A.N.: Haro! Well, considering that Remembrance Day is coming up this weekend, and I'm moving all of my complete fics to this account, I figured it would be best to start off with this one. You should know who wrote this, and if you don't, it's a worthy bit of research. I wrote this last Remembrance Day in Art class while listening to my teacher talk about the concentration camps she had seen when she was in Germany. I dedicate this fic to all the soldiers that gave their lives for our freedom.
[An empty field of yellow grasses stretches as far as the eye can see. The camera pans slowly across the plains, and a large section of land dotted with white objects comes into view from the left. The fields over here are no longer a sickly yellow, but a bright and vibrant red. We see a lone figure at the head of the field, standing in silence. The camera zooms in on the figure, and we see it to be Hilde, staring vacantly across the field as the wind tousles her hair.]
In Flander's Fields, the poppies blow
[The camera zooms out slowly, and we see that the redness of the field is due to the thousands of poppies dotting the ground, valiantly pushing forth from the earth, despite the brisk autumn winds. The camera zooms in on one poppy, until the flower fills the screen.]
Between the crosses, row on row
[The camera pulls back, revealing more poppies clustered around the base of a white cross. Hilde clutches her jacket closed and crouches, placing one hand lightly against the cross.]
That mark our place, and in the sky
[The camera pulls out farther, to show the sheer enormity of the field. It continues to fall back, until all you see is a red field with white dots, contrasting sharply against the bright blue sky where they meet at the horizon.]
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
[The camera continues upward, until all you can see is the clear sky, with a pair of larks flitting around each other, dipping and weaving and singing.]
Scarce heard amid the guns below
[The camera moves back down, but instead of a poppy-filled field, you see a destructive, barren battlefield, with mobile suits firing and hacking at each other. People can be heard yelling and screaming above the machinery.]
We are the dead. Short days ago
[A large explosion envelopes the area, and the bright light fills the screen. When the light clears, you see smoking mechas and dead bodies littered everywhere. A few survivors crawl from wreckage or cradle dead comrades in their arms.]
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
[The scene fades out, and fades in again to a soldier standing by their house. The screen fades in and out, showing soldiers by their cars, or on a cliff, or on a building roof, all watching the sunset.]
Loved, and were loved
[The scenes continue fading and more soldiers are shown, with spouses or dates or family. All are smiling.]
And now we lie in Flander's Fields
[In turn, close-ups of the soldiers' faces are seen. Their features are twisted in shock, pain, and terror as they die in battle. They fall back, but instead of hitting the ground, they fade away, and a white cross appears on the ground where they fell.]
Take up our quarrel with the foe
[Younger, fresher soldiers are seen, rushing into battle with the adrenaline rush of their first real fight.]
To you from failing hands we throw the torch
[A hand, charred and maimed by bullets and shells, is shown dropping back, desperately throwing a flaming torch to a younger, healthy hand.]
Be yours to hold it high
[The younger hand raises, and the camera pulls back to show a young soldier holding a torch high above their head.]
If ye break faith with us who die
[The scene changes to show the young soldiers screaming as they and their friends are shot down, one by one. The camera focuses on one boy, as he shoots the soldier who shot his friend. He has a sick, agonized look plastered on his face.]
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
[The scene fades out and back in again, to show Hilde once again, her hand still on the cross. Tears run down her face as she whispers a name. "Duo . . . " A shadow comes up beside her.
"I'm right here, babe." He crouches beside her and looks at the cross. "You okay?"
Hilde turns and buries herself in his arms. "I just can't help thinking about how many times you were so close to ending up here."
Duo nods gravely. "Yeah. Scary, isn't it?" Hilde nods against his shoulder. He holds her out at arm's length and looks into her face. "Listen, Hilde. I made it, our friends made it, and we should all be thankful for it. There are others who didn't make it, and who are here." He jerked his head to indicate the crosses. "All we can do is remember what they did for us, for all of us, and to try not to let it happen again."
He stands up and helps Hilde up next to him. "Come on, let's go home."
They both stand up and walk away from the field. The screen starts to fade to black, but before the scene disappears completely, we hear the faintest whisper carried back to us on the wind.
"I will remember . . . "]
In Flander's Fields . . .