September 11, 2001
It happened on a Tuesday. All around the world, people went about their daily business, unaware of what was going to happen. Across the U.S., Americans were waking up, getting ready for work, driving off in their cars. New Yorkers were rushing through the streets, on their way to whatever important place they needed to go.
America himself was walking through the streets of Manhattan, sipping a coffee he got from McDonald's and really not doing much. He didn't have any sort of meeting planned for a while, and his paperwork was minimal, so the young Nation decided to spend the morning wandering and people-watching. Streets were filled with various sounds, from car honks to music players. Conversations in every language you could think of were being held.
But then, cutting through the typical clamor of the city, a strange noise grew louder. One by one, the city-goers paused what they were doing and searched the sky for its origin. America's eyes grew wide as he found the source of the dull hum that rang too loudly in the air.
It was an airplane, a 767 to be exact. A passenger plane.
Nearly a century's worth of flight training told America that something was horribly wrong. The plane was flying dangerously low, and it continued to pick up speed as it descended. America's first thought was that the aircraft was somehow malfunctioning, but when that happened pilots were always trained to land in the most unpopulated area possible, in this case, the Hudson River. This time, however, this plane was instead heading for…
"The towers," America realized out loud. Panic overtook the Nation as he watched helplessly from the street.
"Stop!" he shouted, not registering the fruitlessness of his efforts, "You're supposed to go to the river! The river!"
But there was nothing America and the hundreds of New Yorkers surrounding him could do except watch in frozen horror as the plane smashed into the side of the North Tower with a sickening boom.
"No!" America screamed, falling to his knees while heartbroken sobs and bloodcurdling shrieks filled the air.
AVAVAVAVAVAVAVAV
Meanwhile, Canada was outside of his Newfoundland home, trying to train his polar bear.
"Come on, Kumakatchi," the northern Nation pleaded, "If you do it, I'll give you a treat!"
The animal looked at him blankly.
"Please? It's really easy, just say it with me. Ca-na-da."
Finally, Kumajiro opened its mouth. "Can I have something to eat?"
Canada sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. Let's go inside."
Upon entering the rather modest house, Canada absentmindedly flipped on the television before walking into the kitchen.
"What do you want?" he asked, "Pancakes?"
The newscaster on the television droned on. "Again, just a few minutes ago, a large plane appeared to bank sharply and smash directly and perhaps purposefully into the World Tra…Oh my goodness! There's another one!"
Canada stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway. Onscreen, footage of a massive amount of smoke over an all-too-familiar skyline played.
"Oh my god," he gasped, "America!"
Canada scrambled towards his telephone and quickly dialed his brother's number. The phone rang several times before…
"Hey, you've reached the answering machine of me! America! I'm out doing something totally heroic, so please leave a message after the tone!" The machine beeped.
"Oh, god," Canada started, "America, it's Canada. I saw on the news, about the plane and the tower. I just, I hope you're okay. Uh, when you get this message, please call me back so I know you're alright."
Canada hung up the phone and began pacing around the room. Oh, god, he thought, What's going on? Who did this? And why? Is America hurt? Does he even know yet? Questions bounced around Canada's head. He didn't know what to do. He had never seen anything like this before.
Canada's relative youth never affected him so much before, but his sudden feeling of inadequacy prompted him to do something he hadn't in quite a while: ask for help. He grabbed the telephone again, this time dialing the number of his other brother.
The phone rang twice before England picked up.
"Hello?"
"Oh, England! I'm so glad you're home!"
"Yes, uh, who is this?"
"It's me, Canada!"
"Huh?" Canada could hear muffled French in the background. "Oh, yes, Canada. Hello."
"Is France there with you?"
"What? Of course not!" Canada could hear more French.
He shook his head. "Listen, it doesn't matter. Just turn on the TV. Put it on a news station."
"What? Why?"
"Just do it, England! Something happened in New York! There was a plane crash and they're not sure if it was an accident or…"
"Okay, okay! We're putting it on."
Over the phone, Canada heard more muffled voices. He waited a minute before the sound of a sharp gasp and a loud clatter made him jump.
"England?" he called into the phone. More noises.
"Canada?" a new voice sounded.
"France?" Canada switched to French. "What happened?"
"He dropped the phone. What's going on? What happened to America?"
"A plane hit this skyscraper in New York City. It was on fire! Then another one came by and..."
"Did you talk to him?"
"No. I tried calling his home phone but he didn't answer. I don't know what to do."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, France spoke. "Try to call him again. Just keep trying. England and I will tell the rest of the Nations."
It hadn't even occurred to Canada to call anyone else. He was too busy trying to get in touch with his former caretaker. But he figured that they should know. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
"Okay, I will. Take care, France."
"Yes, of course. And Canada, please stay safe."
AVAVAVAVAVAAV
While the rest of the world was finding out about what happened, America was in the midst of it. He tried his best to help by carrying people out of the buildings and holding off the crowds.
"Please, Ma'am," he pleaded, "You need to go home. It's not safe around here."
"No," the hysterical woman cried, "My son is in there! I can't leave! My son…"
America avoided her teary gaze. "Where does your son work?"
"In the North Tower, all the way up on the 95th floor." The woman couldn't control herself anymore. She knew just as well as he did what had happened.
The woman sank to her knees and sobbed. America kneeled down next to her and put his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight.
AVAVAVAVAVA
Canada continued to try to get in touch with America. He called his brother's home phone once more, and when that didn't work, dialed his cell phone number. Finally, there was an answer.
"Hello?" America greeted, his voice unnervingly emotionless.
"America!" the northern Nation nearly shouted, unable to contain his relief. "It's me, Canada! Where are you? Are you alright?"
"I'm in the Financial District," America responded dully, "I'm not going to lie, it's pretty bad down here. Everyone is hurt, or knows someone that was, and they're beginning to panic. We're trying to get everyone out, but there are still a lot of people trapped up in the towers."
"You can't get them out?" Canada questioned weakly.
"No," America's voice cracked, "We can't. We're trying, but the exits are blocked off. People are jumping, Canada!"
Canada glanced at his television screen one again to look at the live coverage of the attack. Sure enough, he could see bodies falling from the two burning buildings.
"I talked to my boss," America continued, his voice returning to its flat tone, "The Pentagon was hit."
"So there have been three planes in all?"
"So far, but we can't let there be any more."
"What do you plan to do?"
"We're going to ground all flights in the country."
"All of them? Can you even do that?"
"We're going to have to. People are dying, Canada! The only problems are the ones outside of the country. They won't be able to get home for who knows how long."
Canada pictured the hundreds of scared people who would be trapped outside of the U.S.
"I can help," he assured, "They can land here. We'll take care of them."
"Really?" America replied with relief, "That would be…" The line fell silent.
"America?"
"I have to go." America hung up.
Canada stared at the phone dumbfoundedly for a moment. Then, he looked up at the television and saw the reason for America's abrupt end in conversation. One of the towers had fallen.
"America," Canada pleaded to himself, "please stay safe."
AVAVAVAVAVAAVAV
America ran as fast as he could from the massive brown cloud rolling ominously towards him, only stopping to help those who were not quick enough. He was no match for the wave of dust however, and soon he was completely enveloped. The smoke burned his eyes and nostrils, and he bent over with a violent cough. While he hacked, his glasses slipped off of his face. America tried to search around for them, but the thick dust caused his efforts to be in vain. He lifted up his shirt to cover his nose and mouth and began walking in the direction he was sure was away from the destruction.
He trudged along for an indeterminate amount of time, and eventually the smoke began to clear. Even with his blurry vision, America could see the shapes of other people wandering aimlessly through the dusty streets. The panic that had gripped the crowds only minutes before had disappeared, leaving only defeat. Nobody seemed sure what to do. The world was eerily quiet.
America sat down on the street with his back against a parked car. He squinted his eyes and tried his best to dial back his brother. After half a ring, Canada picked up.
"Are you okay?" Canada asked worriedly, "I saw what happened."
"Canada," America croaked. "Please help me."
That was the day that no one flew in America.
Author's Note:
First off, I'm really sorry that this update took so long. I had midterms, then just a crapload of homework for a while. But, I also went on a trip to New York City! While I was there, I got to see the 9/11 memorial, and it was beautiful, though incredibly haunting.
So, this chapter is a bit more contemporary, so I'm betting a lot of you will already be familiar with the 9/11 attacks. But for those of you who aren't…
On September 11th, 2001, 19 hijackers from the Islamic terrorist group al-Qeada took control of four airplanes in the U.S. Two planes were flown into the World Trade Center, or as they're locally known, the Twin Towers. Another plane was flown into the Pentagon, which is where our Department of Defense is located. The fourth plane was headed for Washington D.C. but the passengers overtook the hijackers and it crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. 2,996 people died in all.
In addition, for the first time in history, all flights in the U.S. were grounded. The 255 flights headed towards the U.S. at the time landed in Canada. Operation Yellow Ribbon commenced, and thousands of stranded Americans were taken care of by Canadian volunteers. It was really a crowning moment in Canadian-American friendship.
This chapter was the hardest for me to write by far. 9/11 is still a very rough subject in the U.S. and it affected every American to some degree. It brought us together in a rather unique way. That being said, all across the world people mourned for the victims. because it was an attack on humanity, not just America.
Thanks to all of the people who have read this much into this fic. I am proud to say that it is almost over with, with the next chapter being the last.