The silence following AIDA's entrance and Fitz's acknowledgment was profound but short-lived.
"Who are you?" Piper asked.
"What do you mean, 'AIDA'?" Simmons demanded. "AIDA's just a digital interface!"
"Well, not anymore," Fitz said.
"Hello, Jemma Simmons," AIDA greeted. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Dr. Radcliffe has spoken very highly of you."
Simmons opened and closed her mouth, unable to make any reply other than a muted squeak.
"Okay, whoever-you-are," Piper interrupted, bringing them back to the present. "You said you could help May?"
"Yes," AIDA agreed. "My power source is independent of the electrical grid and was not affected by the blackout. I believe I can discharge the required energy to reinstate a normal cardiac rhythm."
"Wait! She—she wasn't designed for that," Radcliffe interjected.
"What do we have to lose? She's dying!" Fitz said.
"Do it!" Simmons commanded.
AIDA stood over the still, silent figure of Melinda May and placed her hands in textbook-perfect resuscitation position on her chest. In the darkened laboratory, the electric discharge from AIDA's palms was as blinding as a lightning strike.
"Did it work?" Fitz asked.
Jaw set, eyes trained on the eerily-still form of AIDA, Simmons reached across the gurney and placed two fingers on the side of May's neck. She sighed and felt her body crumple in relief as a feather-light pulse jumped beneath her touch.
"She's still with us," Simmons announced.
"Jemma! Look out!" Fitz yelled.
With her head turned to face the others, Simmons had not seen May's eyes spring open. Her own heart slammed against the walls of her rib-cage as May's hand clamped down on her arm.
"May!" She screamed.
May's eyes darted around the dark laboratory wildly. In the light of the camera phone, she seemed just as crazed as when she was taken from the base.
"Where. Am. I?"
Her words came out in a growl, punctuated by panicked breaths.
"May, it's alright," Simmons tried. "You're safe now. You're here with us. It's okay."
May's face slackened and relaxed.
"Jemma," she croaked. "What happened?"
"Are you feeling alright?" Simmons asked cautiously. "What's the last thing you remember?"
May groaned and swallowed before answering.
"Phil—Coulson, he wanted me to go to the lab. Something about blood-work… I can't remember…" she trailed off. "Where is he?"
"He's safe," Simmons assured her. "You need to rest. Will you give me a moment? I need to speak with Fitz. Agent Piper is here. She'll fill you in on the details."
Piper nodded her assent to Simmons and rolled up a stool next to the table.
"You three," Simmons said, turning to Fitz, Radcliffe and AIDA. "Outside. Now."
Fitz and Radcliffe huddled together with crossed arms while AIDA watched with impassive stoicism as Simmons closed the door to the lab.
"Well, she seems alright," Fitz said, with a nod in May's direction. "It seems like whatever it was that was making her paranoid left her when…"
She died.
The unspoken conclusion hung in mid-air. Neither Fitz nor Simmons wanted to go down that road. Psychosis caused by incorporeal beings that fled the host's body upon death was mythology, not science.
"You know, there have been cases of patients with schizophrenia experiencing relief of psychosis after flat-lining due to insulin overdose," Fitz offered. "Maybe we are seeing something similar."
"I know there are and we're not," Simmons said flatly. "It's a completely different neurochemical event. And don't change the subject."
"What subject?" Radcliffe interjected.
"Her!" Simmons said, pointing to AIDA. "You know that the creation of a prototype like this violates the sanctions of your hearing!"
Radcliffe pursed his lips and looked at the ground.
"Only if they are done without oversight. Technically, I was being overseen," he corrected, looking at Fitz.
"Only the final stages!" Fitz protested. "Don't drag me into this!"
"How long have you known?"
Simmons's voice was dangerously soft.
"Just a couple of weeks. I swear!"
"And you didn't tell me?" Simmons asked. "After all we've been through, do you really not trust me enough to tell me something like this?"
"It wasn't you I couldn't trust! It was the Director!" Fitz argued. "And after what we've seen over the last few days, it looks like I was right."
Simmons was saved from making a scathing retort by the sound of Radcliffe's front door caving in. A SHIELD tactical team poured in through the open door, surrounding the group with raised weapons. In the midst of them stood Director Jeffrey Mace himself.
"Looks like we have quite a few trust issues on this team," he declared. "Sorry for the dramatic entrance. But the timing was too perfect to pass up."
Radcliffe, Simmons and Fitz stared at the Director, aghast. Only AIDA appeared unruffled at the impromptu siege.
"FitzSimmons, Dr. Radcliffe," Mace paused. "And you." He pointed at AIDA. "On the quinjet now."
He turned to the tactical team.
"Secure Agent May and Agent Piper and escort them to the quinjet," he ordered. "We have a lot to discuss."
Final installment still to come including the Director's endgame and a lil bit of Philinda!
(Have y'all seen the sneak peak of next week's episode? Looks exciting!)
