The building was known among SHIELD agents as "The Alibi." The simple, nondescript stone building blended in with many of the other buildings along Fulton Street. It was known formally as the Missouri Building and home of Fascination Data. It was a company that collected advertisement data from TV and radio and kept records of demographic changes.

It was also a lie.

Fascination Data was a phony company used by SHIELD agents to explain their whereabouts. Business trips out of town were paid for by the company and actually just a guise to keep their agents who still kept a foot on the grid as covert as possible.

Phil walked up to the building. He had never thought he would have to go here. He never thought he would need his life rearranged. All because of a little girl in New Mexico. He paused, his mind reeling and focusing on the family that was massacred at the embassy. He clamped down on that memory and reminded himself that it was going to be worth it in the long run and hoped he would continue to believe it.

The inside of the building was made up of dark oak wood floors that creaked like skeleton joints. The wood paneling that lined all four walls was broken up only by a few stuffy oil paintings of scenes from American history: the crossing of the Delaware River, Teddy Roosevelt and the rough riders, the landing at Iwo Jima. The one interesting feature of the room was the fresco on the ceiling. It depicted a full map of the fifty states and all the presidents, including the new President Reagan. Cherubs holding American flags decorated the corners. Scrolls surrounded the room, spelling out the words of the Declaration of Independence and Preamble to the Constitution. Although the outside of the building was innocuous enough, the inside seemed to have forgotten that the government agency was supposed to be secret.

Phil double-checked the slip of paper that had been passed to him by an undercover drop. His appointment was located in the basement, an unusual place to do business. At the same time, it seemed unusually fitting considering the shadowy world he was about to step into. The clanking elevator sank down into the bowels of the earth. It felt like a wrought iron cage holding him in as the blackness closed in.

When it finally came to a stop, he looked around at the world he had stumbled into. Aisles and aisles of bookshelves stretched on as far as he could see, stretching from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was full of boxes, labelled in bold pen strokes and color-coordinated by large colorful stickers. It was such an intricate system that Phil had to wonder what it all meant.

"Hello?"

Phil almost jumped out of his skin at the gurgling voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. He whipped around, looking to find out where the voice came from. It only took him a moment to locate the solid wooden desk directly off to his side and the strange-looking woman behind it.

Her name was Elsa Brandford, but SHIELD knew her as "The Cleaner." She rested like a reclusive spider in the murky parts of SHIELD, the world acting as her web. Pulling a gossamer thread here or there changed the course of history. If you needed to disappear, die, or otherwise strike yourself from the record, she could erase any mention of you from every record in the world. She spun new identities, new people, new stories, for agents. Phil had never met her before but The Cleaner's power was well known around SHIELD, almost an urban legend. The organization probably couldn't exist without her.

Phil was a bit surprised to see the lanky lady behind the desk. Frail, thin strands of hair hung limply around her face, reminiscent of cornsilk in texture and color. Her wrinkled, raisin-like face seemed to be collapsing in on itself in a perpetual lemon-sucking pout with nonexistent lips cast in shadow under a prominent beaked nose. Thin chrome reading glasses pinched the bridge of her nose. She very much reminded him of an old barn owl.

"Phil Coulson?" she rasped like a death rattle, "You're late. Your appointment was at 9:45."

"Traffic," explained Phil breathlessly. The old lady made him incredibly uneasy, as though he was meeting the grim reaper, "I hope it isn't a problem."

She sucked her lips in farther in irritation. It made Phil half-afraid that she would end up eating her own chin. She picked up a folder from her table.

"Director Fury said you wanted this to be processed as soon as possible. The official story is that Phil and Evelyn Coulson died in a small Dash-8 plane crash between Seattle and Vancouver, BC. He was heading up to meet a college friend. Official cause of death is smoke inhalation compounded with extensive third-degree burns. The child died on impact. You don't want to see the pictures, They're quite gruesome. There was a small, private funeral with just family and close friends at the home cemetery in Clay Center, Nebraska. They were in a closed coffin, due to the extent of the burn damage in the crash. After the funeral, both were cremated with their ashes spread across the backyard of the family home. No wife or next of kin, so his will dictated his possessions and modest estate be donated to the local Presbyterian church to help fund the 4-H clubs that meet there."

A strange, sinking sensation in his stomach made Phil feel a little sick. It was strange to hear his obituary read out loud this way. Even more disturbing to hear his daughter's death spelled out so plainly. It was like being a ghost. Her rasping voice didn't help matters any.

"Your prints are erased from the system, as is every mention of Phil Coulson growing up," she continued, handing him a folder, "As soon as the death certificates come through, Phil and Evelyn Coulson will be completely gone from the grid. Your new identities are Phil and Evelyn Carlton. He grew up in Burnsville, Minnesota. Adopted a girl from the land of enchantment. Closed adoption sorts out the loose ends. He likes long walks on the beach, pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, and doesn't really like yoga."

"I hope you're kidding."

"I am," she said joylessly, handing him a folder, "Just making sure you are paying attention. You will find the birth certificates, social security cards, driver's license, newspaper clippings, and anything else you may need to establish the Carlton's life in there."

Phil stood there for a long time, staring down at the stack of papers in his hand. He felt wobbly, a little bit sick. He took a deep breath and put the file into his briefcase. He let out a heavy sigh, looking back up at The Cleaner. She stared with lidless eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think," admitted Phil, "It's all just a bit... strange."

She nodded, "That's usually how people feel. Come back if you need anything. I'll be here."

"Really?" asked Phil. He didn't intend to be rude but the woman was one step away from being a skeleton, "Begging your pardon."

"I stayed alive for seventy-two years on a strict diet of menthol cigarettes and gin," she said, "I plan on lasting another seventy years and I shan't change a thing."

"I meant, do you often get repeat customers?"

She nodded, "It is difficult to stay on the grid and stay under the radar. I would almost be so bold as to say it is impossible. Good on you for trying, but I will be seeing you again."

"No offense, ma'am, but you won't," smiled Phil. With that, he tucked the file under his arm and left without another word, walking back out onto the New York City street and into the light.

He hailed a cab to take him all the way up to the Upper West Side. SHIELD placed the family in a suite in a small hotel in the shadow of the Stark building. Phil hurried to reunite with his daughter and get things settled. Central park erupted in red and gold leaves. Autumn lay out an opulent carpet for him to tread through. Crisp air snuck between buildings to bite at his exposed ears and nose. Phil found his heart a bit lighter now as filtered sunlight reached between the low hanging clouds. It was nearly Thanksgiving and he could take Evelyn to the Macy's parade. She would like it. At Christmas, they could go to the skating rink. When she was older, he would take her to Times Square on New Years. He found himself smiling. He could get used to living in new York.

He opened the door to the suite and peered in. Nobody was around. Everything looked like it had been cleaned. Fresh white towels rested on the counter, folded so the monogram faced upwards. He wondered if Maria might have taken Evelyn for a walk until he heard the stampede of little feet. Evelyn skipped a lot of the awkward toddling phase and went straight to running. Now it was difficult to get her to stop.

"Papa!" She yelled, racing toward him with arms outstretched.

"Hello, baby girl," smiled Phil as he scooped up Evelyn and spun her around so she giggled and squealed with delight.

"Papa!" she squeaked, hugging him tightly with her little pudgy toddler arms. Phil returned her embrace as he set her back on the floor. He didn't want to let her go.

"I love you, baby girl."

"I love you too, Papa!"

He held her tightly, burying his face in her soft hair, trying to hide the bittersweet feeling lodged between his ribs. He missed her so badly even though he was only gone for a few hours. His mind kept flickering back to the embassy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake a sense of dread which lingered in his heart.

"Are you still sad?" asked Evelyn, noticing his sniffling again.

"No," Phil tried to keep his voice from cracking, "No, Evey, I'm just happy to see you. I missed you while I was gone."

She looked up at him with eyes as wide as the world, swirling with hazel-brown and green flecks. Sometimes the light made her eyes sparkle with gold. Sometimes the shadow made her eyes look like an entire forest. She reached up and touched his face with her fat, childish fingers.

"You miss me a lot."

It never ceased to astound him how much poise and strength she had even as a young child. Her mere presence made him feel better. He took her hand in his.

"Don't ever change, Evey."

"Seems like she knows more than what meets the eye... Mr. Carlton."

Phil turned his head towards the door at the familiar voice. "Director?"

Nick stood behind him in the doorway, leaning against the frame, "I just stopped by to see how you were settling. Good to see you and your cactus baby are safe."

"Thank you sir." He decided to ignore the unfortunate nickname Nick had given Evelyn.

Nick walked over to him and sat on the couch, Maria came into view and handed him a folder. It was full of information on where they were moving to. The apartment was small but located close to the New York offices and a prestigious preschool for Evelyn. A map was enclosed that showed how far they were from work and home.

"Your stuff is en route to your new apartment which should be ready for you both by tomorrow," said Nick as he put his feet up, "Our finance people also have to set up your new bank accounts and get your tax 'history' figured out. It would be a good idea to lie low for a few days."

"Thanks," he said, feeling shaky as he sunk into the couch, "I didn't expect you to come all the way up here just to help me out."

Nick almost smiled. "SHIELD is more than an organization, it's family. We take care of our own. You and your daughter will always be protected by us."

Coulson relaxed into the couch taking everything in. Maria spoke up.

"Our main operative team is also relocating to this area as we have noticed that it seems to have a higher rate of international crime and mutant activity. It seems like your role of recruiter and instructor has expanded."

Phil smiled, feeling reassured, "You didn't have to do that on my account."

Maria sat down next to the Director. Nick took a deep breath before speaking. "To be completely honest, this change has been a work in progress. The Council has made a controversial decision. They are interested in expanding recruitment to mutants. We need to bring that talent into SHIELD. It's potential which should not go to waste. Your transition just happens to fall at the right place at the right time."

"That makes a lot of sense," said Phil, setting Evelyn on the ground because his left arm started to fall asleep. She sucked her thumb as she pulled her lop-eared bunny toy over to hold. She hummed a little song to herself, clearly uninterested in the adult conversation.

Phil noticed the growing habit and began to think of ways to break it as she can't start preschool sucking on her thumb. He focused his attention back on Nick, "I really don't understand how this is any sort of controversy."

"Congress controls our purse strings," noted Maria, "So we are at a mercy to their whims if we are going to continue operation. Right now, it's not particularly favorable to mutants."

"But if they take us out financially, then who is going to keep trouble from landing on their doorstep!"

Nick threw his hands up, "Exactly! But it's all about ideology for these motherf-"

"Nick," warned Maria, jerking her thumb over to where Evelyn was sitting.

"For these people," he corrected looking at the girl and then back to Phil, "Rather than actually working toward a solution, they prefer to strangle anyone who gets in their way. I hope their 'moral high ground' offers them a good view of the chaos. Because other than that, it's not good for much."

Phil bit his lip. He hated politics. "So the point is the Council is taking a gamble. And it better pay off."

"It will pay off," corrected Nick, "It got my best man on it."

Phil chuckled, "When do I start?"

Nick and Maria exchanged a glance. A downright impish expression crossed her face before it settled back to normal. Nick smirked, "We decided that it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. So, you are going to start on Monday while we continue to lobby support. We've started making contact with a group called the Friends of Mutants Association. They're based out of Portland. They try to connect mutant youth to positive career paths, among other things. Anita Dan is your contact and she will help you get started. There is a big event coming up in a few months. I'll try to snag an invite so you can have a face-to-face meeting."

Nick handed him a business card. Forest green lettering on ivory cardstock spelled out her name and position in the organization. Phil tucked it into his pocket for later. Evelyn skipped up to his chair and rested her head against the armrest.

"Papa…"

"What's up?" he ruffled her hair so it stuck straight up.

"I'm bored. You're doing a lot of grown-up talk," she complained, bouncing on her heels.

Maria held a hand over her mouth to hold in a laugh but the sparkle in her dark eyes betrayed her amusement. "There's a playground about a block down."

Evelyn's eyes widened, "Can we go to the playground?"

Phil considered it, glancing over at Nick to see if there was anything he needed to do before. Nick shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. Let's go get your coat."

"Yay!" she laughed, skipping back off to the bedroom to grab her things.

Nick and Maria stood. Phil noticed the director buttoning up his long, dark jacket. "You're not staying?"

"Thought about it," said Maria, "But then the stock market had to go and crash yesterday. So now we have to keep an eye on things while the finance people sort through the mess. Maybe nothing will happen. But we have to keep an eye open just in case."

"You didn't have to come all the way up here to help me in the middle of a global market crisis," muttered Phil sheepishly, "I mean, my problems aren't nearly as bad as… the stock market crashing."

"Like I said before," said Nick, "We support each other, no matter what. We can't claim to be there when all else fails and the last line of defense of humanity if we don't fulfill that role among ourselves. It starts at home."

Phil mulled over those words as he took Evelyn to the park. It was a small metal structure wedged between buildings with a few trees providing cover. The storm clouds brewed overhead, threatening to unleash a storm. Ignoring the gray skies, she charged through puddles in her little yellow rain boots, racing through the autumn leaves, and leaping onto the metal structure. Phil sat back under a tree as it dropped bright red leaves around him. Evelyn raced up the steps, ignoring the pooling rain. She slid down the blue plastic slide and landed squarely in a puddle. She giggled and raced back around again. The slides and the monkey bars kept her entertained for nearly an hour. Finally, she turned back to Phil.

"Papa!"

"What is it Evey?"

She climbed onto the ledge, kicking her feet so she could slide onto the platform easily. Her upper body strength was pretty impressive.

"Will you play?"

Phil chuckled, "I'm a bit too big, Evelyn. But I can push you on the swings."

Her face paled a bit as she stood and brushed the dirt off her knees, "I don't like the swings."

"Why's that?" he asked, resting his hands against the platform.

"I don't like falling."

Phil paused, pondering this as she had just finished on the monkey bars and had been fine. Evelyn went off to the slide so she can slip down once again. The rain started to pick up again. Large drops plummeted from the sky, dripping over the city. Phil glanced up, trying to gauge the ferocity of the storm.

"Evey, I think we need to start heading home. It's almost lunch."

"Do I have to?" she whined, sitting on the edge of the slide, "I'm not done playing."

"You can go down the slide one more time. Then we need to get back to the hotel and get you dried off."

She raced around to the ladder but didn't hurry her ascent. She was taking her sweet time, making it last. Amused, Phil knelt at the end of the slide to wait for Evelyn so he could scoop her up before she ran away. She settled at the top of the slide, clinging to the sides.

"Are you ready to catch me?"

"I'm right here," he said, opening his arms for her.

Evelyn pushed with her legs and raced down the slide. Everything ran into a bit of a blur for Phil. She was sliding down to him one moment and the next moment, he felt a jolt shoot up his arm. A blot of blue static shot between Evelyn's outstretched hand and his. Evelyn collided with him, knocking him off balance. He fell back onto his back, staring up at the descending raindrops.

"Papa!" She shrieked.

"I'm fine," he chuckled, "No problem. I'm not hurt."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, tears appearing in her eyes. She started to bawl. Phil quickly sat up, even though his backside smarted. Evelyn fell into his arms, still weeping.

"Evelyn, you didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident," he reassured her, stroking her hair so that she started to calm down. "It's okay. Let's get you home and clean you up."

He stood, taking her hand in his. She still had tears coming down her cheeks but the frequency decreased. She held him tightly, enough so that his hand ached from her grip. But he held on.

They didn't talk about it for the rest of the day. Phil didn't want to put her in distress, especially when she was settling down. The afternoon went by fast as he attempted to dry her off when they arrived back at the hotel but she was too excited about the idea of swimming. After lunch and a quick nap, Phil attempted to teach her how to swim in the indoor pool, but she was more interested in blowing bubbles and splashing him gleefully. She seemed to settle into bed at the end of the day. Phil didn't even get to finish their story book due to her unusual exhaustion.

If only he could sleep as soundly as she did. His brain spun with thoughts on the day and emotions the instant he tried to relax. Thoughts, questions, fears, and nightmares crawled out of the corners, reaching out their slimy tentacles. He turned the TV on, not because he cared about the late night programming but because the mindless noise helped keep his mind busy. Otherwise, he could still feel the tight gas mask against his face. The overwhelming aroma of rot and grime seeped from his pores. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he could not get the dirt off of his body. The smell followed him just over his shoulder, claws digging into his skin. Whenever he closed his eyes, the empty sapphire eyes glared at him. The image of suffocation bruising and blood remained burned into the back of his mind.

He felt sick. Bile tickled the back of his throat. The toilet bowl loomed before him but he couldn't recall exactly how it got there. As sick as he felt, he couldn't bring himself to throw up. His legs felt tense, muscles twitching. Muscles in his torso tightened, yanking back on his lungs so he couldn't breathe. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Sweat pooled in the hollows of his back. He brought his knees to his forehead, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor until he could regain his breathing. Breaths in and out became longer and more focused. He managed to drag himself to the couch and lose himself in the static from the TV, hovering between frequencies. At long last, he would drift off to sleep, but only when the sense of exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Phil found himself crawling through dirt but it turned to a soupy mess of entrails under his hands. Blood coated his arms and his belly as he dragged himself along to some unknown destination. The air smelled poisoned, metallic, hot. Something clung to his ankle, yanking him back into the darkness. Everything shifted in a blur. A dead face stared up at him, blood seeping from young purpled lips. Blood and vomit stained red braids. Hazel-brown eyes stared off at nothing, the dead expression glaring at him. He fell back, into darkness. Screams echoed around him, piercing his ears.

Pain shot across his chest the instant before he awoke. He looked around the hotel room, his small firearm ready to go in his hand. Everything seemed in place as he put it back on his night stand, but his stomach turned in knots, heart beating like he just ran a marathon. He rested his head in his hands. The past few nights had been like this. It wasn't slowing down. To reassure himself, he went and checked on Evelyn. She slept soundly in the other room, burrowed in her blankets, blissfully unaware of his distress. Making a mental note to speak with someone at SHIELD about sleeping pills, he attempted to go back to sleep. Results were mixed.

Around five in the morning, he gave up entirely on trying to sleep and began packing and organizing everything that would be needed for their relocation. Breakfast was dropped off by room service an hour and a half later. The rich aroma of pancakes and bacon filled the suite.

He was surprised that his toddler wasn't up. He tip toed into her room while he munched on some strawberries and smiled. She was cuddled up to her blanket, her back was to him and her tiny fists clutching the silky fabric. Climbing onto the bed, he ruffled her hair and attempted to wake her up. She rolled over and buried her head between the pile of pillows and his leg, murmuring something sleepily. It was clear she wanted to snuggle and not wake up. Kissing her head, he started planting raspberries on her forehead, the sensation causing her to scream with delight, giggle and squirm out of his reach. Laughing, he let go of his daughter. She smiled at him still giggling, her hair stuck up in several directions. Eventually she caught the scent of breakfast and hurried to begin the day.

After breakfast, Phil had Evelyn help him pack some of their bags. He had been avoiding discussing his trip to the Cleaners with his daughter. It was difficult to put the words together, explain it in a way she could understand.

"Honey," he began nervously, "We need to talk about something important."

She stopped putting her Captain America books into his old green backpack and looked up at him. Curiosity shimmered in her eyes.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Its about our move. There are some important things I need to tell you about," he took a deep breath before continuing, "You can't tell anyone your name is Coulson. It's a secret."

"Why?"

Phil pulled Evelyn close so she was sitting on his knee and he could look at her in the eyes. The little girl had such big, brown eyes that they appeared to swallow everything up. He hugged her around the shoulders and rocked her back and forth.

"You know that my job is that I help find bad guys and make sure that they don't do bad things to people, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, there are some bad guys that don't want to stop doing bad things."

"Why?"

"Lots of reasons, sweetie," said Phil quietly, "It's hard to explain right now. You will understand better when you are older."

Evelyn frowned when she heard that. She didn't like being told she was too young to understand something. In some ways, she didn't know her own limits. It worried Phil just a little bit. He sighed and tried to continue.

"It's not good that people hurt others but unfortunately, it is the way things are. That's why we need people like Maria and Bobbi and Nick and the other agents. They prevent these bad people from hurting others. But because the bad guys don't want to stop doing bad things, they think that hurting people like SHIELD agents will make it so that they can keep doing bad things. So, we have new names that we have to use so that the bad guys can't find us. Does that make sense?"

"I guess it does," nodded Evelyn, "So... I can't tell anyone that my name is Coulson?"

"That is correct," said Phil, "Your new name is Evelyn Carlton. That is the name you have to tell other people."

"Okay," she said very quietly, resting her head against his shoulder. Phil hugged her close. Evelyn would be hidden. Nobody would find her. That would let him sleep better at night.

"You know that Captain America had a secret name too?"

"He did?"

"Yeah," said Phil, "If you promise never to tell anyone, I'll tell you."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "How do you know Captain America's secret name?"

"Well, Howard Stark, the man who started SHIELD knew Captain America many years ago," said Phil, "They were friends. Captain America is sort of the reason SHIELD is around today. So, his name was in some of our very secret files."

"Wow..." her wide eyes were open, reverent at the idea of thousands of secrets hidden away. Phil smiled a bit. That was much of the same reason that made him want to join SHIELD. He wanted answers to questions.

"Captain America was a man named Steve Rogers. He fought during World War Two. But nobody knows that except for you, and me... and some people at SHIELD."

"I can keep a secret."

"You keep his name secret, dear, and you keep your name secret," said Phil, "And everything will be okay. Alright?"

"Okay."

A few moments passed in silence as they packed until, "Are we going to see the big lady?"

"The big lady?" asked Phil as he pulled her clothes from the box and stacked them neatly, "What big lady?"

Evelyn held her hand up in the air, "The big lady with the crown."

"Oh, the Statue of Liberty," said Phil, putting a hand on his forehead, "Yes, she is in New York."

"Can we see her?"

"Sure," smiled Phil as he zipped up their suitcase. "We can go see the statue of liberty sometime."

"I'm excited," she grinned, skipping off to gather up some more things, "I get to see the big lady!"