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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Bucky's head pounds when he wakes. Cold walls surround him, but he is far from contained. The only chain he has is the large machine keeping his metal arm in place. His ears ring with white noise as he looks around, his mind too fuzzy to remember what happened after hearing those words.
"Steve!" He hears someone yell before Steve and a man Bucky recognizes as Sam Wilson jog into the room.
They stare at him like he is a zoo animal as he leans over his knees and screws his eyes shut. "Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asks.
"Your mom's name was Sarah," Bucky replies, then adds with a chuckle, "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."
"Can't read that in a museum."
"Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asks, arching a brow.
"What did I do?" Bucky asks, though his gaze drifts to the side as if waiting.
"Enough," Steve says.
"Oh, God." Bucky scrunches his face up, images flooding his mind. Malka's face, switching from terrified to determined as if it would hide her fear, fighting back to back against innocents who did not understand, a blast of energy hitting Malka, and everything went red. "I knew this would happen. She knew it would happen. Everything they put inside us is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know."
"People are dead. The bombing, the setup. The doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than I don't know."
"I don't know," Bucky repeats as he meets Steve's gaze. "She would."
"She?" Steve frown. "What, you mean—"
"He means me." Bucky can't help the smile when her voice echoes around the warehouse they occupy, can't help the grin when he sees her step into the room with a gun raised, her hair still damp from whatever happened as she sidesteps her way to Bucky's side. "I suggest you back up."
Sam purses his lips. "Malka, what are you doing?"
"I said back up."
"Who's the one who punched who? You owe me, so—"
"Who's holding the gun? I said, back up." When they comply, Malka presses her lips into a thin line. "How do I work this thing?" She motions to the machine pinning Bucky down.
"Malka, just hold on," Steve says, holding his hands out. "We're not hurting him."
"That's what Ross said too, and look where we are," she snaps.
Steve sighs. "Look, are you ok? You went down with the helicopter."
Bucky tilts his head up to look at her. She looks frenzied, too chaotic to be just fine. She keeps shifting her weight as if she needs to run without warning, the gun dancing between Steve's and Sam's chests, but he can tell she won't pull the trigger.
