Sorry, guys! Agents of Shield has been really wrecking my motivation lately and I haven't really felt like writing, so I didn't want to post anything until I was sure my writing wasn't absolute garbage, but regardless and even if it takes me awhile, I will finished this story. I don't post a story unless I'm certain it will be finished. =)

Enjoy! Sorry for the wait.

The past three hours he'd done nothing but bake, testing and tweaking new recipes in an effort to make his bakery a little more festive for the fall season. Pumpkin spice littered his counter, along with his entire supply of cinnamon sticks, and he cringed at the aftermath of his actions as an errant marshmallow rolled off the counter and onto the floor.

Phil sighed, kicking himself internally for allowing himself to make such a mess, but there was nothing for it now as he began to clean up, swiping the ruined ingredients into the trash and salvaging what he could.

He'd just finished wiping up the excess batter off the counter when his doorbell rang and, crossing the room, he smiled at Melinda on the other side, though it faded quickly at her worried expression.

"I need your help."

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I tried finding someone else, but my babysitter is busy with work and I'm so sorry to bother you with this, but can you watch Skye tonight?"

He could tell that she was uncomfortable asking for help, as independent as she seemed to be, but it was only after she'd rushed to explain that he realized that she was dressed in light, lavender colored scrubs, her hair still damp from, what he guessed, was a very quick shower, and it dawned on him—that he had no clue as to what she did for a living.

"What do you do?"

If his random question threw her for a loop, she hid it well as she answered. "I'm a Physical Therapist. I specialize in musculoskeletal problems mostly and, usually, it's simply rehabilitation, but I got a call from the ER and their usual consultant is out of town, so I was recommended in his place. Under such short notice, I wouldn't even consider putting you in such a position, but they need me to help determine if surgery is necessary."

He nodded, taking it all in. And he had nothing to do today, so watching Skye wouldn't be a problem. It'd been awhile since he'd taken care of a child, the last time having been a cousin of his a few years back, but he had enough confidence he could figure it out.

Phil smiled as an idea occurred to him. "Hey, are there any foods she's allergic to?"

Forty minutes later, he was parked outside of Rosedale Elementary, leaning on Lola as looked around. It was a beautiful school, decked out in maroon and navy blue and he smiled at the eagle emblazoned above the main entrance, its wings outstretched like a vigilant protector for everyone that passed under. The school he'd gone to across town had been smaller in comparison, but Rosedale was charming in its own right, even more so, when the old, classic bell sounded and children began filtering out.

Phil kept an eye out for the one little girl he knew, watching the door closely for any sign of her as children began excitedly exiting the school in search of their parents. He waited, nearly five minutes having passed since the bell and he wondered if he might need to head towards the door in search of her himself, but just when he'd made up his mind to seek her out, Skye turned the corner and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was escorted by an older woman, probably his and Melinda's age, with dark hair and a kind smile, a smart business suit making her appear older and more severe than she likely was, but he could guess that it was likely due to her occupation.

"Phil!"

He was prepared this time as Skye bolted towards him and he braced himself for the impact of her tiny body as she practically flew into his arms.

"Hi, sweetie! How's my little Agent today?"

He was rewarded with a giggle and a quiet, "good,", but it didn't take long before she began with the important questions. "Where's Mommy?"

"Your Mommy had an emergency at work, so I'm gonna watch you tonight. How's cookies and cartoons sound?"

Her smile widened. "Awesome."

A throat clearing above them caught his attention, and standing up, he offered up his hand in greeting.

"You must be Phil Coulson. Melinda called and said you'd be picking Skye up today."

He nodded, allowing his arm to fall back to his side, only for it be grasped by a much smaller hand wrapping around two of his fingers in a tight grip. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Skye and Melinda's neighbor."

"Maria Hill. I'm the principal here," she explained. "I've heard you make fantastic cupcakes."

With a raised eyebrow and a glance down, he nudged Skye's foot. "You been telling my secrets?"

She smiled, but shook her head no. "It was mommy."

'What?' he thought, completely dumbfounded. 'Melinda talks about me?'

"To be fair, I asked her for a recommendation on where I could get a set of desserts for the school PTA meeting and she suggested you. Raved on your lemon crème cupcakes really. I was going to stop in tomorrow and see about ordering some."

He was slightly overwhelmed by the praise, but infinitely pleased. "I can certainly help you out with that, though Skye would argue that the Devil's Food is better," he commented, shaking the little girl's hand lightly to get her attention. "With sprinkles, right?"

"Right!"

Her response sent the two adults chuckling. "I'll keep that in mind," she promised, before looking down at her watch, her brow arching in surprise. "Shoot! I'm late. Well, I'll let you two go. I'm sorry I couldn't babysit tonight."

He frowned, confused. "You're Melinda's usual babysitter?"

"Oh, I'm Skye's Godmother. Melinda and I went to college together and we're pretty close, practically sisters. I could tell you some stories," Maria hinted, pausing to smile fondly. "Besides, it's easy for me to watch her, as mine and Skye's day usually ends at the same time. Unfortunately, today, I have a meeting with a group of parents about some fighting fourth graders. So, you guys have fun, okay? Come give me a hug, kiddo."

Skye was eager to comply as she hopped over, giving Maria a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Auntie Maria."

"Bye, baby. You be good for Phil, alright?"

Skye mumbled out a quick, "okay" before returning to his side, once again grasping two of his fingers between her own and looking up at him with a sweet smile.

Extending his hand once again, "It was nice to meet you, Maria."

She smiled and returned the sentiment, before turning and walking back into the building, waving at them both as she closed the door behind her.

"So, are you ready to go?"

Skye beamed up at him, still holding tightly to his hand, but it slipped into a look of confusion as she glanced at his convertible. "Did you bring my booster seat? Mommy says I can't ride in the car without it."

"Your mommy and I took care of that," he laughed, ushering her towards the car. "You'll see."

A convertible probably wasn't the best car when one considered having a child in the back seat, but the booster seat fit well enough. Melinda had shown him how to fasten it and, satisfied that he and Skye were all set, they set off towards home, Skye happily swinging her feet as she marveled at the shiny fixtures within the car.

"Are we going to your work?"

Glancing at her through the rear-view mirror, "Nope. You and I are going to the store and then home. I thought you might want to help me decide on some new dessert recipes. In moderation, of course. Your mommy would kill me if I returned you on a sugar high."

Skye blinked at him from the backseat. "What's moderation?"

"Oh," he frowned, forgetting for a moment that Skye was only six. "Umm, it means keeping within the normal limits. Does that make sense?"

She paused for a moment, brow crinkled as she thought it over before slowly nodding, apparently satisfied with his description. "Why do you need new recipes? Are they for work?"

"Yes," he confirmed, waiting as a pedestrian crossed the street. "I need some ideas for fall and for Halloween—to help spice the place up."

She perked up a little at the mention of Halloween. "Oh! Me and mommy are going to pick out costumes next week!"

Skye rambled on about witches, princesses, and superheroes all the way to the grocery store, only stopping when he hoisted her out of the car. Once again, her fingers clasped his tightly and he couldn't help but marvel at the feeling as he led her inside, Skye happily skipping away beside him and kicking the leaves that crossed her path.

"Alright, Agent Skye," he began, waiting until her eyes had drifted to his before continuing. "First off, we need the basics: eggs, milk, and butter. Got it?"

"Got it," she answered with an off-kilter salute, causing him to chuckle.

"Then we need to visit the baking section for chocolate chips, flour, food coloring, sugar—both brown and white—and cupcake liners. I should probably get more marshmallows too. What do you think?"

With each item he'd listed off, her expression had grown more concerned as she'd looked around, searching for something. "Agent Coulson?" she whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket lightly.

"What?" he whispered back, fighting off the smile that was threatening to spring up at her serious face.

"I think we're gonna need a cart."

It took nearly an hour to gather all the necessary ingredients, plus a set of Halloween themed cookie-cutters that Skye had fallen in love with—that he'd been hard-pressed to say no to—before they were back on their way, pulling into their apartment building in record time.

"Are we going to your house, Phil?"

"Nope," he informed lightly, watching as Skye began to frown. "We're going to yours and your Mommy's."

"But what about Cap? Won't he be all alone?"

The part of him that wasn't amused, was touched by her concern for his cat, but he and Melinda had discussed that too.

"Do you remember when your mommy agreed that you and Cap could have a play-date?" he asked, already knowing that what he was about to say would make for one happy little girl.

"Yeah."

"Well, today is one of those days."

He watched her eyes brighten as a smile formed on her face. "So he's gonna be with us?"

"Yep. You and Cap can play to your heart's content," he replied, pushing open the door for the both of them. "In fact, I think someone is waiting on you."

Catching his poorly disguised hint, she bounded inside, abandoning the bags on a nearby table as she searched for the errant cat, calling his name and cheering when she found him curled up on the windowsill basking in the afternoon sunshine.

Placing the bags on the kitchen counter, he listened as Skye spoke to Cap, her voice soft and gentle to his fuzzy beast of a feline as she cooed and meowed at him. Of course, traitor that Cap was, the cat meowed back at every sound, seemingly content to remain in the little girl's arms.

"Do cats have their own words?"

Popping his head out from behind a cupboard door, he looked at her quizzically. "Their own words? I'm not sure what you mean, sweetie."

"Yeah," she began, "like you and me and mommy have our own words that we use to speak to each other."

"You mean their own language?"

"Yeah!" she responded excitedly.

For a moment, he thought it over, despite being thoroughly confused at to where she was going with this. "Probably. It only makes sense, I guess."

He'd assumed that his answer would please her, but she suddenly looked crestfallen. "Does that mean he can't understand me when I talk to him?"

"Oh," he floundered, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, but he recovered quickly enough. "Even if he doesn't understand the words, he knows that you love him."

"But, how?"

Suddenly, as she looked at him with her wide, brown eyes, he realized exactly how out of place he was. Skye was intelligent, inquisitive, and curious, and dodging the question would just confuse and frustrate her, but he didn't know what to say. He tried to think back, hoping that something his mother had said to him when he was a child might inspire him, but he found nothing and was left to flounder.

"Well...love is sometimes more about what you do than what you say."

Skye paused and he congratulated himself on a job well done as he turned back, searching for the measuring cups in the unfamiliar drawers and cupboards.

"Why?"

And he sighed, giving up the search for now, knowing that she wasn't going to give it up. "Why what, sweetie?"

"Why is it about what I do?"

He took a deep breath as she clambered to sit on top of the stool, Cap still in her arms, the both of them watching him intently and he resisted the urge to scowl at his cat.

"You see, Skye," he began, willing his voice not to waver with how nervous he was. "Love is universal-"

"What's that mean?"

"-it's worldwide...everywhere. Everywhere you look there's love and even if someone has never felt it, they recognize it in the small things."

"Like what?"

"Take Cap, for example. He sits in your lap, purring away, because he's happy."

Skye looked down at Cap, as if waiting for him to chime in with his opinion. "Why is he happy?"

"Because you're gentle and because you shower him with the attention he needs and so he feels comfortable with you—safe even—because he trusts you," he tried to explain, though he wondered if he was making any sense.

"Is that like when Mommy gives me kisses? Because she loves me?" she asked with a tiny frown as she tried to understand.

"Yep. Exactly like that and you know that she loves you, even if she doesn't say the words themselves, don't you?"

"Yeah, 'cause Mommy tucks me in and reads me stories and gives me hugs and stuff...but not Daddy. It's the same with Auntie Maria and Grandma and Grandpa. That's Mommy's Mommy and Daddy," she informed him lightly, before a shadow of discomfort crossed her face. "I don't have a Daddy."

It was such an odd statement for such a happy little girl and his heart sunk at the certainty of it. He was dumbfounded—completely and utterly confused—and if he'd felt out of place before, then it had nothing on how he felt now.

He was unsure if he should ask her to elaborate as the information hidden in those three words she'd uttered, might not be something he needed to know. Melinda was a private person, secretive—though not because she had anything to hide—but because she preferred it that way; Phil knew that much.

But, as if what Skye had said had been nothing, the little girl laughed suddenly, obviously less affected than he was.

"Okay! Okay!" she grinned, giving Cap a kiss as he demanded further attention and giggling as the cat's cold nose rubbed across her cheek in a return of her affection.

"Now, how about we make some cookies?" he suggested, trying desperately to change the subject before she could jump to another tangent. "Maybe some cupcakes?"

"Is this going to be like when Mommy bakes?"

Confused, he asked, "What happens when your Mommy bakes?"

She leaned towards him, lowering her voice to just a whisper. "Let's just say that there's a reason Mommy buys a cake from you on my birthday."

For the next two hours they baked, getting flour and sprinkles everywhere, trying out cookie cutters and frosting colors to go with each new flavor, eventually deciding on a pumpkin spice cookie with caramel infused frosting in the shapes of bats, pumpkins, and ghosts to give it a bit of a festive flair. Skye had even come up with the brilliant idea of a smore inspired cupcake after regaling him with the story behind a photo of she and her mother on the fridge and, though it took a few tries, they finally nailed down the perfect marshmallow topping to pair with a crushed layer of graham crackers in the liner.

A yawn signaled that it was dinner time, so he made chicken nuggets with what Skye dubbed "adult mac and cheese" and upon finding The Nightmare Before Christmas in Melinda's movie collection, they settled down quietly, Skye falling asleep somewhere in between Jack's discovery of Christmas Town and the kidnapping of Santa Claus.

Phil smiled softly at the sight as he pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to cover her with before heading into the kitchen to clean up their massive mess just as Cap took up watch at the end of the couch.

He turned at the sound of a key in the door nearly thirty minutes later, smiling at the sleepy face that emerged from the other side. Like him, Melinda smiled at the sight of her daughter fast asleep on the couch as she crossed the room to place a soft kiss on Skye's forehead, before toeing off her shoes and heading into the kitchen.

"Hey," she whispered, a yawn following shortly after. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"No. She's an angel, really. Probably the most well-behaved kid I've ever met," he relayed, smiling when she nodded in thanks. "How was work?"

"Hard to say, I suppose," she began, eying one of the cupcakes on the counter. "It was a car crash, a severe one, and though the patient survived, he might not walk again without surgery."

"That bad?" he asked, slowly pushing the cupcake across the counter at her.

"He had a compound fracture in his left femur and, best case scenario, he'll have to learn to walk again as I'm sure his muscle memory has been altered, but with rehabilitation, he should be fine in the long run. It might take a few months though, unfortunately."

By now, he'd nearly reached her arm with the cupcake and, squinting at him suspiciously, she picked it up with a smirk before taking a bite. She moaned at the taste of the cupcake, licking her lips as the frosting stuck to the corners of her mouth and he looked away, heat seeping into his cheeks.

"I haven't eaten since this morning and this is delicious."

"It was your daughter's idea," Phil informed her as he frowned at her words. "There's still some dinner left if you'd like some. I always seem to make extra, so there's plenty."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," Melinda commented, polishing off the last of her cupcake, but she frowned slightly, before chuckling at him. "You've got a hand print on your shoulder."

"A what?"

She laughed again. "In flour," she informed, reaching up to dust it off of his shoulder. "I'm going to guess it's from all of the hardcore baking my kitchen saw today." She smiled at him softly as their eyes met for just a fraction of a second. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach as she dropped her hand back to her side, moving to fix herself some dinner.

He finished cleaning up as she ate, the credit songs for the movie playing in the background, the familiar tune only interrupted by the many yawns between forkfuls of his mac and cheese.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking mildly sheepish as she pushed her plates away. "It's been awhile since I've been stuck in an ER for so long. I'm a little rusty I guess."

"No need," he reassured quickly, moving to take her empty plates. "You've had a long day."

"No, Phil, please," Melinda implored, gesturing to the dishes. "I can do my own dishes. You've already done enough for me today. I mean, hell, my kitchen is spotless and there's no doubt that you cook better than I do."

Laughter bubbled up his throat, her words reminding him of Skye's own less than subtle comments from earlier that afternoon.

"What's so funny?"

Melinda was squinting at him suspiciously as she pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinet.

"Oh, nothing."

She looked unconvinced, but let it go as she passed him a glass, to which they both took a long drink as they settled at the island counter-top.

Phil's attention was averted to Skye as Cap crawled up onto her stomach to sleep, the little girl shifting to wrap her arms around him in a hug. His mind drifted back to her earlier comment and, unconsciously, he must have left his features slip.

"Something wrong, Phil?"

"I-." He stopped, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Skye said something earlier that I'm slightly concerned about."

Melinda nodded, waiting patiently for him disclose whatever he heard as she swung her foot lightly, much like Skye had this afternoon in the back of Lola.

"She asked me how Cap knew that he loved her, if he couldn't understand what she was saying," he began, once again amused by Skye's innocent question. "I explained that love was sometimes more about actions rather than words, that the little things were sometimes more important and I think she understood for the most part. I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries."

Melinda smirked, looking at Skye once again. "No, you haven't, but that's hardly a cause for concern. What else did she say?"

How she'd known there was more, he had no idea, but he pushed on. "She told me that she knew you loved her because you tucked her in at night and gave her hugs...but only you, Maria, and your parents...because she doesn't have a Daddy."

For the first time since they'd met, Melinda looked completely uneasy as she spoke next. "She said that?"

He nodded. "She didn't expand on it and I didn't ask her to, but I wanted to let you know."

She sighed deeply, before standing suddenly, going back to the wine rack and pulling out another bottle, refilling their glasses before returning to her seat. "I'm gonna need more wine."

"Melinda, you don't have to tell me why. It's not something I need to know."

"No, Phil, it's alright," she reassured as she took a large swig of her drink. "It's a rather short story anyways."

Of course, he was curious, but again, he was torn. His neighbor, though friends they were, was still very much an enigma and, it was likely, that if she'd not been forced to ask him to babysit, that they'd not be having this conversation as it was. It was obviously unpleasant, as Melinda was tense, her posture stiff as she looked at him. He could see the anger, mixed with something like resignation, that she wasn't bothering to hold back—perhaps it was the familiar surroundings or simply her acceptance of the situation—but it was there, probably just as strong as the day the events had happened.

Clearing her throat, she began. "If you're expecting some extravagant tale of love gone wrong, then you'll likely be mistaken, because the short of the matter is, is that he simply...left."

'What?'

"He left?"

She nodded.

Astonished was probably too strong a word, in his opinion, but it was all he could come up with, circumstances as they were.

"We met in our third year of graduate school and hit it off well enough. I wouldn't say I loved him, but after a while it was comfortable, in the sort of way that it became routine. To this day, I'm still not sure if he felt anything more for me that just affection, but I didn't realize that until after."

"After what?" he asked, soaking in the information, no matter how terrible the subject matter.

"We went to the wedding of one of our mutual friends shortly after graduation, had a bit too much to champagne and stumbled back to our apartment together."

Melinda paused, again looking towards Skye with a small smile on her face.

"I found out about Skye shortly after the morning sickness began. I hadn't been planning on any children so soon, but I was elated. I'd always wanted kids and I could take care of myself, so I was happy."

He could imagine it well enough. It had been just Melinda and Skye for as long as he'd lived in the building at least, perhaps even longer, though he was unsure of how long exactly. Skye was a happy child, there was no doubt about that; her laughter was infectious and her grin so bright, that he knew that Melinda's happiness, even alone, was as abundant as her daughter's, even if it didn't show as readily upon her face.

"But he wasn't happy. He was an ambitious man, I'd even envied him for it once, but he was livid, even argued that I'd done it on purpose to ruin his future or some nonsense," she told him, her voice having lost some of its conviction as the story progressed. "One day, not long after I got pregnant, I came home to find his things gone—without a word. And that's the end of it."

Phil was stunned. 'How could anyone leave the mother of their child to raise their daughter alone?'

"Skye knows that the other kids have both a Mommy and a Daddy and she wonders where he is or if he's out there, but I don't have any answers," she whispered, eyes downcast as she focused on the counter-top, before they flickered up to his own with a glint as cold as ice to permeate the sudden sadness. "How do you tell a six year-old little girl that her Daddy didn't love her enough to stay?"

He moved to say something—anything really to lighten the mood, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "He's never met her—doesn't deserve to, but every once in awhile she says something, like she did tonight, that makes me wish he'd stayed. Just for her. Maybe someday, I'll tell her the truth, when she's older and can understand, but I can't take the risk of her blaming herself by thinking that she wasn't good enough."

They sat there like that for awhile, completely silent as he filed away the information. He stayed until Melinda carried Skye to bed, a quiet support after such a harrowing conversation, but Melinda seemed grateful for the company as she returned, amused as he insisted on helping her clean the last of their mess, despite her protests.

Elbow to elbow they worked, for merely a few minutes at most, but he stayed until whatever gloom that had settled over them was long gone, until her yawns had come back with a vengeance, and until she was smiling again.

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