Warning: Contains OCs (see profile for details), Timelines, human names, and 9//11. I'm sorry for any who this would upset, but I simply wanted to protray the day through the eyes of these characters. I mean in to way to make light of or demean what happened that day. This is a story, I and I was simply the one to tell it.
Rating: T for 9//11 and swearing
Disclaimer: I have never nor ever will claim that I owned Hetalia. As much as I wish that were true, it is not. Oh Well, c'est la vie.
11:00 a.m.: Canada halts all of his takeoffs, except for humanitarian, police, and military flights. He's just got off the phone with Kentucky, the State faxing over the details of the operation about to be put into effect. "Operation Yellow Ribbon." It reads. 'Such a cheerful name for something like this…' Canada thinks. 'That's just like your family, Al.'
11:04 a.m.: "You still haven't told me your name, you know." Back in New York City, Vermont rocks Mr. Neil's daughter back and forth on his lap. Ever since they got her out of the smoke, she's been breathing easier, much to his relief.
11:05 a.m.: "…You're asleep, aren't you?" Vermont looks down at the little girl, who has indeed fallen asleep in his lap, her head resting in the crook of his elbow. They've been waiting in the long-term care ward, where it's quietest in the hospital, since there isn't a rush of new patients being moved here.
11:06 a.m.: Vermont sighs sadly, and just sits there as he finally lets what has happened hit him. Closing his eyes, he sees the faces of the people he passed in the Tower; the ones who didn't go with him when he evacuated. And slowly, the weight of it all crashes down on him like the fallen Towers.
11:09 a.m.: In D.C., Tennessee pulls up to America's house and parks her faded red van in his driveway. Digging the spare key out from under the doormat that loudly announces "WELCOME," she jams it into the doorknob, and turns the old brass knob in one fluid motion.
11:10 a.m.: Tennessee opens the door with a little too much force, and it crashes into the wall by the door frame as it swings inwards; the handle leaving a small dent in America's light yellow wall.
A room away the Territories are playing a videogame in the living room when Puerto Rico hears the crash. He turns to looks at The Northern Mariana Islands with a nod to as he puts on his boxing gloves, leaving to go investigate the noise.
11:11 a.m.: Puerto Rico stays silent as he stalks down the hallway, hands up in a boxer's guard, ready to strike at the intruder. The Commonwealth hears a woman say "Hello?" in the other room. 'Definitely not a thief, then.' He thinks.
Tennessee looks around the front hall, and closes the door behind her. Her heart is pounding; 'What if they already got to the children…?!' It doesn't matter that none of the States even know who 'they' are; Tennessee is paranoid today, just like everyone else involved in this catastrophe.
11:12 a.m.: Tennessee walks down the hall towards the living room when she bumps into to Puerto Rico.
The Commonwealth moves to strike the intruder with his fists, when suddenly he's lifted off the ground by a very relieved Tennessee.
Tennessee spins her little "brother" around at arms length, then hugs him close, his head in her shoulder. She whispers into his messy black hair; "Thank God you're safe…"
11:13 a.m.: 'Why wouldn't I be safe?' Puerto Rico wonders. "Tennessee?" He looks up at his elder "sister" with a worried expression. "What's going on?"
Tennessee puts Puerto Rico down, and notes out of the corner of her eye that the other Territories and Commonwealths have come into the front hall. "Come on out," The brunette says softly. "It's just me, Tennessee."
11:14 a.m.: Puerto Rico turns to see his "siblings" enter the room. The black haired Commonwealth looks back at Tennessee the worry still evident on his face; "Why wouldn't we be safe?"
The United States Virgin Islands walks over to her "brother" and grips his wrist since his hands are covered by the red boxing gloves.
When Tennessee doesn't immediately answer, it begins to dawn on Puerto Rico that something must be very wrong indeed. He asks her quietly; "Tennessee, where's America?" The Southern State only looks at the Commonwealth without answering. Instead, it seems like she's trying to make what Puerto Rico assumes was meant to be a reassuring smile. Only it doesn't come out like a smile, but more like a grimace as she lifts American Samoa off of the wooden floor and into her arms. Puerto Rico feels sick to his stomach as his fears grow in the silence Tennessee leaves hanging in the air.
11:15 a.m.: In answer to Puerto Rico's, she says quietly; "Everyone, America's been…" 'Attacked?' Tennessee thinks, searching for the right word that will scare the children the least; 'Assaulted? Bombed, shot, struck--' The list of synonyms piles up inside of her so she settles for; "…Hurt." When she says it Puerto Rico flinches anyways and Tennessee's heart aches for her little "brother." "We're going to go visit him in the hospital, okay? Get your shoes on everyone."
11:19 a.m.: The phone rings in Louisville, and Kentucky finds himself on the phone again after just finishing a call to an incensed California. "Yeah?" He answers his newest caller wearily. The day is starting to affect Kentucky horribly; having to hear everyone's reactions to the tragedy is almost unbearable. The events of the day are sapping his strength and eroding his will.
11:20 a.m.: "Kit, listen to this." The caller says insistently. Kentucky questions the person in confusion, guessing who it is by voice; "Cyrus?" Maine cuts him off impatiently. "Just shut up and listen!" So Kentucky listens, and he hears that his "brother's" voice chokes a little on the last word. "It's a call from Flight 93 before it went down. We're just getting it now."
b11:23 a.m.:/b Back in Washington D.C., Tennessee finally finishes getting shoes and socks on the Territories and Commonwealths, and persuading Puerto Rico to take his boxing gloves off. "Is everybody ready?" She asks the group assembled by the front door.
"Yeah." Puerto Rico nods, and takes The U.S. Virgin Islands by the hand. The little territory clings to her "big brother's," hand, unwilling to let go of him.
11:24 a.m.: Tennessee goes back out to her van, noticing that she forgot to lock the car when she had arrived. "Everybody in," she tells her little "siblings," waiting for them to get settled before she does so herself.
The Northern Mariana Islands and Guam get into the backseat of the red van with American Samoa seated in between the two of them.
Puerto Rico gets in the passenger seat, with The U.S. Virgin Islands in his lap. The little girl wouldn't fit in the back with the other three, so she's in the front with her "big brother."
11:25 a.m.: Tennessee turns the car on, and listens as the engine turns over, glad that for once her old car is working correctly. The radio turns on, and it squawks to life on a station that's only playing static. Tennessee shuts it off immediately, glad that she hadn't been listening to the news on her way over. Once everyone's strapped in, they pull out of the driveway, and head towards downtown D.C., where the hospital that's currently holding America and Virginia is located.
11:27 a.m.: Tennessee pulls up to a stoplight, and taps her foot impatiently as she waist for the light to change. Realizing that she hasn't told anyone that she picked up the Commonwealths and Territories, she pulls her cellphone out of her pocket and dials Kentucky's number.
11:28 a.m.: Tennessee goes straight to his voice mail, so she figures Kentucky must be on a call with someone else in the family. Reaching anyone else today has been nigh impossible, the phone lines ringing between the States like warning sirens, going off constantly as they all try to get in contact with each other. Eventually, it became standard response to say "Call Kentucky" if whoever you were talking to didn't know what was going on in its entirety. The light changes, and Tennessee puts her foot down on the gas pedal so hard that the old van lurches violently forward before she remembers to ease off a little, her nerves jumbled from barely restrained panic.
11:30 a.m.: "Here," Puerto Rico turns, and sees Tennessee holding out her phone. "Take this, and call West Virginia for me please, would you Carlos?" The Commonwealth nods, and he shifts out from under The U.S. Virgin Islands to grab the proffered cell. "He'll be listed under my contacts, so it should be easy to spot his number, okay?"
Tennessee's pretty sure that West Virginia's at the hospital, he was supposed to be in D.C. anyway today the last she heard from him. Apparently he'd had a meeting with America for one reason or another. 'Well it's cancelled now.' Tennessee thinks bitterly.
11:31 a.m.: At the hospital, West Virginia is startled by the sound of his cellphone going off in his pocket. "Who's there?" He growls into the device. "It's m-me, Carlos." West Virginia softens when he hears Puerto Rico's scared voice. "Ah, sorry there bud. What do you need?" West Virginia forces himself to be cheery for his "little brother." There's no need to frighten the Commonwealth more than he sounds already.
11:32 a.m.: "Tennessee gave me her phone and said to call you." West Virginia hears Puerto Rico say. "We're on our way to the hospital, since Tennessee just picked us up from the house." West Virginia blanches. Everyone seems to have forgotten about the Territories and the Commonwealths in the chaos of the day. 'Hattie's going to kill me…' West Virginia thinks desperately with a sinking heart. "Yeah- Okay;" West Virginia can hear the Commonwealth talking to someone else in the background, and figures that it must be Tennessee. "She wants to talk to you, now. I'm giving her the phone, now." West Virginia clears his throat. "Alright, bud. Hang in there, okay?" He tells his "little brother."
"Are you guys ready? Okay. Let's roll!" In Louisville, Kentucky's heart seizes in his chest as he hears the end of the recording. Vaguely, he's aware of Maine telling him sadly. "His name was Todd Beamer, and the call came in at 9:43 to the GTE. We think Flight 93 would have gone to the White House if the people on board hadn't done anything." As the implications of what Maine just told him sink in, Kentucky says hoarsely; "He's going to be remembered as a hero."
Maine replies to his "brother" bitterly; "He already is one."
11:33 a.m.: Back in D.C. while en route to the hospital, Tennessee takes the phone back from Puerto Rico, and shoulders it as they reach another stop sign about four minutes away from their destination. "Lewis?" She asks. "Right here." West Virginia replies. She asks him quietly; "How are they doing?"
At the hospital West Virginia looks around the room, casting a glance at his enemy in the bed. "I'm in here with Shirley now. Frank's in the other room with Dad. They're…" Tennessee can hear the pause as West Virginia gropes for the right phrase. "…They've both seen worse." That much is technically the truth, even if it doesn't fell like it right now.
11:34 a.m.: Back on the road, Tennessee sneaks a glance at Puerto Rico and The U.S. Virgin Islands before she hisses into the phone; "You forgot the children?!" She's gratified that she can almost hear West Virginia flinching through the phone line. "They still thought that America was coming home for lunch today!"
11:35 a.m.: "Look, Hattie I'm sorry-" West Virginia tries to protest this verbal beating he's receiving over the well fare of America's youngest "children." He flinches again as he hears Tennessee hiss through the phone; "Sorry doesn't cut it, Lewis!"
11:36 a.m.: Tennessee grumbles with frustration, trying to tell her "brother" off properly. "You jackass!" She finally explodes, then yelps, quickly snapping her cellphone shut, realizing that she'd not only insulted West Virginia, she also swore in front of her little "siblings."
A few blocks away, West Virginia stares at the phone in his hand in shock. Tennessee doesn't insult people, and she certainly doesn't swear. 'This is bad.' He thinks, and a little voice pipes up; 'Only figuring that out now, huh, hotshot?'
11:37 a.m.: Maryland turns looks up as West Virginia walks into America's room. "Tennessee's got the Territories, and they'll be outside any minute." Maryland blanches as he too had forgotten all about the Territories and The Commonwealths. 'She's going to kill us!' He thinks bleakly. "I'll go wait for her." Maryland offers. West Virginia grimaces at his "brother," then leaves the room.
11:40 a.m.: Tennessee pulls up to the front of the D.C. hospital, and sees Maryland waling over as she helps the Territories and Commonwealths out of the van. Maryland hands five dollars over to the valet, then goes to say hello to his family members.
Guam runs up to his "big brother" and jumps directly at him, propelling himself into a hug.
"Hey there..." Maryland says reassuringly once he can breathe again. He hefts Guam up into his arms, hugging his "little brother" close to his chest, and Guam clings to Maryland tightly, burying his face in his lab coat.
11:41 a.m.: Tennessee helps The Northern Mariana Islands out of the van, lowering the dainty Commonwealth gently to the ground, where she doesn't let go of her "sister's" hand. Tennessee gives her hand a squeeze, and The Commonwealth tentatively squeezes back.
Puerto Rico waits for The U.S. Virgin Islands to get off his lap before he gets out of the car too, where The U.S. Virgin Islands and American Samoa stand next to him, clinging to each other. "Everybody good?" Tennessee calls, and gets several answers of "yes" from her younger "siblings."
11:43 a.m.: When they get to America's room, Tennessee stops the States outside of the door, and tells them quietly, "America's sleeping now, so you'll have to be quiet, okay? We don't want to hurt him." America's youngest "children" nod affirmatively.
West Virginia stands up out of the single chair when the others enter the hospital room, watching quietly as they arrive.
Puerto Rico let's go of The U.S. Virgin Islands before entering the room, then opens the door and goes in. 'Dad…' They still haven't told him what happened to America, but from what Puerto Rico can see, it isn't good. The little boy's insides twist uncomfortably as he looks over his father figure in the bed; 'What did they do to Dad?!' He thinks frantically.
11:44 a.m.: Behind him, the door opens, and Maryland comes in next, still carrying Guam, who seems to have refused to let go of his "elder brother."
Maryland ruffles Puerto Rico's hair, and then lowers Guam down towards America so that the little boy can get a closer look at his father figure.
"Wake up Dad." Guam says to the unconscious Nation. "Wake up!" Guam begins to cry, repeating the phrase, and Maryland lifts him back up to his chest, cradling his "little brother" in an attempt to comfort him better. "He's gonna be okay, little buddy; I promise." Maryland tells his "brother." "I promise." He says again.
11:45 a.m.: The Northern Mariana Islands comes in next, and Tennessee behind her. "Mr. America…" The Commonwealth whispers quietly; "You said you were going to take care of us…" Tennessee puts a hand on The Northern Mariana Islands's shoulder, giving her a squeeze. "You're not allowed to get hurt, if you want to do that." The Northern Mariana Islands is such a quiet girl, though Tennessee is pretty sure that that much is probably due to the time she spent under Japan's care. "You're not allowed." She says again. The little girl turns back to her "big sister," and tugs on her skirt. "I'd like to cry now." She tells Tennessee quietly. "Please don't look…"
'Oh, sweetie…' Tennessee thinks sadly, hugging the little Commonwealth to her. She can feel the Northern Mariana Islands put her face in her skirts, her shoulders hitching as she cries softly. "It's not fair." The little girl mumbles. "I know it's not sweetie…" Tennessee tells her, rubbing little circles into the girl's back. "I know."
11:46 a.m.: American Samoa enters the room, and walks straight up to America's side. "When I grow up," he promises his father figure; "I'm gonna be just like my big brother. And I'm not gonna let anything happen to the people I care about." He says fiercely. "I'm gonna be big and strong, just you watch me."
The U.S. Virgin Islands just comes in and cries. She doesn't even have time to say anything before she starts bawling, burying her face in Puerto Rico's side.
11:47 a.m.: Tennessee hates how broken America's youngest "children" seem at this moment; she just wants to take them to her home and make this scene disappear for them.
West Virginia puts his hand in American Samoa's hair, ruffling it softly as the little chain of islands stares fiercely into the distance. "I'm gonna protect everyone." He says adamantly. 'You and me both, little lion.' West Virginia thinks. 'You and me both.'
11:51 a.m.: Back in Louisville, The Philippines is the last person on Kentucky's list, and by the time he gets to her, he finds that England has already called her. "How are they doing, Kit? Be honest. How bad is it?" He hears her ask. Kentucky sighs loudly into the phone. "You really want to know, Korina?" He asks her. "Yeah." She tells him. "All four of them are in the hospital, though Pennsylvania's still awake and moving around last I heard. Dad and Shirley are in D.C. with Lewis and Frank. Pete and Dan are in the same hospital, back in the city with Delaware and New Jersey." Kentucky waits as across the seas, his once "sister" asks him. "What are you guys doing about this?"
11:52 a.m.: "Will, Ohio, and Doug are all working with the FAA to regulate air traffic out of the country, and Maine's been doing something with Naval Intelligence that he hasn't really told me about in any sort of detail." Kentucky takes a deep breath before continuing. "Canada's been a huge help since he and his people have been taking our flights just as fast as we can redirect them out of here. And I've been calling everyone in the family nonstop to keep them updated, since somehow that's become my job through a series of events that I don't fully comprehend or understand." Kentucky finishes, running a hand through his hair in exasperation and fatigue.
11:53 a.m.: "Okay." He hears the Philippines say. "How are you, doing, Kit?" Kentucky sighs; "Honestly?" He asks her. "Honestly." He hears her confirm. "I feel like shit, Korina." He says simply, glad to have it off his chest. "This one's really bad over here." The pause hangs in the air for a few moments before the Philippines speaks up again softly. "Hang in there, Kentucky. You're doing your best." His once "sister" assures him. "Thanks, Korina." He says quietly. "I just… I just wish it was enough, you know?" He tells her.
Back in New York City, New Jersey startles out her black mood with a jolt. "Chester was in the South Tower!"
11:54 a.m.: "Yeah," The Philippines says. "I know what you mean. Hang in there, okay?" With that, she hangs up, and Kentucky is left staring at the phone in his hands while he looks at the list of who he hasn't called within the hour so he can start his round of calls over again.
In New York City, Vermont's cell rings, and he picks it up quickly, stealing a look at the sleeping girl in his arms to see if the sound woke her up. "Hello?" He says into the device quietly. "Chester?" The voice asks him. "Jersey?" He asks incredulously. 'Oh no…' He remembers, his heart sinking. 'That's right, she was supposed to meet me and Pete in the city together today.'
11:55 a.m.: Two floors up, New Jersey's heart begins to beat again as she gives a thumbs-up sign to Delaware and Pennsylvania to show that she's connected to their younger "sibling." "Chester, where are you?" She asks him breathlessly. "I remembered about The South Tower, and I was so worried- I'm just glad you're okay." She finishes, relieved as some of the weight lifts off her chest.
11:56 a.m.: New Jersey smiles through the tears that have started to flow again as Vermont informs her that he's "at St. Vincent's hospital." 'Thank you God,' New Jersey thinks with immeasurable relief; 'thank you for small miracles.'
11:57 a.m.: Vermont begins to make his way to New York's room after he writes his cellphone number down on a piece of paper for her, telling her to give it to Mr. Neil when he wakes up. The little girl is still asleep, and he takes her with him to see his "siblings," figuring that she'll most likely stay that way.
11:59 a.m.: Vermont enters New York's room with a quiet "hey there," and is practically pounced on by a very ecstatic New Jersey. "You're okay." She tells him, hugging him close before pulling back at arms length, still gripping his shoulders as she looks at him to confirm that he's mostly unharmed. "You're okay."
Delaware and Pennsylvania come over to Vermont next, doing the same as Delaware takes the small child from her "younger brother." She's curious as to why Vermont's carrying a child, but right now she doesn't care too much, more concerned with the state of the State in front of her.
Vermont looks around the room, spotting New York's bed and EKG machine as his eyes soften. "We're going to be okay, right?" He asks his elders.
The three eldest States share a look, and New Jersey looks out at the sky herself before all three of them turns back to Vermont.
Delaware makes a little half-smile as she assures him that; "We're not okay right now, but we're going to be."
12:00 p.m.: Mr. Neil's daughter wakes up in Delaware's arms, surveying the room with wide eyes as she grasps her surroundings. "Mr. Chester?" She asks him sleepily. "When Mr. New York wakes up, tell him that Nina wants him to get better so he can come and play, okay?" With that, the little girl is asleep again, and the four States find themselves staring at the six year old girl in shock, gazes alternating between her and their "brother" in the hospital bed. Delaware laughs quietly. "Leave it to Pete to tell a kid, huh?"
Outside, roughly fourteen people climb the stairwell, after having taken shelter under to the top of what is now ground 0. The skies over New York City are blue and it's a bad day, but in a few years, it'll be a better one.
Fin.
Two different epilougues will appear seperately, one for Virginia, and one for New York, so if you enjoyed this, please stick around.