A/N: I've decided to write with little dialogue, as you have probably noticed (Extra brownie points to you if you did!). I decided to do this because I want it to be personal, like I said before. So just in case you were wondering, that's why! I just rewrote part of this, including the end. Here's what I got!

Chapter 4

I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw light through my shirt. I pulled my sweatshirt away from my face and coughed. Though I had my face covered, I was still covered in dust. I looked down to see myself completely caked in it. "It's safe," I said weakly to the woman beside me. She pulled my sweatshirt away from her face, and I saw that she was still covered in dust too.

I stood up and turned to her. I took her arms and helped her up. Her eyes were red and raw, and there were two streaks of flesh through the dirt on her face. We pulled each other into a hug, and I felt a tear slide out of my eye. I didn't really care, though. I had no idea who she was, but I didn't care about that either.

I remembered then where my water bottle was. It had been in my side pocket all along! I pulled it out and handed it to her so she could rinse her face off, then I did the same. It must have been meant to be that way. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence. Snoddy always talked about there being no coincidences or luck. I never really believed him, though.

She asked if she could have my sweatshirt, claiming that she wanted to remember what happened. I told her she could. I didn't blame her for wanting to remember.

I parted with her and walked further away from the Trade Center, once again shunning the situation again. Then it dawned on me. I was completely detached from Snoddy and Dutchy. What was I going to do now? I was alone. I looked around me in all directions, but saw nobody.

I put my hand to my head and winced. I'd hit it on the truck when we ducked behind it. I pulled my hand back to see blood. Maybe there was a first aid station set up somewhere where I could get some help and maybe find my friends. I found a police officer that was heading towards the towers and asked him where to go. He directed me further down the street to a restaurant where they had a temporary medic station set up. I thanked him and proceeded to go there.

I walked into the first aid station to find the most somber, bleak faces look up at me. Nobody spoke, except for the EMT who went to clean my face and the cut that was over my eye. Several people were crying, but most people, like me, had blank, inscrutable looks on our faces. I think a lot of us just felt numb.

There was music playing at a very soft volume in the restaurant. The song "Hey Jude" from the Beatles came on. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her into your heart,

Then you can start to make it better."

The lyrics seemed perfect in light of everything that went on that morning. Here was a room full of people, all in generally the same position, saddened by what was going on only a short distance away. I wondered if anyone else in the room had made the connection to the song that I had.

The woman next to me hummed softly along with it. I joined her, and then we both started to sing the words softly. Those in the restaurant looked up at us to see what was going on. The EMT tending to my cuts joined the singing as well, followed by the man on the other side of me. Before long, the whole restaurant had joined in singing. It was a proverbial song that we all knew. I had no idea who any of these people were either, but I found comfort in them.

The song finished, and the room went back to the silence we'd experienced before. This silence was a little different, though. It was less stiff and tense, like we'd all been comforted by something. I was still alone, but it didn't feel like it as much.

I pulled my cell phone out of my bag as the EMT finished cleaning the cut above my eye. I tried to turn it on, but it wouldn't. My battery had run out. "Damnit," I muttered to myself as I put it back in the bag.

"What's wrong?" the EMT asked me, noticing my frustration.

"No battery," I told her simply. I then went on to explain my situation a little more. "I got separated from my friends. I need to call them and find out where we're going to meet."

"Here, use mine," she reached behind her into a duffle bag. She pulled out a flip phone and handed it to me. "You'll have to go outside to use it, but you're welcome to."

I accepted the phone and thanked her, moving outside to call Dutchy and Snoddy.