This is in honor of all the people who died as the fire engulfed their works. This is in honor of the faithful heroes, who entered those burning buildings to save the few lives that were still being led in the desolate, wasted remains of the towers. This is dedicated to the men, women, and children who braced themselves against the terrorists leading their plane to Washington. This is in memory of the people who were leading ordinary lives with ordinary jobs and their not so ordinary deaths. This is for those who lost their loved ones in the 9/11 terrorist attack. This is my contribution to the fates of those I never knew, the ones I will never have the privilege to meet in this lifetime.

I do not own "When the World Stopped Turning" nor "Danny Phantom."

Jazz's Recount: September 8th, 10:52 pm

As the phantom images escaped my vision, I blew out a long sigh. Danny had been really into watching horror films lately. Of course, as his older sister, it's really funny to watch him squirm in fright as he tries to make his way through the dark into Mom and Dad's room. Then again, I was out there for the same reason. What? It's hard not to get addicted…

Tonight was no different than any other. My six-year-old brother crept silently down the hallway, not really realizing that I was in there with him. I smirked. Perfect.

I, being the responsible ten-year-old that I was, screamed, "Boo!" in a perfect imitation of one the ghosts Mom told us not to bother. Honestly, their intelligence was intriguing, but Mom and Dad never asked them questions, just experimented on them.

Danny screamed in a higher pitch than I would have thought possible for a boy. I laughed heartily, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye.

"I got you good, Danny!" I said, still chuckling.

He glared, but before he could get back at me, Dad poked his head out of the door.

"What's going on, kids?" he asked blearily, as though he hadn't been able to sleep either.

"Danny was sneaking out of bed again," I tattled relentlessly.

"And what were you doing out of bed, princess?"

I blushed. "Well, I uh…"

"Have you both been watching those scary movies again?" Dad asked, his voice verging on a little irritated. (I realize that Jack is out of character here. It's deliberate.)

We both nodded, dejectedly looking at the floor. Jack smiled softly, "Alright, you two can sleep with us, but only tonight. No more scary movies!" He eyed his children warily, "Can you still fit in the bed?"

"Yep!" Danny proclaimed happily, as if he'd measured.

We made our way to the bed, carefully getting into a comfortable position without waking our sleeping mother. Dad lay down next to Mom. I heard them whisper softly.

"You have too much of a soft spot, Jack," Mom said.

Dad chuckled, kissing her on the forehead. "But that's why you love me, darling."

She exhaled. "Don't forget, your mother's flying here next week. She said she'd be going to San Francisco to 'see the sights.'"

"I remember, Mads. Now go back to sleep," he said sternly.

They shared a brief kiss that almost made me gag, and settled in for the night.

Where were you when the world stopped turning, that September day?

Danny's Recall: September 9th, 6:45

The only thing I hate more than sleeping with Jazz next to me is when she wakes me up in the early hours of the morning. I've never met a more morning-inclined person

So on that ill-fated day, I was awake at the crack of dawn, glaring daggers at my sister over the cereal box.

Mom came into the room, telling me it wasn't Jazz's fault we were up this early.

"We're going to talk to Grandma Fenton on the computer before she heads off to her plane. She's supposed to be leaving at 8:01."

"So why couldn't we just wake up at seven?" Jazz asked, trying to hold back a yawn. So much for morning person.

"There's a time change. You'll understand when you're older," Mom answered.

I scowled, but didn't comment. I hate it when Mom says that. I hates that she always said it was weird that a six-year-old like me wasn't energetic in the mornings, too.

Did you call up your mother, and tell her you love her? Did you turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?

Video Feed of Nancy Fenton

The grainy image of Jack's mother showed a woman of sixty-five, giving a stern look at her grandson.

"Now Danny, it's not all bad to talk to your old grandma, is it?" She grinned as he shook his head while rubbing his eye.

"I don't wanna be up this early," he complained.

She lifted her eyebrows. "It's only 7:58. That's not that early."

"We got up at 6:45. It's 6:58, now." Maddie told her mother-in-law.

Nancy laughed. "I guess I'll have to get used to those time changes. Sorry to wake you up so early."

"We're fine, Mom," Jack said, smiling.

"There's my boy! You've been awfully quiet today. Is something wrong?"

A strange look crossed the man's face, but he replied, "Nah, just a weird feeling. Be careful, Mom."

Nancy smiled. "Of course, Jack. I love you all."

"All passengers to Flight 93, please board the plane through Gate 17."

"I guess that's me. See you next week!"

"Bye grandma!" the kids chorused. "Love you, too."

"Goodbye, Nancy," Maddie said, smiling warmly, "Take care."

"Bye, Mom. I love you."

I'm just a singer of simple song. I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I could tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran.

As Nancy Fenton boarded the plane leading to San Francisco, she noticed many people of different nations boarding with her. She smiled at a tired-looking woman, who was taking in the sights of the airport.

The woman smiled back.

As the plane took off, the pilot and copilot announced themselves as Jason Dahl and LeRoy Homer. The flight attendant, Deborah Welsh, went over safety procedures.

Forty minutes into the flight, three men stood, placing red bandanas over their foreheads. They announced that there was a bomb on board.

"Everyone please remain calm. This is your pilot speaking," said the gruff, accented voice. "We will be making and emergency landing."

As the passengers protested, the men pulled out concealed knives. They were forced to the back of the plane, many calling home. Nancy really wished she'd brought a cell phone with her.

People were sobbing, but the majority of them were trying their hardest to stay calm. Nancy went to comfort a woman who was on her knees praying for her family.

A mutual yet whispered agreement went through the passengers. They needed to take their plane back.

Faith, hope, and love are some good things he gave us, but the greatest is love.

Epilogue

Flight 93's passengers overtook Ziad Jarrah and the other terrorists leading their plane to DC. The plane crashed in Pennsylvania.

Jack Fenton was forced to see a psychiatrist for a few years. When the treatment was finally over, he was a different person. He became forgetful and tried his hardest to be happy. Eventually, he no longer had to pretend.

Jazz watched her father's reaction to their grandmother's death with sad eyes, becoming determined to help people like him when she grew up.

Danny was in the first grade. He remembered his grandma's face clearly the morning she died. He thought about all the people who had died alongside her and asked his mom why no one helped them.

"Sweetie, only Superman could have saved them, and he was busy somewhere else," she replied with a sad smile.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Danny?" Mrs. Justin asked him the next day.

"I wanna be Superman."

I also don't own most of the information in this story. My OC's were Mrs. Justin and Nancy Fenton. The others were real people who actually died in the crash in Pennsylvania. Bibliography below:

Roddy, Dennis B. "Flight 93: Forty Lives, One Destiny.". 28 Oct. 2001. Web. 10 Sept. 2011. .