September 11, 2001. 11:45 p.m. Chinese Standard Time.
China groaned as he sat up and glared at the ringing phone. He glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Who could possibly be calling at this hour. China figured it was probably America. It was nearly eleven in the morning at his place and he probably forgot about time zones. He snatched the phone from the receiver. The last thing he needed was Hong Kong complaining about his sleep being interupted. It was bad enough his younger brother was harping at him about becomming his own country. China really didn't want to deal with Hong Kong's sleep deprived grouchiness.
"America, it's almost midnight. This better be good." China said grouchily.
"I'm not America." Japan's voice replied shakily.
"Japan? What are you doing up this late, aru?"
"We need to get to America right away. It is an emergency." Japan told him urgently. "America's country has been attacked and according to Canada-san, he is missing."
China sat up straighter, alarmed. "What do you mean, aru?"
"Just turn on the news." the Japanese man ordered before hanging up.
China stared at the phone in confusion. He started wondering what happened to his little brother that Japan had become so bossy and emotionless. Then again, he never really did show much emotion even as a child. Though China could've sworn something in Japan's voice betrayed his emotion. He seemed upset about something. But what? Then it hit China. Japan said America had been attacked and according to Canada, whoever that is, the loud nation was missing. Japan and America were friends so China figured it was only natural for Japan to be concerned.
"China!" Hong Kong yelled urgently, his voice echoing through the hall. "Come quickly! You need to see this!"
China yawned, sat on the edge of his bed, and stretched. He wondered why Hong Kong was up this late and what had him so upset. China walked to Hong Kong's room, ready to see what his younger brother so desperately needed to show him and determined to scold him for being up so late. Hopefully it wasn't a fire caused by fireworks or a prank.
"Yes, Li Xiao?" China asked.
Hong Kong didn't say anything. He picked up his laptop (China made mental note to take that later) and brought it over to the nation. He quickly hid his messages between him and Iceland and shut off the radio playing American country music (he claimed it was for studying American culture but China knew Hong Kong just wanted to annoy him) before opening the Internet. He quickly brought up a news website and clicked on the breaking news. "Iceland told me. Read it."
China huffed in annoyance before skimming the article. He did a double take. Surely he was reading it wrong. He read it slower but it said the exact thing as the first time he read it. There was a terrorist attack taking place in America's country. Is that why Japan seemed so urgent? The Japanese man also mentioned America was missing. But surely this wasn't real. Nobody in their right mind would ever attack America.
"This is a joke, right?" China asked Hong Kong.
His younger brother shook his head. "No, I looked it up after Iceland told me and it's real. I even checked America's national news, Europe's news, and both Japan's and Australia's. This site is CNN, which is one of America's major news networks. In America's country, it's ethically wrong and illegal to lie in the news. They call it libel and America's constitution doesn't protect an individual from libel or slander."
"Wait, how do you know that, aru?" China demanded.
"I have to study other constitutions before I make mine." Hong Kong replied as if it was obvious. "Anyway, are you going to New York? A bunch of other nations are."
"I guess I don't have a choice. Knowing Russia, he'll call me once he finds out and drag me along anyway, aru. Do you want to come or stay here?"
"I'll come because of I don't go, you'll call one of the Koreas or Vietnam to babysit me."
"Then start packing, aru. And you are not taking that laptop." China informed him. "In fact," he held his hands out, "give it here."
Hong Kong scowled but obliged. China took it to his room and stashed it in his closet before pulling out his suitcase to start packing.
September 11, 2001. 4:30 p.m., Central European Time
Germany knew better than to go after Italy after he ran off. The Italian was angry and would only get more upset if Germany tried to calm him because the German wasn't the best at expressing his emotions or being a good friend. The best he could do is let Italy vent to Slovenia. Besides, he didn't want to risk running into Romano and listening to the Southern Italian yell at him for upsetting his "idiot little brother." Also he had to get to America, quickly.
He carefully folded his clothes and stuck them in his suitcase. He glanced at a pile of clothes that Italy had left lay in his room, despite Germany telling him not to. The German sighed and picked the clothes up. He folded them and put them in his suitcase. He knew Italy would be heading to New York as well and knowing the Italian, he'd forget to go home and get clothes. He and Slovenia would probably just leave from Rome. Which meant he probably should call Hungary and ask her to get Slovenia some clothes too.
He pulled out his cell phone and went to Hungary's number. She answered on the second ring. "Helló Germany."
"Hallo Hungary. I vas vondering if you'd swing by Slovenia's house und grab some clothes for him."
"Hm... I might not need to do that." she said. "I think I might still have some of his old clothes from vhen he lived vith Austria and I. Or are those Slovakia's? No, they're Slovenia's. The Czech Republic came and took Slovakia's after they vere married. Vhy do you need clothes for Slovenia?"
"Somezing has happened in America und I think Italy und Slovenia are going zere from Rome. So since I am going to America too, I figured I'd take zem clothes."
"Something happened in America?" she asked in a worried voice.
"Ja. According to Japan, some terrorists hijacked four planes und crashed them into some buildings." Germany replied. "According to America's bruder, America is missing."
"Istenem." Hungary breathed. "Don't vorry about Slovenia's clothes. I vill bring them vith me. Austria and I are coming."
She hung up. Germany put his cell phone on top of his passport before finishing packing. That was one less thing he needed to worry about. But one thing he refused to listen to was Austria's whining and complaining. Then again, Hungary was forcibly dragging him along and he knew better than to whine around his ex-wife. He's seen plenty of times what Hungary has done to Prussia.
Speaking of, where was Prussia? Germany knew he wasn't in the basement/his room. He obviously wasn't bothering Hungary or Austria, otherwise Germany would've heard about it. He most likely wasn't with France and Spain because the police haven't called. It was strange for Germany to not know where Prussia was.
September 11, 2001. 5:00 p.m. Central European Time
"Austria!" Hungary called as she entered her ex-husband's house with her suitcase. She heard "Ode to Joy" echoing through the house, indicating that he was in the music room. She walked towards said room and found Austria sitting at the piano, his long, delicate fingers moving over the keys. He had undoubtedly been there all day and most likely had no clue what was going on. She almost hated to pull away from his music, but this was important. "Rodreich!"
He slammed his hands on the keys in surprise. He spun around and stared at her. "Elizaveta! Vhat are you-" He noticed the suitcase. "Vhat's vith ze suitcase?"
"Ve need to get to New York now." she informed him. "Go pack. I vill explain on the vay there. Pack comfortable clothes, not vhat you usually vear. Jeans and tee shirts and sneakers."
He opened his mouth to protest but she glared at him, causing him to shut his mouth. He got up and went to go pack. She followed him to make sure he was packing appropriate attire. She saw he was just throwing random clothes into a suitcase. Hungary shook her head and started taking out what he had thrown into his suitcase. She wondered how on Earth Austria had survived the past nearly eighty-two years without her as she repacked his things.
Meanwhile in Rome, Italy
"Hvala Hrvaška." Slovenia said before hanging up his phone. He turned to Italy and for once found himself staring into his friend's eyes, honey gold meeting blue-green. The Italian's eyes were full of worry. "According to Croatia, Matti and Oče are going to New York. Matti is going to be taking clothes for me and Nemčija is taking yours."
"Gratzie Aleksander." Italy said. "Do you think'a America is alright?"
"Ja, it's America." Slovenia said softly. "Remember Feliciano? America is a fighter. Nobody attacks America and gets away with it. He'll be out for blood when we find him."
"Sì, I guess'a you're right." Italy glanced at his watch. "I need to call my boss and have him arrange a flight for us."
"Da, that will most likely be the only way we will get to New York. Knowing the American government, the airspace is closed." the Slavic nation agreed. "Hey Italija."
"Sì?" Italy asked as he sent a text to his boss.
"Have you seen or heard from Prusija? Hrvaška mentioned that Matti didn't mention him bothering her or Oče. I'm worried. What if he was on one of the planes while going to see America's brat? It's bad enough America is missing and potentially hurt, we don't need Prusija missing too. What if he dies and can't come back? What if he gets seriously hurt and can't heal like the rest of us? What if-"
"Slovenija, Aleksander," Italy cut him off, slipping into his friend's native tongue, "prosim nehaj!"
"Però, ho paura!" Slovenia sobbed, slipping into Italian. "What if hijacked planes are heading to London or Paris or Tokyo or Cape Town or even my Ljubljana? What if-"
"Abbastanza Slovenia!" Italy wailed. "Ho paura and you're making me even more scared! Just stop, per favore!"
The two stood there crying. Switzerland eventually came over to see what all the noise was about. He sighed and rubbed his temples when he saw it was Italy making a scene. But he was thankful the Italian and his Slovenian friend weren't trespassing. He started to walk away but nearly ran into Liechenstein when he turned around. She was looking up with her green doe eyes.
"Big Bruder, why are Herr Italy and Herr Slovenia crying?" she asked, her voice full of concern.
"I don't know and it's none of our business what those two are bawling about." Switzerland replied.
"But Bruder, shouldn't we go over and find out why and see if we can help?" she asked. "Herr Italy is our neighbor and isn't that what good neighbors do?"
"I-It's none of our business." Switzerland said defiantly, but his voice was faltering. He started to walk away but stopped. He turned his head and looked at his sister. Her eyes were big and pleading, causing Switzerland's resistance to crumble. He sighed. "Fine. But I'm only going over because they're disturbing the peace."
He walked over to Italy and Slovenia who were now crying harder. Switzerland had to be careful how he approached this because technically he was on Italy's territory and he was an uninvited guest. He couldn't just go up and yell at the two to be quiet. Liechenstein tugged on Switzerland's sleeve causing him to stop.
"If you want, I could go talk to them, Bruder."
She approached the two larger countries with Switzerland hot on her heels. He wasn't about to let her speak to Italy of all people by herself. Who knows what he could tell her that would corrupt her innocence? The Swiss man wasn't about to put his little sister's innocence at risk. Italy wasn't known for modesty about his body and Slovenia had a minor gambling problem on top of his crude jokes. And both liked their wine a little too much.
"Herr Italy? Herr Slovenia?" the girl asked, drawing their attention. "Why are you crying?"
"Ve~ Y-you haven't heard?" She shook her head causing the two bigger countries to cry harder. "Gli Stati Uniti d'America è sotto un attacco da parte di terroristi!"
Liechtenstein gasped and turned to Switzerland. "Big Bruder, we have to go help Herr America."
Switzerland wanted to say no. Not because he didn't want to help, but because he was a permanent neutral country. He wasn't supposed to get involved because knowing America, war was soon to follow. But Liechenstein was looking up with tear-filled eyes and Italy and Slovenia were nearby bawling their eyes out. Not that he cared about those two, but if he said no, then they'd only cry harder which would make him feel guilty. He sighed in defeat. Maybe Switzerland couldn't get involved but Vash Zwingli could. "Fine, we'll go help."
September 11, 2001 11:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time
Canada arrived in Brooklyn in what must be record time, then again he was a nation. Traffic into the city was stopped and he could smell the smoke from where he was at. Mexico was already there, but that's' because she was probably already at America's house when she got the call. Breaking into America's house was a hobby of hers. She probably took the keys to his car and just hit the gas. And surprisingly Prussia was there too. Mexico noticed his confused look at Prussia being there.
"He stopped at la casa de los Estados Unidos when I got the call. He was heading to see you." she explained. "He came with me."
"She drives almost as bad as Ita." Prussia grumbled.
"Hey!" she snapped. "I wasn't concerned with driving safely, Gringo. I was more concerned about mi hermano."
"Rosa, Gilbert, that's enough, eh." Canada said irritably. His brother was missing and potentially injured. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with Mexico and Prussia fighting. "Japan, France, and England are coming but that's all I know."
"Brazil, Panama, Argentina, Spain, and Andorra are coming, but she's only coming because Papa España is." Mexico told them. "If Papa España is coming, then ten American says Romano's coming too."
"You're on." Prussia said. "Most likely West will be coming und Ita vill follow."
"Let's see if they'll let us in the city." Canada said as he started walking towards Manhattan. "Remember where we've parked."
The three walked towards the Brooklyn Bridge. They had to push through a crowd of people heading towards Manhattan to help out. The three could see the smoke rising from the fires that had spread when the towers collapsed. Some people were covered in white dust from when the buildings collapsed. There was absolutely no traffic, an usual sight for New York. Firetrucks, ambulances, and police cars came to and from the site that had been dubbed "Ground Zero." Policemen and women stood in the street directing the people. Emergency workers were loading people into ambulances. Firefighters were giving people oxygen masks to help them breath. News reporters were everywhere, interviewing witnesses.
As they got closer, they could see rescue workers looking for survivors and the dead. Mexico pulled a piece of paper out of her jean pocket. She saw Canada and Prussia staring at her in confusion. "It's Alfie's picture. We need to show it to other people to find out if they've seen him." She pulled out some police badges. "These give us a legit reason to sift through the rubble."
"Ja, zat's a good idea." Prussia agreed.
September 11, 2001. 4:30 p.m. Western European Time
"Angleterre?" France called as he entered England's house. "Come on. We 'ave to go."
No answer. Normally the Brit would come out and yell at him for just walking into the house. Maybe his rival was in Cambridge or something instead of London? France didn't really remember if he called England's cell or home and he didn't ask where the Brit was. He just subconsciously assumed England was in London. France was still trying to process what happened in America. Who in their right mind would attack to United States of America, a superpower with one of the biggest militaries in the world?
He was about to call England's cell phone before he heard a crash come from the kitchen. He made his way to the Brit's kitchen. "Angleterre?"
He walked in and the first thing he saw was his rival attempting to clean a stove with questionable stains and burn marks all over in. The Englishman had knocked over a stack of pots and pans that looked like they had gone through nuclear war. Given England's cooking skills, the state of his stove, pots, and pans didn't really surprise France. No what surprised the Frenchman was the fact ENGLAND didn't even seem to notice he was making more of a mess. Bowls were shattered on the floor, knives were laying haphazardly on the counter, and there was spots of some brown stew on the window that came from the sponge the Brit was using.
"Angleterre." France said, grabbing England's wrist. "What 'ave you been doing?"
"Cleaning Frog. What the bloody hell does it look like?" England demanded. "Wait, when did you get here?"
"Just now. I told you I was coming, remember? We 'ave to get to America."
The younger country's face darkened. "B-bloody hell... I forgot... W-why him? God, who is that damn stupid and cruel?"
England was crying, a rare sight. If France had to guess, the Brit had put himself to mindless work to avoid processing the fact that America's country was attacked and America himself was missing. France hesitantly wrapped his arms around the England in a comforting manner. For once the Brit didn't push him away.
This is kind of late, I know. I've had FFA stuff to do like banquet and officer stuff. Thank you to all my reviewers and followers. Your support means so much to me. I apologize for any historical and language inaccuracies. Any reference to actual victims is unintentional. I do not own Hetalia and the only two characters in this fanfiction I own are Slovenia and Mexico.
Istenem- Hungarian for "My God."
Hrvaška- Slovenian for "Croatia."
Brat- Slovenian for "Brother."
Prosim nehaj- Slovenian for "Please stop."
Però ho paura- Italian for "But I'm scared."
Abbastanza"- Italian for "Enough."
Gli Stati Uniti d'America è sotto in attacco da parte do terroristi- Italian for "The United States of America is under an attack by terrorists."
La casa de Los Estados Unidos- Spanish for "America's house."