Setember 11, 2001. 11:20 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Prussia felt sick. He'd seen a lot of horrors in his life but this was something new. Planes had only been around for a little over forty years when he was dissolved, which was a blink of an eye to a nation. To think a technology that he could remember being new and exciting could be used as a weapon of mass destruction was unfathmable to him. Then again, he'd seen it several times before.

He could also remember when those towers were built. New York City is America's pride and joy as his most populated city and he was excited when two towers, that were the same height, were built and replaced the Empire State Building as the tallest buildings in the city. Those towers were the iconic symbol of the financial success of America's country. And now, all that was left was rubble, white powder and fires.

On top of this, America's Pentagon, the symbol of his country's military power, had been attacked and rumors were circulating that a fourth plane was heading for his capital and there was the possibility of a fifth plane. The ex-nation shuddered at the thought. These people didn't deserve to suffer for the ideals of a bunch of cruel terrorists. As he walked with America's siblings, he prayed that this nightmare was over. That there was no more hijacked planes; that they found America so he and his people could pick themselves up.

It was bad enough that the world spent fifty years in fear of nuclear war, a horror that could still happen but was less likely now that Russia and America were "friends" again, but now they had to fear insane monsters attacking innocent people because of their beliefs. Hadn't anyone learned anything about attacking the United States? Japan sure did. If you attack America, you can guarantee that his country, government, citizens, and America himself will all be out for blood. Not that Prussia would blame him for wanting revenge for this. Who wouldn't? Why if Prussia was still a country, he would be speaking to his boss about becoming America's ally. Then again, he could still try that on his brother's boss but there was no doubt in Prussia's mind his younger brother was going to be on America's side in this.

"Excuse me," Mexico said holding up America's picture to a rescue worker, "we're looking for mi hermanito. Please, we think he was in the towers."

"I'm sorry, Madam, I haven't. But I'll keep an eye out for him." the man replied. "What's his name?"

"Alfred. Se llama Alfred. Alfred F. Jones." the Mexican replied, her voice cracking. Canada carefully wrapped an arm around her as she started crying. "¿Por qué? ¿Por qué tienes que ser estúpido y hacer que nos preocupemos de ti? Tú gringo maldito."

"I know Rosa, but screaming at him and calling him names isn't going to help us." Canada told her. The man gave the two siblings a look of pity.

"If I were you, I'd make a missing poster. I'm sure if you explain that your brother was in the Trade Center, a business will let you." he told them.

"Merci." Canada responded as the man ran off towards the wreckage.

"Vhy don't you go do zat und I vill stay in zis area to look." Prussia suggested.

"Sí, lo es un idea muy bueno, pero no tienes una foto de Alfred." Mexico pointed out.

"Ja, but ve can't really vait." Prussia pointed out. "Vait, awesome me has my phone. I could take a picture vith it?"

He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the photo Mexico had of America. Prussia's heart almost broke at the sight of the American. America was missing and wouldn't be happy if- when- they found him. He'll be devastated. Prussia could remember training him during his revolution. The American hated the idea of sending his people into battle, knowing he'd inevitably lose some. To Prussia's knowledge, the American still secretly hated it but said nothing to others because he knew it was a necessary evil. If he hated losing soldiers, Prussia didn't want to see how he'd react to losing this many civilians.

12:00 p.m. Same Time Zone, P.O.V. Change

America's felt an agonizing pain all over his body. The screams and cries of his citizens echoed in his head. He was full of terror and rage and sorrow. The suffocating scent of smoke filled his lungs, making him want to cough but he couldn't as he was sure his ribs were broken. He heard the screams of sirens and emergency workers.

He opened his eyes, not that he could see anything. Thick, black smoke was rising from the debris. On top of that his vision was blurry and hazy, indicating he had a concussion. He winced in pain as he tried to sit up. Pieces of the South Tower were laying on his legs, pressing down on the already broken bones. But it could be worse; his back or his neck could be broken.

He felt something warm, sticky, and wet running down the side of his face. He brought his hand up to his forehead and looked it, not that he could see it. He carefully put it to his tongue. A metallic taste filled his mouth, confirming his suspicions that it was blood. He felt the still bleeding wound and hissed in pain. But he sucked it up and pressed down on it with the palm of his hand.

He felt dizzy but knew better than to close his eyes, despite how tempting it was. England would go berserk if he found out America knew he had a concussion and went to sleep anyway. Then again, England will probably go ballistic anyway when he finds out America was in the South Tower. America chuckled weakly at the thought of the lecture he was undoubtedly receiving from his former mentor. If he saw England again. At the moment he wasn't too sure if he'd be escaping.

He didn't have the strength at the moment to remove the pieces of the building from his legs and even if he did, he'd have to wait for his legs and ribs to heal before he could actually move. The fire fighters were rightfully fighting the fires that were still raging. Even if the found him, he would insist they go help someone else or pretend to be dead so they moved on to help someone else, if anyone was still alive. The area around him reeked of death. It wouldn't be surprising to him if the other people in the building were dead.

Suddenly there was the blinding light of a flashlight and the fuzzy outline of a person. "We got a live one over here!"

tNo, no, no. They had to help his citizens, not him. He opened his mouth to protest as the man can and knelt next to him, but nothing came out as he was having a hard time breathing. The man moved his hand and pressed a piece of gauze to his forehead. He carefully stroked his hair back in a comforting way. "It's going to be alright, Kid." He turned his head away. "Get the lead out of your ass, Bill! He needs oxygen and I need help moving the piece of scaffolding pinning him!"

"I'm coming!" a man, America assumed he was Bill, said. Texas was carefully removed from the nation's face. America was surprised they were still there. "Holy shit, Frank. I think I believe in God now."

Frank placed an oxygen mask on America's face. "That's random."

"I talked to this kid's sister forty minutes ago."

Rosa? She was here already? How the Hell did she get to New York City from Mexico City so fast? America figured she was breaking into his house in D.C. when she heard the news. That meant Canada was in New York too. Mr. President probably told them America was in the World Trade Center. How many other countries knew? Mexico probably called Spain and Brazil and Canada probably called France. Then France probably called England. Several others had probably seen it on the news. After all, the second plane probably hit on live TV as CBS and Today and CNN would've been reporting on the first plane.

"You're Alfred?" Bill asked him. The American nodded weakly. "Do you speak English?" He nodded again. Mexico probably started speaking in Spanish out of panic. "Don't worry Alfred, you'll see your family soon. Your sister's looking for you."

America wanted to ask them how many people wouldn't be see their families again while they were wasting precious time on him, but he didn't. One, he could barely breathe let alone talk. And two, they didn't know he was a nation. They thought he was just a regular person. They were just doing their job. He couldn't snap at them. This wasn't their fault and they meant well. He couldn't let his anger and grief cause him to turn nasty and snap at innocent people.

The two men lifted the scaffolding off the nation. "Shit." he heard one of them swear. Frank walked over to the first aid supplies Bill brought. "This is going hurt like a bitch, Kid."

A pain shot through the American's leg causing him to wince. He let out a whimper of pain. He probably had a compound fracture in his leg. One of the men carefully wrapped his leg, he couldn't tell which one. His body was overloaded with pain and his brain was numbing the worst of it to prevent his body from shutting down. "Shit Frank. I think he's going into shock. Come on Alfred, you have to stay with us. Stay awake."

Frank told Bill something but he couldn't make out what it was. His hearing was starting to go fuzzy and his eyelids were dropping. Someone kept telling him to stay awake. The two turned him onto his back. He let out a gasp of pain. The two lifted him onto an gurney and straped him down. They wheeled him out of wreckage, towards bright, flashing blue and red lights of an ambulance.

1:30 p.m. (Just Assume That If I Don't Give a Date or Time Zone, That It's Eastern Standard Time)

Brazil and Argentina stood outside the airport where America's boss arranged for all nations' flights to land. The two South American nations were waiting for Spain, Portugal, and Andorra. Argentina sighed as she pulled her dirty blonde hair into a ponytail. She turned to her neighbor.

"Have you reached Paraguay yet? He'll be furious if he doesn't find ouyt from someone personally."

"Nenhuma. He's probably in a dead zone or his phone lines were knocked out again. Or he's coming here with Uruguay." Brazil replied. "Do we really have to wait for them?"

"Sí. I told Papa España we'd wait for them." she said. "Andorra's coming with them. They left around 9:30. I think Spain's king arranged their flight."

"Sim. Here it comes." the Portugese speaking nation said as he pointed to a landing plane. "Deus, this makes me nervous. Is that bad?"

"No, it's not. Come on." she ordered.

The two approached the plane as Spain, Portugal, Romano, and a teenager with blonde hair and green eyes stepped off. It didn't surprise them Romano was with the group. Argentina allowed Spain to hug her and Brazil shook Portugal's hand stiffly. The Brazilian had yet to forgive his former mentor whereas most of Spain's colonies decided the past was the past and if they didn't forgive him, their hatred would consume them and they'd be no better. Argentina hugged Romano and reguarded Andorra politely. She considered the smaller nation too prissy for her liking.

"Argentina." Andorra said with a nod. "Or should I say Fernanda?"

"That would probably be best while we're in the city, Angelia." she replied. "And Brazil is Roberto." She turned to Portugal. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Marcos."

"Sim Fernanda." he said in response. "Shall we get going?"

"Sí, I'll go hail a taxi." Spain said.

The group picked up their luggage. "Oi Tomato Bastard! You forgot your damn bags. I'm not fucking taking them for you."

"I almost forgot. Thanks Roma~" Spain said as he grabbed his luggage.

"Are we going to the hotel first?" Brazil asked.

"Sì Football Bastard. What do you think?" Romano told him. "We can't exactly lug the damn things through the Hamburger Bastard's fucking city."

Meanwhile,

"I can't believe they didn't believe those badges were real." Mexico said bitterly as she stapled a missing person's sign to a post.

"I can, eh. I don't exactly look Hispanic, Rosa." Canada said. "I don't know where the Hell Gilbert is. Do you?"

"No, no lo sé." she answered. "I'm not concerned about that damn asshole. I'm more worried about the fucking Gringo."

"I don't understand why you get on Romano about his mouth, eh. Yours is just as bad." Canada said, shaking his head. "I'm worried Rosa. Al could be seriously wounded."

"Lo sé. I am too. Come on. Let's look for tu novio."

The Canadian's face flushed. "Gil is not my boyfriend."

"No? Next will you say Alfie hates hamburgers and Feli hates pasta?"

"Fuck you, eh."

"Love you too."

1:45 p.m.

"Gilbert, mi amigo!" Spain called to Prussia.

The Prussian turned towards the Spaniard and his group. He approached them. He gave Andorra and Argentina a hug. "Hallo. I'm going to send you guys a picture zat Mexico's having awesome me show around."

"How did you get here?" Portugal asked.

"Hm? Oh, I vas heading to Birdie's but I decided to swing by Alfred's house. Rosa vas zere vhen ve heard. She stole his car und ve drove to Brooklyn. Vhich, she is a vorse driver zen Ita."

"I shudder to know of a worse driver then my younger brother." Portugal said with a grimace. "Eh Spain? Romano?"

The group started towards the site. They'd stop and ask bystanders and emergency workers if they'd seen the American. Each time, the response they'd get was no. Or that they couldn't talk. Each time Argentina would put a hand over Romano's mouth to keep him from swearing at them. She'd remind him that it wasn't their fault and they were busy trying to help get people out of the wreckage of the building.

"¿Papa? ¿Eres tú?" a voice asked. Mexico ran up to Spain and wrapped her arms around him before bursting in to tears. "¡No puedo buscar mi hermanito! Papa, estoy preocupado."

"I know Rosa." Spain said before stroking her hair. "That's why we're here."

"Fletch and I are here too, Mate." Australia's voice said from behind them. They turned around and saw New Zealand, Australia, and Japan. "Oh, Kiku came too. Apparently Yao, Leon, and Ludwig are coming along with Francis and Arthur."

"That means my idiot little brother is coming if the Potato Bastard is." Romano scoffed.

"I don't know if Italia-kun is coming or not." Japan said. "He and Doitsu-san got into a fight."

"Oh, I know he's coming." Romano stated matter-of-factly. "L'idiota won't just stand by if one of his friends is hurt."

"I'm here too, da." Russia said, appearing seemingly from nowhere. "So Estonia wasn't lying then."

"Where'd you come from, eh?" Canada asked.

"I have my secrets for getting Amerika to become one." the Russian replied. "Who are you?"

A look of rage appeared on the Canadian's face. "I don't have time for this shit. My brother's missing, eh."

"Estonia wasn't lying about that either? Amerika really is missing?"

"Sim Russia." Brazil said.

"Ah, Brazil. You're here too, Comrade?"

"Sim. Argentina and I came together."

"Come on, eh." Canada said passing out missing person's posters. "Mexico and I made posters. Start hanging them around."

2:00 p.m.

England and France stepped off the plane. They could see the smoke rising from where they were. England leaned against the side of the building and closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. This was a nightmare and he'd wake up any second. France put a hand on the Brit's shoulder. He swatted it away.

"Angleterre, we don't 'ave to go." France said.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Frog? Of course we have to go. The git needs us. Don't you remember how he was after that bloody bombing out west a few years ago? And his brother, what's his name?"

"Canada?"

"Yes, him. Canada needs us too. He's probably worried about Alfred. We-we need to find America. God, the bloody git. Why the bloody hell was he in the towers in the first place?"

"Canada said Amérique's boss sent 'im to a meeting while 'is boss was in Florida. So Amérique 'ad a legitimate reason to be there."

"Who the Hell are you trying to fool? The wanker would've gone anyway because of his bloody hero complex."

"Oui Angleterre, you're right." France agreed. "But 'e's still missing."

England sighed and grabbed his bag. France picked up his and the two walked towards the city.

Frank and Bill are not based off of real people and I just gave them the first male names that came to mind (Frank probably got his name from the fact I have at least three Franks in my family and Bill probably got his name because I know a guy named Bill.) Anyway, I'm not going to describe them so you can just image them however you want them to look. African-American, Hispanic, I really don't care. It's your imagination. Since this is the first time I've written Brazil and Argentina into a fanfiction, Brazil is a male with brown hair and green eyes and Argentina is a female with dirty blonde, almost brown hair and green eyes.

I think from now on the time zone is Eastern Standard Time since I don't want to write reactions from every single country as that would require me to create a ton of OCs that most likely won't get used again. I think Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, Andorra, and Slovenia are enough for OCs for this fic. Albania may or may not appear since I already have that country (not revealing Albania's gender yet in case I don't use them in this story) created for use in a different story. It's not set in stone or anything like that.

Anyway, any reference to real people (save Bush and the King of Spain, who's name I forget) is completely unintentional. The reason I excluded the former President of the United States and the King of Spain is because I outright referenced them in this chapter. But any real victims or rescue workers or anyone else is unintentional. As I stated before, Bill and Frank are completely fictional. I also apologize for language errors and historical inaccuracies.

"¿Por qué? ¿Por qué tienes que ser estúpido y hacer que nos preocupemos de ti? Tú gringo maltido." Spanish for "Why? Why do you have to be stupid and an make us worry about you? You damn Gringo."

"Merci" is French for "Thank you."

"Sí, lo es un idea muy bueno, pero no tienes una foto de Alfred." Spanish for "Yes, it is a good idea, but you don't have a picture of Alfred."

"Nenhuma" is Portugese for "No."

"Sim" is Portugese for "Yes."

"¿Papa? ¿Eres tú? ¡No puedo buscar mi hermanito! Papa, estoy preocupado." Spanish for "Papa? Is it you? I can't find my baby brother! Papa, I'm worried."

I don't own Hetalia, only the OCs mentioned above.