actually live here with my family."

"Oh, how long have you lived here?"

"Um… it's been about three years I guess. What about you?"

"Vacationing, but I refer to it as business training abroad for my father's company."

"Wow – that sounds pretty intense."

"It's not too bad. I have a lot of free time, obviously."

She laughed a little. Harry watched her face light up and felt something stir in him. It was the first time this morning that she actually looked happy, and he reveled in the moment. They stayed for a little longer, and by the time Harry and Zahra stepped outside the sky was bright. He walked her back to her scooter, and when he looked into her eyes he didn't see the sadness that had been there earlier, although her cheeks still had faint tearstains.

"You're alright?"

Zahra nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Take care, Harry," she said before putting on her helmet.

He watched her leave and then began strolling back to the hotel, a small smile on his lips the entire way back.