So I just dropped off the face of the planet for a week. Whoops. XD I kinda went on vacation and forget to tell people, so . . . whoops. But I'm back! With a new one-shot!

This is a pretty serious one. As some of you may know, today is the 14th anniversary of 9/11, when the Twin Towers were destroyed in a terrorist attack. I wanted to do something to honor all the people that died that day, and, seeing as how the lab rats would've been toddlers at the time, came up with this idea.

This story is dedicated to all those who risked their lives to save others in 9/11, and the firefighters, policemen, and EMTs who risk their lives every day to rescue people and save lives, as well as all the brave men and women in the army fighting for our country. Basically, this goes out to all the heroes. I love you guys more than you could ever know.

I listened to "Love and Loss" by Mattia Cupelli while writing this story, so feel free to listen while you read. It's an instrumental that fits the tone pretty well.

A lot of research went into this fic, so hopefully it turned out accurate. Let me know if anything seemed off. Please keep in mind that a majority of this story takes place in 2001, back when Donald was only twenty-seven. I don't own Lab Rats, Marshall & McLennan Companies, or anything else you recognize. Jill, Danny, Janet, and Tatiana are all mine. Enjoy.

* * * Heroes * * *

Donald stood on the edge of the observation deck, looking out at the city below him. He had traveled a lot in his life, but he still ranked New York as one of the best places he'd ever visited. Today was a clear September morning—too early to be up, if you asked Donald—with the usual hustle and bustle of the city going on several hundred feet below him. Donald exhaled and leaned forward, feeling the adrenaline rush as he looked down.

After a few moments, he moved away from the railing and walked back and forth. He bit his lip, glanced at his watch, and continued to pace. Then he took his newest device out of his back pocket and held it up. After a few clicks on the screen, an image of some security footage popped up.

In the corner of the screen stood three toddlers in tubes. Each had their chin pressed to their chest. Two boys and one girl, all mere children, and all asleep in suspended animation. Donald grimaced; he hated to do it. Still, he wasn't about to have three kids roaming free in his lab without supervision while he was across the country. The best solution he had come up with to put them out until he came back, and while that probably wasn't considered a decent thing to do, it seemed to be the only sensible one.

Besides, the cruel one here was his brother for giving those kids bionics in the first place. Donald still couldn't believe how he—

"Hey, Donnie!"

Donald jumped in surprise at the voice behind him and shut off his device. "Hey, Jill," he said, turning around and flashing her a shaky smile.

"You okay?" Jill asked, her grin never slipping. "I haven't seen you jump that high since your mom told you she was coming for Christmas."

Donald chuckled. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Hey, what's that?" Jill grabbed his yet-to-be-named device and held it up to her face.

"My latest invention," Donald said, not bothering to conceal his pride. "It's something like a phone—well, I'm still working on that part. But it has a touchscreen."

"A whole touchscreen right in the palm of your hand?" Jill tapped the device. "Brilliant. This could be big."

"Uh, could? I think you mean will. And of course it's brilliant; I made it."

"Oh, anyone else might find your ceaseless bragging annoying. You're lucky to have a girl who finds it endearing." She threw her arms around his shoulders and grinned. "So, where were you thinking of eating for lunch?"

Donald rubbed his forehead. "Lunch? I haven't even eaten breakfast."

"Meetings kept you up all night, huh?"

"Totally. I mean, how long does it take them to figure out they can trust me with their money?" Donald shook his head and sighed. "Ugh, investors."

"Well, it's over now, and you have your money to make touchscreen phones. So . . . lunch? Because I have to get to work in"—Jill checked her watch—"five minutes, so hurry up and decide."

"There's a sandwich place around the corner—"

"Perfect! I love sandwiches. Meet me up here at eleven forty-five." Jill pecked him on the cheek. "Well, off to work."

"Yeah, doing whatever it is you do."

"I sell people insurance, Donald Davenport. Leave it at that." She flashed her sweet grin—well, sweet to Donald, anyway—and walked away. He turned to lean over the railing and contemplate what to do before lunch.

Fifteen minutes later he found himself in a small bakery a couple of blocks away from the large tower where Jill worked. He grabbed himself a bagel and sat down by the window, watching the cars and taxi cabs roll down the wide New York street.

"Eating alone?"

Donald looked up to see a young woman about his age smiling down at him.

"Yeah," he said through a big mouthful of bagel.

"Shame. A man as handsome as yourself shouldn't be sitting alone." She slid into the seat across from him.

"What you say is the truth." Donald flashed a cocky grin. He let it slip and coughed into his hand. "But, I, uh, actually have a girlfriend."

"Really? I don't see her."

"She's at work."

"Shame," the girl said again, drawing the word out in a sort of dramatic sigh. "My name's Tatiana. Yours?"

"Donald. Donald Davenport. Yes, the CEO of Davenport Industries, rising star in the world of technology."

"Oh, so you work on computers and stuff."

"Well, I invent things 'and stuff'—"

"I don't know much about technology. But maybe you can teach me." Tatiana sent him a charming grin.

"Look, I'm flattered, but my girlfriend is the jealous, overprotective type, and I've already been teaching her about my work, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to—"

"Oh, come on, Donald. You seem like a brilliant man. Couldn't a guy like you just—"

Donald never heard the end of her sentence, because outside people began to scream as if they were being murdered.

Ugh, thank goodness. Anything to get away from this creepy chick.

"Excuse me," Donald said aloud, standing up. "I'm going to go see what that was."

Bagel in hand, Donald made his way to the door, ignoring Tatiana's protests. He didn't have to go all the way out to find out what had happened, however. A man came running through the door, face red as a cherry and eyes darting back and forth like a madman.

"A plane!" he shouted. "A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center!"

Donald's blood ran cold. World Trade Center . . . crashed . . . Jill . . . no!

He rushed out, along with everyone else in the bakery. There on the street, his worst fears were confirmed. Smoke bellowed out of the North Tower, filling the air with an acrid smell. Donald shuddered, hoping this time around that Jill wasn't in one of the floors hit. He began to count down, from the hundred and tenth floor to the ninety-fifth. The black plumes blocked his view, but he knew anyway.

Her floor had been hit.

Hard.

Sirens wailed in the distance and people hollered in the streets. Donald stood there, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Jill . . . no . . .

The full reports came out. Terrorist attacks, hijacked planes, almost three thousand dead.

Among those three thousand was Jill McCane.

Thousands more wound up in the hospital. Thousands more had to deal with permanent injures. Millions more had to grieve the loss of lives they could never get back.

Among those millions was Donald Davenport.

Donald walked through the lab doors and sighed. It had been a long trip home by bus; no word yet on when airports would reopen. Still, as tired as he was, he had something he absolutely needed to do.

He kept going until he stood in front of the capsules. Face-to-face with three kids who could neither hear nor see him, he began to speak.

"I've been wondering what to do with you guys. It's obvious I can't remove your bionics without seriously damaging your nervous systems. It seems like from the start you were destined to live different lives. I can't raise you like I would a normal kid.

"So I've been going over and over in my mind what to do with you. I don't want to raise you to be soldiers like my brother would. Still, I can't help but think that he was . . . right"—here Donald shuddered—"but only in that you should use and train your bionics instead of living like you don't have them at all. So . . . so I'm going to teach you.

"Except I won't teach you to be villains. I'll teach you to be heroes. Because if there's one thing this world needs more of, it's heroes.

"I saw a lot of painful stuff this week. I lost someone I loved very deeply." He paused for a moment. "You know, I wanted to propose to Jill next spring. Once Davenport Industries had secured a few more patents and gotten a bit more money, I thought it would be a good idea to start a family with Jill. I loved her. She could've been like a mom to you, I guess. Maybe she would've helped me raise you better. But now . . . now she can't. And it hurts.

"But even though I lost her, I think I finally learned that your true purpose is to be heroes. After the attack, so many firefighters and first responders leapt into action to save people. It was too late for . . . for Jill and for those around her, but not for some others, and even after the towers came down, those brave men and women went in to rescue them. I think that's what you should do.

"Your bionics could save so many lives, I know it. Lives like Jill's. You can help the world instead of hurt it. You can be heroes—superheroes, even, considering your superhuman powers. So that's what you'll be; that's what I'll make you. This world needs more heroes."

Adam, Bree, Chase, and Leo hopped off the hyrdoloop, high-fiving and whooping as they went.

"Crisis averted, Big D," Leo said with a grin. "You're welcome."

"All three hijacked planes were brought down and all the passengers are safe," Chase reported. "We turned the hijackers into the local police."

"What does it mean if you hijack a hijacked plane?" Adam asked, putting a hand on his chin. "A double-hijack? A re-hijack? A hi-jack-i-jack-i-ack?"

Bree put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself there, buddy."

"Good job, guys," Donald said, clapping his hands. "I'm proud of you. That was a dangerous situation, and you handled it expertly."

"Well, we didn't want a repeat of nine eleven, did we?" Chase asked.

"Nine and eleven what?" Adam asked.

"The nine eleven attacks," Leo explained. "In fact, it was today—this day fourteen years ago, terrorists brought down the Twin Towers in New York. A lot of people died."

"That's really sad that someone would even want to do that," Bree whispered. "You know, I've been around this kind of stuff my whole life, and I still don't get it."

Chase shrugged. "Evil never rests, they say."

Donald shook his head. "No, it really doesn't. Which is why I'm glad there are people like you out there to stop it. You guys don't know how many lives you saved today." He looked down at his hands and whispered, "Really, you don't."

The wooden door creaked open and a man and woman walked inside. The woman leaned heavily on her partner, tears running down her cheeks. They entered the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

"Thank you, Danny," she whispered, putting her head on his shoulder. "Today was officially the scariest day of my life."

"Agreed," Danny whispered. "I'm just glad you're safe. I love you, Janet."

"I love you too." She buried her face in his shirt and a fresh round of tears broke out.

"I'm just glad those bionic heroes saved you." He patted her head, feeling the tears pricking his own eyes. "I will never be able to thank them enough."

"Me neither." Janet shook her head violently. "Me neither. I'm so grateful they came. Those people that took over the plane . . . th-they threatened to kill us . . . w-we knew they would . . . I-I thought I was g-going to die . . . I th-thought I would never see you a-again . . . I was s-sure of it . . ." The breath caught in Janet's throat.

"But you're not dead. I'm so thankful you're not dead, because I was planning something very special for you today. And I know that maybe this isn't the right time, or maybe it is. Considering how close I came to losing you today, I don't ever want to leave your side again."

Danny slid off the couch and got down on one knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box. Janet covered her mouth and smiled through her tears, sorrow replaced with joy. Her arms shook as the love of her life sent her a meek smile.

"Janet Phillips . . . will you marry me?"

I actually really like that ending. But what do you guys think?

Sorry if I didn't go into more detail about the actual attack. There didn't seem to be much else for Donald to do, and since I wasn't actually there (I was only a toddler at the time; I don't remember it), I figured I just might mess it all up. So I went kinda vague; hopefully it still turned out okay.

So there you go. Reviews are always welcome; let me know how you like the new pairings I tried out! Maybe I'll bring Jill back in another one of my pre-show stories sometime—if you guys liked her, that is. Let me know what you thought of the story, and hey, maybe it inspired you to write your own hero-based story. Yeah, that's a good idea!

That's my challenge to you all. Feel free to complete it whenever; this isn't a contest or anything. But maybe you could write a story based around heroes, since the lab rats are some. Maybe our favorite superheroes interacting with normal, every day heroes like firefighters, EMTs, policemen, soldiers, etc. If any of those sound neat to you, write a story about it and let me know. I guess this is a kind of prompt thing. Let's honor all the normal heroes who save our lives every single day.

I hope some of you will take up that challenge. Let me know if you're interested in the reviews, as well as let me know how I did on this story. See you all soon!

"One of the worst days in America's history saw some of the bravest acts in Americans' history. We'll always honor the heroes of 9/11. And here at this hallowed place, we pledge that we will never forget their sacrifice."

- President George W. Bush

• We Remember 9/11 •