A/N: I was in third grade on September 11, 2001. I wish I could say I remember everything about that day, like so many people do. But I can't. All I remember is that on that day and the days that followed, my father (a police officer in a department just outside of Philadelphia) was going to go with his police department to New York to help out. I know that my mother, a recess aide at an elementary school at the time, had been instructed not to take the children outside. That day was an indoor recess day. I know that my grandmother and great aunt were near Shanksville, PA that day, because my grandmother needed new shoes. I know that no one could get in contact with my dad's brother and one of his sisters that day, and that no one knew what to think until they got the phone call saying that they were okay.
Last year, in my Criminology class in high school, we watched a documentary on it. I saw people leaping from the burning buildings, because it was a better fate that what was inside. I saw people running down the streets, terrified, screaming and choking on ash. It is one thing to know that thousands of people died that day, one thing to see a picture of a burning building, or some firemen with a flag standing on top of a mound of rubble, or watch a ten second clip showing a plane colliding with a building or a building collapsing. But the importance of that day really hit me when I watched people holding hands jump from the towers to escape the hell inside, when I watched cameramen have to decide whether to run and save themselves or get the shot that so many people at home are waiting for, when I heard so many victims' last words to their loved ones before they jumped.
I may not remember much of that day ten years ago, but I remember what I saw last year, and I remember the memories of my family. And I know that with all of the memorials, candlelight ceremonies, and the general sense of nationality that occurs each year, no one can ever truly forget.
It was Saturday, September 10, 2011. The team had just wrapped up a particularly tough case, but they were feeling far from celebratory. Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of the tragedy of 9/11. Even Ziva, who'd been in Israel, with no thoughts of ever becoming an American citizen at the time, was silent in her staring out the window.
Almost ten years ago, that view had been obscured by smoke from the Pentagon that had made its way to NCIS headquarters. Gibbs and Tony remembered rushing to help, along with most of the other agents, hardly able to see because of smoke and tears stinging their eyes as they tried to save those victims. They'd heard what had happened in New York and were already feeling the anger and sadness, but it was still a shock. They hadn't been able to process it in that short time between 8:46 and 9:03. But now, they didn't have any more time to let it sink in. It was here. And damned if they weren't going to try to do something about it.
McGee had been at the field office in Norfolk, having just arrived to work because of a faulty alarm clock when he heard the news. He knew his parents had been planning on visiting New York that week, but couldn't remember when they were leaving. He left the crowd around the plasmas who were sobbing as they stood, transfixed by the horrors on the screen, to go to his desk and call his family. He pulled up ZNN on his computer and watched – while his parents were assuring him that they were still at home; they hadn't left yet – as the second plane hit. Even if he hadn't been watching himself, he would have known. There were screams around the office and he heard his mother burst into sobs through the phone. A few minutes later, he heard about the Pentagon. His building began to be evacuated, and he had to hang up. He remembered hoping that he'd get the chance to call them back.
When Abby heard about the attacks in New York, she'd run up to the bullpen to hug Tony and Gibbs, letting go only to hold each of their hands and squeeze as if she'd never let go. They squeezed back, even as they made the plans to go to New York to give their support. She'd wished that she could bring herself to beg them to stay behind, but she knew that this was something they had to do, no matter the dangers. Then the Pentagon was hit. And the world flipped upside down as the two strong hands were ripped from hers. She received a kiss on the cheek and an emotional "Love you, Abs" from both of them before they left. She'd collapsed into Ducky's arms and sobbed as they were forced to leave the building. Ducky had driven her to his house, not trusting her behind the wheel. Traffic was a mess, but they could only blame the terrorists for the crying crowds in the streets and the jams, the drivers running red lights, just trying to pick their children up from school, get home to their families.
Jimmy had been in class, grumbling with everyone else about the test they were taking when his professor received a phone call. She started crying and the class just looked at each other, confused. She immediately flipped on the television that was in the room and they saw what had happened. The majority of the class started sobbing with her, and hugging each other. That night everyone had gathered on the football field with candles and wept as one.
After twenty minutes of nothing but silent stares, Tony announced that he was going to go to church that evening, because he would be at the memorial tomorrow, if anyone wanted to join him. Everyone knew that it wouldn't be just any church service, but one focused on the memory of 9/11. Without a second thought, everyone but Ziva agreed to come. They needed their friends – who they'd come to think of as family – at a time like this.
Then they all turned to Ziva, who hesitated. She wanted to come, but she felt as if she shouldn't. She was Jewish, for one thing, and she had only just become an American citizen. It just didn't feel right to take up space that could be filled by someone who actually belonged.
Tony misread her expression and said softly, "You don't have to come if you don't want to."
She shook her head, and looked around at the faces looking at her expectantly; thought about the ceremony she'd taken part in two summers before; and smiled. "Yes, I will come."
She may not have shared the 9/11 experience that they all did, fighting to pull friends, families, and neighbors from a burning building, but she was determined to share this September 11 with them, and many others in the future. She felt their sorrow, for she, too, was an American now, an American who had lost thousands of fellow countrymen that day.
An American who would never forget.