A/N: I got this idea in my head and couldn't get it out. Here goes... I am not usually such a one shot person, but that's what happened.
A photograph is a small porthole into the past. It can stir up feelings of happiness about what happened, and how things have changed, or remorse that things can't forever stay the same. As Jack stared into the photograph that he held in his hand, he smiled, and tears formed in his eyes. Part of him was feeling joy at the glimpse of the all too familiar happy faces in the photograph, and another part of him was grieving for the changes that had taken place in those faces.
Mr. Denton took the picture right before Jack had left New York. It showed a real newsies style celebration. What they were celebrating was Jack's wedding. After their relationship was splendidly kicked off at the end of the strike with a memorable kiss, Jack and Sarah had been going steady for almost two years before he popped the question.
Jack had gotten one of the headline writers to do him a favor by posting "Sarah, would you marry a cowboy?" at the top of the board right over where it said Headlines.
All of Jack's friends had worked tremendously hard to make the decorations for the small ceremony, all out of plain newsprint paper. They had somehow made paper flowers, bows, and ribbons out of ugly paper, and made them look beautiful. Sarah, in her mother's wedding gown, looked marvelous. Laughing, she threw her paper bouquet, and it was caught by the surprised little sister of Spot, who spent the rest of the evening stalking her so no one got any ideas about proposing.
Looking at the group photo, Jack remembered how Tumbler almost tumbled himself right into the cake, and was saved by David. Racetrack was so excited about the event that he gave Jack one of his favorite cigars, most likely having saved up his money to buy it for him. Everyone that could play an instrument begged, borrowed or stole one for the occasion, and was accompanied by Medda and her orchestra. Medda was a dear, and opened up Irving hall for the reception, free of charge for Jack and Sarah's guests.
Instead of a honeymoon, they did exactly what Jack had been dreaming of doing for years, they went to Santa Fe. After a few days in the town hotel, Jack had found land that was perfect for them, and started building. After a few years, and a few cattle runs, they had their first child, and Sarah called Jack on what he had threatened to do for years, name their first child after the city where they were so happy. Fey, as they called her was soon joined by another, a little boy they named Nathaniel. Now, little Nathaniel stood next to him, barely containing his wiggles as he watched the solemn faces around him.
Fey stood patiently in front of her mother, who had her face buried in her brother David's shoulder, and her hand entwined in her husband's. Jack, was subconsciously rubbing his calloused thumb on her hand, and intently contrasting the picture he had in his hand with the faces around him.
Racetrack stood next to him, gumming a cigar he had forgotten to light. Kid Blink stood across the circle of mourners, with a stoic expression on his face, and his hands in his pockets. Dutchy, with his head dropped, had tears pooling in his glasses as tears silently slipped down his cheeks. Most of them had tears streaking down their faces. Snitch, Bumlets, Skittery, and Mush had linked their arms, and were crying on each other's shoulders.
Even Spot looked distraught. Jack had never seen him look so bad in his life. There had always been a hard shell around Spot, but something about the passing of their dear friend had cracked it.
The preacher sang a mournful hymn as they lowered the casket into it's new home.
Tumbler sunk to the ground and peered down into the hole in the ground, as if he wanted to jump in after the only father figure he could remember. Snipeshooter grabbed his hand and pulled him back up to his feet, himself crying as hard as Tumbler was. The two clung to eachother and sobbed, feeling so alone.
As he gazed into the faces of all of his friends' in the picture, Jack mourned for the face that wasn't in front of him. He mourned for the wrinkled grin on the face of Kloppman, and tears slipped down his cheeks as he knew that picture in his hand was the only way he would ever again see that grin.
A/N: a story without reviews is like an ice cream cone without having any ice cream. good, but still quite disappointing.