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When the World Stopped Turning	By : ldkelly Category: Gundam Wing/AC > General Views: 825 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-When the World Stopped Turning
- 1
Just Announced! --- This story took 2nd place in the Short Story Category at Sakura Con 2004.
Fic title: When The World Stopped Turning

Penname: DBZVegeta

Summary: Dedicated to the Sept 11 tradegy. Two years ago I faced the most heartwretching time in my life. Fears and hopes relived. ** 1x2 ** Please read and Remember.

Pairing: Heero/Duo

Rating: R

# of Chapters: 1/1

Category: Angst/Death/Romance

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I own any of the characters. � Copyright Statement - While I do not own the characters that are copyrighted by other authors, I do own the copyright to the original story line contained within and any characters of my own creation. If you have any questions, or wish to utilize my story line or characters, please contact me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

When the World Stopped Turning

~~*~*~~
It had been two years since that day. The day that my world stood still for the longest time. The day that all my fears were realized and all my hopes relived.
We had both been in a hurry that morning, barely having a chance for one quick kiss before we parted to go to our separate jobs. I still remember how he looked as he hurried across the station to catch his train. His messy chocolate brown hair, forever untamable, glinted under the harsh artificial lighting of the underground platform. His long-limbed stride confident and proud as he weaved expertly between the press of bodies surrounding us.
I remember riding silently on my train, that headed in the opposite direction from his. Our missions different this day, than in days past, normally we worked together as a team, but today I was called upon to teach a class in another precinct.
I stepped off of my train and strode confidently up the stairs to the streets above. The precinct was only two blocks from the metro station. Walking along, I had been in high spirits. Tonight was our anniversary and I was planning a special surprise for him when he got home. I reached up, feeling the small box in my pocket and grinned mischievously. I couldn�t wait until I saw his expression when I presented it to him.
I walked into the precinct at 7:30 am that morning, my class to start promptly at 8 am. Getting directions from the desk sergeant I walked down several hallways and into a large classroom, that was slowly filling with people. Class started on time and in a matter of minutes I had the class roaring with laughter as I introduced myself and our subject. I always felt that a class that was happy and relaxed was a class that was willing to learn from a kid.
We progressed smartly though our introductions and into the lesson plan. I had been teaching less than an hour when a loud commotion filled the hallway outside of the room. Shouts and screams filled the air, followed by sobbing and angry exclamations. Just as I was about to open the door to find out what was happening, it burst open and a young officer blurted out the news.
The World Trade Center had been hit by a plane.
I stood in shock at the news as the others around me stared dumbly at the messenger. No, my mind cried. I grabbed the young man and demanded to know which tower. He said the North Tower had been hit. I bowed my head forward at that, relief pouring though my body. He was in the South Tower today, not the North. My relief did not last long as shouts once again filled the corridor.
The South Tower had been hit by another plane.
The officers in my class galvanized into action, running through the door and down the corridor. I stood there for many seconds, my heart pounding in my ears and the room growing faint around me.
Shaking my head, I hurried out the door and into the chaos of the precinct main offices. Grabbing the nearest lieutenant, I demanded an explanation. He shook his head and said that he wasn�t sure of everything going on, but that it had been deemed a terrorist attack. He directed me toward the command center, knowing that my expertise could be utilized.
I rushed into the command center and was immediately latched onto by the commander. My expertise in terrorist dealings well known. As I worked with the commander, more news poured into the command center. The FAA had closed all airports in the area and was directing all flights away from New York. Bridges and tunnels were closed, stranding thousands of people. The FAA called again, forcing all domestic flights to the ground and closing all airports U.S. wide.
Then more bad news, another plane struck the Pentagon, less than an hour after the initial hits on the World Trade Center. Frantically I worked, determined not to think about where he was, until. . .I heard it. The South Tower had collapsed.
I sat staring stunned, my fingers dropping the files that had been clenched in my hands. Voices and shouts echoed through the room, now dimly heard as the pain in my chest spread outward and paralyzed my every movement. I couldn�t breathe from the pain radiating from my heart. I gasped and fell forward, unaware of the arms that caught me nor the voices yelling around me. Blackness filled my vision and crept forward to drown me in its sweet embrace.
When I awoke again, I was laying in a room filled with moaning bodies. The scent of dust and smoke filled the air, followed by the smell of blood and death. Oh, how well I remember that smell.
Suddenly the reality of what happened hit me, he had been in the South Tower that morning and the tower was now gone. Words began to flitter into my mind as I heard reports being passed back and forth. Survivors had made their way from the buildings, but many more had died. Some plummeting to their death as they jumped from windows, others from the explosion and subsequent collapse of both buildings.
Pushing myself off of the floor, I hurried back to the command post and began to help as much as I could. I pushed his image from my mind, I couldn�t think about it now. I couldn�t hope that he survived yet, I needed to help with the activities surrounding me now. Later I could grieve, if needed or hope.
When I finally collapsed again, this time it was from exhaustion. I had been frantically working for more than forty hours straight, my body running on caffeine and adrenaline. I hadn't wanted to stop, because if I did then I would worry about him. Finally the commander ordered me to rest and had me escorted to the temporary living facilities established in the upper offices of the precinct. My body wanted the rest, but my mind protested its enforced idleness. The quiet caused my thoughts to spin furiously now that I wasn't focused on the task at hand, and I began to think about his fate.
Had he made it out of the tower before it collapsed?
Or had he stayed behind to help the fleeing victims and been caught in the destruction?
Tortured images of his lifeless body, mangled and bloody haunted my dreams. Nightmares filled with dread and longing. Some where I was standing over his body, others where I was digging through rubble ineffectually praying for the sound of his voice, or a glimpse of his body.
Unable to stand the images any longer, I forced myself back up and to work. Anything to drown out those torturous pictures. The commander dubiously accepted me back, but under the condition that I take regular breaks.
It was on one of these regular breaks, three days later that fate called my hand. My spirits so low as the death toll had risen higher and higher, many people still missing and presumed dead. I sat on a small couch in the breakroom, a cup of coffee cradled in my hands, staring unseeingly down at the floor. I had lost hope that I would ever see him alive again.
I felt the couch shift slightly as a body sat down next to me, brushing lightly against my shoulder. Mumbling apologies, I shifted over to give the other individual more room to rest. However the body followed my movements, and a hand was placed on my shoulder.
"Duo," a voice whispered in my ear. I shivered at the feel of the warm breath against the side of my face.
"Yes," I said listlessly, not looking up at the speaker. So many had tried to comfort me over the last three days, that I lost track of who was who anymore.
"Duo," the voice said insistently, urging me to look up at them. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the ground, not wanting comfort from anyone, only to be allowed to wallow in my self-pity.
As my eyes traveled up the figure seated next to me, I saw that he was covered in gray dust. His boots almost white from the endless supply of rubble created by the disaster. His pants torn and ripped in places, shallow wounds covered with white bandages gleaming through the rips. A once white shirt, now smudged and bloody, covered a lean torso, one sleeve torn away and an arm encased in a sling. The hand wrapped and splinted tightly. As my gaze traveled up to his face, I encountered the deepest, bluest eyes that I had ever beheld. Eyes that held relief and love within their depths.
I blinked rapidly, not trusting my eyes.
"Heero?" I stuttered, pushing back away from him and huddling terrified against the arm of the couch.

'No No No, Your not real!' my mind screamed, he was a figment of my imagination. Too long work hours and not enough sleep had finally pushed me over the edge. I was seeing things.
"Yes Duo, I am real," he replied, reaching out his good hand to softly caress my cheek. I was unaware that I had screamed out my words until he touched me. It had to be real, his hand was so warm against my skin. I closed my eyes and leaned into the caress. Tears began to streak down my face as I launched myself into his arms.
"Heero!" I cried holding onto him tightly. His good arm wrapped around me pulling me up and into his lap, his head buried in my neck as I sobbed incoherently. How long we stayed like that I don't know, I only knew that he was alive and back in my arms again.
"Duo. . .Duo. . .Wake up. You're having a dream," a voice called insistently. I rolled over and opened my eyes sleepily and looked into the eyes of my partner lying next to me on the bed. He was leaned up on one elbow, his other hand running soothingly over my arm.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concern clouding his eyes.
"Yes. You know Heero, that I love you, right?" I said as he reached forward and brushed away the bangs that threatened to cover his beautiful eyes.
"I know that silly. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't," Heero replied as he pulled him closer into his embrace. "What were you dreaming about?"
"Uhm, hope," I said softly as I closed my eyes and snuggled into the warmth of my husband's chest. All at once my life was no longer filled with despair and fear. I could rest easy now, knowing that I had the best thing in my life laying right here next to me and I wasn't going to let it go again.
Two years ago, I almost lost the one thing I loved in all the world, but today by a random chance of fate and hope I didn't have to spend it alone.
~~*~*~~
A/N: This angsty little fic came to me as I was sitting down to lunch the other day. I could not help but to remember that it was only two years ago that we suffered the greatest tragedy faced upon our country in a long time. This fic in no way portrays the anguish and suffering that many had to endure and certainly did not always end in such a happy ending. I can only pray that we never have to face such a horrendous occurrence again, whether it is here in the US or anywhere in the world.
Thank you for reading and please let us remember all those who lost their lives in this tragedy.
~DBZ Vegeta
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When the World Stopped Turning