Archive of Our Own

When Maya Bishop was growing up, she never expected to be a person that ran for fun and she certainly never expected to be someone who would stop at a bakery on a run.

But there was just something about Sogni D'oro that made her want to slow down. To stop and breathe the warm sweet air. To sip a well-brewed espresso. To talk to the woman behind the counter who was always cheerful.

She'd stumbled across Sogni D'oro accidentally over a year ago. The city digging pavement up had diverted her usual run to work down Greenwood Avenue. She'd grumbled about it, her feet hitting the pavement as she tried to work out how to get back on track when she saw it; a pale green painted bakery. It was unassuming, perched between a laundrette and a betting shop.

Maya’s feet kept on, her eyes squinting to read the name of it out of curiosity, when the bakery door swung open without warning.

She pulled up short, colliding with the woman stepping out with a chalkboard sign tucked under one arm.

“Jesus-”

"Oh mio Dio, mi dispiace tantissimo. I'm sorry."

The woman steadied the sign before it toppled, dark eyes wide behind the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her braid.

Maya opened her mouth, irritation already halfway to the surface, but the woman was already shaking her head.

"Are you okay? That was completely my fault. Please- come inside. Let me make you a coffee before you murder me in the street.”

Maya blinked.

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“Good,” the woman said brightly, holding the door open. “Then espresso?”

Maya should have said no.

Instead, somehow, she found herself standing inside while the woman disappeared behind the counter and slid a still-warm pastry into a paper bag beside a paper cup.

“Apology,” she said with a smile. “No arguments.”

"I shouldn't-"

"Please, it's the least I could do, I hit you with my wooden sign. Take it, please?"

Maya took it mostly because refusing suddenly felt ruder than accepting.

She didn’t touch either until she got to the station.

The first bite of pastry stopped her in the middle of the locker room.

The sip of coffee nearly ruined her for every bad cup of station coffee she’d ever tolerated.

The next day, she returned, a ten dollar bill wadded in her hand.

"You came back," the woman behind the counter beamed, reaching for the jar of freshly ground coffee and the portafilter.

"I came to pay," Maya said somewhat awkwardly.

“For what?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday was an accident. My accident.”

“You still bought me coffee and a pastry.”

“I almost hit you with my sign."

"It wasn't that bad. I overreacted. So here, I hope ten is enough," she put it on the counter.

"It's too much," the woman said, continuing to make a coffee.

"Well, consider it a tip then," Maya shrugged, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Maya hesitated.

The woman pressed another paper cup and bag into her hands.

"Ma'am I can't-"

"Call me Carina, and yes you can. Now go, I have interrupted your run... again."

On day three, the thought of station coffee powering her day of performance meetings turned her stomach.

She’d ordered an Americano, and ended up leaving with that, an espresso, and yet another pastry that Carina had insisted she needed.

By the end of the second week, stopping at Sogni D’oro had become as much a part of Maya’s mornings as lacing her running shoes.

At first she told herself it was because Carina made coffee that tasted better than anything the station could produce.

Then it was because the pastries or occasional cakes were too delicious to forget.

Then because it seemed ridiculous to run straight past.

Somewhere along the way, Maya stopped pretending it had nothing to do with the woman behind the counter.

Carina rarely let her pay.

Maya learned quickly that arguing was useless.

So she started folding notes into tight squares and dropping them into the tip jar while Carina’s back was turned.

Carina noticed anyway.

It was rare that she skipped her stop at the bakery. Well, aside from Sunday, Sunday's were Carina’s day. Maya had learned she was Italian and as was traditional, the bakery shut on a Sunday.

But every other day you could find her in the bakery, chatting to Carina as she brewed the coffee.

Even on her days off you could find her there, perched at the table in the corner of the bakery listening to Carina’s stories about Sicily.

Somewhere between late autumn and the first warm stretch of spring, their mornings had become something else entirely.

Carina no longer asked what Maya wanted.

Maya no longer pretended she was only there for the coffee.

Some mornings there was an espresso waiting before Maya had even pushed through the door.

Some mornings Carina would convince her to sit, and they'd sip coffee together whilst Carina served the odd early morning customer.

And somehow, without either of them ever acknowledging it, ten stolen minutes at Sogni D’oro had become the part of Maya’s day she guarded most.

“You’re late, Capitano.”

Maya glanced up from pausing her watch to find Carina leaning against the espresso machine, smiling like she’d been waiting for her.

“I’m thirty seconds later than yesterday.”

“Exactly,” Carina said. “Late. Which is unlike you. What's going on, Capitano?"

"What's going on? Nothing's going on, Trouble."

“Allora, if you say so.” Carina reached for a cup, already smiling to herself. “Now what coffee today, Capitano?”

“Well, Trouble…” Maya leaned against the counter. “Why don’t you surprise me?”

“That is a dangerous amount of trust to place in an Italian woman before seven in the morning.”

"You've never let me down before."

"There's still time."

Maya snorted softly as Carina turned towards the espresso machine.

She’d learned quickly that watching Carina work was distracting in a way that felt genuinely unfair. There was something almost hypnotic about the easy confidence of her movements; the practiced turns of her wrists, the absent hum under her breath, the way she would greet customers without ever losing track of Maya or whatever they had been talking about.

“You have that look again,” Carina said suddenly.

Maya blinked. “What look?”

“That one.” Carina pointed at her with a spoon. “Like your brain is somewhere else.”

“My brain is always somewhere else... I run the busiest fire house in Seattle.”

"I still can't believe I've known you for a year and never met any of your firefighters. Amelia said firefighters run on coffee... and big dick energy."

"Of course she did," Maya rolled her eyes, watching as Carina disappeared into the back after a beeping sound.

This was usual. The second batch of bakes was always ready just before seven. Carina would disappear, still chatting away if the Bakery was quiet, and Maya would slowly sip, as if her run was forgotten about.

“Try this.”

Carina appeared in front of her with a fork already holding a bite of something flecked with almonds.

Maya stared at it.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s new. I need an honest opinion.”

“You sell out by noon every day.”

“And yet I only trust yours.”

Maya rolled her eyes, but leaned forward anyway, feeling Carina’s hand brushing her chin as she took the bite directly off the fork.

The sound she made before she could stop it was embarrassingly soft.

Carina’s smile turned slow.

"That good?"

Maya swallowed.

“You’re insufferable.”

“That good,” Carina repeated, pleased.

"What is it?"

"Paste de mandorla," she pointed to the almond cookies Maya knew were divine, "but crossed with a layered pastry. A hybrid."

"Well, they're delicious."

"Any critique?"

"Nope."

"You can't love everything I give you, Maya!"

"But I do!" Maya laughed.

A slight blush tinted Carina’s cheeks for a moment, before she turned. "Cazzo! Your coffee. Mi dispiace, Capitano. I forgot."

"I'm not in a hurry, Trouble."

And it was the truth. She was never in a hurry when it came to Carina and her bakery. She'd happily wait for hours if it meant she could watch Carina work, hear that soft Italian lilt and learn something new about her friend.

"There's fires to put out."

"More likely there's paperwork to be done. So I'm not in a hurry."

"Let me remake your coffee. And you need a pastry."

"The coffee you made is fine, and I don't need a pastry."

"Sì, you have to. How about..." Carina scanned the case, "ah, sì." She reached in and slid a pastry into a paper bag for Maya.

"Eight forty, right?"

"Niente."

"Carina."

"Just take it."

Maya rolled her eyes, stuffed a ten dollar bill into the tip jar and reached for her coffee, taking a long sip.

"Maya?"

"Carina?"

"I'm closing early tonight," she said casually, although her fingers worried briefly at the corner of a paper bag.

Maya took another sip of coffee mostly to give herself something to do with her hands. "Oh?"

“There’s a little gelato place down by the marina.”

Maya’s eyebrows lifted slightly over the rim of her cup.

“It’s new,” Carina added, still not quite looking at her.

Maya nodded slowly. “Okay.”

A beat passed.

Somewhere behind Maya, the bell above the door rang, but neither of them looked away.

Carina smiled slightly. “That was the part where you realise I was inviting you.”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

Not awkward.

Just charged enough that Maya suddenly became very aware of the way Carina was watching her.

“You’re inviting me for ice cream?”

“Gelato,” Carina corrected immediately.

"Gelato," Maya nodded.

Carina hesitated for half a second, suddenly very interested in straightening the pastries in the display case.

"Is it a yes?"

"It will never be a no." Maya said simply.

Carina finally glanced up, dark eyes warm and just uncertain enough to make Maya’s chest tighten.

"What time do you finish?"

"Seven."

"Okay, seven, meet me here."

Maya nodded once, trying and failing to ignore the ridiculous warmth settling in her chest.

"Seven. Meeting you here. Gelato."

"Sì."

"See you later, Trouble."

"Ciao, Capitano."

Maya shook her head as she pushed back out onto the street, painfully aware that she couldn’t quite stop smiling.

The smile didn’t go away.

Not during the rest of her run to the station.

Not during the morning briefing.

Not even when she spent forty minutes arguing with Chief Ross over budget allocations and overtime approvals.

By noon, even Jack had noticed.

“You’re in a terrifyingly good mood today,” he said as Maya signed off on the afternoon drill schedule.

“Am I?”

“It’s unsettling.”

Maya rolled her eyes, but the smile tugged at her mouth anyway.

The rest of the shift passed unusually quietly.

No cardiac arrests.

No pile-ups on the I-5.

No major calls that lasted longer than an hour.

Just paperwork, equipment checks, and training drills in the yard behind the station while the Seattle sky threatened rain without ever quite delivering it.

It should have felt strange.

Instead, for once, Maya didn’t mind the quiet.

By six-thirty, she was considering how plausible it was for her to leave early.

By six-thirty-five she was tidying her desk.

By six-forty she was changing back into her running gear-

“Structure fire. Greenwood Avenue.”

Maya froze halfway through shrugging on her jacket.

Greenwood.

She reached for the radio on her desk.

“Cross street?”

The dispatcher answered immediately through the radio static.

Maya’s stomach dropped.

No.

No, no-

“Copy that,” she heard herself say, already moving.

The drive was agonising.

The dispatcher didn't have any more information.

The team were full of complaints because this job would finish them hours late.

And...

The gelato with Carina began to melt away.

The radio chatter blurred into static in Maya’s ears as they turned onto Greenwood.

She already knew.

She just hadn’t let herself say it yet.

The street ahead was wrong.

Too many people.

Too much movement.

And then-

Smoke.

Thick, dark, pushing out into the grey Seattle air like it owned the sky.

"Engine nineteen on scene," Jack said beside her.

Maya was already unbuckling.

Already moving.

Moving the second she saw it.

The pale green paint.

The neat narrow font.

The delicate flowers in the window boxes.

Carina’s dream half-swallowed by flames.

No.

Her boots hit the floor before the engine came to a stop.

She said nothing. Her position as Captain meant nothing right now.

She was Capitano.

Her eyes scanned the gathering crowd, legs twitching, ready to run in and save her. To rescue her from her dream. To save the one person that made her feel something-

There she was.

Carina.

Barefoot.

Apron looped around her neck.

Standing just beyond the edge of the crowd like she didn’t quite know where to put herself in a world that had just ended.

Flour still dusted her cheeks.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the stack of papers pressed to her chest.

For one second, Maya forgot everything she was supposed to be.

“Carina-”

It came out sharper than she meant.

Loud over the crowd.

Carina’s head snapped up.

And then she broke.

Not loudly.

Maya crossed the distance in seconds.

Her arms wrapped around her instinctively, catching her before the Italian even knew she was falling forward.

"I've got you."

It wasn't protocol.

It wasn't in the captain's handbook.

It wasn't something she'd ever done as a firefighter.

But she couldn't care less.

Carina clutched her like she was the only solid thing left in the world.

"Maya-" she choked out.

"I've got you, Trouble. I've got you," she said so softly it felt like the air around them might break.

"You have to- it's- gone."

Maya felt the bump of reality.

She was captain.

Commander.

In charge.

"We're going to salvage what we can. I'm gonna do my job."

She felt Carina frantically nod and pull back.

Maya cleared her throat, gave her one more reassuring look and burst into action. Thankfully her team had started moving, already rolling out hoses, connecting to the fire hydrant and assessing the scene.

“Okay, listen up,” Maya barked, voice cutting cleanly through the chaos. “Dowd and Yoon, evacuate the neighbouring buildings and clear this crowd back another twenty feet. Gibson, Hughes, pull a primary line to the front entrance. I want water on that fire yesterday.”

The team moved instantly.

Training.

Instinct.

Trust.

Maya grabbed the radio off her shoulder as Sullivan came around the side of the engine already pulling on his mask.

"Sullivan, Montgomery. There's an apartment above the bakery. It should be evacuated but I want you to sweep the building in case."

“Copy that, Cap.”

Smoke rolled heavily from the shattered front windows now, thick and black and ugly. The heat pushed out into the street hard enough Maya could feel it against her face even through the damp Seattle air.

Glass cracked somewhere overhead.

“Watch the roofline!” Andy shouted from near the hydrant connection.

Maya’s head snapped upward automatically.

Fire in the upper structure.

Too fast.

Her stomach twisted.

Carina’s apartment.

The rain finally started properly then.

Cold and relentless.

Within seconds it slicked the pavement black and turned ash into streaks of grey sludge running down the street.

Maya turned instinctively toward the crowd again.

Most people had backed away now.

Phones lowered.

Whispers replacing panic.

Happy to return to their warm cars and apartment and talk about the bakery that caught fire.

But Carina was still standing exactly where Maya had left her.

Completely motionless.

Rain soaked her clothes and plastered dark strands of hair against her cheeks. She still held the stack of papers tightly against her chest like if she loosened her grip for even a second she might lose those too.

Maya swore under her breath.

“Herrera!” she shouted.

Andy glanced up immediately.

“Watch command for thirty seconds.”

Before she could argue, Maya was already crossing back toward Carina.

“Hey.” Softer this time.

Carina blinked at her slowly, like she’d forgotten Maya was there.

“You need to get out of the rain.”

"My apartment."

"My team are working on it. You're barefoot. And soaked."

Only then did Carina glance down at the wet pavement beneath her feet like she was noticing it for the first time.

“My mamma’s recipes…” she whispered, voice shaking. “I only grabbed what I could.”

Maya looked at the papers clutched in her arms.

Handwritten pages.

A worn leather book.

Smoke-stained around the edges already.

Not enough.

Nowhere near enough.

Something inside Maya tightened painfully.

“Come on.” Maya touched her elbow carefully. “Sit in the engine cab for me.”

Carina shook her head immediately, eyes wide, flames heartbreakingly reflected in them. "I- I can't leave."

“You’re not leaving.” Maya’s voice gentle despite herself. “You’re staying where it’s warm and dry and where I know you’re safe.”

Carina looked at her then.

Really looked at her.

And whatever she saw must have convinced her, because the fight drained out of her shoulders all at once.

Maya opened the cab door herself and helped her climb inside.

For one reckless second, Maya let her hand linger against Carina’s rain-cold cheek.

“I’m going to fix this,” she said quietly.

Carina’s expression crumpled.

“Maya-”

Without thinking or caring, Maya leaned in and pressed her warm lips to Carina’s cool forehead.

"Stay here," she whispered, "I'm going to fix this."

“Maya-”

But Maya had already stepped back, shutting the cab door before she could hear whatever came next.

Because she knew exactly what she was about to do.

And if she let herself think about it for even one more second, she might remember she was the captain before she was Capitano.

The flames roared louder as she turned back toward the building.

Toward the smoke.

Toward the thing swallowing Sogni D’oro whole.

And Maya walked straight into it.

In theory, she knew the layout by heart.

In reality, fire changed everything.

Smoke swallowed the bakery whole, turning familiar corners into shadows and heat and instinct. The air screamed around her mask as she moved low through the narrow space, gloved hand dragging along the wall for orientation.

Somewhere deeper inside, something collapsed.

Maya flinched automatically.

“Captain, did you just enter the structure alone?”

Andy's voice crackled sharply through her radio.

Maya’s hand twitched toward the volume dial.

For half a second she considered shutting it off entirely.

“Captain? Do you copy? Captain? Maya?”

Maya exhaled hard through her mask.

“All received, Lieutenant,” she answered, voice clipped back into professionalism. “Continue command. Nineteen, status updates, over.”

One by one, her team checked in over the radio.

Maya listened automatically while counting her steps through the smoke.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Which should mean-

Maya’s front bumped into the counter.

Yes.

This was good.

She paused letting her eyes adjust to the once bright space that was now shrouded in almost opaque smoke. It still carried a familiarity, despite the circumstances.

The silver coffee machine with its switches and dials.

The rounded glass display case, empty after a sellout day.

The small chalk board that carried Carina’s handwriting. Today it read;

Maya’s chest squeezed.

She was standing in the wreckage of Carina’s dream.

If she paused for too long the emotions would press in enough to begin to break her.

And she didn't have time for that.

Heat rolled violently overhead now.

She couldn’t stay much longer.

Maya turned sharply toward the back wall.

And found it.

The memorial shelf.

Carina had shown it to her one quiet afternoon months ago.

My mamma, she’d said softly, touching the frame like something sacred.

Maya moved fast.

The photograph first.

Then the folded letter in its frame; the one written in careful Italian script explaining that opening a bakery had been her mother’s dream long before it became Carina’s.

Then the wooden spoons.

Worn smooth with age and use.

Maya shoved them carefully into the front of her turnout coat.

A loud crack split overhead.

The ceiling groaned.

“Maya, report your status.”

Not Captain.

She looked once toward the kitchen.

There was more she could save.

Maybe.

But not safely.

And not as captain.

Maya swallowed hard.

“Captain exiting structure, anyone left inside needs to evacuate. I want all effort focused on the surround and drown. The structure is unstable,” she said into the radio.

Then she turned and ran.

Maya burst back out into the rain and smoke, ripping her mask free as cold air hit her lungs.

"Maya-"

Maya didn't acknowledge her lieutenant, just resumed her position in front of the building and did what she knew how to do best... her job.

“Defensive attack only!” she barked, taking the tablet from Andy. “Nobody goes back inside. Protect the exposures and keep water on that roofline.”

“Copy that!”

The fire roared above them, furious and unstable, but the worst of it was finally beginning to break under the relentless stream of water.

Steam hissed violently into the rain-heavy air.

Glass shattered somewhere overhead.

Maya stood in the middle of the chaos, soaked through, smoke clinging to her gear, and forced herself to focus on the things she could still control.

Hydrant pressure.

Her team.

Water lines.

Angles of attack.

Anything except the ache sitting heavily behind her ribs.

Time blurred strangely after that.

The flames slowly lost their fight.

The roof partially collapsed inward.

The neighbouring buildings held.

Eventually the orange glow faded down into smoke and steam and ruin.

Only then did Maya let herself breathe properly.

"Fire is out," she said, sagging for a moment. "Well done, Nineteen. Take a moment to rehydrate before we start overhaul."

She glanced down at the tablet, ready to coordinate next steps when she felt it.

A quivering presence beside her.

Carina.

Still soaked from the rain.

Still barefoot.

Maya turned sharply toward her.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked immediately, softer than she intended.

Carina shrugged helplessly, arms wrapped tightly around herself now.

“I didn’t know where else to stand.”

The words hit Maya like another collapse.

"The fire's out. You can-"

She trailed off, looking at the wreckage of the bakery, with its smashed windows, collapsed roof and blistered paint.

"I have nowhere to go. My whole life is- it's gone, Maya."

Maya took her in.

Saw the broken look on her features.

Saw the tremble of her hand as she pushed her soaked hair out of her face.

That was all it took.

Maya turned toward the engine, reaching automatically into the pocket of the jacket she’d abandoned earlier.

Her fingers closed around her keys.

She pressed them into Carina’s hands without hesitation.

“Go to my place.”

Carina blinked at her.

“Maya-”

“Please.” Softer now, almost lost to the wind and the pelting rain. “Just… go get warm. Shower. Dry clothes. There’s food in the fridge.”

Carina stared down at the keys in her palm like she didn’t quite understand what they were.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

"Maya..."

Without a second thought, Maya pulled her into a tight hug, her lips landing on Carina’s chilled forehead.

Gentle.

Protective.

Entirely too intimate for the middle of a fire scene.

“Go,” she murmured.

Carina nodded once, clutching the keys tightly before finally letting one of the paramedics guide her toward the aid vehicle for evaluation.

Maya watched until she disappeared from sight.

Only then did she turn back.

Andy was standing a few feet away watching her carefully.

There was ash smeared across her turnout gear and something unreadable in her expression.

"Maya-"

"Don't." Maya said immediately.

Sharp enough that Andy stopped.

For half a second, neither of them moved.

Then Maya pulled herself back together like armour locking into place.

“I want secondary searches completed and the utilities fully secured before investigators enter,” she said briskly. “Get me a structural assessment on the east wall and have Hughes start a salvage inventory for the business.”

Andy held her gaze for one long second.

“Copy that, Captain.”

And just like that, Maya became Captain Bishop again.

At least on the outside.

If Maya noticed the ache in her muscles, she paid no mind, taking the stairs two at a time up to her apartment, almost four hours after they got the blaze extinguished.

Sogni D’oro was dark now.

Boarded up.

The Fire Investigation Bureau would assess the cause in the morning, and Station Nineteen had done everything they could to stabilise what remained of the structure before finally being stood down.

It hadn’t felt like enough.

Nothing about tonight felt like enough.

By the time Maya reached her floor, the two cups of gelato she carried had begun to soften around the edges.

She let herself in with the spare key she'd given Vic all of those years ago, and paused just past the threshold.

It was silent.

Blanketed in darkness.

Her stomach sank.

Maybe Carina hadn't stayed at all.

Maybe she’d called a friend.

Maybe she’d gone to a hotel.

Maybe the intensity of tonight had made everything hovering charged between them suddenly too real.

Too much.

“Carina?”

Nothing.

Maya stepped inside slowly, exhaustion finally beginning to settle heavily into her bones.

The apartment smelled faintly of smoke.

Of rain.

Of something quietly unfamiliar in her familiar space.

She paused between the kitchen and her bedroom. She didn’t want to eat the gelato without Carina. It didn’t feel right.

Maya was halfway to the freezer when she heard it.

A quiet sniffle.

From the bedroom.

Maya followed the sound immediately.

Carina was curled on top of the covers still damp from her shower, swallowed by one of Maya’s old station sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that didn't quite meet her ankles.

Her wet hair spread across the pillow.

Her face was blotchy from crying.

And clutched tightly against her chest were the stacks of papers that carried her Mamma's recipes.

For one long second, Maya’s chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.

Carina looked up as she entered.

Neither of them spoke.

Maya moved slowly, as though scared Carina would startle. Scared that her presence would remind Carina of everything she had lost.

"You remembered," Carina whispered hoarsely.

"I said I'd fix it, Trouble."

Carina let out something halfway between a laugh and another sob.

Then, slowly, carefully, she shifted closer until she was curled against Maya’s side.

Maya wrapped one arm around her automatically.

No hesitation.

No overthinking.

Just warmth.

Carina’s head rested against her shoulder while rain tapped softly against the apartment windows.

Neither of them touched the gelato for several minutes.

They just sat there together in the quiet.

It felt right.

Despite the world feeling wrong.

Despite the pain of the day.

Despite the fact their friendship had never left the confines of Sogni D’oro.

"Don't go."

"I've got you, Trouble. I've got you."

Carina woke slowly.

For one blissful, disorienting second, she didn’t remember.

Then she did.

Maya saw it happen in real time.

The softness drained from her expression.

Her body seemed to fold inward around the memory all over again, shoulders tightening beneath Maya’s sweatshirt as her gaze flicked around the room.

A small breath caught painfully in her throat.

Then a single tear slipped silently down her cheek.

“Hey,” Maya said softly at once.

Carina shut her eyes.

Maya moved before she could think too hard about it, sliding closer across the mattress until she could tuck one arm carefully around her waist.

"I've got you."

It was all she could think to say. She could say 'it's okay' but it wouldn't be true. It wasn’t okay. Carina had lost her home and her livelihood in one awful swoop. Beyond that, she'd lost her Mamma all over again. Maya understood that in the way Carina had cried the night before.

Carina turned into her instinctively, her face pressing into Maya’s shoulder.

"I thought I dreamed it," she whispered roughly.

That one nearly undid Maya completely.

So instead of answering, she pressed a slow kiss into Carina’s hair and held her tighter.

"We should get you some breakfast," Maya said after a little while, her arms still wrapped tightly around Carina, her lips still pressed into her dark curls.

"Non ho fame."

"Come and join me then? Judge my coffee making skills from the kitchen island."

Carina huffed in a feeble attempt at a laugh, and pushed herself out of Maya’s arms with an air of reluctance Maya felt too. Something about holding Carina gave her a peace she'd never known.

She held her hand out for the Italian, giving it a gentle squeeze when their fingers tangled.

"Come on, Trouble."

Maya couldn’t help smiling at the faint curve of Carina’s mouth as she heard the nickname.

Gently, she pulled her out of the bedroom and across the hall into the kitchen.

Carina stopped in the doorway.

Completely still.

Maya suddenly became painfully aware of how stupid this might have been.

Her heart thrummed in her chest as she stepped in front of her, taking Carina’s other hand.

"Just because Sogni D'oro is... gone, doesn't mean you can't bake."

The kitchen island was filled. Flour, butter, a carton of eggs. A ceramic bowl. A stack of baking sheets. Chocolate chips. A whisk. The worn wooden spoons. The picture frames. The stack of recipes in Lucia's handwriting.

"Maya."

It was so quiet that if the blonde hadn't been looking right at her she would have missed it.

Carina let go of Maya’s hand slowly.

Like she was afraid the moment might disappear if she moved too quickly.

Her fingertips brushed shakily over the wooden spoons first.

Then the photograph.

Then the handwritten letter, with its looping scrawl that detailed her Mamma's dream.

Maya watched her throat bob.

“You went back for them,” Carina whispered.

Maya shrugged weakly, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

“They mattered.”

Carina looked at her then.

Really looked at her.

And Maya felt suddenly exposed in a way running into burning buildings had never managed to make her feel.

“You saved my mamma,” Carina said softly.

She stepped back into Maya’s space halting any reply the blonde had.

Maya watched a tear slip down Carina’s cheek.

Her hand lifted instinctively, brushing it away with the rough edge of her thumb.

Carina leaned into the touch.

Closer.

Close enough that Maya could see the gold threaded through her dark irises. Close enough to smell vanilla still clinging faintly to her skin despite the smoke.

Soft lips pressed against hers.

Tentative at first.

Almost careful.

Her eyes fluttered shut automatically as Carina’s hand slid gently to the nape of her neck, fingertips disappearing into the hair there.

A shiver rolled through Maya before she could stop it.

She stepped forward instinctively, closing the remaining space between them until there was nothing left but warmth and breath and Carina.

The kiss deepened slowly.

Unhurried.

And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Maya Bishop realised Carina DeLuca was choosing her.