Titanium (Ti)
Atomic Number: 22
Atomic Weight: 47.867 amu
Solid at room temperature; strong metal resistant to sea water, chlorine, and aqua regia; easily oxidized; relatively abundant in the atmosphere
Warnings: Fire hazard, potentially explosive
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If Malka were naive, she would convince herself that this is bliss. If she were naive, she would allow her thoughts to wonder about what ifs and what could bes, but she is smarter than that. Lying in bed all day cannot last long, even if Bucky has tried his hardest to keep them in for weeks now.
She has never really experienced this type of kindness before. Most partners she had in the past were not her choice and thought they could use Aura more than she used them. If there ever was a compassionate target, Aura did her best to minimize the pain, but it always ended with complications.
Some of the less kind targets got what they deserved. Especially the one that had knocked Aura out, leaving Malka to take her place. She barely remembers stumbling back to the hideout, back to the Winter Soldier. Her large coat was a lifeline, and she did her best to hide the limp and the bruises along her cheek and throat.
Malka read later that when the Winter Soldier had left not five seconds after seeing the damage, he had killed the target without authorization.
But Bucky... Bucky is different. He is kind and considerate, never doing anything to hurt her for his own gain. He makes sure she drinks water instead of vodka and gets her to crack a smile every once in a while. The night before, he had come back to the apartment with an old record player and record, set it up, and pulled her into dancing all through the night until the neighbors complained.
It is a kindness she can't help but believe is undeserved.
He had left the apartment early this morning for groceries. Normally, they go out together, but recently, he has been surprising her with knick-knacks he finds and brings home on his own. She enjoys the moments of quiet when she can lounge in their broken cot tucked into the corner of a blank room and think about nothing but bliss.
When he returns today, she sits at the table with some tea in hand, reading an opinion piece she couldn't care less about. A heavy thud makes her flinch as she draws her attention away from the paper while Bucky whistles to himself, putting away his daily haul.
Malka stares at the gun he had set before her. Nothing too fancy, just a pistol, probably big enough for eight bullets in one magazine. The handle is bare, and she can barely make out the sawed-off serial number.
"Bucky?"
"Hmm?" He does not stop as he opens a cabinet to grab a mug.
"Deactivate protocol 21."
She does not need to look up to know that he pauses. His soft whistling stops, the creaking of the floorboards hesitating as she clears her throat, leans back, and picks up the paper again. She purses her lips as ever so slowly he begins moving again, pouring himself some coffee, and makes his way over.
