Today, is a day that the United States will never forget. It has gone into the history books, and will be taught to the future generations. Today is probably the worst day in the history of the United States. Today, exactly ten years ago, terrorists hijacked four planes. At 8:45, one plane crashed into each tower of the World Trade Center. One plane crashed into the pentagon. The last plane headed east to crash into the White House. A plane full of civilians became heros when they took back flight 93, and crashed into a Pennsylvania field. Today, we- as Americans- honor their sacrifice. America is a melting pot of different ethnicities, backgrounds, and religions, but today ten years ago, we became United. We have healed from this attack, but our scars remain.

This my tribute for September 11, 2001. Everything is from Sam's point of view.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, but I AM PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN.

"Freedom itself was attacked this morning- by a faceless coward. And freedom will be defended."

-George W. Bush

It was this specific day that was so particularly hard for him. Of course, he wasn't so selfish to believe he was the only one hurting. So many people lost loved ones.

Exactly ten years ago, to the day, his entire life was turned upside down. Ten years ago, he was living in New York City with his parents and older sister. They lived in central Brooklyn, but his parents worked in the World Trade Center.

He could still remember the exact second the first plane hit. 8:45. He had been outside when the plane soared overhead. It looked too close to the ground, far too close. There was this tall oak tree in the front yard- a monstrous giant of a tree which had buried its roots long before his birth. He scaled it quickly, just getting seated as the plane ran straight into the first tower. Smoke erupted up, engulfing the sky. The worst part was the sound- a thundering boom- a sound he would never forget.

He could still remember trying to call his parents. He ran inside, fumbling with the phone. There was no answer from his father, but his mother picked up the third ring.

"Mom?"

"Sa-m-y?" Her voice came out garbled, only portions coming through the phone. "Sa-m-y, a- yo- o-ay?"

"Mom?" There was another boom, the sound twisting his insides as the phone went dead.

He ran back outside, the phone still dangling to the floor.

As a young kid, it had been terrifying to watch the second building ignite when the plane hit. Debris had been falling, sirens echoed across the entire state, and if he squinted hard enough, he could just make out the faint shadows of people jumping.

For Sam, while the incident happened a decade ago, the memories were still fresh in his mind.

Sammy stood, watching as the second building began to crumble. He was horrified. He could only look away when a car screeched to a stop in front of his house.

"Sammy, get in the car." It was Sarah. Tears were streaming down her face as she begged him to hurry. He ran to her.

"It's okay, I talked to Mom. She's okay."

Sarah nodded hesitantly. "We have to go. Aunt Missy called, we're coming to stay with her and Grandpa until Mom and Dad come home.

He began to struggle at her words. "We can't leave! We have to be here when they get home!"

"Sammy! Sammy! This wasn't the only place that was hit. One plane hit the pentagon, and another was headed towards the white house! Just listen to me, okay? Mom and Dad are okay. We're just going to wait for them at Aunt Missy's house."

Sniffling, he nodded climbing into the car.

Sam looked down at the paperwork before him, the words beginning to blur. He had asked for desk duty today, allowing his mind to wander over the memories. He was supposed to get off at five o'clock and then drive up to St. Catherine's. Sarah's husband, Tom was going to pick up Aunt Missy, and they were going to have a small dinner in remembrance.

Dust fell like the first snow, from a black, smoke-filled sky. Other cars that had been parked for some time already had a small pile forming. Sarah had turned the radio on, the volume up louder than usual. The news reported was saying how all flights were canceled, told about flight 93 that took back control of their plane and crashed in a field. There was a slight buzzing noise in the background, making the entire ride haunting.

It wasn't a long drive. In fifteen minutes, they passed the border into New Jersey, and Aunt Missy's house was just a couple streets ahead.

Once they had arrived at Aunt Missy's house, they waited... and waited... and waited. Days passed, and still not a word, or a visit, and they began to consider the very real possibility that they were orphans. He had refused to believe it.

Sam let a bitter chuckle escape. Back then, he had been so stubborn, so insistent that his parents were alive. He had been so naïve.

"Sammy-"

"No! They're still alive!"

They had watched the news every day. For the United States, it was a time of great sorrow. It was also a time of patriotic nationalism, Pride of country, and for one of the few times, a time where the country stood united. He could look out the window, and see every house with a flag in its yard.

Many of the surrounding state's men and firefighters hurried to New York to volunteer. There was a valiant effort.

Two weeks later, the news released the final death count; many were still missing, but after the amount of time spent in the rubble, hope fell for any to be still alive. 2,750 people found their final resting place at Ground Zero.

Sam stood, going into the locker room to change; he didn't really think about his actions, simply moved through the movements.

The most memorable part of the entire experience was the return home.

Aunt Missy drove them back over the state boundary; things hadn't changed much since they left. Dust still covered everything in a thick, grey, blanket. Messages had been left on cars, on windows, on street lamps.

There was an eerie silence that had descended. The streets were empty, save for the cars that lined their edges. The two towers were hauntingly missing from the skyline; there was a feeling of loss, and utter desolation.

Sam stepped out the doors of the division, and flipped open his wallet. There was a small picture of his parents' names carved into the memorial glaring back up at him.

He stuffed it into his back pocket, and climbed in his truck. Turning the key, the engine sputtered to life.

It would take just a bit more than an hour to get to Sarah's house. Six months after the incident, they moved up north, into Canada. And for a little bit after, some businesses and a few residences flew the American flag beneath the Canadian flag.

The memory causes a small, genuine smile to appear briefly. Just like ten years ago, they would pick up the pieces and move on.

"The resolve of this great nation is being tested. And make no mistake, we will show the world that we will pass this test. God Bless."

-George W. Bush

Whether you are an American or not, please remember this day, and offer up prayers up for the victims of this horrendous act. Do not review unless you feel compelled to, because this story is not for any other reason than to remember this day, and every single life that was lost.