A/N: So, as I was on my email this morning, and an article of 9/11 showed up, I remembered what today was. Yeah, I know, great American, but whatever. I'm writing this before school, so it may be a little rushed.

Diclaimer: I don't own!

Summary: 9/11. Let's say there was a world meeting that day, "Alfred, what's wrong? Answer me, Alfred!"

Warnings: Language, pain, death, I dunno!

And Down They Go

The World Meeting was going as it always had, Alfred yelling stupid ideas, Francis speaking about the wonders of 'L'amour,' Matthew being ignored. Gilbert had come, representing East Germany, and Ludwig was quickly regretting letting his older brother come. The albino was giving him quite the headache. Feliciano shouted something about pasta, and Alfred countered with hamburgers. That is, until he dropped to the floor half-way through the word.

"Gahh!"

"Alfred, what's wrong? Answer me, Alfred!" Arthur yelled, already at his son-figure's side. Matthew was not far behind, nor was Francis. But he received no answer, simply more sounds of pain. Arthur pushed Alfred's sleeve up, revealing his arm to be mangled. Bloody and bruised. Matthew gasped, while Francis immediately got up to grab bandages. Mattie held his twin's head in his lap, whispering comforting things and running his fingers through his hair. Everybody either looked curious, disgusted, or worried. Some a combination of the three.

"Ludwig, what's wrong with Alfred?" Feli asked, and said German shook his head, not knowing the answer. A howl of pain made itself known, and Arthur decided the shirt was in his way. He took is off, revealing Alfred's other arm to be in the same condition.

"Alfred, you need to tell us what's wrong," Francis said quietly. Alfred attempted to take some deep breaths, but he spluttered. Arthur was handed a bottle of water by Vladimir, where he had come from, no one had a clue, but he took it gratefully, able to get his son to drink a bit.

"T-terrorists…The twin towers…" He gasped, and immediately everyone was looking at each other, looking to see if anyone held any guilt or pain in their eyes. People threw insults and accusations, papers and pens were thrown. The room was mayhem. Alfred couldn't stop the tears running down his cheeks, because his people were screaming, they were scared, they were dead, so many dead at once, he could barely stand it. Never before had he felt such a powerful terrorist attack, never before had he felt so much negative emotion coming from his people. He closed his eyes, and images flashed in front of his eyes.

A woman struck down, her baby feet away, screaming and crying. A man half out of his window, the building around his smashed. Another woman throwing off her heels, running as fast as she could, calling the name of someone important to her. A small girl and boy holding hands, the girl with a twisted ankle. They couldn't run. More pain appeared, and he knew the Pentagon was hurt as well. He couldn't understand-Why? The children, the families, they were quickly losing everything. Why would someone do that to innocent people?

"Alfred, it's going to be fine," Mattie soothed, making sure to miss his brother's curl as his hand continued stroking this hair, "The pain will pass, I promise."

"My-my people…They're scared…!" He whimpered, "They're dying, they're hurt. The children…" He was looked upon with pity, though he couldn't tell through his blurred eyesight. Feliciano hooked himself onto Ludwig's arm, crying that Alfred was hurting and it made him sad. Antonio held Lovino, who couldn't bring himself to tell the Spanish man no, as he was a bit scared, and sad, not that he would admit that to anyone. Gilbert looked upon the scene, wishing to be over. Vladimir shook his head, happy his people weren't the ones hurting the man. Elizabeta and Roderich held hands, him wiping away her tears.

They all hated what was happening.

"Alfred, you need to calm down. You're only putting yourself in more pain," Arthur reminded him.

It was hours later when the pain had stopped and Alfred had passed out.

Not one county present would forget that day

No one would forget that day, 9/11.

Okay, I'd give you a real Author's not, but I have to go to school in ten minutes, and I'm not dressed. Hell, I don't know what I'm even gonna wear. Bye, please review or favorite, please!