Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
AN: I know, it's a little early for this, but I'll be busy on the eleventh so might as well get this tribute down when I can. I'm listening to 9 Crimes by Damian Rice. At the newspaper part, I was listening to Undying Love by Two Steps From Hell. It's sad, so it fit the mood TT_TT. Heads up, this is in the reader's perspective!
New York City was always busy in the morning, people are always trying to get to work on time or get to an appointment. There are always cars, buses, and taxis waiting in traffic to get to their assigned destination.
But today was special. Barely anyone was out: people had the day off, no one had any reason to go out today, and the streets were clear. You sighed as you walked through the streets, headed to where you were to meet someone.
You were meeting a friend that you met months before that fateful day three years ago… a day that resurfaced bad memories for you. Not ones you wanted to get into right now. You look up from your downcast gaze and see the woman you meant to meet. Her long red hair was a stark contrast to the dead, brown leaves around her. Even in her black dress that did little to help her blend in, she stood out lie a sore thumb.
Now that you think about it, maybe she didn't want to blend in.
You approach her at the bench and you both greet each other with a sad smile, which quickly disappeared when you sat down on the hard bench. You look up and see the trees. They were bare; to you they looked like skeletons. To you, it seemed even the trees were mourning the day of 9/11.
You sigh and look at the young woman next to you, she had a picture of a young man in her hands, and her thumb unconsciously stroked his cheek as she looked into the distance. You sadly note that his crystal blue eyes held so much innocence, so much character… so much life.
Life that was cut short way before its time.
"This must be hard for you, Jazz," You use her pet name. Though, it did nothing to lighten the mood even the tiniest bit. There was a pregnant pause before she responded.
"I miss him… I could've saved him," She looks up at you and you can see unshed tears in her eyes.
You sigh and hug her softly as she started to sob into your shoulder. You remember her little brother: blue eyes, black hair, and a kind, caring attitude to match. He was intelligent, and he always had a smile on his face.
Delving deeper into your own memories as you rub soothing circles on Jazz's back, you distinctly remember that he was also stubborn and if his mind was set, there was no question.
You snap out of your thoughts and look at your friend, who was still crying, "Do… do you want to talk about it?"
She hesitated after she pulled away; she looked up at the dark clouds that covered most of the sky. They swirled, ready to bring upon a storm, but they were not ready yet. They were practically bursting at the seams. Should she tell you the story she's kept inside for so long?
After a pause, she nodded. Jasmine Marie Fenton opened her mouth and began her story, from beginning to end.
You decided that this story would not remain unheard and had the New York Times post an article.
Unsung Hero of 9/11
A Teenager Dies Protecting Others
In a town called Amity Park, lived a family of four. They were considered the crazies of the town and were always put down for their beliefs in ghosts. This never hindered them however, and they always managed to maintain a close relationship with each other. One day, on September 9th of 2001, everything changed and the Fenton family went home with one less member than what they left with.
The family – Madeleine (37), Jack (42), Jasmine (17), and Daniel Fenton (15) – went from Illinois up to New York to eat at the Windows of the World restaurant in the north tower of the World Trade Center. Jasmine had always wanted to eat there and they had finally gotten enough money to fly over to visit.
They reached the North Tower at around 8:30. It was 8:40 when they reached the top. The family had waited for their seats, but they were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Their son, Daniel, had looked up from his book to see something no one else noticed. The book had fallen from his hands with a thud and he started to try and get one syllable out of his mouth. He was so scared it was hard for him to get it out. He was shaking as he raised his hand to point at the object behind his family.
Jack had said, "What is it Danny-boy?"
Jasmine was concerned and put her hand on his shoulder, this seemed to snap him out of his reverie and he screamed, "Plane!" Everyone in the room turned and, indeed, saw a plane headed straight for them. It was far away, but its course was set.
The Fenton family had run down the stairs and made it to one of the bottom floors before the plane hit. Their daughter, Jasmine, almost fell from the sheer force but her younger – yet taller – brother caught before she could tumble down the steps. They exchanged a quick glance and ran after their parents.
The stairwell was getting harder to travel down as people were screaming and shoving in panic. The place was in pure chaos. Dust and smoke started to really obscure their vision on the fourth floor. Jasmine and Madeleine were the first to start coughing.
Once they had made it to the first floor, the building started to collapse and the ceiling caved in. Dust was now like a thick wall. In a split second, Daniel had taken his shirt off and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. He had looked up to see only his sister hadn't made it through the door. He sped up to her, pushed her through the door, and ran back inside.
Realizing this, Jasmine had tried to go back inside but a firefighter held her back, "Miss, I suggest you leave. You cannot go back in there!"
"My brother is in there! Please!" Right as she said that, Daniel had come running out with two people hanging on to him for support. He no longer had his shirt around his mouth for he had given it to one of the survivors he helped. He led the two to a nearby ambulance and immediately went back inside, "Danny!"
An hour later, Daniel had come out again (after about ten times), but he looked weaker. He led other, about nine or ten, people out, who were holding on to each other like a life line.
After that trip, he had collapsed at the feet of a police officer who, with the help of John Gillan, dragged him into a building a few blocks away.
Earlier, Jasmine was escorted to a coffee shop with her parents where the injured were being held and decided if her brother was going to help, so was she. She had helped bandage and clean wounds, she kept peoples hopes up. She didn't expect her brother to be brought in.
His eyes were half-lidded as he struggled to breathe, "J-Jazz?" It was hard for him to focus on her face.
"Get me water, now!" She barely kept the panic out of her face as she helped Daniel sit up so she could help him drink it. But all he did was shove the glass away.
"No, I have to save them… s-so many p-people," He went to stand but Jasmine pushed him back down.
"No, Danny. You are hurt, I'm not letting you go back," Their parents rushed over to him and worried.
"Danny, are you okay?"
"Why did you do that?" A survivor, John Gillan, who had helped bring Daniel in, gently pushed them away.
"Danny, you need to drink," She put the rim of the glass to his lips, everyone watched on as he still pushed it away. He scanned the room and saw others who needed water.
"Jazz, no. It's too late to save me, there are others -," He started to cough up more blood and Jasmine frantically dabbed it away with her sleeve.
"Don't say that! Danny, you need to live! Please!" Tears finally started to find their way into her eyes. Danny was also crying, his own tears leaving tracks down his dirty face. He smiled and had put a hand up to her face.
"You know it's true. Jazz, look at me… I'm dying," He paused to cough. Everyone hung onto his every word, silence filled the room, "Just know that I love you. Mom, dad, you guys too. Just promise me this, move on from my death… but don't let my story go unheard and never forget." Jasmine had bit her lip and looked away.
Daniel gripped her hand tightly and sat up straighter, "Promise me."
Jasmine nodded, tears were streaming down her face, "I p-promise."
He coughed some more before giving everyone a watery smile. He made eye contact with everyone in the room as he said, "Live your lives to fullest. Life is too short," With that, his eyes slipped closed and a small smile was left on his face as his head tilted back. He was dead.
The Fentons had gone back home a week later. Every anniversary of 9/11 – for five years – Amity was been mourning over a friend, a son, a brother… Amity has been mourning over a hero.
One of the men present, John Gillan, had something to say, "… the boy was like a beacon of light. A miracle. He saved more than twenty people and kept going! In the end, it cost his life. I was part of the last group he saved and he looked horrible. His lips were cracking and blood dripped down his chin, he had a deep gash on his forehead, he was coughing and hacking up blood… and his eyes were glazed over from the smoke. He saved me, and I will never forget the day I was saved by a fifteen year old boy, who never gave up."
This story has been posted on the internet, in books, in articles, in a movie called The Beacon… all in over 500 languages. Indeed, the world will forever know this young hero as "The Boy Who Never Gave Up".
Exactly 2 years later…
You wipe tears from your eyes as you set the newspaper down. It was true, the last paragraph. You had posted the story on several sites, and soon, it spread. You stand from your spot by the window in the exact coffee shop he died in and pay the bill, leaving a generous tip.
Walking outside you look up at the now clear sky and a watery smile appears on your face.
The Boy Who Never Gave Up…
The Beacon…
The Miracle…
Daniel James Fenton finally got his wish… his story was heard all over the world and he will never be forgotten.
I'm not gonna stick around long, this has made me too depressed and there's another fic I need to work on. R&R please!
My prayers go out to the dead, the families, and to the survivors of 9/11.