When Lithium finally started coming around to the conscious world, she wasn’t on the sidewalk. She wasn’t in her room. She was in a place she only vaguely recognized because she’d been in it once before, and it was the early hours of morning. The space was quiet and dimly lit, a small fraction of light filtering in from the bottom rim of the closed bathroom door. The sounds of water hitting tile rung faintly against her ears. With a groan, she sat up, holding her head as it protested against even the slightest movement.

Even through the pain and irritation, Lithium knew what she had to do. Trying not to aggravate the ache that was pounding against her skull, Lithium slid off the couch and stood, working her way through Steve and Sam’s apartment, stumbling into the captain’s bedroom, where she’d seen the device last.

The switch that would summon hordes of Hydra members to her location. She didn’t have long to retrieve it. The captain wouldn’t be in the shower long. If she made too much noise, she’d likely wake Falcon as well. She couldn’t have that. She couldn’t afford any sort of mistake at this point.

Lithium had a mission to complete, and she would execute it swiftly before either of them could stop her. It was for the greater good, she was convinced of that much. It had taken her too long to flip the switch. Hydra would be coming for her soon enough, anyway. This would spare her a harsh whiplash for taking so long to fulfill her task.

It took her a few pained minutes to get through the drawers of the Captain’s things before she realized the device was sitting in plain view on his nightstand next to his bed. With a deep breath, Lithium walked over, swiped the small item, and walked out of the room, out of the apartment, going to her own apartment only to change to ill-fitting clothes including an oversized hoodie.

Lithium left the building, a fresh dose of painkillers running through her bloodstream. She left behind the captain, Falcon, even James, as she left town, hailing a cab to the nearest airport, jumping a few planes until she touched down over fifty miles away, near one of the Great Lakes. Honestly, Lithium couldn’t imagine which one it was, or that she cared. All she knew was that she spent a few hours walking the perimeter of the lake on foot until she found the spot that screamed out to her as what she needed in the murky, foggy weather of the day.

The skies were gray and a heavy cloud had settled on the ground this morning. It was barely five a.m. Lithium had been gone for over 24 hours now, having lain low and spent time in airport terminals to keep herself out of the public eye, her figure and face concealed for the most part. That had gotten her pulled aside a couple times for a more thorough inspection at each of the airport security checkpoints, but she hadn’t cared so long as Hydra operatives didn’t recognize her.

Thinking about it, Lithium decided she’d hitchhike the way back to linger on the safe side of things. But those thoughts could wait a little longer now.

Climbing up the steep incline, Lithium pulled the switch from her pocket, her thumb sliding over the smooth surface of the cover that protected the switch from being accidentally activated. Once she was at the top of the cliff that overlooked the choppy, cold waters of the lake, Lithium flipped open the lid of the small device.

Taking a moment longer to pause, taking a moment longer to breathe, Lithium flipped the switch, let the light above it flicker for a few seconds . . .

And then she threw it as far as she could into the destructive waters of the cruel and cold lake. Knowing Hydra would soon descend on the coordinates of the device, Lithium pulled her hood back up, righted the backpack that rested against her spine uncomfortably, and took off at a jog into the dense forest that lined the waters not fifty yards away.

She hadn’t even made it a mile when she could hear the helicopters start to descend on the surrounding area. It took all of her willpower to keep going instead of turning and running back to Hydra. They were behind her now. Literally and figuratively.

Lithium picked up her pace and kept moving until she could no longer hear the buzz of Hydra based activity behind her. ‘You did the right thing,’ she told herself again and again, refusing to think of the consequences if Hydra caught her on the run. Even her appearance wouldn’t lessen her punishment.

She’d share the same fate as Copper -- as Iris. If not worse.

Shaking her head, Lithium just kept moving for miles and miles, crossing highways at a sprint as she continued moving back the way she came, strategically out of sight.

~~~

Feeling a bit lonely during the second day of her trek, Lithium began to hum quietly to herself as she walked along the edge of treelines and the fence-lined fields near the roads she had pinpointed on the map she’d brought along with her. No technology from now on. Hydra had to believe she was dead, submerged in deep waters and torn apart by some vicious fish, as ridiculous as it sounded. Even a small blip on the radar could cause Hydra to seek her out, and then . . .

Silver bullets.

With a sigh, Lithium began to sing the tune that had been so prevalent in her mind as of late. It was a terrible sort of earworm, but she genuinely enjoyed the song. It was a good tune, a good inspiration to help her face the world.

“You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say, I'm talking loud not saying much. I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. Shoot me down, but I get up. I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium. Cut me down, but it's you who'll have further to fall. Ghost town and haunted love. Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones; I'm talking loud not saying much. I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium, I am titani-.”

“Lithium?” The young brunette woman nearly jumped out of her skin, her heart pounding in her chest immediately as the voice broke into her isolated reverie. Spinning around quickly, adrenaline coursing through her veins, Lithium spotted Steve standing not a fifty feet away, quickly closing the distance between them. “Good God, Lith, we thought you’d been kidnapped! Where have you been? Are you all right? Any injuries that need treating?”

She froze as he closed the distance between them, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I . . . I just had to take care of something important . . .”

“I . . . understand, Lithium,” he told her, calm as ever. “I just wish you would’ve told us. We can help you, you know. We’re a team. That’s what we’re here for. What on earth were you singing, anyway?”

Silently, Lithium went over the remaining lyrics in her her mind. The ones that spoke the harshest truth of all right now. It touched on her fear of Hydra, what remained of it, at least, now that Pierce was dead and gone. Would they still kill her without him around? Somehow, it wouldn’t surprise her if they did.

‘Stone-hard, machine gun, firing at the ones who run, stone-hard as bulletproof glass. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium.’ But that was the problem. She wasn’t bulletproof, not against the weapons they had. Copper’s demise had proven as much. Hydra had specialized weapons designed specifically to control their creations should they step out of line.

“I was singing Titanium . . .” She admitted reluctantly, staring down at the pavement. ‘Because that’s what I wish I was,’ she added silently, the thought sliding through her mind with ease. If she were Titanium . . .

A shudder ripped through her body as she recalled the overdose and the darkness of the days that had surrounded it.

“Why is that, Lithium? Are you all right? Should I be concerned for your well-being?” He paused, waiting for her to answer, and when no answer came, he continued speaking. “What’s wrong, Lithium? What can I do to help you? You’ve been MIA for days after passing out on the sidewalk, which . . .” He sighed, recalling the incident. Talking slowly, he started again. “That incident caused some questions of it’s own, Lithium. Are you okay?”

Nearly wincing, Lithium opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was silent, trying to say something, anything, but her mind couldn’t decide on an explanation.

“If you want me to leave you alone, then I will, Lithium, but I need to be sure that you’ll be okay. Will you be okay on your own?”

Shaking her head quickly, Lithium finally managed to find the words to speak. “Don’t leave,” she pleaded gently. “Don’t leave . . . I’m trying . . .”

“Can you give me anything at all?” Steve asked, watching her curiously, recalling the image of the cracked, broken and indented concrete where Lithium had fallen against the sidewalk, like her presence alone had caused it to break exactly where she needed it. What confused him further was that she’d been able to hold a pace equal to his own for a mile even though it often took her nearly three times as long in the morning runs, keeping her just out of his reach until she’d collapsed. And then she’d somehow broken the pavement, a shimmer running along her body as she’d made contact with the concrete, emerging from the impact without so much as a scratch.

Again, Lithium opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of much to say, leaving her with nonexistent words stumbling clumsily out of her mouth. With a frown, Lithium bit her lip, trying to think of something to make Steve see this in a different light than she’d given him as of late, with her disappearance and reappearance. She could, should, tell him about her trek to get rid of the device and to temporarily throw Hydra off track. About the time and effort she’d spent trying to get them off her tail. Off THEIR tail. It was as much, if not more so, for Steve, Sam and James, as it was for her.

She was the one facing certain death if Hydra found out what she’d done. And she’d done it for them. But how could she make them see that when Steve didn’t even know that she’d met James and had now spent time with him on more than one occasion, that the two had a quiet pact to fight at each other’s side should Hydra come knocking on their doors, demanding their execution, or worse, their return to Hydra.

She’d told James a few of her secrets because he was one of the few that could even possibly understand what she’d suffered through. Surely she could extend the same gesture to Steve. This was Captain America, after all. The man who’d inspired her to become what she was today. The man who’d given her life direction when she felt lost and broken because of Hydra, and who’d trained her day in and day out at her request, and who had never given up on her even when she collapsed and babbled her mouth off.

Lithium crossed her arms and rubbed them, biting at her lip nervously, wondering how on earth she could possibly say anything that would make any sense at this point. What had happened the night she’d run? What had she even started running for? Lithium couldn’t even remember, only that she’d been panicked and nervous and before she knew it, she was sprinting down the streets with the sounds of chirping crickets sounding somewhere in the background, her feet striking the pavement loudly.

Biting her lip harder, Lithium looked around nervously. What could she say or do at this point? The Captain America was watching her, waiting for something that could somehow make him see what had happened. Honestly, Lithium wanted to delve into the tale of what had happened the past few days, but it felt like that would take more time and explanation than the captain really wanted to sit, or stand, through. So she settled for something simpler, something that would show him what this ‘team’ she’d become part of meant to her, regardless of all the teasing and horrible sparring practice beatings she’d taken.

Lithium took a deep breath to steady herself, trying to swallow her nerves before saying a truth that hadn’t been spoken in years.

“My name is Celeste.”