Title: 911
Author: Kellcat
A/N: I began writing this after the attack on the Twin Towers. My uncle is NYC firefighter and I did a lot of research to make sure I wasn't too offbase with reality.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, those who did, didn't dosuch a bang up job with them, I promise I'll try to do better!
Summary: Bailey, Sam, John and George are in New York investigating their latest case when they become witnesses and participants in a much greater crisis.
911
September 11, 7:45amNew York was waking up for as much as any city that never sleeps wakes up. It was more like the changing of a work shift. The night people were disappearing into their nooks and crannies and they were being replaced with the business suits and brief cases of the day shift. New York was like that; it could change from one thing to another in the blink of an eye. The sun was rising and a warm, clean glow washed over the gritty city, the sun reflecting off the silver and glass of the skyscrapers that littered the skyline. It was a going to be a beautiful morning.
The traffic was already thick, bumper-to-bumper and moving slowly. Agitated drivers honked their horns, flashed their middle fingers and yelled at each other as the cars inched along to their destinations. Sitting in the middle of all this chaos were two VCTF agents from Atlanta. George really didn't mind the delay. He was thrilled to be in New York and although he was working he had decided that he was going to enjoy himself for the few short days they were staying. John on the other hand was not enjoying himself. It's not that he didn't like New York, he really was rather indifferent on the subject, it was just that there was somewhere else he would have rather been right then.
September 8, 11:15 pmIt had been a great night. No, it had been the greatest night of his life John thought as he walked the beautiful blonde he had spent the last 4 hours with, up to her door. It felt a little awkward with the other agents guarding the place, kind of like bringing home your date and finding her parents sitting on the front porch waiting. John wasn't quite sure how to end the evening, give her a quick kiss, give her a long kiss, shake her hand or what. They stood in front of the firehouse for what felt like an eternity to John when Sam finally put him out of his misery and broke the silence.
"Would you like to come in for a few minutes?" she asked.
John's answer was visible in his face. Sam almost had to laugh when she saw his face light up, like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Yes, of course…. Ahh well, if its ok, I mean if ahh, well you know, ahh Chloe…" John sputtered becoming very self-conscious.
Sam loved it when John got like this, vulnerable. She knew that underneath all his bravado was a sweet and loving, but hurting little boy and she just wanted to love him and protect him. She reached out and took his hand.
"It's okay, Chloe is spending the weekend with Angel at her parents house. Come on."
September 11, 8:15 amThe cab came to a screeching halt, jolting John back to the reality of the back seat of a New York Yellow Cab.
"Jersey driver!" the cab driver yelled, though only George and John could hear him.
"Look, we can see the Towers from here." John said, peering through the dirty windshield of the cab.
"Yeah, let's just walk. Hey buddy, you can let us off here." George yelled to the driver who was still engaged in a battle of words with the driver in front of him.
The driver looked annoyed but complied with his fare's wishes and dumped his passengers off on West Street between Barclay and Vesey. The sidewalks leading up to the Trade Center Plaza were as crowded as the streets. John and George made their way past one tower and quickly joined the flowing mass through the plaza and into the second tower.
"What floor are these guys on?" George asked
They walked up to a bank of elevators. They were engulfed in a sea of suits and briefcases, men and women, talking on cell phones, looking over the sales figures and downing that last little bit of Starbucks coffee while they all waited for the elevator doors to open.
"Looks like the 66th." John said looking at a small piece of paper that had the contact scribbled on it.
The doors opened and John and George were swept into the elevator with the tide of their fellow passengers. There was barely room to breath and George was wondering how he was going to manage to keep his claustrophobia at bay for 66 floors. A few people got off on lower floors but the elevator remained overstuffed. John could see George's anxiety building as the elevator continued to rise.
"We could have taken the stairs." He whispered.
"Not in my lifetime." George shot back.
Finally, the doors opened up on the 66th floor and George nearly leaped out as he gasped for air.
"What's the matter? Not into sharing your personal space with 35 strangers." John smiled as he looked around to get his bearings.
"Down this way." He pointed as he patted George on the shoulder.
September 8, 11:30 pmThis wasn't the first time John had been alone with Sam in her place, but it didn't keep his heart from racing and his palms from sweating.
'Geez Grant, you're acting like this is the first time you have been out with a woman.. Chill out!' John thought as he tried to act relaxed.
They walked into the living room and Sam threw her self down onto the couch like a rag doll.
"I'm pooped!" She exclaimed after she had let out a huge sigh.
John looked around, is she trying to give me a signal that I should leave? No, she wouldn't have asked me in. John stood there trying to figure out what exactly he should do. Once again Sam rescued him.
"Just sit down! What's wrong with you tonight? You have been acting so goofy!"
'Goofy? Did she just call me goofy?' John thought as he sat down at the opposite end of the couch. Sam just giggled as she watched him; he was acting like a 16 year old "So…whaddya want to do?" her eyebrows jumping as she asked.
John couldn't believe his eyes and ears! Exactly what did she have in mind, he thought. He certainly knew what he wanted to do but he figured that would earn him a slap across the face. He began to question whether he was reading her right. He had been wrong too many times tonight to take a chance on being this wrong. Searching for the right words he realized that his mouth had suddenly become parched.
"Something to drink?" he managed to get out.
Sam popped up off the couch. "Sure, whaddya want?" she said as she headed into the kitchen and he followed.
"Something cold." He had stopped right behind her. She turned to answer him but hadn't realized how close he was to her. She looked up into his eyes and held his stare. He had no idea who had initiated it, but before either could take another breath, they were in an embrace. Kissing each other deeply, their hands exploring each other's bodies like their tongues explored each other's mouth.
September 11, 8:40 am"John. Hey John."
John realized who was calling his name. It wasn't Sam, it was George.
"Hey, are you with us?" George whispered, looking up from his laptop.
John looked over to his friend, as the suits they had just finished interviewing were getting up from their seats. They still had four more interviews before they were out of there. John just wished they could get them over with; he needed to talk to Sam. He couldn't get last weekend out of his head. Did she really love him or was it a big mistake for her? John couldn't think anymore, suddenly his head was filled with a loud roar.
"What the hell is that?" he heard one of the suits in the room shout.
People began running toward the windows trying to see what was making that horrible noise, hoping it wasn't what it sounded like. It was.
The plane struck the building at exactly 8:45 am. Crowding at the windows, looking toward the north tower, people were clamoring to get a look at the carnage a few hundred feet away from themselves. Black smoke began billowing out of what used to be financial offices; pieces of steel and glass began falling away from the giant like little flecks of glitter. The enormity of the situation had not yet begun to set in on those witnessing the event.
"Holy shit! That plane just hit the tower!" George yelled, his head turning from John to glance back at the scene once again.
"What the fuck! How the hell can a plane smash into the fucking World Trade Center! The goddamn pilot would have brought it back for an emergency landing if there was a problem!" John said to George as he searched his pockets for his cell phone.
People were running everywhere. A voice was heard above the panic, "Stay calm, stay calm," but nobody was listening. John finally had gotten through on his cell phone to his boss, Bailey Malone. Bailey and Dr. Samantha Waters were across town at the scene of the crime they were in New York investigating.
"Bailey, some fucking plane just hit the north tower. There is smoke and shit everywhere. It's a fucking mess over there." John described, trying to stay clam on the phone.
"Where are you and George? George is still with you right?" The panic in Bailey's voice made John even more nervous.
"Yeah, he's here. We are on the 66th floor."
"Get out of there John, Sam and I will meet you at the Marriott."
Before John could say anything to either Bailey or George the crowd lunged toward a stairwell.
They started down the stairs, one by one. It was far more orderly then one would have expected but then again, it was the other tower that was on fire. More and more people joined them on the stairs as they past the 55th, then 51st then the 48th floors. An elderly woman had stopped. She had evacuated from the 94th floor and had just stopped on the 48th and she could go no more. A few people pushed by her, but a couple of middle aged brokers, stopped, put their arms around her waist and began slowly bringing her down the stairs. On the 30th floor George stopped, he had to catch his breath. For some strange reason he glanced at his watch, it felt as though it should be later but it was only 9:04 in the morning.
9:05 amFirst there was a roar, no, it was more like a scream, the scream of an engine, then there was a crash. It was louder then anything any of them had ever heard before, like being inside a cloud when it thunders. John felt it resonate through his body. 'This isn't good' he thought.
"What was that?" a voice in the crowd asked.
"Did the other building explode?" Someone else queried.
John felt a buzz on his hip and reached down for his phone.
"Grant."
"John, where are you guys?" It was Bailey and he sounded even more upset.
John looked around at the crowds of people, all trying to figure out what to do, what was happening.
"We're on the 30th floor," he replied.
"Get the hell out of there John, Now!" Bailey screamed in the phone.
"We're trying to Bail…" John started.
"Another plane just hit, it hit the south tower. Get out of there fast."
John looked around, wondering if anyone around him had heard what Bailey had just told him. They were all in the same state of panic they were before and John decided he wouldn't change that by sharing his new information with anyone.
"George, let's move," John said in a voice so calm that it even surprised himself.
He looked at his friend, leaning against the wall of the stairwell. Sweat was streaming down his face and his hair was even more unkempt then normal.
"Yeah, give me a second John, I just need to…" Before George was able to finish, he felt John's arm swing around his shoulders and move him away from the wall.
"No, we have to go now."
They continued down the stairs, following the exodus to safety. 28th… 25th… 20th… they continued marching downward. As they passed the 19th floor they were met by firefighters climbing up the stairs. As each man climbed the stairs, loaded down with equipment, he was met with cheers and thank you's as he raced up toward the danger. John stopped one of the firemen, showed him his badge and inquired about the immediate danger they might be in.
He just looked at John with a look of desperation and said, "You need to get out of here," and then he continued up the stairs.
They had just ten more floors to go, but John could see that the physical exertion coupled with the how crowded it was in the stairwell was getting to be too much for George.
"Come on George, we are almost there." The pace of those going down had slowed tremendously while the firefighters continued to pour up the stairs, as fast as they could haul themselves and all their equipment.