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

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[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]

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]

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]

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]

"I had to help. I couldn't just stand there and watch."
Why am I the witness?
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]

"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]

"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]

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]

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