Notes:

Keep in mind that this is very much an AU. I'm not striving for accuracy. In this verse, Tony and Pepper have yet to get together, he never became Iron Man, Ultron never existed, and the Avengers are not present. Fitz was never a part of SHIELD. It is also very loosely based on the film "Ex Machina", so some concepts will be drawn from that plot, but this fanfic will not follow the film's plot-line at all. AKA, Tony isn't a raging psychopathic asshole, and it won't end tragically. Probably. Maybe. You'll have to wait and see...

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Anthony Edward Stark was known for many, many things. Self-coined as being a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, most people didn't think to look beneath the surface. But once you did, you would learn many things. Like how he twitches in his sleep, and has ever since he was small; how he chews the end of every pen he holds – whether to claim it as his own, or because it's simply a habit, no one knows; and, most importantly, you would learn that, no matter what he achieved, Anthony Edward Stark was never satisfied.

Be it in bed or with his work, the man was purely insatiable. He was always striving for more, always racing to be first, always aspiring to do something truly magnificent. His crown jewels were his dabblings in artificial intelligence technology.

First, there was JARVIS. Just A Rather Very Intelligent System was his masterpiece, his baby, even his friend, if one can befriend their AI. But, as magnificent as JARVIS was, with his well-developed witty retorts and flawless diction, Tony knew he could do more. Friday was his second attempt; another "rather very intelligent system", but this time acutely more… feminine. But not for the lady-killer reasons you may accuse him of; no, Tony created Friday mainly as a learning opportunity. To see if an artificial intelligence would develop any sort of gender ticks. Of course, Friday didn't; how could she? Much like JARVIS, she was a computer system and nothing more. A voice, but not a person.

Tony Stark was unsatisfied. So, he tried something new. Something no one had ever successfully done before.

He created an AI, but not to serve as an alarm clock or to automatically start his car or to ensure that his breakfast was ready when he rolled out of bed at whatever time in the afternoon. No, this time… this time it was purely experimental. To test the boundaries of artificial intelligence – to see what it would take for one to become truly aware.

This new attempt wasn't an ordinary AI. This time, he put his acute skills in engineering and biochemistry to good use, and he created a body. It wasn't flawless, by any means; the facial structure alone took him over a year to complete, so the rest of the body was still a rough shell, aesthetically pleasing but not entirely human. It consisted of pliable plastic covering, wires, and all of the other machinery that allowed the body to function like a normal human's would. Overall, it was incredibly advanced; people at the Expo would go wild over it. The only other entirely humanoid aspects he added in later were skin for the hands and feet, and hair. All crucial to sensory research.

He called her JEMMA; Just Experimental Machinery Measuring Awareness. She was undoubtedly his most intelligent AI thus far; she could calculate any of his scientific formulas at a rate even faster than JARVIS, and her accuracy level was currently at 99.8%. But, he wasn't testing for accuracy. Really, he hadn't even created JEMMA to be useful. She was just as her name would suggest; an experimental machine, to be observed and documented, and then tucked away in storage so he could start in on his next project. But, he knew he could never measure JEMMA's full awareness potential on his own; a single component is never enough for a truly interesting experiment. He needed to shift the variables – to bring in an unknown.

He needed someone who would test JEMMA in ways he couldn't; a new face, to see how she would react in a foreign social situation. Like JARVIS and Friday, JEMMA was acutely accustomed to telling Tony precisely what he wanted to hear, and that just wouldn't do. That would never allow him to measure her levels of awareness. No, for that to happen, he would need to introduce… emotion.

So, he brought in the brightest young mind Stark Industries had seen since… well, since himself. Leopold Fitz was a child prodigy, an engineering genius who had blasted his way through university and started working for Stark before his twentieth birthday. Now, at twenty-eight, he had done significant work for the company. Even earned himself his own private lab and team of technicians.

All in all, he was the perfect variable to introduce to JEMMA; young, smart, relatively attractive, and different. He was so like Tony, but so different in a multitude of ways, from his dress to his voice. There was also the fact that his technicians could handle any projects that may need immediate attention while he was "on leave", so, really, he was the best and only option for the job.

But Fitz was still baffled when he was summoned to Stark Tower in New York, all the way from the Malibu facility where his lab was located. Why would the CEO want to meet with him now, after he'd been working for Stark for nearly a decade? Up until today, he had only ever dealt with his assistant, Pepper Potts, and the men on the board of directors when it came to requesting funding for a new project. Stark had never shown any real interest in him, save the yearly Christmas bonus with a handwritten "great job this year, buddy ~ T.S." in a cheery holiday card. This… this was strange.

Even stranger yet was being summoned up past the levels upon levels of labs and offices in the building, directly to Stark's penthouse on the top floor. The meeting couldn't possibly be more personal. As the elevator ascended, Fitz got the sinking feeling that he should have brought more than just a briefcase filled with status reports on his latest projects; he should have brought… a cheese plate, or something. What does Stark even like? Booze. He likes booze. He should have brought fancy booze.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, he was greeted not by a person, but by an automated voice overhead.

"Welcome, Dr. Fitz. Mr. Stark will be with you shortly; please, take a seat."

"I, ehm… Thank you?"

Searching for the source, Fitz stepped into the penthouse and walked over to sit on the sofa that was far too close to the wall of windows, in his opinion; he's never been a fan of heights. Even planes give him the willies. Fitz much prefers safe areas, far closer to the ground.

He was busy doing the math on how hard he would hit the ground were he to fall out one of those windows when Stark finally made his entrance, walking out of a hallway and into the kitchenette a few feet away. His appearance was so sudden and so casual that Fitz wasn't quite sure what to say. Here he was, dressed in a dress coat and tie, his shoes shined, and Stark was in jeans and a faded AC/DC sweater, evidently not even having bothered to put on any shoes as he was currently sliding around in the kitchen, fixing drinks.

"What's your poison, doc? Whisky? Beer? No, don't tell me – scotch?"

Clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly, Fitz nodded his head in response to the last offer, reminding himself to at least give the man a timid smile.

"Scotch would be fine."

"I knew it. You Scots are all the same."

Once the drinks were poured, Tony finally joined him in the sitting area, and Fitz stared down at his drink before taking a sip, admittedly feeling uncomfortable. Here he was in his boss's home, drinking his boss's scotch, and he wasn't even sure why he was summoned here. To make matters worse, Stark was taking his dear sweet time telling him.

"I knew a Scottish guy. I know a lot of Scottish guys, actually, but this one was... unique. He used to drink so much scotch that he'd black out for days. Just go on wild rampages, dancing his way through every club in Glasgow-"

"Pardon me, Mr. Stark, but… Why am I here, exactly?"

Arching an eyebrow at the interruption, Tony shrugged, downing his whisky before speaking.

"Suit yourself. You want to get down to business, we'll hop right to it. So, Fitz. Tell me what you know about artificial intelligence technology."

"Artificial intelligence?" Fitz asked, frowning with confusion. He hadn't even considered working on any projects of the sort, so evidently this meeting wasn't about his work. He couldn't help feeling a bit insulted. A bloody decade at the company, and Stark hadn't once shown any interest, and now that he had, all he wanted to do was talk about artificial intelligence?

"It's the pinnacle of cutting edge computing software," he finally made himself answer, taking another sip of the scotch in his hand. "Many have attempted it, but few have succeeded. There's too much controversy surrounding it. People fear artificial intelligence, because they're nervous it could come to rival our own."

"Do you fear it, Dr. Fitz?" Stark asked, a hint of a grin on his face, and Fitz frowned, looking at him dead on.

"Of course not. Artificial intelligence is the future. It's progress; it's inevitable. All science is inevitable, whether we want it to be or not. Why? What's this got to do with anything?"

"Oh, it has to do with everything," Tony explained, setting his glass aside and leaning back in his seat. "I've been messing around with artificial intelligence tech for years, just to see how far I can take it. So far, I haven't gotten past the vocal presence stages."

So that was what greeted him when he came in. Looking up again as if he might somehow discover the source by doing so, Fitz slowly sat his glass down on the table.

Catching the direction of his gaze, Tony smirked.

"You've already met JARVIS. He's a great help. A real pal. But, as intelligent as he is, he's not authentic. No offense, buddy."

"None taken, sir," the disembodied voice responded instantly, causing Fitz to jump, and Tony's smirk only grew.

"I want to find out how far we can really take artificial intelligence," he began to explain, prompting Fitz to look back at him again. "I want to measure the levels of awareness that an AI is capable of."

"For what purpose?" Fitz finally asked, and Tony shrugged.

"For the sake of science," he answered simply, leaning back into the couch cushions, draping his arm over the back of it. "But I can't do the experiment on my own. I've been trying for months, but I've hardly made any progress with her. That's why you're here."

"I'm sorry – her?"

"Just Experimental Machinery Measuring Awareness," Tony stated, and Fitz seemed to ponder the words for a moment before muttering,

"…Jemma?"

"JEMMA. She's my best work yet, but she's too used to me. I made her; I'm all she's ever known. She won't respond to me in a way I can really study. I need a new variable."

"You want me to be your variable?" Fitz scoffed, looking at the man like he was mental. "What, I'm just supposed to sit in a room and speak to a disembodied voice like a sad, friendless buffoon?"

"Of course not," Tony stated plainly, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're going to sit in a room and speak to a humanoid robot with artificial intelligence, and test her awareness capabilities. Like a sad, friendless buffoon."

Fitz could feel his jaw drop. The man had to be pulling his leg. No one had ever successfully implemented artificial intelligence into a metal box before, much less a humanoid robot. This all had to be some silly practical joke. Some, "haha, you've been here a decade and I've never spoken to you face to face, I can't wait to pull your leg" kind of situation.

Tony could tell from the look on Fitz's face that was exactly where his mind was taking him.

"You don't think I'm serious, do you?" Stark asked, and, after another moment of dumbly staring, Fitz finally shut his mouth and gave his head a small shake.

"Fine. I'll just have to show you."

When Stark got to his feet, Fitz continued to sit for a long moment, unsure of what to do. Stark had to make an impatient gesture with his hand to get the younger scientist to finally push himself to his feet and blindly followed him to what appeared to be a security surveillance room. The monitors were displaying various areas in the tower, from labs to offices to storage units. Keying in a code, Tony hit the enter key and gestured to the screens when they all changed. Each and every one of them was now displaying various angles of a single area.

It seemed to simulate what a small flat would look like. There was a bedroom, a sitting room, a closet, and an office space with a desk - but no windows. No windows, and no real doors. Just archways, and each room was painted the same dull shade of pink. The furnishings were nice, but it didn't look at all like it would feel homey.

It wasn't a flat, or even a room. It was a cell.

"What the bloody hell am I looking at?" Fitz finally snapped at his superior, and Stark met his piercing gaze, hitting another key.

"JEMMA."

The screens shifted again, focusing in on the office space, and he noticed for the first time that there was, indeed, someone in there. Not someone – something. Upon first glance, she looked human; shoulder-length curly brown hair, hunched over the desk, writing page after page after page of notes of some kind by hand. But, upon closer examination, it was clear that she wasn't human at all. Her face was human, as were her hands and her feet and her hair, but her body was that of a cyborg. Clear plastic in the shape of a woman, shapely and beautifully crafted, with wires and circuits and cogs all working inside of her.

Stark had really done it. He'd created a humanoid robot, and implemented artificial intelligence in her.

And, when she suddenly looked up from her work and stood, Fitz felt his breath catch in his throat.

And she was beautiful.

It looked as if Stark had fashioned her somewhat after himself, like some kind of cyborg daughter; she had eyes like his, and shared his hair colour. Yet, her eyes were still entirely her own; they were captivating, and curious, and clearly not entirely human. Human's didn't gaze straight ahead like that, as if the wall were the most interesting thing they had ever seen.

Her face was delicate, like a simple touch may cause her to shatter – and maybe it would. Who could say how stable her equipment was?

"It's… She's…"

"Enchanting, isn't she?" Stark finally asked, leaning against the desk, watching Fitz while Fitz watched JEMMA - captivated, fascinated, and maybe, despite his earlier protests, even a bit frightened.

"I…"

"Are you shocked, Dr. Fitz?"

That seemed to snap him out of his trance, and the slightly irritated frown from before returned in an instant.

"I'm a scientist," Fitz bit out, "Nothing shocks me."

When Stark simply raised an eyebrow, Fitz hurried to continue.

"I'm simply… observing. Trying to figure out how you accomplished something like this. How did you accomplish something like this?"

"I can't tell you how she works, or how she came to exist. At least, not yet." Smirking, Stark took a seat in one of the chairs before the surveillance screens, folding his fingers together. "I don't want hindsight bias to be an issue – if you agree to participate in the experiment, that is."

Fitz looked incredibly conflicted. On one hand, he was bloody angry. He was furious Tony Stark had dragged him all the way to New York after a decade of being in his employ, not to discuss his years of work for the company but to entice him into being a lab rat in some new-age experiment. But, on the other hand… JEMMA was amazing. He would give up so much for the opportunity to study her himself, to figure out how she worked, to see just how much Stark had really accomplished.

His anger would just have to be put aside so the scientist in him could take part in what could possibly be the biggest breakthrough in artificial intelligence technology ever.

Taking a breath, he slowly lowered himself down into the chair alongside Tony's, tearing his gaze away from the monitors to look at his superior.

"What would my role entail?"

"Talking to her. Just talking. Having face-to-face conversations with her, seeing how and what she reacts to. She won't react to me in the ways I'm interested in, but she might to somebody new."

"And what are you interested in?" Fitz prompted, and when Stark waggled a finger and opened his mouth to protest, Fitz heaved a sigh and beat him to the punch, "Right, yeah, yeah, alright. No risking hindsight bias."

"You'll need to stay here, with me, for seven days. Each day you'll do a session with JEMMA, and I'll monitor her progress. After that, you can go back to your lab in Malibu, and I'll have Pepper email you the results."

There it was again; the anger at how little interest Stark seemed to have in him. But this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He'd be an idiot to pass it up.

"So? What do you say?"

Taking a deep breath, Fitz let his gaze travel back to the monitors again, catching sight of those big, brown eyes. Turning to meet Tony's similar gaze, he bobbed his head in a small nod.

"Alright, I'm in."

"Perfect!"

Instantly seeming energized, Stark hopped to his feet.

"Come on; I'll go and get the non-disclosure agreement."

Fitz should have known that was coming; a development this big could earn him a fortune if he leaked it to the right people. Stark couldn't have that. Not when this had clearly taken such a long time to perfect. When Fitz found himself once again staring at the AI on the screen, Stark rolled his eyes and punched in another code, returning the surveillance to its ordinary function, ripping Fitz out of his daze.

"You'll have plenty of time to ogle her later. Right now, you've got a contract to sign."

Fitz wasn't entirely sure he should sign a legally binding document without a lawyer present, but Stark had assured him it was all incredibly basic stuff. Too eager to get started to really care what minor details he was signing off on, he'd scribbled his name and allowed Tony to start a tour of the penthouse.

The rules were simple; he could drink all he wanted, eat all he wanted, and do just about all he wanted, but he couldn't mess around in Stark's personal lab or touch his cars down in the garage beneath the tower. Stark's lab and garage, the two areas Fitz had most hoped to explore, were both strictly off limits to him. But the rest of the tower was fair game.

"JARVIS has the entire layout programmed into his software. Anywhere you want to go, he can help you get there."

"Indeed I can. Any assistance you may require during your stay, Dr. Fitz, I will do my very best to provide," JARVIS responded, and this time Fitz didn't jump – at least, he didn't jerk quite as violently when he did so. It would take a few times for him to get used to the AI evidently being present at all times.

"Th-Thank you, JARVIS."

"It's my pleasure, sir."

Fitz's room was nearly as big as his flat back in Malibu; it was a large open concept space, the walls painted a deep shade of blue with one wall consisting entirely of windows, as seemed to be customary here. Great. An entire week of calculating drop velocity…

When he was finally alone for the night, Stark having told him they would start tomorrow after breakfast, he began to think. Maybe the reason JEMMA's room – flat… cell? – had no windows was because it would be too much of a risk. She could try to escape and fall thousands upon thousands of feet – if she was intelligent enough to attempt an escape, this is.

Then again, he wasn't even sure where the room was located. Stark Tower was large and expansive. He supposed he'd find out tomorrow.

Sleep came surprisingly easy. Blame it on the dreadful plane ride over, or the eventfulness of the evening, but the engineer was asleep nearly the very second his head touched the pillow.

That night, his dreams were plagued with circuits, curves, and a haunting pair of brown eyes.

There was no telling what the next week of his life had in store for him.