The frosty air stung your cheeks, and white flakes covered the ground, muffling the sounds of the world. In a quiet, secluded part of Virginia, the FBI's K-9 training facility was a place of calm. You stood at the edge of the training yard, your eyes following the dogs as they went through their exercises. The only sounds that broke the silence were their barking and the crunching of paws in the snow. You wrapped your uniform jacket tighter⎯the cold penetrated to your very bones.

You have been with the FBI for nearly a decade, but the past few years have been different. After the incident that shattered your sense of safety and trust⎯you were transferred to work with the K-9 unit. Your aloof family refused to believe what had happened and saw it as a demotion, but for you it was a sort of lifeline. With dogs you did not have to worry about being judged or pitied. But even here, in the tiny sanctuary, the memories and PTSD occasionally haunted you.

Today was one of those days.

Scary. Lonely.

“Hello.” The voice brought you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Will approaching, his usually intense expression softened by concern. Will was a criminal profiler, brilliant and troubled in equal measure, just like you⎯and one of the few who fully understood what you had been through. “Hm… I heard you might need a bit of company,” he said hesitantly, avoiding eye contact.

Yes, he was just as troublesome, but he never pressed you to chat about things you were not ready to share. So you just nodded in greeting.

Will shifted his gaze out at the training yard, where an Alsatian was expertly navigating an obstacle course.

You both stood in silence for a while, watching the dogs. A young Labrador trotted over to you, nuzzling your hand, and you knelt down, giving it a good scratch behind the ears with your cold fingers.

“I'm here for you.” He broke the calm silence. Will also knelt, his posture open but careful to maintain a respectful distance. “If you ever need anything, you know I'm always with you.”