**Pairing is the same as Miles From Where You Are but the backstory is different. I intended to have this up the day of, but my muse had other ideas
"Today marks the tenth anniversary of a…" Katlyn Prentiss flipped the channel, cutting the reporter off.
"Ten years ago…" Katlyn flipped the tv off, having already gone through more channels then she cared to count, all saying the same thing.
Ten years ago marked the bombings of the World Trade Centers, marked the deaths of thousands. It marked the death of her father, the only person in her family she'd been close to. Emily hated her and they hadn't spoken in years, her mother…they talked, but it was by phone, once a month, as she was off being a diplomat.
She went into the bedroom and changed into a pair of black track pants and a midriff tank top, before heading to her car. She drove out to the academy, deciding to make use of the running trails. Her mind drifted to her dad's reaction when she'd told him she was going to go into the FBI, he'd been so proud of her. She'd gone to NYU to study Criminal Justice and after graduation gone straight into the FBI Academy, where she'd just started the twenty-one week training course two weeks prior.
Katlyn took off down one of the trails, running as hard and as fast as she could, trying to distance herself from her thoughts. From remembering walking into her dorm room and turning on the television and seeing the Trade Towers collapsing. She remembered calling her father's phone over and over, begging the line to connect, but it never did.
She could feel her tears stinging her cheeks. Finally, unable to breathe due to how hard she'd been running and the tears blurring her vision, she collapsed to the ground, sobbing openly now. The last time she'd cried this hard was at the fifth anniversary memorial after she'd given a speech about the fire departments part in that days events, commending their bravery and actions, commending her father and the others for sacrificing their lives.
"Katlyn?" a British accent brought her from her thoughts.
She looked up to see Mick Rawson watching her from a few feet away. Quickly she wiped her eyes and forced a weak smile.
"Hi Mick," she said, her voice coming out shaky.
"I'm fine, but you're not…did you hurt yourself?" he asked, walking closer, concern gracing his features.
Katlyn shook her head, still not trusting her voice. Mick was the last person she wanted to see her cry. Cocky, arrogant, completely gorgeous, every girl in the academy wanted him. He was the weapons instructor, had given her private lessons when she'd voiced wanting to be a sniper.
He had never seen her anything less than 100% sure of herself, and she didn't particularly want to change that. When she glanced up, she saw that he was crouched beside her. Silently he extended a hand to her, which she accepted and let herself be pulled to her feet.
"Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" he offered.
"Yeah, sure," she said, finding her voice finally.
They reached the parking lot and he walked over to his motorcycle, holding the spare helmet out to her. She hesitated and he stepped closer.
"Open air, fast speeds, it helps clear the head. Come on. Don't you trust me?" he asked coyly.
She closed her fingers around the edge of the helmet, taking it and putting it on her head. Mick smirked and got on, waiting until she was on with her arms secured around his waist before speeding off.
He was right, with the air around her, she couldn't think…or maybe it was his closeness. It was impossible not to be attracted to him. They were on the road for over an hour before he stopped the bike at a small coastal area.
"You were right, that did help," she said, pulling off her helmet and shaking her hair out.
Mick smirked as they walked out onto the sand.
"So who was it?" he asked as they sat down near the water.
"Who was who?" she asked, staring out over the water.
"Given what today is, I'm taking a guess as to why you were crying."
She could feel the tears threatening to engulf her again, "My dad…he was a firefighter in New York…"
"I'm sorry," Mick said, watching her, "Your father, he died a hero, though."
"I know, it doesn't make it easier though…he was the only person in my family I was close to," she said, wiping at her eyes.
Mick wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. Her tears fell freely and she buried her face in his chest. He held her until she cried herself out, stroking her hair.
"So good to me, so right, and how you held me in your arms that September night the first time you ever saw me cry." Taylor Swift