Title: Captured Moments: Bells

Author: Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]

Genre: S/V Fluff

Rating: PG

Summary: Captured moments from daily life

Author's Note: These started as small drabbles to keep my fans happy while I finished my longer fic, Chronic Vertigo and grew into Fluff Pills to be read post-episode to cope with the triangle. It's a series, each one short and stand-alone. Timeline: Between Phase One and The Telling, just randomly in there, as we didn't see every moment of their short time together.

There's this bakery down the street – no, wait, it was down the street from Danny's; I could walk there from his apartment in less than five minutes and return in just as much time, almost making it before he knew I was gone. Well, he always knew when I was gone and seemed to pounce on me as soon as I came home, passing it off as extreme hunger, relieving the emotions of the moment. He'd grab the bag from me and twirl me into a chair at the table, serving me the sweet works of a master baker as he sang a little tune.

I always knew he was happy when he sang it.

The bakery is a small, square building settled in a growing metropolis, trapped in it's own time of close families and mom and pop grocery stores, of values and morality and trust. Settled just beyond the narrow streets of homes and apartment buildings, it serves as a gateway between the two rapidly colliding worlds, offering a bridge of quiet and peace to those who walk through the thick glass doors. The sound of the bell tinkling above the doorway drowns out the sounds of heavily congested streets and morning meetings, of buzzing cell phones and angry workers. It's a safe haven locked in time, with old counters and glass displays, even with the tray of cookies for small children, propped up on their parent's shoulders and reaching out with small hands, fingers spread wide, to grab and nibble on as their parents grab some bread for a special meal.

This feeling of safety overwhelmed me every time I set foot upon those old, small tiles spelling the family name just inside the door, the smells reminding me, ironically, of my mother baking cookies when I was younger. In the days of Eden, back when I was naive and ignorant to the ways of my life and how they really were, I would close my eyes and picture here standing there, before the stove, pulling a cookie sheet from the oven and smiling down at me while warning me to wait until they were cool enough to eat. And just then, when I would begin to crack my eyes open and make my way to the counter, I would remember that I now had someone to go home to, someone wonderful who, one day, would allow me a child to bake cookies for just as my mother had years before.

My favorite was the raspberry custard coffee cake, discovered accidentally one day as I absentmindedly plucked a sample from the tray, something to tide me over until I returned home to him. It was so good I instantly bought one and proceeded to prove to him that it was, in fact, the best thing ever created. It took only a moment, but a moment passed too soon as real life called.

Years passed outside the bakery, truths learned to be lies, lives lost and gain, and I feared that, just as my life had spun out of control to become unrecognizable, the bakery had changed as well. I could not bring myself to face it if it had, secretly wishing for one constant in my life.

It was a sunny, breezy day just before spring would surrender it's reign over to the fierce and blasting summer, the weather just perfect for jeans and a light sweater. The sun sat to the east, hovering just over the horizon in a blended blue sky, a waking light to most. It was on this day I introduced one constant in my life to another.

The bell still rang as clear as before, enchanted with some magic I wish I could possess. I closed my eyes, but this time, instead of seeing my mother, I saw Danny, twirling around the kitchen singing his tune, a piece of coffee cake in his hand. Almost lost to the memory, I stood transfixed on the spot, my mind conflicted with the desire to end the memory before pain came. Pain would ruin this place.

A hand came to rest on my shoulder, breath against my neck.

"Syd? Are you alright?"

My mind cleared as his voice floated through my ears, calming me with its deep tones. I smiled and opened my eyes. The bakery was the same as I'd remembered it.

"I'm fine!" I exclaimed a happily, my grin growing as a pair of warm hands encircled my waist.

"Good. Because I'm hungry." The hands left my waist as their owner walked before me, strong and silent as he stood at the counter examining all the sugary treats held behind the pale glass. I almost skipped as I moved forward to stand beside him.

"The raspberry custard coffee cake's the best," I commented, hands clasped behind my back. Brown hair fell in my face as I leaned down to see his face, almost scrunched up against the glass at the bottom-most shelf.

"I don't know," he replied, his lips turned up in a comical smirk. "I'm fond of the chocolate myself."

I scoffed and stood, pointing my nose away from him. I could hear him laughing behind me.

"Okay, okay, Princess Sydney, we can have the raspberry custard."

I blushed and leveled my gaze at him, his green eyes bright and golden in the rising sunlight. "You won't regret this. Let's bring a whole one home, so we can have it for a few days!"

"As you wish," he quipped.

He didn't sing a little song, nor did he dance around the kitchen. Instead, he stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my neck as he reached forward for another piece, laughing as I slapped away his hand. But he did manage to grab mine, and as my eyes followed the sweet crumbling cake, they found something even more sweet and sugary, a kiss that could put the old bakery down the street out of business in an instant.