I don't own Newsies or "Flanders's Field." Italics mean a flashback.

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow/ between the crosses, row on row/ that mark our place and in the sky/ the larks, still bravely singing, fly."

The cemetery was quiet, like most cemeteries are. The cold January day was a dreary winter day, gray sky threatening snow and sleet. The day was January 30, 1919, and a lone pair walked through the sad graves, all holding boys that the two held dear, people that fought for a country that hadn't always been there for him. The pair was married, Katherine and Jack Kelly. The war was finally over, but the couple had not yet gotten over everything. Jack still woke up in a cold sweat, shaking as Katherine held him and murmured calming words into his ears. He had been to his friends' funeral, but couldn't make it to the burial, couldn't accept that it was true. Three boys, three names that were only going to be said mourning whispers, not a friendly greeting. Three bouquets of flowers for boys who's only thought on flowers would be when they were trying to woo a girl for the night. Three graves for boys who didn't think they would need them for years. The more they walked the closer Katherine would hold Jack, her arm around his waist for comfort. The graves seemed to mock the pair, as if laughing about the boys they held. It was when he was leaving Romeo's grave to lay the flowers on Race's grave when he saw another figure braving the cold winter day. Morris Delancey barely looked at him and kept walking, locking eyes then staring back at the ground. Jack walked to where Morris had come from and stared at the cold headstone.

Oscar Jared Delancey

1882-1918

Brother, Uncle, Nephew, Son. You will be missed.

Les had been in the same division as Davey and told them the whole story. Davey didn't look okay when he got off of the boat, when the other boys drank at the bar and told stories he just stared into space and drank. When he left to go home to his wife Les told them.

It was cold, and rain fell as hard as it could. It was only September 17, 1918 and the men were soaked to the bone. Gunshots popped loudly and explosions rocked No Man's Land. Davey was standing up, getting ready to shoot when he heard a yell.

"Davey, look out!" Oscar saw the shot coming and grabbed Davey and pulled him to the ground, but to pull him down he had to stand up as well. The gunshot rang out louder than usual and Oscar didn't even have time to yell or anything. He was dead before he could hit the ground.

"De- Delancey!" Davey had yelled, crawling to the older boy. He looked in shock at the boy that only nineteen years ago he had hated. He didn't even think about it, but the shot killed Oscar the second it pierced his skin. The two hadn't said a word to each other, letting the hatred stay from when they were young during the strike. At that moment the rivalry died, but it was too late.

"Didn't he save Davey?" Katherine asked softly.

"Yeah, can you hand me the flowers please?" Jack said, taking the red roses. He untied the flowers and took a few, laying them on the grave. "Race won't mind that a few went to someone else, he never was a flower kinda guy."

He looked at the grave and sighed. "Thank you Delancey, you didn't need ta die, but thank you." He walked away to the last grave, leaving the past behind, but not forgetting the ones he has lost.

"Behold the brave battalion that stands side by side

Too few in number and too proud to hide

Then say to the others who did not follow through

You're still our brothers, and we will fight for you"