9/11/2001: The beginnings.

[bohemian_mark]

Looking back years later, Mark would never know why he had decided to do a series on Battery Park during different times of day. He almost didn't go that morning, but waking up early, he caught a strange quality of the light through the clouds, and hopped on his bike.

People were, as always, milling about below the Trade Centre towers. Suits on cellphones complained at their brokers, their wives, or whoever was on the other end of the line. Other people wandered around, on the way to their jobs in other parts of the city. Turning his camera upward, he framed a shot. However, after about a minute, something caught his eye. A... plane, flying in at a very wrong angle.

September eleventh, eight forty-five AM, eastern standard time. Filming in Battery Park, a plane is flying a bit too low… oh fuck.... Mark fell silent as the plane crashed into the side of one of the Trade Centre buildings. Oh my god. The plane just flew into the building. Holy fuck. Mark kept his camera running as people jumped out of windows, ran out of the building, and some brave souls ran -into- the building. About fifteen minutes later, on a pan-up to the smoke pouring out of the building, something else caught his trained eye.

Oh my god. He couldn't move his camera as a -second- plane crashed into the other tower. What in the fuck is going on here? In an instant, however, his manner changed, from directorial curiosity to human panic. Throwing his camera in his bag, he pulls out his cellphone. Dead. Slamming it back into his pocket, he took off at a run toward the buildings. Whatever the fuck just happened was not good. And he was going to do something about it.

Comments

[lvpd_sidle]

[ooc: Will be tagging and fleeing for an hour. Will be back on tonight.]

Not again, not again, NOT AGAIN!

After experiencing September 11th on her own Earth, Sara had consciously blocked out the date in her mind. Danny had been out of reach for well over a month, and she had spent that time completely terrified. September was significant only for her birthday, and nothing else.

She watched the planes hit and cursed, feeling tears spill down her cheeks.

Mark..I've got to find Mark. And Collins. Joanne. Oh God....

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Almost an hour passed, as Mark kept running in and out of the building, finding someone, and pulling them out of the smoking structure. More than a few stared at him, wondering why Mark Cohen would be risking his life in the wobbly, dirty, dusty structure.

He, however, didn't care. Each time he ran in and out, he was saving a life, helping someone out of the chaos, with no mind for his lungs or the massive scratches he was getting. A couple times various paramedics or fire personnel tried to treat or stop him, but he waved them all away.

As he helped, he listened. People were talking. The planes were an accident. The planes weren't an accident, they were a terrorist attack. Another plane had hit the Pentagon. Somewhere in Ohio had been bombed. Rumours flew quicker than the smoke poured out of the wounded buildings. Mark didn't care, however, just kept running in and out, pulling people from the chaos.

[lvpd_sidle]

She eventually made her way to Ground Zero, joining the masses of volunteers. A mask obscured her face and she began picking her way among the rubble.

"Sara!" Collins was there, dust turning his skin grey and streaked with blood from minor lacerations and sweat. "Girl, get out of here!"

"You first!" she snapped back, glaring at him. "I'm looking for Mark."

Collins' skin turned even paler. "You don't think--"

"I hope to God, not. He was supposed to be filming at the park..."

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Time passed in a rush for Mark. The towers had both collapsed, and Mark had joined the masses of people digging in the rubble, turning his director's ears to any cries of pain or fear, tuning his sharp eyes to any movement in the chaos.

The world went by around him as he doggedly kept going, every so often pulling his cellphone from his pocket and trying a call. Nothing. Sara. Laura. Collins. Roger. He could only do what he could and pray to whomever was listening that his family was actually alright.

[lvpd_sidle]

Time kept passing. Sara insisted that Collins get his wounds bandaged before assisting with more search and rescue, for fear of cross-contamination.

One word kept running through her head. Please....please....please....

Each minute seemed like an hour, and each hour seemed like a day.

Three days later, Sara looked up, meeting Collins' weary eyes. He was coughing.

She opened her mouth and, catching sight of a familiar profile, let out a cry.

"MARK!"

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark turned, pointing a spot out to a pair of firefighters, but he froze in mid-sentance. Oh, god. Oh -god-.

Turning, Mark seemed to fly across the wreckage, reaching out and holding Sara close. "Sara. My Sara." It's all he can get out.

[lvpd_sidle]

"You...fucking...idiot." She clung to him, hot tears burning down her cheeks.

She felt Collins wrap his arms around both of them and saw him lean his head close to one of Mark's ears. "Better not argue with her assessment," he said softly with deceptive calm. "We've been beyond terrified and you know how well that sits with me."

Hollow words.

Sara stood in the safety of her husband and brother's arms, feeling rubble beneath her feet.

"I didn't think this would happen again."

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"I had to help. I couldn't just stand there and watch."

He sighs, brain not able to process her last comment. "I'm sorry. I did what I had to do." He paused. "And I need to go back to it."

[lvpd_sidle]

"NO."

The word is in unison.

"Collins is injured and running the risk of getting sick from this debris. I woke up this morning sick to my stomach. You're injured. We've done our part right now, and we need to get the hell out of here," Sara adds, no less adamant.

[rockstardavis.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine." The words are barely out of his mouth before another figure joined them.

"You fucking idiots. All of you. Adam told me that you'd all run off this morning. I knew I'd find you down here." Roger appears, smacking Mark on the side of the head. "Fucking idiot risking your life for the very people you fight against every day." Secretly, he's relieved, however.

[lvpd_sidle]

"People are people, dipshit. You would've been doing the same thing." Collins gave Roger a rough hug.

"Let's go home," Sara said quietly to Mark, turning it into a soft plea.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I know. And the only reason I didn't was I somehow fucking overslept." Roger hugs Collins, then turns to Mark. "Listen to your wife, Cohen."

Mark nods, but hugs Roger tightly. "Yeah, we need to get this dipshit out of this debris shit."

[lvpd_sidle]

It takes them some time to get away from Ground Zero.

Oddly enough, Sara doesn't feel afraid as they walk through the streets. People were coming out, offering help, wondering why such a thing has happened.

For one brief moment, New York City truly is the center of the universe for everyone present.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark watches everyone for a moment, his camera remaining in his bag. Every so often, someone casts a glance at him, dirty, bruised, bleeding, but carrying himself with an odd pride.

Roger shuffles along, hands in his pockets, almost daring anyone to lay a finger on Mark.

[lvpd_sidle]

Sara remains silent during their long trip back to the Loft. She continues to remain silent while they walk up the long flights of stairs, checking in with various residents and assuring others of their well-being.

Once they are inside their home, she sags onto a couch.

"Fucking hell."

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark flops on the couch beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong, love?"

[lvpd_sidle]

"This happened on my Earth," she says quietly, her voice breaking with the words. "To the fucking day. I....I didn't let myself remember it...my brother was trapped here for a month and I hadn't heard from him...my college roommate got killed in one of the Towers....oh god I didn't think it would happen again!"

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"Oh, god." Mark winces, and wraps his arms around her. "We're alright, Sara. If everything else is all fucked up, we're alright." He bites his lip. "And we're going to make sure that we do what we can to help rebuild."

[lvpd_sidle]

Sara nods against his shoulder. "I know."

Collins coughs loudly, trying to clear his throat.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark looks up and winces. "Collins, man, we need to get you to a doctor or something."

Roger is holding back his coughing. He'll cough when everyone else is asleep.

[lvpd_sidle]

"All of us need to go," Sara says with finality. "God knows what we breathed in and I want to know why I was sick this morning anyway."

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"Yeah." Roger nods, unable to hold back a cough.

Mark sighs. "Don't even think about it, you."

"What? Someone had to drag your sorry ass...."

"Just don't, Roger. Please."

"Alright."

[lvpd_sidle]

It's not feasible to go immediately--all of the surrounding clinics would be full of survivors.

But when things begin to clear up, they go to one of the clinics as a group, stalwart.

Sara sits in the waiting room, feeling bile at the back of her throat.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark waits with Sara, holding her hand, just being there for the woman he loves more than anything.

Roger goes in and comes out shrugging. "Well, I'm no sicker than I was before."

Mark eyes him. "That's not that comforting."

[lvpd_sidle]

Collins is next.

When he comes out, he has several prescriptions in his hand, scowling at them. "Not a word," he warns Roger. "Not one fucking word."

"Mrs. Cohen?" A nurse comes over with Sara's chart. "Please follow me."

Sara stands, not letting go of Mark's hand.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark stands, going with Sara. "I'm coming with you." Yeah, well. Try to cross him. Just try.

[lvpd_sidle]

Her temperature and blood pressure are taken. Sara answers questions as they come, identifying that she had had no symptoms of the flu aside from the onset of nausea.

Eventually, a urine sample is requested.

Some time after that, the doctor comes in. "Well, we've ruled out any infections or illnesses," he tells her, his voice hinting at a Southern drawl. "Seems that you're expecting, Mrs. Cohen."

Sara blinks. "I am?"

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"She is?" Mark blinks a couple times. "Well, holy shit." Beat. "Through destruction comes life. In the middle of chaos comes... a hint of order, a hint of hope."

He pauses. "Damnit. I'm being all profound again."

[lvpd_sidle]

"Don't put that on your film." She sniffs a bit. "Doctor, do you mind...?"

"Of course not." He leaves the room and Sara clings to Mark again.

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

Mark clings. "I love you, Sara. And I love our baby. And Laura." He sighs. "Lovely day to find out, but, well, what can we do?"

[lvpd_sidle]

"What we always do which is stick together and get through it." She wipes off her face with a tissue. "Let's find the guys--I'll tell them when we get home."

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

"Alright." Mark leans over and kisses her gently, then leads her out of the room.

Roger is leaning back, his feet up on a table, humming to himself. Hey. It's always worked before.

"Get up, lazyass, we're going home."

Roger rolls his eyes at his best friend. "Yeah, yeah."

[lvpd_sidle]

"So what's the news?" Collins noticed Sara's renewed silence.

"You're an uncle again," she says wryly. "Brace yourselves for insane mood swings beyond what I normally do."

Laughter and amazement greet her news and for a time, the cloud of confusion and grief dissipates.