Who: Bucky Barnes jbuchananbarnes & Ella kindwithcourage What: Minor repairs. When: Thursday, April 9, approximately 10 AM Where: Room 103A, Hope Springs Apartments Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Amnesiac maintenance man takes care of Disney Princess. Status: Closed/Completed GDoc
~*~
Fixing things was easy. Fixing people was hard. Bucky Barnes was broken in a way which likely would never be fixed, but he remembered fixing things. Before. He had been good with his hands. Things were simpler in the older days. People helped neighbors out with broken shelves, crooked doors, windows which wouldn't close right; apartment living had been a true community experience. No one had been expected to make it on their own because there wasn't any way for a single person to do it.
Poor had been a way of life in the tenement buildings. It'd been the only description which mattered. It was all a person saw when they looked at someone from one of those buildings: they were poor.
Bucky remembered his siblings needing things constantly. Shoe repairs, uniforms for school, mending from scuffles, even girls had been the target of fights in those days because they were the wrong class of people. They were less because they had less. He'd worked more so they could have more, but he'd never managed to work enough since there simply wasn't enough work to raise them up out of the gutter they were stuck in.
A list of repairs needed for Hope Springs Apartments showed up on his device every morning. A kind of To-Do Text. It made him smile to see the things all laid out, simple, easy, good things he could do for people who didn't have to be good as long as they didn't care he had once been very, very bad. Bucky had replied to the job listing for maintenance for the building through text. It had seemed odd, but what wasn't odd about this place?
His list said something needed done in room 103A for an 'Ella.' There wasn't any further description. He'd brought the big toolbox which had been waiting on him in the Maintenance Closet with his name on it. They'd packed it with everything he could possibly need for a basic repair to a moderately involved one. Whoever had planned for this position had done so with knowledge to back them; Bucky was happy enough to do what he could as long as he wasn't starting any wars or committing any murders.
Knocking on the door, he waited until she answered before asking, "What needs fixing? Other than me."
It sounded funny. He managed a grin which reached his eyes. He hoped it was enough to set the lovely young woman at ease. Scaring women had never been something he'd enjoyed. Bucky wanted to go back to simpler times, easier days, easier ways. He had no desire to start up being some kind of new monster in this place. They had given him a job he understood. One where he didn't have to do anything except fix things. Bucky thought it was as good a second chance as he was likely to ever get and he'd be damned if he screwed it up.
~*~
Ella was enjoying her new surroundings. The apartment was more room than she’d ever had to herself and sometimes it was a little too quiet to her liking. She’d taken to singing softly, not wanting to disturb anyone as she set about cleaning her space and inspecting everything. There were a few things here and there that weren’t quite to her liking, the dishes being too high for easy access. In her bedroom, there was a shelf that was positioned a little too high for her to really make use of it. There’d been a form on her device where she could put forth any concerns she might have about her apartment and then, yesterday evening, she’d been informed via a notification on her device that a Mr Barnes would be by in the morning to address her concerns.
Wanting to be a good tenant, she woke early and made sure that she was properly dressed and her small abode ready to welcome a guest. After making her small breakfast, one egg scrambled with toast, and cleaning up after herself, Ella started in on a batch of cookies and a fresh loaf of bread, one that would take the better part of the day to rise. The cookies were finished and plated, still warm and gooey, when she heard the knock on her door. Ella wiped her hands on her apron before untying it from her waist, draping the fabric over her kitchen chair. “Coming,” she called, though it was only moments later that she opened the door for him, her blue dress only slightly worse for wear. She was going to have to find other suitable clothing so that she could do laundry.
“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” she greeted warmly, tilting her head slightly at his question. “My device said you would be able to help adjust the level of my shelf?” Ella stepped aside to allow him entrance. “Please come in. I made cookies. The pantry is surprisingly well stocked. Would you care for some?” She didn’t quite understand why he referred to himself as needing fixing, but perhaps he was like Wade in that sense, talking about things she didn’t understand. “Or another refreshment?”
~*~
Cookies and what smelled like fresh bread baking in the over? If she didn't look so innocent, Bucky would have thought she was bait for an organization like HYDRA. She had the appearance of someone unaware of such dangers which was what made her dangerous.
Innocents were always a danger to broken toy soldiers like himself.
Carrying his toolbox in, Bucky shook his head to the negative, "No, thank you, ma'am, but I think I'll simply see to my work. Where's this shelf? I'm thinking it's too high rather than too low? Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. I can be wrong. Sometimes a lot."
He'd spent decades wrong if his scattered memories were anything to go on. Killing had become his way of life while hatred had been the strongest emotion he had to his name…a name he hadn't known even since it was unnecessary to the cause. As The Fist of HYDRA, all he had been responsible for learning was how to be the best soldier in their army. Or any army. No one wanted him to be second-rate at anything. The best was something he had learned how to be through blood, sweat, and more blood.
Tears weren't allowed for soldiers.
Bucky took his outer shirt off, exposing the metal of the bionic arm without thought. Ella was hardly going to call him out on being ugly and he wasn't going to get any overhead work done with his flannel in place. The material barely fit across his unnaturally wide shoulders as things stood on the normal. He lay his shirt over the back of the chair opposite hers where her apron draped sedately. It was enough to pause him in his tracks -"Bucky! Don't you forget to hang your jacket on the hook! It's your good jacket, son. I shouldn't have to tell you we won't be able to afford you another if you don't care for it."- while he had a flashback to a woman who had once been his ma.
"Sorry. I have moments where I lose track of time. Did you say something? About the shelf? You need it lowered, I think, but it could be raised. I hate to jump to conclusions. It's just you aren't. Tall."
~*~
Ella was somewhat disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to compensate him in kind for a good deed. She understood, on one level, that it was his job, but she had always been taught to give and share, that everyone was worth kindness. “You’re not wrong,” she replied. “It is a bit too high for me.” Mr Barnes struck her as the kind of man who needed to be told he was right, that he did well. At least she could do that. Ella smiled warmly as he settled in, though she could admit that she was slightly concerned about the metal of his arm.
People were different here, she reminded herself, and whatever happened to him, it probably wasn’t a pleasant thing. Best to ignore it and not treat him any differently, which Ella could most certainly do. He seemed to lose focus for a moment, but he drew himself in quickly and offered her an explanation. Whatever was haunting him, she hoped he found peace here. “It’s quite all right, Mr Barnes,” she replied kindly. “I do need it to be lowered just a bit, and I’m unsure of how to go about doing it. If you’ll follow me?”
She led him into her bedroom, slightly uncomfortable sharing her private space. It was considered untoward for a man to enter a woman’s bedroom if he was not her father, brother, or husband. She’d already gathered that this place was far different than anything she ever had experienced before though, so she pushed the feeling aside and led him over to the shelf in question. It was a beam of wood - it looked like wood, at least, even though she was fairly certain it wasn’t - that spanned three feet on the wall next to her bed. She was intending to use it as a bookshelf, or perhaps a place for a plant, but she’d cleared off anything that was on it the night before.
“As you can see, it’s just a touch too tall for me,” Ella said, standing next to the shelf so he could see it came up to her chin. “I was hoping to use it as a bookshelf or a place for some fresh flowers or plants, but it’s not quite comfortable to reach.”
~*~
Everything was neat, tidy, in Ella's home. She didn't seem the sort of woman to keep much on her or around her. Could be she hadn't much use for things which Bucky could understand---relate to even. He'd never had much before the war, during, after. HYDRA had taken a lot from him, but they hadn't had to take things from him. He'd not had anything they could take which mattered one whit to him.
The shelf she was talking about was anchored with simple L-brackets. There were only three brackets for it so it wasn't made to hold much weight. All the apartments in Hope Springs had drywall which meant it wouldn't hold much either. Bucky considered Ella's tidiness a sign she wasn't likely to get herself into a mess with the shelf falling off the wall from weight. It stood to reason he should warn her while he was there all the same. He'd hate not to say anything only for her to call him up frantic about a hole in her wall courtesy of an overloaded shelf.
"I can move it down. You want it waist-high to you? A little higher? Just show me where you want it and it's simple enough to do. It's only mounted with three brackets here, two screws each plus the two into the shelf to hold the bracket on. I will say you'll have to be careful if you're putting something heavy on it like books. This is drywall it's anchored in. Not very strong. It'll come off if it's too overloaded. You know what I mean?"
Ella hadn't seemed simple. Bucky nearly blushed at the realization his question could have come across as condescending or rude. He hadn't meant to be either. All he'd wanted to do was warn her ahead of time. He busied himself with rifling through his toolbox for a Phillips head screwdriver to start taking the brackets off the wall. It gave him an excuse not to look at her. He wasn't hiding his face, he reminded himself, he was only trying to avoid looking at her to see how she was looking back at him.
Clearing his throat, he muttered, "I didn't mean that to sound rude. I know you're not stupid or anything. I just thought it'd be nice to have a warning just in case you didn't know. I'll try to hurry. I'm really not good with people. Too long alone, I guess."
Too many years assassinating rather than befriending if truth were told, but Bucky hardly thought Ella needed to hear his miserable life story.
~*~
It seemed like moving her shelf would not be too arduous a task for him, which she was grateful for. Ella never wanted to be a burden to anyone, but this was something she simply could not fix because she didn’t have the tools or knowledge necessary. He even explained it very well, what he was going to do and how to properly use the shelf. With that new information, she was reconsidering what she wanted to use it for. Perhaps candles and other little things, instead of heavier items like books and plants. A vase might not hurt though, but planters and pottery would probably be too heavy on the whole.
“I appreciate the information, Mr Barnes. I think what I initially had in mind might be too heavy for this shelf, and I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t explained what it was.” Ella smiled warmly. “While I know I am well read, I can admit that I am a bit at a loss about many things in this place. I did not have such conveniences in my home, and I’ve found it’s been rather confusing to adjust to.” She could relate to being alone in many ways, though there were plenty of trips to the market where she could meet with her friends. Once a day, and not for very long at that, did just enough, but Ella would be lying if she didn’t wish for more freedoms and a life of her own to lead.
“Would it be possible to put it just slightly higher than my waist? About here?” She turned to face the wall and set her arms out, bending her elbows at roughly ninety degrees, so that, if the shelf were there, her arms wound rest comfortably on it. Ella had an earnest look on her face, hopeful that it wouldn’t be a problem for him.
~*~
Tools were not in short supply from the looks of his box. Bucky imagined he could likely find enough to set up a shelf for plants or books for Ella. He knew he could take her out to look for a proper bookshelf. The mall had several furniture stores. It was possible they had something affordable she'd enjoy or there was a second-hand shop. Bucky could do repairs if they were minor. He thought Ella might enjoy painting a shelf of her own if they could find one.
Her window faced the sun enough to where a sill planter would be a nice touch. She could open the window, enjoy what breeze there was in the place, smell her flowers in the wind. It was how they'd done things when he'd been young. His ma'd put up a planter in every sill on their floor. Plant-crazy, his ma. She'd even gone over to Steve's place to put up a planter after his own mother had passed, insisting it would be---
"Good for him," he whispered, halting in his work to nod at the height Ella indicated.
Using the tip of one metal finger, Bucky scratched on the wall to mark it. The height was a good one. Ella was pretty in a way he almost couldn't believe. She was the kind of broad Steve should take up with now. Captain America was as close to a knight in shining armor as anyone was liable to get. They could be their own fairytale. Bucky could picture their happily-ever-after already. He didn't need a functional set of memories to back his thoughts on them as a potential couple.
"Sorry if I say things out loud that don't make sense. I have memory issues. I was---a soldier. In a big war. I got hurt. Things come and go for me. I was remembering something beautiful for the first time in a long, long time thanks to you. How would you like a window sill planter? I could fix one up for you easy. You could put whatever plants in it you wanted, open your window to water them if they needed a little extra since I doubt we'll be getting much rain here. They'd be right there for you to enjoy and I'm sure the people here would appreciate the sight of some greenery not put in place by whoever runs this city."
Bucky realized he'd been talking for a long time. He shut his mouth to go back to working on the shelf. It was simple to move it down to the line he'd marked. He fixed two of the L-brackets before setting the level on it to ensure the shelf was even before situating the third bracket. Moments. All it took were moments to screw in the six screws which held the brackets to the wall. He picked through the toolbox until he found some joint compound and a utility knife. Plugging the holes from where the shelf had been before with the joint compound, Bucky scraped across each hole with the blade to keep it even enough for it to fully close the holes as well as leave room for air.
"I---I'll have to come back in a day or two to sand down the mud there. Uhh---it's joint compound. Closes holes in walls like these. I'll paint over them a bit, too, so it doesn't look as if the shelf was ever there. I know I might sound forward asking, but if you wanted, I could take you to a second-hand store or the mall to look for a real bookcase for you. Help you get it here. Fix it to the wall for you. It wouldn't cost much if we got one needed some repairs. I'm good at small things. I figure you might want to paint it for yourself, too. Better to do that with an old shelf than a new one. Give it a second chance at life rather than winding up in the scrap heap. That was how my ma saw things. She liked to give things second chances. People too. She was a good woman, my ma. I try to be a decent guy for her sake even though she's been gone a long time. It won't hurt my feelings if you say no to the planter and the bookcase or anything. I understand you're a young woman alone and I'm a man you only know as the guy who fixes holes in the wall in your building. I won't hurt you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I don't even usually talk this much. I just get nervous now. Around people. Since leaving the umm, the service? I haven't been good with people."
~*~
Ella was slightly confused when he first spoke, unsure of what he was referring to, but he clarified his situation a few moments later, explaining to her what he was facing on a personal level. Her heart ached for him, for the sacrifices he made to protect his friends and family. “I’m glad I could remind you of a good memory,” she replied, her voice full of warmth and kindness, when he paused. Mr Barnes seemed like the kind of man who had a lot going on in his mind. Working, no doubt, helped take his mind off what he’d given in the name of defending his home. He deserved to have something bright and cheery in his life, which was why she found herself agreeing to his suggestions.
“I would really enjoy having a planter box on my window sill. At home, there were trees all around us and I tended to the garden, plus my mother’s flower beds. I do miss it,” Ella admitted, taking a seat on her bed to watch Mr Barnes while he worked on filling the holes left behind after he’d secured the shelf at it’s new height. It would work much better now, which made her happy. She hoped knowing he’d done his job well made him happy, too. “If you’d like, I could start a planter here and once the flowers have taken, you’re welcome to take it for your rooms. Fresh flowers have always been a source of happy memories for me.” It was obvious she hoped the same might be the case for Mr Barnes. It seemed as though he was finished, so she stood and gave him a warm smile.
“Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman. I daresay your mother and my mother would have gotten along quite well,” she ventured, placing a careful hand on his right shoulder in kindness. She moved her hand to take his arm, allowing his other hand free to grab his tool case. She quite liked Mr Barnes, and Ella hoped that the kind touch would be another good memory for him. “I would very much enjoy the project of saving and painting a bookcase, and I would very much enjoy your company. You’re a good man, Mr Barnes, a kind man.” She pulled away, not wanting to crowd him or make him uncomfortable.
She considered him thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m going to give you some of the cookies I made from this morning,” Ella decided, leaving him standing in her kitchen as she quickly put a container together of half a dozen cookies, still warm. She thrust it into his hand, trusting in his reflexes to catch it. “You’re welcome to call on me, whenever you need another warm memory. I’m starting a new job at The Greethumb, so I am unsure of my free time. What time I do have, I will happily set aside for our bookcase project. Let me know what times would be most convenient for you.” Ella laid a hand on his forearm. “Thank you for your help, Mr Barnes. You’ve been most kind to me.”
~*~
Everything was insane in this place, in his world, in every world as far as Bucky Barnes could tell. All he cared about was the good memories he'd gained from spending a bit of time with a good soul like Ella. She was good for anyone's soul, even one as tarnished as his own. Bucky was grateful she'd taken so well to his suggestions. It made him feel better to think he could offer some more joy to someone who clearly exuded it to everyone around her with asking for anything in return.
No one was joyful in his life.
Except---Steve Rogers. Steve was very kind, smiled as if he meant it, held joy in his heart.
Steve was joy in his life.
"Thank you, Ella. You've been most kind to me."
Bucky gave her hand a return squeeze before taking up his toolbox to head out. He had an old friend to look up. They could go shopping for a bookcase which Ella could fix up. Steve had once had a mother too. She'd had love in her heart for growing things. Flowers. All the darkness in their life had seemed easy to eclipse in the face of their mothers' joy for growing plants in the windowsill of their tenement apartment buildings.
If something so simple could bring so much joy, why couldn't he find a way to share it with someone who was not simple at all to him---except that he was joy.
He left with every intention to answer at least one question if not make a few new good memories.