On the plane-
Simmons and Fitz had completed the vaccine. Fitz spoke up, "Can I do it? I believe I have good luck."
Simmons nodded, and Fitz loaded the vaccine into the injection gun. He approached a cage containing three white mice, picked one up, and, with a pulse of electricity, injected the vaccine into the mouse.
Everyone's eyes were glued to the mouse. At first, there were no changes, nor did any static appear, prompting an excited Fitz to say, "We did it!"
But the next moment, the mouse began to float as a static pulse appeared.
Simmons' smile faded, and she muttered, "It failed..."
Coulson spoke up, "We still have time. I'll contact Tsunade and ask where we went wrong. She has the correct solution."
Fitz chimed in, "I think the pulse was weaker this time. Maybe with a little adjustment, it'll work."
Simmons nodded, knowing they still had two more mice and a chance to fix things.
Coulson dialed Charles's number, and the phone started ringing. Everyone stared at Coulson's phone, silently urging, Please pick up, please pick up.
Time seemed to stretch as the seconds ticked by: one, three, five seconds, and the phone kept ringing.
At that moment, Fitz glanced back at the transparent cage and noticed the floating mouse had returned to the ground.
Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, Fitz rushed over. To his surprise, the mouse, which had briefly shown being affected, was now alive and walking around.
"Simmons, we did it!" Fitz exclaimed.
"The mouse had only been stunned by the electric pulse."
Just then, Charles answered the call, and Coulson heard his voice on the other end: "Coulson, what's up?"
Smiling at Fitz's words, Coulson responded, "Please thank Princess Tsunade for me. She just saved us from a big problem."
Charles laughed. "Got it. I'll pass it along."
He then hung up, and Fitz hurriedly prepared the second dose of the vaccine, which he immediately administered to Simmons.
As the vaccine entered her system, a faint static pulse was released from Simmons' body, signaling that the virus threat was now over.
When the lab doors opened, Skye was the first to rush in, throwing her arms around Simmons.
"You're okay! Thank goodness," Skye said excitedly.
Simmons, overwhelmed by Skye's reaction, could hardly speak as she was held tightly.
…
In the office-
Coulson was reviewing the medical report when May walked in.
"How's Simmons doing?" she asked.
Coulson put down the report and smiled, "She's back to her usual self, almost like she never had a near-death experience."
Leaning against the doorframe, May calmly added, "It'll take some time for her to fully process what she went through."
Coulson nodded in agreement, "That's true."
"Is that her medical report?" May asked.
Glancing at the report on his desk, Coulson replied, "Actually, it's mine. My blood test results are in."
"I'm perfectly fine, though my iron levels are a bit high."
"But don't worry, you don't have to call me Iron Man," Coulson joked, breaking the tension.
May shook her head, "I had no plans to."
Coulson paused before speaking again, "My doctor didn't ask for any tests."
"I requested them myself, but... you already knew that."
He looked at May knowingly.
May nodded as Coulson glanced back at his medical report, "This piece of paper tells me I'm fine, but..."
"I don't feel fine. I feel... different. And it's not because of the serum." He was uncertain, his voice hinting at deep concern.
May looked at him and said, "Take off your shirt."
Coulson, confused, responded, "What?"
May walked closer and clarified, "Your shirt. Unbutton it."
Hesitant, Coulson obeyed, unbuttoning his jacket and then his shirt. May lifted his shirt, revealing the scar on his chest, and then said:
"Whether it was for 8 seconds or a full minute, you were dead."
"No one can go through that kind of trauma and come out unchanged."
She paused before adding, "Do you know how long it took me to..."
Coulson interrupted, "I know."
After a brief silence, May continued, "These scars remind us..."
"We can't go back. The only way is forward."
"You feel different because you are different."
…
At a classified sandbox location-
The plane had landed, and Agent Blake, along with several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, arrived to take custody of the Chitauri soldier's helmet.
Seeing him approach, Coulson greeted him, "Blake."
"Coulson."
Blake gestured to his team, instructing them to load the equipment into their vehicle. After his agents had taken the items away, Blake turned to Coulson.
"I heard there was an infection issue on the plane."
Coulson nodded, "It's been handled."
Blake, now more serious, said, "You know our communications are never private."
"They never have been."
With a stern expression, Blake continued, "I don't know what happened to you in New York—whether you actually died or if this is some Level 7 clearance story everyone gets—but regardless, you can't act against the agency's best interests."
"I know you're trying to secure the serum slots for your team, but keep playing games, and someone might take your dream team away."
Coulson smirked, "Let them try."
Blake eyed Coulson up and down, "This doesn't sound like the Phil Coulson I knew."
"No, it doesn't. You'll get used to it."
Blake nodded before turning to leave.
With the handoff completed, the plane took off again, heading back to New York, where Killer Bee was set to meet with fellow ninja from his village.
…
Later that evening-
The plane arrived back at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters just before dusk. As they disembarked, Killer Bee marveled at the scale and grandeur of the S.H.I.E.L.D. building.
Skye, equally impressed, exclaimed, "I didn't expect the Big Brother to be this big!"
Simmons smiled, "This is nothing. The Triskelion headquarters is even bigger."
Then her expression darkened slightly as she continued, "But sadly, I heard it's being rebuilt."
Curious, Skye looked around at the people, "Why is everyone wearing the same uniform? Can someone explain?"
Coulson led the team to the front desk, where their IDs were already waiting. He picked up his own badge, clipped it to his chest, and told the others to do the same.
Ward, May, Fitz, and Simmons followed suit, each picking up their badge, which contained their personal information.
###
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