"Mister Stark, that dog has been in an abusive home. She's still terrified of people. She whines every night. She's not the ideal pet, let alone service dog for someone with PTSD and anxiety attacks."

Tony points directly to the same dog, a small mutt, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She's perfect."

-

Later that night, after Tony adopts the little service dog and takes her back to Stark Tower, he decides to go down to his lab to get some work done. There's a new suit he's been dying to finish, only he hasn't had the time with all the Avengers duties. But today is the weekend, and he's put aside enough time to tinker.

The little dog follows him down the stairs, into the lab. Although she hasn't let Tony pick her up, or even pet her, yet, Tony is hopeful that she'll warm up to him in time.

As Tony starts his work, the little service dog wanders around the room, sniffing everything she can reach. Every few minutes, Tony glances around to find her, smiling at the curious little creature.

"Well, you're a funny one, aren't you?"

Tony's eyes flicker back up to the holo-screen in front of him. On it is the schematic for the new suit, his work in progress. "Jarvis, show me the notes I made about the New York Mark-6."

"Right away, Sir."

The Mark-6 was the suit that Tony wore when Loki invaded, and ever since that day, Tony has been focused on improving upon it. A shut-off in outer space cannot happen again. He would make sure of it.

New York. The wormhole. The ice.

It all comes flying back to Tony, causing him to grip the table and breathe heavily. He stumbles over, kneeling down to the floor beside the table. He pulls his knees up to his chest, feeling a weight placed on his shoulders.

"Not again," he mumbles, closing his eyes. "Damn it."

As the anxiety attack grows, he feels a wet nose push against his hand. Tony opens his eyes, seeing the little service dog nuzzling against his arm, a soft whine escaping her throat. Tony remains perfectly still as the dog moves her way into his lap, curling up against his chest. The feel of the fury creature against him causes Tony to breathe easier, and he reaches over to run his hand through her fur.

He smiles to himself as the dog cuddles into him. "I knew you were the right pick."