Iron Wolf

Chapter 6~ PTSD

Melody's POV

Running through the ShadowMyst Forest was always a pleasure. The deep purple leaves on the trees above filtering some of the sunlight through, the wind almost helping me fly across the landscape making it so easy to glide, the sound of the dead leaves crunching beneath my feet and the smell of all the different species of plants and animals around me. It always made for a perfect run. Especially since I wasn't chasing anything and nothing was chasing me. I was just... running. For the sake of it. It was perfect.

I shot upright on my bed, gasping for air. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, adrenaline flowing heavily through my veins, anxiety clogging my mind. After a few minutes of catching my breath and trying to relax, I flung back onto my bed, groaning in annoyance.

"It wasn't even a nightmare," I whined into the silence. It was one of my famed 'not-nightmares'; a dream that was completely normal but caused me to wake up in a panic for some stupid reason. Deciding that I'd better go for a walk to adequately clear my head, I climbed out of bed and started wandering around the compound. Everything was so quiet, as it should be since it was 2 in the morning and everyone was sleeping. So I was less than pleased when I heard Led Zepplin playing in the lab because that meant dad was up and working at 2 in the morning. Again. He should be sleeping. So should I, to be fair, but my plan was to go back to bed after my head was clear.

"Dad," I said, leaning on the doorway, my voice heavy from lack of use.

"Hey, Tails. What are you doing up?" He asked, looking at me.

"I could ask you the same question. It's 2 in the morning Dad. You have to get some sleep."

"I know, but I was making such great progress and-"

"Dad, don't lie to me. You only work this late when something's bothering you. So what's wrong?" I asked, sitting on a stool next to him.

"I promise, I'm fine Tails."

"Dad. Seriously. What's wrong?" I asked again, being a little firmer this time. I knew something had to be wrong. He had been acting weird ever since I had come back from Transmonia. He had constant bags under his eyes, he was a little more skittish than normal and his eyes were filled with fear and constantly flitting around as if he was waiting for something bad to happen at any moment. He put his tool down and sighed, rubbing his face before giving in to me.

"After the Battle of New York, with all the alien robots and destruction and such... I started having flashbacks. JARVIS diagnosed me with PTSD. I just didn't want you to think any less of your old man. I still want to be someone you look to when you need strength or inspiration or help with, God forbid, boy problems. I still want to be the man you look up to and the one who protects you from my problems because that's my job as your dad, Mel. And this... this diagnoses makes it seem impossible."

"Daddy..." I sighed, my heart breaking into a million pieces, "Having a mental illness doesn't make you weak. And I am always going to come to you when I need someone to be strong for me, when I can't figure out some stupidly difficult equation, and when I do eventually start having boy problems. You are always going to be my idol; my hero and you always have been. This doesn't change any of that. I am always going to be a daddy's girl. And when has anything that has ever been deemed impossible stopped you?"

"This is different..."

"No, it's not. Daddy, you aren't the only Stark with PTSD, remember. We'll get through this together. Just like we always do. I promise. But you have to stop trying to hide things from me. I will always know when something's up."

"You knew?" He asked.

"I knew something was wrong. You looked so scared. The others might not have seen it, but I did. I know you, dad, I know your tells like the back of my hand."

"I can't keep anything from you, can I?" He smiled softly.

"No. I'm smarter than I look. I love you, Daddy. And no mental illness or any other thing is ever going to change that," I promised, hugging him tightly. It saddened me that he thought he had to hide this from me, but I understood where he was coming from. Mental illnesses like PTSD make you feel unworthy of your loved ones, and telling them about it made it seem even worse. This was the one time I wished the Stark arrogance had shown through. But I meant what I said; we would get through this together.

"I'm giving you an hour to calm down and then I'm going to drag you to my room and you are going to get a solid five hours of sleep. No if's, and's or buts. Capiche?" I told him, narrowing my eyes so he knew I meant business.

"An hour? What if I wanted an hour and one minute? What then?" He joked.

"Well, we don't always get what we want, dad. You have fifty-nine minutes. Don't waste them," I warned. For the next hour, he tried to persuade me to join him in his work, but I stood my ground. We both knew that if I got involved, we wouldn't leave the lab for several hours. And I wasn't going to cave to that; not this time.

"Alright dad, times up. Come on. To bed with you," I said, casting a spell to put his tools away. I wasn't giving him the opportunity to keep working.

"Awww, but Tails-"

"I said no buts, remember. Come on, it's well past bedtime for the both of us," I said, taking his hand and leading him to my room.

"You're a nuisance, Tails. You know that?" He asked after I pushed him into my bed.

"Love you too, Daddy," I smiled, climbing under the covers and curling up next to him. There really was nothing like having my dad hold me while I slept.