9/11 tribute. Anger can consume us, it can make us blind to everything around us. It can accompany fear and the two combined will eat you alive. In moments of anger and confusion - do not forget how our country came together, and do not forget them.

A/N: Ten years later…and the memories are still fresh, the pain is still there and the pride in our country and the men and women who have fought, who have died and who continue to fight to this day is still strong. I dedicate this one shot those people, to the men and women of New York, to the families who have lost loved ones, and to the families who have loved ones that are fighting across seas. Through this tragedy, Americans have come together, to stand far more united than ever before and to show just how proud we are of our country.

"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong"

~ 1 Corinthians 16:13

Disclaimer: I own nothing TMNT related and make no money from the writing of this piece.

Never Forgotten:

There was nothing left. Nothing there that mattered any longer. One could sit and stare for hours, try to pick out some tiny semblance of the glory that once was, yet all their eyes would roam upon was endless crumbling mortar, old rusted trucks waiting to take away piles of rubble, to take away sadness and heartache, relocate it to somewhere tucked away, where America would not have to look at it. A yawning crater of destruction was all that remained of the Twin Towers physically. Emotionally…emotionally the suffering would never end.

Michelangelo stared through the chain link fence, a thick lump lodged in his throat aching to be freed. His blue eyes were blood shot and tired, full of an uncharacteristic remorse. The bite of the autumn wind nipped at his face and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, trying to stave off the coldness. It went deeper than skin though, this awful sting of depression. No amount of warmth would reach where it penetrated. He felt, at that moment, that the chill would haunt him forever.

His lifted a hand and curled his fingers around the chains. Pressing his forehead to it, he let the tears fall. The confusion, the fear – they weren't emotions he carried with him on a day to day basis. They were emotions he hid from, emotions he made it a point to ignore. He enjoyed being happy, carefree - he enjoyed being the "jokester" of his small, tight-knit family. Then this had happened. From this he could not hide. It was too overwhelming to ignore.

On a shuddering breath, he slowly lifted his head, his eyes falling upon the cross made from steel beams that jutted out from the wreckage. It was on the tip of his tongue to scream to the heavens, to demand an answer for the suffering, for the lives taken without mercy. His hands tightened around the fence, fury blazing to life in the pit of his stomach and working its way outward. The senselessness of the entire event…he couldn't get over it. He couldn't pick up the pieces like so many had done and push past what had happened to fight for those who had been taken away!

Something moved behind him and he drew in a breath, holding it. He felt the person's presence before he saw them, felt the familiar pull of his brother. Raphael's aura was the dominant of the four, impossible to ignore, impossible not to notice. Especially to him…especially now when he had lost all control of his emotions and knew not where to turn.

"It used to be so amazing," he murmured in a voice so weak that the wind almost swept it away before it could reach his brother's ears.

"It still is, Mikey." Raphael moved to stand next to him, his eyes fixed on the cross, his hands buried in the deep pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

"How?" came the pained question. "How is this amazing?" He gestured angrily towards the mass of dust and rock, hot tears drifting ghostlike over his cheeks. "How is any of this amazing? People were buried under this. People died under this. And what for? What did killing any of these people prove? It was pointless, Raph. Pointless! People died and there was nothing-."

"Nothing what, Mikey?" Raphael asked quietly, turning to face him. "Nothing we could do about it?"

The soft-spoken words hit Michelangelo hard - harder than any fist or foot ever had. His breath caught as the truth of it sunk it. There had been nothing they could do. They risked their lives every day to protect the city of New York, to protect its citizens. It's what they devoted themselves to. And when something far worse than anything they had ever faced before happened…there was nothing they could do but sit by and watch in horror as the world changed before them, shifting dramatically.

"No," he said after a while. "There was nothing we could do."

Raphael's hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to his brother, grief pulling viciously at him. He had been confused and scared – too scared to mourn the loss of innocents, too confused to realize the depth of the pivotal event. Sobs tore from his throat as he clung to Raphael, pressing his face against his shoulder.

"There was nothing we could do. And now…now all of these people are dead and what used to be so…so amazing…it's not here anymore."

"It's here, Mikey. It's just here in a different way. Can't you see it?"

He lifted his head, his brow knit. "See what?"

Raphael took a deep breath, looking back at the cross which stood so tall and proud. It may have been constructed of crude, steel beams, but that made it no less powerful. "Be strong and courageous," he began to quote. "Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you." It was with a sad smile that he faced his younger brother then. "Outta all the things everyone said that day…that's the one I remember. I remember turnin' on the TV that mornin', watchin' those attacks and feelin' sick to my stomach. When ya see something that you know is gonna change the world in a big way…it hits deep. I was pissed off for a long time, more pissed off than I can ever remember bein'. I couldn't understand it and that…it scared me, Mikey. But then I started lookin' at the big picture. I started thinkin' about those people fightin' back the fear, puttin' their faith in God and pickin' up the pieces.

"You look at all that dust and rocks and you see death. Death that shouldn't have happened. I look past that and I see the men and women of this nation pullin' together to fight for those lives. America was hurtin' and this tragedy pulled it back together. It made us all a team. It's hard not to be amazed by how everyone came together to make sure those people were never forgotten. People paid attention to the phrase "United we stand," before, sure. But now? Now you see it. You see the pride, and you see the determination, and you see that drive to be better, to work next to the guy who's less fortunate than you, to do better because those people's death shouldn't be overlooked. People took pride in bein' Americans before…but now you can feel it."

Michelangelo sniffled, lifting his gaze to the cross. His brothers words hit home and suddenly, that steel creation didn't feel so cold. Suddenly, his heart didn't feel so heavy.

"Ya know," Raphael went on, his voice oddly calm and reflective. "If I wasn't a turtle…if I was human…I'd wanna be a soldier. I'd wanna fight for this country."

The sudden swell of pride Michelangelo felt in being related to the guy standing next to him, to be able to call himself his brother, went far deeper than the haunting chill had. It destroyed it, settled over it like a thick, warm blanket. "I would too," he said, without thinking, knowing in his heart it was true.

Raphael tightened his arm around his little brother's shoulders. "We can't save everyone, Mikey. There's evil's in this world that we just weren't cut out to go up against. And you know it kills me to admit somethin' like that," he said the last part with a grin. "You can be sad for what happened, I ain't tellin' ya not to be. But don't be too confused or angry to realize that there's people fightin' out there. No one's getting away with this, Mikey. Be proud of them, be proud for them."

Michelangelo could not take his eyes from his red-banded brother. He never knew Raphael could think or even function outside of his anger. He'd never understood him. He felt like he was looking at a different turtle, felt more respect. He was in awe of the way he spoke.

"You'd make a good soldier, Raph," he murmured.

Raphael's amber gaze fell on Michelangelo and he nodded once. "Thanks Mikey."

The two stood, staring reflectively over Ground Zero, realizing how much more it was than just an area of pain, loss and destruction. It was an area of rebirth, an area that radiated pride, one that inspired, that held the hearts of the nation. It was powerful.

"We should get home, bro. Fearless actually sent me out to find ya," Raphael said after a while, giving his little brother an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"How did you know where I was?"

The two turned and started walking towards home. "Dunno, just did."

As they left, the sun inched its way over the horizon, basking its golden glow on the steel beam cross, setting it aflame in molten glory. It stood tall, it stood proud, like so many men and women did that day and it cast it's warmth over the land where so many lives had passed on, letting those souls know they were loved, that there were people out there fighting for them – civilians, firemen, police men, soldiers…even mutants. They would never be forgotten.

A/N: The verse Raphael says is from Deuteronomy 31:6.