Oh Lord, oh Lord, what have I done? I've fallen in love with a man on the run. Oh Lord, oh Lord, I'm begging you please don't take that sinner from me. — The Devil's Backbone, the Civil Wars

October 15, 2015

As the hours of her shift ticked by, Ellie couldn't help but notice the man sitting at the bar closest to her espresso machine. He'd come in an hour after her shift started, and now, seven hours later, he was still there, on the same barstool, with the same latte mug he'd ordered when he'd gotten there. He'd spent most of the time writing in a notebook and reading through other handwritten notebooks, but now he just stared at Ellie with hard blue eyes as she bustled around the tiny kitchen making drinks. She'd never seen him in the café before, but he didn't seem to have any intention of leaving anytime soon.

As closing time approached, Ellie was collecting ceramic mugs from around the café on a tray, sighing heavily in exhaustion, when suddenly one of the overly long strings of her knee-high combat boots caught on the hooks of the opposite boot so that when she stepped, her feet couldn't separate far enough. She fell on her face, the ceramic mugs crashing to the floor and shattering. Ellie felt her right arm stinging as warm, sticky liquid coated her forearm, groaning as she slowly pushed herself off the floor. Her eyes suddenly found a pair of black boots in front of her, and she looked up to find the man from the bar stooping in front of her, his gloved hand halfway extended to her as if he had started to reach out to help her up then stopped. He blinked, breaking eye contact, then shook his head slightly and said, "Here, let me help you."

Ellie nodded as the dark-haired man began to clean up the pieces of mugs, then after a moment's thought, replied, "Thank you, but it's ok. I've got it."

He shook his head. "You're hurt. Let me help you, please." He nodded at her arm as she managed to get to her feet, still crouching over the broken coffee cups.

Ellie looked down at her arm, shocked to find that it was bleeding rather profusely, and she noticed the shine of tiny fragments of ceramic sticking out of the wounds. She hissed at the sight, her eyes widening as the blood began to drip from her arm. She tried to pick up the tray, but he had already taken it, piling the larger pieces onto it. Ellie started stuttering in English, "I – I – please, I —"

His eyes shot to hers, a flicker of something Ellie couldn't identify in them. "You speak English?" he said eagerly.

Ellie nodded. "Yes, I'm American," she answered quickly, unsure of what to make of this stranger.

"I'm American, too," he said, frowning slightly as he looked at her arm. "I can help with that, too."

Ellie shook her head. "Please, it's ok. I have to close the café…"

"Then close it," he said firmly. "But let me help you."

His request had so much authority behind it that Ellie found herself slowly standing, leaving him crouched on the floor as she quickly ushered the one other customer left out and locked the front door behind the gray-haired old man, leaving just the two of them in the café. Her arm was beginning to burn more deeply, and she bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering at the pain. When she turned around from the door again, she was surprised to find that the entire mess she'd made had been cleaned up and swept away, leaving the floor cleaner there than the rest of the floor around it. The man stood by the counter, a broom in hand, staring at her. Without a word, he turned and walked to the back room of the café, and Ellie quickly followed, surprised that he would just let himself back there without at least waiting for her permission. By the time she caught up with him he was at the desk in the back, the first aid kit open on the cheap metal desk. He banged his left hand on the desk with what looked like little effort, but after the strangely metallic collision sound that filled the air, Ellie thought it looked like the desk was a little dented, but the lights were so dim in the back room, she felt fairly certain it was a trick of the light. "What are you —" Ellie started, but he pushed past her back out into the main café.

A minute later, he was back with his backpack. His long dark hair hung in his eyes as he dug through the backpack before he pulled what looked like another first aid kit out and slammed it on the desk. He ripped the bag open and pulled out a pair of tweezers, hydrogen peroxide, and a clean rag. "Sit," he ordered. Ellie found herself obeying without hesitation, his voice so powerful that she didn't think she could have said no if she'd wanted. She dropped into the chair by the desk, and he knelt down on one knee in front of her, tweezers in hand. He took hold of her arm in his left hand, his fingers hard but gentle, and he frowned at her injuries, then began to pull the pieces of ceramic out of her arm. Ellie squealed in pain as the first of the larger pieces left her flesh, unable to hold it in this time. He winced at the sound but ultimately ignored it, dropping the shard on the desk next to them. "Talk through the pain," he said. "It makes it easier. Gives you something else to focus on."

Eyes stinging with tears, Ellie asked, "And say what?"

He steadied her shaking arm in his hand as he said, "Tell me your name."

"Ellie —" She stopped with a whine as the tweezers reentered her skin and found another sliver of ceramic and pulled it out. "McGee. Ellie McGee."

"Why are you in Bucharest?" he asked.

Ellie ground her teeth as hard as she could as she tried not to scream from the pain he was inflicting by helping her remove the slivers of the mug from her arm. When the tweezers were free of her arm again, another shard extracted, she said, "College. Semester abroad. What about you?"

He froze mid-motion, the tweezers now abandoned on the desk as he'd reached for the clean rag. "What?"

"Who are you?" Ellie asked. "Why are you in Romania?"

He hesitated for a full minute, then he said quietly, "Bucky." He poured the hydrogen peroxide over the clean rag, then he added, "I'm just living here." Ellie started to ask another question, but then he said, "This is going to sting." Ellie's arm trembled in his grasp, then he pressed the alcohol rag to the cuts on her arm, and she gasped and tried to yank her arm away from the cold, harsh peroxide cloth, but Bucky's hard grip on her arm only tightened, easily keeping her arm still. She whimpered at the pain, feeling totally pathetic for being so weak in front of this handsome stranger who was just trying to help her, then a moment later, the pain was gone. Cool air rushed her wounds, and Ellie sucked in air as Bucky put the rag down on the desk and pulled bandages out of his first aid kit. He delicately wrapped the white bandages around her forearm as he said, "There we go. All better, doll."

Ellie couldn't help but snort at that. "Doll? Really?"

Bucky's face reddened slightly. "Sorry. Old habits and all." Ellie just grinned at that, but then she paid more attention to the man in front of her. Bucky was highly muscular under the layers of jacket, sweatshirt, and jeans, but he looked more exhausted than Ellie could remember ever seeing anyone. His attractive face looked sad and thoughtful as he pinned the bandage shut on her arm, his gloved hand tenderly stroking her forearm once before he suddenly pulled away from her, eyes going wide as he let her arm fall to her lap. "There. Now you won't have to go to the hospital."

The corner of Ellie's mouth twitched upward as she watched him stand. She said quietly, "I've got to finish cleaning up and closing down the café."

"Can I help?" Bucky offered, seeming a bit uneasy with the idea, which struck Ellie as a bit odd.

Ellie shook her head. "I couldn't ask you to do that. Besides, you've already helped a lot," she said, gesturing to her arm.

A hint of a smile crossed Bucky's lips. "I'll get the mop," he said, totally ignoring Ellie's answer. Ellie sighed, not understanding why he was staying, but grateful that he was none the less. With her arm as sore as it was, mopping would have taken her ages to get done, and she was already still at work later than she should have been.

Ellie took on the dishwashing while Bucky made quick work of mopping the floors. When he was done, he returned to the back room and joined Ellie at the sink, taking over washing the dishes from Ellie. He easily pushed her aside, handing her the clean dishes, which she dried and put away. When they were done, Ellie grabbed her jacket from the hook on the wall in the back as she said, "Well, Bucky, thank you for your help. We're pretty much done here, though, so I guess —"

"May I walk you home?" Bucky asked suddenly, a flash of something Ellie couldn't interpret in his tired eyes.

Ellie started to say no, but then she thought about her neighborhood and the man who always hung around her street near her building that made her nervous every time she spotted him, the one she was almost certain must be a drug dealer. She shivered slightly as she slipped on her Sherpa-lined bomber jacket and said, "Umm, yeah, that would be nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Bucky said, picking up his backpack and letting her lead the way out of the café.

They stepped outside, and Ellie locked the door behind them, then she set off in the direction of her apartment. They walked in silence for the first block, then Ellie asked, "So, are you a writer?"

Bucky's head snapped up from where he'd been staring at his feet, looking at her strangely. "What?"

"The notebooks," Ellie explained. "The ones you were reading and writing in all day. Are you an author, or…?"

"Oh," Bucky mumbled, and Ellie thought she saw his hands shift in his jacket pockets, though she couldn't understand why they would. "Not really. It's… I guess you could say I'm writing my memoirs? I've got some memory problems and writing it all down helps me remember."

"Oh, that makes sense," Ellie said, offering him a small smile. Bucky nodded, not meeting her gaze. She offered, "I'm studying psychology. I want to be an equestrian therapist."

"A what?" Bucky asked, finally looking at Ellie.

Ellie chuckled. "An equine therapist. It's a psychologist who uses horses as a tool for therapy for their patients."

Bucky turned that over in his mind for a minute, and Ellie could see the gears working in his brain through his tight facial expression. "That sounds like it'd be interesting," he finally said.

As the pair turned a corner, Ellie said cheerfully, "It is. It's very effective, too."

They were nearing her apartment building when Ellie spotted them. There was the man who was always hanging around her street, in his usual black hoodie, with a teenage boy, clearly exchanging goods — drugs, if Ellie had to guess. She shivered slightly at the sight, accidentally catching Bucky's attention. He glanced back and forth between Ellie and the guys down the street as they reached the steps of her building. "Do you want me to stay until they leave?" Bucky asked suddenly.

Ellie hesitated. "It's ok. They're here all the time doing… whatever the hell it is bad guys like that do. I'll be ok."

Suddenly, the two guys down the street started yelling at each other in Romanian, and Bucky, seemingly automatically, took a protective step between Ellie and the probable drug dealers. "I don't mind," Bucky said firmly, leaving no room for Ellie to question him. "Get inside," he ordered as the street light reflected off something metallic down the street in the older man's hand.

All hesitation lost, Ellie quickly turned and rushed inside and up eight flights of stairs thanks to the broken elevator, only realizing when she reached the front door of her apartment that Bucky was no longer with her. "Bucky?" she called softly, then gasped when she suddenly heard the bang of three gunshots outside the building. "Bucky!" she called again, louder this time.

Scared witless, Ellie slowly headed back down the hall and into the stairwell, the heavy door slamming behind her. She peeked nervously over the edge of the railing of the stairs, where she could see all the way to the ground floor just as Bucky reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs. His eyes snapped to her, looking a little wild and lost. "I told you to stay inside!" he snapped, running up the stairs to her.

As he reached her, Ellie demanded, "What just happened?" Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her into the main hallway, the metal door slamming against his left shoulder with a strange metallic clink as he pushed through it. Ellie forced him to stop when they reached her apartment door, pulled out a key, reached to unlock it, then stopped. "What the hell just happened out there? I swear, I heard gunshots."

Bucky huffed. "That's because there were gunshots. Trust me, doll; you don't want to see what just happened out there. Now can we please get inside?"

Ellie nodded, then silently unlocked her front door and pushed it open. Bucky ushered her quickly inside, and she turned on the light of the studio apartment. She rushed over to one of the two windows in the apartment that overlooked the main street, and she quickly spotted the place where the men that had been standing outside. However, both men were now gone, though she couldn't possibly imagine where they'd have gone. "Where —"

"The one shot the other. I guess he took the body with him. I didn't exactly stick around to see where he dumped the body," Bucky said coldly, standing awkwardly between the couch and the bed.

Ellie swallowed hard. Bucky had been pretty nice to her so far, but this man clearly had sharp, ragged edges, and Ellie was starting to feel like she was going to cut herself on one of those edges any minute. "Oh," Ellie breathed, then she turned back to him, slowly approaching him. "Are you ok?"

Bucky's fierce blue eyes met Ellie's gray ones, a bit confused. "What?"

"Are you ok?" Ellie asked softly again, nervously tucking a loose strand of straight strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. "I mean, you did just watch someone being murdered. That's not exactly an easy thing to witness."

Bucky chuckled darkly. "It's not the first time I've seen…" He trailed off, then started again. "I used to be a soldier."

"Oh, wow," Ellie said, surprised. His shoulder-length brown hair didn't suggest former soldier, but he certainly looked strong enough to have been one. "Well, thank you for your —"

"Don't," Bucky snapped. He took a breath, then said, "Sorry, it's just… I didn't volunteer. I was drafted. I didn't want to be a soldier."

Ellie sat down on the couch, then patted the seat next to her. He sat down beside her, and she asked, "What did you want to be?"

"What?"

"Well, if you didn't want to be a soldier, you must've had some idea of what you wanted to be instead."

Bucky thought hard, his face screwing up in concentration. "I – I don't know. I – I can't – I can't remember…"

"Ok, that's ok," Ellie said quickly, trying to calm Bucky down as he started to become erratic. "You don't have to remember. Why not just take a deep breath? It's all ok."

Bucky breathed deeply through his nose, rubbing his stubbly jaw with one gloved hand as he held his breath. As he let it out, he mumbled, "Sorry. I just… Nothing. Sorry."

"It's ok," Ellie said gently.

The two just sat in silence for a little while until Ellie's phone beeped in her back pocket. She pulled it out and saw that it was her alarm reminding her to go to bed so that she could make her 9 a.m. class without stress. "What is that?" Bucky asked curiously, staring at the device in her hand.

Ellie frowned at him. "It's my smartphone?" she said, confused by Bucky's puzzlement.

Bucky shook his head, his cheeks flushing. "Sorry. I guess I just… forgot those were a thing now."

Ellie felt stupid for not realizing that it was probably just part of his struggle with amnesia. "That's ok," she said. "I guess you don't have one then?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, I've never needed one."

Ellie nodded slowly, then she noticed the painful emptiness in her stomach, most likely due to not having eaten since the night before. She elected to ignore it, however, when a large black cat suddenly jumped onto the back of the brown faux leather sofa, landing lightly behind Bucky, and he immediately spun around, his hand grabbing the cat around the waist roughly while the cat yowled in fear and pain. Horrified, Ellie gasped, "Bucky, no! It's ok; let her go! She's just a cat!"

Bucky released the cat as suddenly as he had grabbed her, and the cat hissed at him boldly and swiped at him with one paw, her sharp claws catching him across one gloved hand which he had automatically raised to defend his face. Then the black cat quickly retreated, racing under the bed to hide from the man who had just assaulted her. "Ellie, I'm so sorry," Bucky rushed, turning to her so fast that Ellie almost wasn't sure if she'd actually seen him move. "I didn't realize it was… I would never have hurt a cat normally. I'm so incredibly sorry."

"It's ok," Ellie said quickly. "I'm sure it was an accident, and she didn't seem to be truly hurt. Let's just forget it."

Bucky nodded eagerly, looking more thoroughly exhausted and ashamed than ever. He looked her up and down for a moment, then asked, concern replacing the shame in his face, "Are you hungry?" Ellie shook her head, lying. The man in front of her still seemed like a generally decent fellow, but the longer she was around him, the more dangerous he seemed, and she had no desire to accidentally find herself eating with some strange new kind of criminal mastermind. "Oh yeah? When was the last time you ate?"

Ellie huffed, annoyed by his persistence, "I don't know, this morning? Maybe last night?"

Bucky shook his head, jumping to his feet. "All right, I'm going to cook you dinner."

Ellie stood and followed him into the tiny kitchen space of the apartment, saying, "Bucky, please. That's not necessary. You really don't have to do that. I can take care of it myself."

Bucky flipped on the light switch for the kitchen light, taking in the utter disaster that was the kitchen — dirty dishes piled in the sink, used pots and pans stacked precariously on the stove, random pieces of trash scattered across the counter. Bucky smirked, "Yes, it looks like you're doing an excellent job of that. Looks like it's been like this for a while."

"I suppose it has," Ellie snapped, turning red with embarrassment. After all, it wasn't as though she'd planned for this stranger to end up in her apartment, and certainly not in her kitchen. "I've been very busy between schoolwork and the café. It's just sort of piled up, and I haven't had time to clean it up."

Bucky shrugged, not pressing the issue. He took a quick look inside the refrigerator, only to find a quart of spoiled milk, another pint of milk that appeared to not have expired yet, spreadable butter, and some questionable eggs. He opened the cabinets to find a few random cans of beans, flour, baking powder, a few spices, and sugar. Shaking his head, Bucky muttered, "No wonder you haven't eaten. You don't keep hardly any food in the house."

Ellie rolled her eyes at him. "I usually eat when I'm at work. I'm not exactly great at the whole cooking thing," she growled, thoroughly annoyed with the dark-haired man in her kitchen. "Besides, food is expensive, and I don't make much money. My money goes to rent and cat food instead of food for myself."

"You still have to take care of yourself, though," Bucky insisted.

"Well, what about you?" Ellie growled. "You seem well-fed enough, but you look like you've been living on the streets for a few weeks now! Or am I wrong?"

Ellie grinned in satisfaction as Bucky's eyes left the cabinet to stare at her in surprise. "You're not wrong," he admitted. "I make my money stretch to keep myself healthy, but I'll admit, I've had trouble finding a place to live that I could afford."

"Ha!" Ellie exclaimed, scrunching up her nose at him. "I'm not the only one who's struggling then, so just back off, ok?"

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend you," he said, a bit more gently.

Ellie nodded her acceptance of his apology. Bucky started pulling things out of the cabinet and fridge. "What are you doing?" Ellie demanded as he started to wash her frying pan.

"Making pancakes," he said with a grin.

"But —"

"Stop fighting me on this," Bucky said with a short laugh that threw Ellie even further off guard than she already was. His whole face seemed to lighten as he found himself a mixing bowl and washed it, making him look several years younger than Ellie's first estimation, then he began to throw ingredients together. "I was the oldest of four," he said suddenly as he was beating an egg, Ellie watching him in astonishment. "Three younger sisters. My mom taught me how to cook after my father died so that I could feed my sisters while she was away at work."

Ellie leaned against the refrigerator door, a bit surprised he'd offered this piece of personal information. Bucky didn't exactly seem the type to share his personal history with just anyone, so she felt the need to reply in kind. "My parents adopted me from Russia when I was four and brought me home to Raleigh, North Carolina. My biological parents were a Russian scientist and a musician from Romania. My parents — my adoptive parents, that is — died in a car crash almost four years ago. I took some time off from school, and then when I went back, I decided to do a study abroad here in Romania. I guess I wanted to try to connect with the place where my biological mother was from or something."

Bucky looked away from the pan just before he began to pour batter into the hot pan and looked at Ellie, his eyes filled with deep pain. "I'm sorry you lost them all," Bucky said quietly. Ellie shrugged, then he insisted, "No, really. My mother and sisters are all gone now, too. I'm the only one left, so I understand what you're feeling."

"Haven't you got any grandparents or aunts or uncles or something?" Ellie asked.

"No. Don't you?"

Ellie shook her head. "No. Well… Yes, actually, but they don't want anything to do with me. My grandmother took care of me for a while, but… she didn't approve when I took dropped out of school, so she kicked me out, and my aunts and uncles never really wanted anything to do with me. I was adopted and already an adult so…" Ellie shook her head. "Anyway, my grandma doesn't take my calls anymore, but I send her postcards and letters and things whenever I get the chance. I've no idea if she actually reads them or not, but I hope so."

"I'm sure she does," Bucky said confidently. "You've been her granddaughter for how long?"

"Nineteen years," Ellie said quietly, her heart throbbing in her chest with the sudden overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Her stomach growled impatiently as the smell of pancakes wafted through the air towards her, and she glanced down to see two already finished on a plate next to the stove. She hadn't even noticed him wash the plate or make the pancakes, she'd been so lost in their stories.

"That's a long time," Bucky said. "I'm sure she loves you as if you were biologically hers. She's probably just struggling with her own pain at losing your parents, that's all. I'm sure she'll come around." Ellie nodded thoughtfully, doubting the truth of his words, but he was sweet nonetheless. He pushed the plate towards her and held out a clean fork to her, surprising her again as she must've missed him washing that as well. Then she noticed that he still had his leather gloves on, and they were wet, and she thought it strange that he wouldn't have taken them off by then, especially considering he had washed dishes. Thinking back, Ellie also remembered that he'd not taken them off to wash dishes at the café either. "Here, eat," Bucky said softly, jerking her back to the reality in front of her.

Ellie took the fork from him, using it to spread some butter on the pancakes before hesitantly taking a bite. He watched her as the pancake currently in the pan began to bubble. The fluffy, purely American pancake practically melted in Ellie's mouth, and she couldn't help the tiny moan of happiness that escaped her at the taste. "Good Lord, these are amazing!" she exclaimed. "Seriously, I don't think I've had homemade pancakes since my mom… since my mom died." Her excitement died down as the thought of her mother no longer being alive invaded the forefront of her mind again.

Ellie felt certain that Bucky must've noticed the change in her mood, but he politely ignored it. "I'm glad you like them," he said with a small smile, turning his eyes back to the pan as he flipped over the pancake there. "They were my youngest sister's favorite. Got to the point where she refused to eat if anyone else tried to make pancakes for her. It was all very silly, really, but that was how she was. She was… eleven, I think, the last time I saw her."

"What was her name?" Ellie asked curiously before stuffing another massive bite of pancake into her mouth.

Bucky answered without a thought, "Rosemary." As soon as the name left his mouth, he stiffened, nearly dropping the pancake he was flipping on the stove. The pancake just barely went into the pan, and then he said quietly, "I didn't think I could remember any of their names anymore."

A hint of a smile found its way onto Ellie's lips as she ate. "Glad I could help a little," she said lightly, trying her best not to make the situation awkward.

Bucky continued to make pancakes until he ran out of batter, piling them on Ellie's plate even as she ate, and she slathered each new one with butter before continuing to eat. When he was finally done with the cooking, he took the plate away from her, and she followed after him, surprised to find yet another clean fork in his hand (seriously, how was he managing to sneakily clean all these random dishes without her noticing? She was beginning to feel incredibly unobservant). They sat at her tiny card table next to each other as Bucky began to eat as well, and they shared the stack of pancakes until the plate was mysteriously empty. Ellie had eaten so much that it was starting to make her feel a little sick to her stomach, but she decided it was worth it as Bucky watched her with keen, attentive eyes. Finally breaking the silence, Bucky said, "I've got a proposition for you. Keep in mind that you're more than welcome to turn it down, and I won't hold it against you, but I thought it might work out much better for both of us than if we continue on how we are." Tilting her head, Ellie watched him inquisitively as he went on, seeming a bit nervous, "Well, you've got an apartment, but you're struggling with food and cleaning, and I'm sorry, but that cat's litter box…"

"Is it really that noticeably bad?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her face, feeling ashamed for not taking better care of the large black cat. The cat, Saphira, had shown up in her hallway one day as she'd been coming home from work, and feeling sorry for the poor creature, she'd brought her inside her apartment, immediately gone to the nearest pet store, bought all the necessary supplies for a cat, and then proceeded to make the cat hers. The only thing she struggled with, having never owned a cat before, was remembering to keep the litter box clean, and every time she noticed how bad it was she felt horribly, deeply guilty over the state of it and declared herself an unfit cat mother.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Yes, but here's the thing. I've got nowhere to live, but I'm pretty good at all this stuff. The cooking, the cleaning, the litter boxes…"

"What's your point?" Ellie asked suspiciously.

Bucky said, crossing his arms over his large, muscular chest, "Well, what if we tried living here together? I could sleep on the couch and make sure you get fed and everything stays clean and all, and you could make sure I've got a place to live. It's a win-win."

Ellie's eyes widened at the idea. On the one hand, the offer of not having to be alone anymore was incredibly appealing, particularly with the additions of him cooking and cleaning for her, as she struggled very hard to get any of these things done. On the other hand, she didn't actually know this man, who seemed to be several years older than her and had an unquestionably dangerous side and memory issues. "A trial?" she suggested. "Maybe we could see how it goes for a week or two, and see if it sticks?"

Bucky breathed a small sigh of relief. "Sure. Sounds good."

After a few minutes of silence, Ellie said awkwardly, "Thank you, by the way. For the pancakes. I didn't even know I had the stuff to make them, so… thanks."

"You're welcome," Bucky said quietly. "Thanks for giving me a place to stay. I could really use it."

"Yeah, well, winter's coming," Ellie said, shrugging her shoulders to give him the impression of nonchalance, even though it was a huge deal to her to allow him to stay, having never lived with a man other than her dad. "I couldn't exactly say no knowing you'd probably be out there on the streets freezing to death."

Bucky snorted, the sudden upturn in his mood making Ellie jump slightly. "Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly leave you and this cat here all on your own either," Bucky said, and Ellie could swear he was teasing her. "The two of you clearly can't take care of yourselves."

Ellie huffed at that, then glanced at the clock on her nightstand across the apartment. It was almost one in the morning, so with a roll of her eyes, she stood from the table and went to her bed, pulling a pajama shirt and some pants out from where they had been lying tangled in the blankets. Without a word, she slipped off into the cramped bathroom, quickly changing clothes. When she reentered the main room of the apartment, she found Bucky sitting on the couch, still completely dressed, with shoes and gloves still on his feet and hands. "You can take those off, you know," Ellie teased. "It's not that incredibly cold in here."

Bucky frowned down at his hands, not moving. As Ellie went back to her closet and pulled a large, well-loved crocheted blanket down from a high shelf, Bucky said quietly, "I don't want to frighten you."

Ellie paused as the heavy blanket fell into her arms. "What do you mean?"

Bucky continued to stare at his hands, not meeting Ellie's questioning gaze. Ultimately, he mumbled, "I've got a prosthetic arm. It's rather… unique. I just don't want it to scare you. It's… it's rather gruesome."

Ellie frowned at that. "Bucky, you're not going to scare me off just because you've got a prosthetic arm. I mean, I know you barely know me, but goodness gracious, I'm not that shallow." Bucky nodded slowly. Ellie tossed the blanket to him from beside the bed, and he caught it easily. He took off first one glove bit by bit, then the other, running his hands over the softness of the blanket. Ellie's eyes were immediately captured by the silver metal left hand sticking out from under his jacket. Its slow, deliberate motions over the blanket mirrored his human hand's movements perfectly to the smallest detail, as though he had total control over it just as he did the other. Ellie was completely amazed by the technology, but she tore her eyes away from it anyway, her gaze recaptured by his eyes as they watched her, filled with pain from some memory she couldn't begin to imagine and fear of rejection. In an effort to ease his concerns, she said, "I made that blanket when I was ten. My grandma taught me to crochet, and that was the first project I managed to complete. I worked on it obsessively for six months every day after school and all day most Saturdays. My grandma did the first several rows as she taught me, but it's huge cause I made it for my dad, so it should do the trick for you."

Bucky seemed to relax a little, taking the offer of a blanket that was clearly precious to Ellie as a sign of trust, and he slumped back against the couch with it as Ellie crawled onto the bed, burying herself under her own blankets that were all homemade as well. "Thank you," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Ellie replied, before realizing she'd forgotten to turn off the lights in the kitchen and over the bed. She got back out of bed, turning off first the kitchen light, then the main one. She couldn't see her way to the bed anymore, though, and she tripped over Bucky's backpack trying to pass the couch to get back in bed. Something hard caught her around the waist tightly, stopping her halfway to the floor, and when she looked up, she realized the something was Bucky's metal arm, as he was now standing mere inches from her. As her eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness, she saw his eyes wide with alarm staring down at her as he righted her on her feet. "I'm ok," she whispered. "Thank you."

Bucky's perceptive gaze raked her body, checking for injuries. When he was satisfied that she wasn't hurt, he let her go, quickly backing away from her as he whispered back, "You're welcome."

Bucky sat back down on the couch as Ellie scrambled back onto the foot of the bed. She crawled up to her pillow and under the blankets again, reaching over to the laptop on her nightstand and flipping it open. The bright light of the computer filled the room, and as she turned the backlight down, Bucky asked, "What the hell is that?"

Ellie raised an eyebrow at him. "My laptop. I was going to put on Netflix while I went to sleep."

"What the hell is Netflix? Or a laptop?"

Ellie chuckled, "What, are you from the past? Netflix? Laptops? Smartphones? I mean, I know they've only really become a major thing in the last few years, but still, dude. Come on." When Bucky only shrugged, Ellie sighed. "Netflix is a streaming service for movies and TV shows."

"What? Don't you have to go to the movie theater to see films anymore?"

Ellie groaned. "Oh my word. Ok, come here." When Bucky hesitated, Ellie patted the bed next to her. "Really, come here." Bucky slowly stood and, bringing the blanket with him, and joined her on the bed. Ellie was acutely aware of his proximity and ignored the goosebumps it caused on her skin in favor of pulling her laptop off the nightstand and showing him the screen, where Netflix was pulled up. "See, you just scroll through the different genres and stuff, and pick out whatever you want to watch, and it plays."

Bucky stared in awe at the computer screen. "How do you scroll?" Ellie showed him how to use the touchpad, and he scrolled slowly through her list in awe, mouth hanging open in amazement. He stopped on the Office and asked, "What is this?"

"It's a comedy show," Ellie explained patiently. "It's incredibly popular. Have you really never heard of it?" Bucky shook his head as Saphira jumped on the bed by Bucky's feet. He jumped and shoved a hand in his jacket pocket, but he relaxed when he saw it was just the cat again. Saphira glared unblinkingly at Bucky, making Ellie burst out laughing. Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, so Ellie gasped out, "Sorry, you're just in the spot where she normally sleeps, and she really looks like she hates you for it. It just cracked me up." Bucky grinned a little at that, then he leaned forward and offered Saphira his human hand. She sniffed at it, then she hissed, jumping off the bed and retreating to her previous hiding place under it, which only served to make Ellie laugh harder.

Sighing heavily, Bucky said determinedly, "I'm going to win that cat over one of these days. Anyway, this… The Office. I want to watch that." Ellie laughed softly, starting the show on season two since, as she explained to Bucky when she explained the premise of the show, season one was not very good compared to the rest of the show. Ellie settled the laptop between herself and Bucky, and as the show played through the episode, they eventually both laid down on the bed and got comfortable. Ellie yawned as the next episode started, Bucky's quiet laughter making her smile. Her eyelids began to grow heavy until suddenly she was asleep.

October 16, 2015

Ellie woke up the next morning to a sweet smell filling the apartment. She groaned, rolling over, struggling against the power cord of her laptop where it was draped across her hips, glaring through half-awake eyes at her clock. She gasped when she realized it was ten in the morning and bolted upright, making herself dizzy. She wriggled out from under the blankets, ignoring the odd smells of sweet food and male deodorant as she rushed from the bed. She slammed into her closet door as she threw it open, and she stumbled into the closet, tearing her pajamas off and throwing on the nearest flannel and skinny jeans she could find. When Bucky called her name from the kitchen, Ellie shrieked, so startled by the sound of a man's voice in her apartment that she tripped pulling on her jeans and fell hard to the floor. She heard Bucky racing to help her and squeaked, "No, I'm ok! I'm ok! I just tripped and fell. Stay out!"

Ellie heard him stop, then a moment later Bucky's voice floated into the closet. "What's wrong? Are you sure you're ok?"

Groaning as she pulled on her jeans properly, Ellie grumbled, "Yes, I'm fine. My class started at nine this morning, and I'm so incredibly late! I must've forgotten to turn on my alarm last night. Why did you let me sleep so late?"

She stumbled out of the closet with her combat boots from the night before in her hands, nearly running straight into Bucky in the process. He caught her by the elbows easily, and she yanked herself free of his grasp causing her to practically fall onto the bed when she'd meant to only sit on it as she jerked her boots on her feet. Bucky said, "Ellie, doll, I had no idea you had somewhere to be this morning, or I would've woken you. And if you're already an hour late, then just don't worry about it, ok? It will be long over by the time you get there." Ellie stopped with one of her boots still unzipped, hesitating. Bucky added, "Besides, I've got breakfast ready for you, and you can't skip that. You can afford to play hooky one day, right?"

Ellie sighed heavily, then pulled her shoes back off. "All right, you win," she conceded, looking up to find Bucky watching her with a triumphant smirk. "Did you make more pancakes?" Ellie asked shyly as she took in his tight t-shirt and fitted jeans, his hair damp from when he must've showered while Ellie had been asleep.

"Nope," Bucky said, suppressing a chuckle. His metal hand caught her eyes again as he turned and headed off to the kitchen. Ellie was incredibly curious about how he ended up with a prosthetic arm, but she guessed the situation was incredibly traumatic, and between the trauma and the memory problems, she had the feeling that she didn't want to poke that bear — not yet at least. She slowly followed him over to the card table, surprised to find a spread of fresh fruit, jams, and crepes on the table. Ellie glanced over at the kitchen, completely shocked to see that all the dishes had been washed and put away, leaving the place totally spotless. "You're a fairly heavy sleeper, did you know that?" Bucky teased.

"Where did all this food come from?" Ellie asked in amazement.

Bucky shrugged. "Well, I couldn't sleep, so when I grew too restless to keep watching that — Netflix? — around 7 a.m. I ran out to the nearest market and got groceries. Also, there's coffee brewed in the coffee pot if you want it."

Ellie made a face at the mention of coffee. "While that's really sweet of you, I actually hate coffee."

Laughing, Bucky protested, "But you work in a café!"

Ellie pulled on the sleeves of her over-sized men's red and black flannel, replying, "Yeah, well, it pays the rent, but I think it's far too bitter. It smells all right, but I only drink the stuff when I'm so desperate to stay awake that falling asleep could literally get me killed."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow, that's some serious hatred," Bucky snickered. "Ok, I'll be sure to remember that from now on. You don't hate crepes though, right?"

Ellie smiled at him as she sat down to breakfast. "Right."

"Ok, good," Bucky said as he took the seat next to hers.

A couple hours later, Bucky and Ellie were laying on the bed again, hunkered down against the chilly morning under Ellie's blankets binge-watching the Office. Somehow Bucky's metal arm had ended up wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. She'd seen the utter shock and horror on his face when he'd first realized which arm he'd put around her, but then Ellie had chosen to ignore it, snuggling in closer to him and getting comfortable and continuing to work on her new crochet project. He'd gone rigid at the contact, as though it was the first time anyone had touched him like that since he'd gotten the new arm, which made Ellie sad for him, but she held it in, pretending that she hadn't noticed. The cool metal chilled her skin, but she disregarded the feeling, pulling the blanket tighter around her to fight the cold. After a few minutes, she'd felt his muscles relax.

Ellie leaned her head on his shoulder, surprised when she realized that she could feel a potential seam in his shoulder between the metal arm and his human flesh under his shirt, though she felt silly for not realizing it would exist before. Bucky suddenly asked, "Do you have a lot of experience with horses?" Ellie looked at him questioningly. "You said you wanted to be an equestrian therapist," he elaborated. "I was wondering if you were experienced enough with horses to do that, and what prompted that career choice."

Ellie's mouth formed a silent "Oh," at that. "Well, yeah, I do actually," she answered. "My dad was a rodeo cowboy when he was young before he met my mom. So he always loved horses, so when I was seven we moved to a small farm that had a couple acres of pasture land and a barn, so my dad bought horses for all three of us. It was great."

"Where are they now?"

"Who, the horses?"

"Yeah."

Ellie closed her eyes for a minute, fighting the sudden urge to cry. Then she opened them and answered quietly, "I inherited them and the farmhouse when my parents died, but… Things were tough, financially. I couldn't afford to keep them. I still have the house, but the barns are empty now. I had to sell all three of them because I couldn't afford to feed them, or even me, especially when my grandma cut me off from her…"

She felt Bucky's arm around her tighten, and only then did she realize that her entire body was trembling and sticky with sweat. "I'm sorry," he murmured gently, laying his cheek against the top of her head. "That must've been awful."

Ellie nodded, tears stinging her eyes. "It was almost like losing my parents all over again, letting go such a tangible, living, breathing connection to them like that. My dad's horse was really special, too. He taught him to do a few tricks from back in his rodeo days."

"Yeah?" Bucky pushed gently, and Ellie could tell he was trying to route her thoughts into happier memories. It was an easily seen-through tactic, but she allowed it to work anyway, if only temporarily.

"Yeah," Ellie mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. "He'd count and do math and bow and rear on command, all sort of silly little things like that."

"That sounds like a very smart horse," Bucky said.

"He was," Ellie affirmed. "He was one of the best horses I've ever known. I miss him. Well, I miss Dad more."

Bucky's metal hand rubbed her arm, surprisingly tender given the unforgiving material from which it was made. "I miss my family, too," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But I can tell you this, it gets easier to deal with over time. You still miss them, and there are still times where it hurts like hell, but it gets easier."

Ellie looked at Bucky, pushing her own pain aside to zero in on the source of his in a cold, clinical manner that helped her manage her own emotional distress. "What happened to your family, Bucky?"

Bucky closed his eyes tight for a minute as though he were thinking very hard about the answer, then he said, "My dad died when I was young of… cancer, I think? And, umm, I never found out for sure how my mom or sisters died, I just know that they're dead."

"That's awful," Ellie said sympathetically. He shrugged, clamming up again and returning his attention to the Office on the computer screen in front of him. Ellie allowed him his space on the issue and turned her attention back to her crochet as he focused solely on the show.