Author's Note- The weather were I am at has been positively foul the last few days. The mountains have often echoed with the sound of thunder and lightning has danced across the hills, and of course, I have gotten wet several times which has given me a bit of a head cold. I blame this list of conditions on why I wrote such a morose story. Hopefully you all will still enjoy it. But before we get to the story a quick shout out to LilyofAzra, Saoirsewolf, BloodLily16, and InfiniteHappiness to giving me wonderful reviews to read on stormy days. Hopefully the weather will clear up soon and the next batch of reviews will encourage me to write happier fare.

Disclaimer-I rarely do this but this post has a trigger warning. If you have experienced combat you may want to skip this post. Also I do not own Hetalia, Apple, or any apps created by the U.S Defense Department.

PTSD Coach

The landscape was both familiar and foreign at the same time. A long, straight, pitted road through a kaki colored desert landscape. It was just like a hundred or so other roads that crisscrossed the country of Iraq. A country which played host to one of America's longest armed conflicts. The road was unfamiliar to America's eyes, which seemed odd because he had the nagging feeling that he had traveled this road many, perhaps hundreds of times before.

With hundreds of years of experience being in the U.S. Marines America knew exactly what to do. He relaxed into the gunner seat, allowing his eyes to scan the sand that stretched around him. He had just hit a comfortable rhythm when the world blossomed into heat and flame. Violently he was thrown from the Humvee to land broken in a ditch. Unfortunately, he appeared to be the lucky one.

There was the stench of modern warfare. The smell of fried electronics and burning tires that didn't quite hide the metallic tang of blood and the cooked scent that always made America want to be a vegetarian for a few weeks. The hum of flies had already begun and under the pounding summer sun it would not take long for the sickening note of decay to fill the air.

The edges of America's visions began to fade with shock, and he knew he had to get moving. Laying here in the wreck of this broken Humvee he was a sitting duck. Who ever had set this trap could easily be hiding somewhere waiting to pick off the rescuers and survivors. He had to move, and he had to keep moving until he got to safety, but his battered body protested. Finally his forced himself to his knees, but the moment he tried to stand his vision tunneled to black. As the sound of bullets pelting the sand filled his ears, America chocked down as scream.

He opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling. He was home safe, in his own bedroom but the sickening feeling of terror was still coiled tightly around his heart. To make the situation worse, he had the realization that this nightmare was not his own. Instead it was a memory that was haunting the dreams of one of his states.

While it was not uncommon for America to occasionally experience his state's nightmares, they were after all part of him, but this type of dream was different. Right now the state of Wyoming was no longer able to distinguish between reality and memory. He could tell that the state was currently wide awake, but despite this fact the only thing that Wyoming's eyes could see was the desert sand of Iraq. In this condition he was not only a danger to himself, but everyone around him. America was about to call in one of the western states to help, when one of them called him first.

"Dad." Idaho's voice was breathless panicked. "Daddy there is something wrong with Wyoming but he won't answer the phone."

"He is reliving a living nightmare." America could find no other way to describe his state's pain.

"What can we do?"

"Right now we can't do anything."

"Why not? I can tell that he is hurting so bad, there has to be something that we can do to make him better."

"We will make him better, but this isn't something that will go away with a kind word and a blue pill. He is going to need both professional and family help to get through this."

"What can I do?" Idaho practically begged for a way to ease his neighbor's suffering.

"I need you to get Wyoming to DC. Get in contact with Utah and probably Montana and get them to meet you at Wyoming's home. I will arrange for a military transport plane to pick you up at the nearest airport."

"Okay Dad." Idaho said with uncertainty.

"Everything will be okay. I may not happen tomorrow, or next week but Wyoming will be back to his mildly anti-social self in no time." America tried to sound more confident then he felt.

"Thanks Dad, I will see you tomorrow."

America couldn't help but smile fondly at Idaho's response. The lad was always very sweet hearted and concerned about the wellbeing of his neighbors. He made the west a better place to live. As America began to relax a bit knowing that things were being taken care of felt the crest of fear and pain rise from Wyoming once again indicating that the state was reliving the memory for the second time that night. It made the nation feel shaky and nauseous, and the next thing America knew he was bent over the toilet emptying the last contents of dinner.

There was no way that he was going to be ready to help Wyoming if he couldn't create a boundary between the two of them. Without thinking he pulled out his iPad and opened as well used app. Navigating to his favorite settings he put in his headphones and let his mind drift. Go to your cabin by the river; go to the place in your head that war can never touch he told himself, as the words of the Apps meditation rolled over him. Slowly America could feel the fear that had been strangling him loosen and begin to let go.

He sat very still and let the image of flowing water and the rhythm of his breathing calm him. He was about to let his toes dangle in the river when the sound of his cell phone knocked him out of his meditation. The O' Canada ring tone meant that the nation didn't even have to bother looking at the caller id to know who was calling, he also knew exactly why his twin was calling him in the middle of the night.

"Hey, Matthew. A bit late for a chat isn't it?"

"Are you doing okay?" Canada didn't even bother with the niceties of polite conversation.

"Yeah, I am okay?"

"Really, because it kind of seems like something..." Canada paused trying to find a diplomatic way to explain that America's unguarded terror and protectiveness had woken him in the middle of the night."Well it seemed like something was weighing on your mind."

"Everything is alright, one of the states just got trapped in a really bad nightmare and the rest of us got dragged into it."

"But are you okay?"

"A bit shaken up. I knew that Wyoming had experienced some pretty terrifying things in Iraq but I just was thrown off by the intensity. It wasn't nearly as bad as D-day or half the battles of the Pacific, but loosing friends in battle is difficult for anyone especially when you, yourself is practically immortal." America tried to brush off Canada's concern.

"Do you want to talk about it? I mean you don't have to if you don't want to but…" Canada's voice trailed off, unsure what to say next.

To be honest, America really didn't know what to say either. He really didn't want to talk about the nightmare, not to Canada, not to anyone but the super power knew it wasn't healthy to bottle up these types of feelings. Even though he hadn't physically experienced the IED going off, even though he didn't personally know the men who died, it didn't change how vivid Wyoming's memory had been. America was going to have to process this information if he was going to be able to help his state heal. The only way America was going to be able to do that was to talk it out with someone he trusted, and there was no one he trusted more than Canada.

"You know what?" America admitted timidly. "I actually think that might help. Are you up for breakfast?"

"Your place or mine?" Canada asked, and as the northern twin spoke America could swear he could hear his brother smile.

End Note-Well that wasn't a happy chapter, but I hope you all at least enjoyed the family hurt comfort. Also to all of you who have PTSD or have a family member who is dealing with this disorder, you are not alone. Everything will be okay, it will not be tomorrow or next week but eventually everything will work out.