I'm nervous.

I'm not supposed to be nervous. Simulate nervousness—yes. I'm supposed to be able to do that. I was built to do that. But this … this feeling?

I'm not supposed to have feelings.

Any feelings.

But here I am … nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. (Where did that come from? It doesn't sound like a Fitz thought … Fitz would have said something about monkeys, maybe. But not cats. Definitely not cats…)

I don't like it.

(The nervousness. Cats I'm okay with.)

((Monkeys are fine too in case you're wondering.))

I've been online—awake; people say awake—for two days now. (Well part of it was spent pretending to sleep, but this is the longest they've left me aware since I first came online.) They even had me demonstrate my ability to eat. I just hope there's never reason for me to activate my defecation program. Some things I'd just as soon not experience …

This is a bad idea.

I told them it's a bad idea. They didn't listen to me. No one listens to me. If I was real, if I was alive, they'd listen to me.

Maybe.

So here I am. Waiting outside the door as Agent Coulson explains. (Director Coulson? Phil? What am I supposed to call him? On the off chance that he'll talk to me…)

On the off chance that any of them will talk to me …

I can hear what they're saying, of course. My hearing is better than human, but not by as much as you'd think. I can hear them because they're yelling …

Especially Simmons …

Jemma …

"Jemma, give it a chance," Triplet says to her … and I feel my blood (well if I had blood) boil … "It'll be like having him back…"

"No it won't! This is sick! I can't believe you're even considering it … Sir."

"Simmons … Jemma." Coulson's voice is kind, but firm. "We all miss Fitz, but unless he wakes up … until he wakes up … you're going to need help."

"Hire me a bloody assistant then!"

"It's not that easy, and you know it. You and Fitz are magic together … I need my researchers working at top efficiency ... or as near to that as we can get. We need him."

"It. It's not a him. It's an it. And it's not Fitz. No matter what it looks like, no matter what it sounds like, it'll never be Fitz!"

"I know, Jemma. But it has to be this way."

"No it doesn't. It's this way because you're choosing to make it so. Sir. You've not even been Director of SHIELD for a week and you're already starting to sound like Fury …"

"Fury saved your life, Jemma. And Fitz's. This is not up for debate. This discussion is over. Now let's get him settled in."

I can imagine Simmons' glare before the door is even opened, and I'm not wrong because I see her glaring at me over Coulson's shoulder as soon as the door is opened. "Come in, Fitz."

"Don't call it that! Don't ever call it that!" Simmons was practically raging now. "It's not Fitz! It's not even human! It's just a robot! A machine!"

It … hurts.

The look in her eyes. I'd seen her a thousand times in Fitz's memories. I'd hear her voice in recorded debriefings. But this … I had never dreamed that Jemma Simmons could be capable of such a look off utter loathing as I see on her face as she glares at me.

But I make myself speak.

"Technically, I'm not just a machine or even a robot. I'm a highly specialized mechanism designed to mimic Leopold Fitz's personality, mannerisms, and intellect. I'm a Life Model Decoy android."

"You're a fraud" After that one withering look, Jemma turns her face from me and buries her face in her hands. "You're nothing but a fake Leo Fitz, and I hate you!"

And with that, she runs out of the room.

Melinda May speaks then. "That went better than I expected …"