Chapter 1

So, this a Remembrance Day fic, there'll be fifteen chapter, one for each line/stanza things of Flanders field. Each chapter will focus on one or more nations. I think I'm going to cry once I'm done writing this. Oh, and it mostly is on nations affected in World War 2.

Canada could feel the tall presence of another nation as he silently looked over the memorial site.

"My people are still grateful, for what your people did. As am I." Netherlands came to stand beside him. These graves all marked the deaths of Canadians who had helped to free the land.

Canada nodded slightly. "It…it wasn't pretty was it?"

Netherlands eyes were as soft as his voice when he surveyed the crosses. "No, it wasn't." He still, after all these years, felt he hadn't properly said thanks for what the young country had done for his people. For him.

"Netherlands." Canada spoke in a lower tone than his usual quiet voice. "Why? Why can't we learn from our mistakes?"

Netherlands stayed silent and Canada continued. "Why can't we see what happened and learn? People are still fighting. New wars start and old ones are forgotten."

Netherlands turned to Canada, a little surprised at the smaller nation's question. "People will always fight, that's just the way it is. But…it doesn't mean they don't remember. People do remember what happened." He swept a hand out toward the white crosses. "My people remember, and I'm sure yours do too. I remember." The last part was whispered and Canada looked over at the taller nation, who'd turned back to the crosses.

"Netherlands?"

"It's just Holland." The Dutch nation closed his eyes. "I still remember that day, those weeks and months afterwards. Thank you."

Canada nodded. "No worries."

*FLASHBACK*

Canada held his gun out in front of him, concerned. He was looking for Netherlands. He couldn't see his fellow nation leaving the fighting, not right now.

The North American nation made a short sprint to the command post, Netherlands boss was already there.

"Canada." Netherlands boss nodded curtly.

Canada nodded and searched the room. His eyes fell on a man hunched over some maps and battle plans. Netherlands.

His uniform was bloodied and he looked tired, hurt, but he didn't look ready to let give up. Nowhere close. His jaw was tightened in concentration and his usually spiked up hair was pushed away from his face, enough for him to see what he was doing.

Canada felt his muscles tightened and made a vow to himself. He was going to help Netherlands take back his land. To see the nation's cuts and bruises heal, to watch him get back all of his pride. He was going to help with all of that.

He was going to make sure he, and his people did they're part.

*END FLASHBACK*

To voices spoke quietly, floating over the field of crosses. "In Flanders fields the poppies blow."