So today is Remembrance Day. And I know that this is fanfiction and it can't be nearly as serious enough as thanks to soldiers and veterans has to be and this will never reach any of them, but it's my little piece of contribution and awareness-raising.

Also something that really got to me in Son of Neptune. Also if you're reading this: please help me get Emily Zhang a character slot in the Percy Jackson archives because she deserves it.

Disclaimer: Anything in italic is written by John McCrae. Characters to Rick Riordan.

Poppies

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
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

"I don't understand," he told his mother one Saturday morning in early November.

"What do you mean, Frank?" Mom asked looking over her shoulder as she zipped up her coat.

"Why does everybody wear flowers?" Frank said. "For, like, a whole month but never after that or never before. Even boys do it."

"They're not just flowers sweetheart," Mom said tuning around and kneeling in front of him and looking him in the eyes, like this would be important. "They're poppies. During the First World War- you remember when Mommy told you about that?"

Frank nodded.

"Right, well there's a soldier who was a doctor called Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae then and he once wrote a poem called In Flaunder's Field. It's a beautiful poem."

"What does it talk about?" Frank asked turning his head to the side.

"It's the dead soldiers talking about how a kind of flower called a poppy grows on a battlefield that his friend died on. Do you remember when Mommy told you about that too?"

Frank nodded. That conversation had made her really sad, but she'd acted really brave.

"The poem's about war and sacrifice and death. But it's also about remembering and legacy." She said with furrowed eyebrows. "So to show that all those things that happened are important, war and sacrifice and death and remembering, everyone wears poppies once a month. It's to remember the veterans and the people who died in war."

Frank nodded after pondering this awhile. "So it's good to wear a poppy?"

"It's excellent," Captain Emily Zhang said kissing her son on the cheek. "And you've got to wear one every November, okay? Even when Mommy's not home to remind you."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Promise."

Emily gave her son a high five. "That's my boy," she said. "Come on, we're going to be late for your hockey practise and I've missed enough of those."

When Frank was in senior kindergarten he shadowed a sixth grader who went around the school in her Girl Guide uniform, selling poppies in a white box, all proceeds going to the Canadian Legion.

When Frank was in sixth grade he sold poppies and he was shadowed by a kindergartener whose dad was in the navy.

"Debout s'il-vous-plaît," Mme. Monette said the second the school intercom came to life, even before the principal spoke up.

"Good Morning everyone, it's the morning of November the 7th. Please rise for the national anthem." The principal said as the sound of footsteps and chairs being pushed around filled everyone's ears.

So the music started and a children's choir or something was singing.

"O Canada!

Our home and native land!

True patriot love in all thy son's command!"

The kid sitting across the aisle from Frank, Pete, wasn't standing up.

Frank threw his eraser at him to make the guy look around.

"Dude, stand up," Frank said quietly.

Pete looked at Frank as if he were a freak and just rested his head on his desk.

"With glowing hearts we see thee rise,

The True North strong and free"

Frank had no more erasers to throw and a pair of scissors just seemed too mean.

"From far and wide,

O Canada we stand on guard for thee."

"Pete," Frank hissed again. "Pete."

"Leave me alone, what's your problem." Pete said putting his head down. Mme. Monette wasn't paying attention, and it took all that Frank had to keep himself from taking advantage of that occasion and slapping Pete across the head.

He waited out the national anthems before getting up, leaning on Pete's desk and picking on him again.

"Hey man, there are hundreds of men and women who are a thousand miles from home and trying to make the world and this country a better place for people like you by putting their lives on the lines and spending months at a time away from home and families in some of the world's hardest living conditions. I realise that it's really hard for you to get off your butt and stand up for about two minutes a day, but can you please try to respect those people?"

Nobody in the class said a thing; they all just looked at Frank like 'whoa, the loser's talking'. He sat back down and tapped his crayon against his desk.

"Dude, chill." Pete said.

"I won't chill," Frank said. "My mom's out there. This is a real thing."

The class shut up and Pete leaned back in his seat without looking at Frank.

"Donc bonjour tout le monde," said Mme. Monette, starting her French class as if nothing had happened.

Frank starred. Really? Was she really just going to ignore that?

The second she started talking about their verb homework due today it was clear that she would. Frank just got up and left. Just like that. He didn't excuse himself; he didn't even pretend he was sick. His mind just kind of went 'hell to the no' and made him stand up, pick up his bag, and leave.

He didn't really regret spending first period in the library flipping through pictures on his iPod.

After school he wasted about two hours at the mall with Cory, Tyler, Jane and Dakota-Anne at the Apple Store before going back home. His grandmother was waiting for him at the door.

"You skipped a class." She said sternly.

"I am aware that I skipped school." Frank replied.

"Don't sass me, Zhang Fai." Grandmother said sharply. "I got a call from the school and I am not impressed. You have five seconds to either run or explain yourself."

So Frank stumbled through the explanation like he stumbled through hallways, houses, backyards, and life in general.

"You let your emotions get the best of you." Grandmother said.

"Yes Grandmother," Frank said looking at the ground.

"You acted impulsively and bluntly without thinking because one idiot said something offensive about your family and disrespectful about your country."

"Yes," Frank said not raising his eyes.

He was hugged around the waist and he nearly died of shock.

"Well done." Grandmother said.

Frank pinned the poppy on his shirt and looked up at his reflexion. Flat hair, clean shirt, poppy- Grandmother would be okay and she wouldn't freak out at him. Mom would be happy too.

He stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed his bag from his room before coming downstairs after having a good scare thanks to the alarm clock's rather high digits. He snatched a box of cereal on the way out and dumped some in a plastic cup, adding in milk. He chugged.

"Fai Zhang, that is disgusting." Grandmother said. "You weren't raised like a savage- eat like a civilised human being, will you?"

"Time," Frank said his mouth full, nudging his head towards the clock. He swallowed his mouthful. "I'm going to be late for the bus."

"That's your own fault, clumsy ox. Don't make the family's dignity suffer for it." Grandmother said. Her eyes lingered on his chest- on the poppy. Frank saw the one pinned on her cardigan.

"Do a lot of people at your school wear them?" Grandmother asked.

"Not really," Frank said. "It clashes with pink and makes holes in clothes or whatever the problem is."

"Well they should be ashamed!" Grandmother said. "Do they honestly not realise what's happening overseas? Do they see no further than their pink frills? That some people wear camouflage and that it is definitely not to see them walk around with complete neglect and disinterest? You better wear that poppy."

"Of course I do," the question nearly insulted Frank. "Mom's a veteran!"

If she'd have retired and would be here right now.

"Okay, she's a soldier- but still."

"And be proud of it! Maybe one day you'll be able to serve a higher purpose like that!" Grandmother nodded firmly. She was getting moody again, something must've happened on the news. Frank would have to raid the Internet at lunch because he didn't have time to coax all the details out of the woman.

"Yes Grandmother. I have to-" Frank said.

"Have you brushed your teeth?"

"I have gum, and no time."

"That's not an acceptable substitute! Teenagers, thinking that gum is magic." She huffed. "What has society come to?"

"It's all I have, love you too." As fast as he could, he ran out of the house before Grandmother could protest furthermore. He loved her, he honestly did, but sometimes (most times) she was difficult.

Walking to the bus stop, Frank passed a whole bunch of people. Whenever the velvety red flowers were pinned on the coats and hoodies- they stood out to Frank. Most people in the bus shelter were wearing poppies. Those who weren't… Well, Frank noticed that they were mostly younger. Funny that was; because they were the one who had the most to be thankful for. They had the biggest reason ever to wear poppies.

Poppies weren't just little plastic things that you put twenty-five cents in a bucket for. They were a thank you note. Any veteran looking at a poppy got the message 'thank you for the shell shock, the bullets, the PTSD, the injuries, the times you were cold and angry and scared, and the pain'. That was worth more than a thank you note. Twenty-five cents seemed like nothing. You sacrificed a quarter; they sacrificed their comfort, safety and sometimes bodies and lives.

He rolled his eyes and starred at his shoes until the bus got there.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Frank opened the door, wondering who the heck showed up at people's doors at seven thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, and saw two men in military dress. Mom wasn't with them so Frank's first thought was something he couldn't repeat out loud.

"Hello young man. Are you Fai Zhang?" One of them asked.

Frank got annoyed at the sound of his real name, but he barely felt it under all the worry. You never, ever wanted to see someone in a uniform coming to your house.

"Yeah," Frank said.

"Good, is your Grandmother home?"

Frank nodded and closed the door a little before calling out into the house.

"What are you screaming about?" She asked hobbling up the basement stairs.

"There are two men at the door," Frank said. He hesitated. "They're from the army."

Grandmother walked faster to get to the door and she flung it open before Frank could even touch the doorknob again.

"Yes?" She asked agitatedly.

They removed their hats and Frank's breath got caught in his throat and he didn't get it back for another 24 hours at the least. Or a lifetime, depending on how you looked at it.

Loved and were loved,

He looked at pictures before he and Grandmother headed out. He needed something to hold onto before sitting down for a military ceremony for some kind of eternity, and that came in the form of images.

Some of them were pictures Mom had taken of scenery in Iraq or Afghanistan, of her buddies sitting in jeeps, of the view of the horizon from the helicopter. There were pictures of her on base, either playing cards and sitting on her bed or cleaning her gun or whatever.

Then there were the pictures of her at home. From baby pictures of Frank where she was holding him, to her high school graduation pictures, to holidays, to getting awards… Her whole life was there in pictures.

And her whole life was gone with a bullet.

and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Frank felt the metal in his hand, the heavy enough box it was in with.

He hated it before the officer even gave it to him. He probably would have hated it even before that if the idea that he'd get a medal would even have come across his mind.

He loved his mom. He loved her more than he could say. He loved her so much that when she made him work harder on a bad grade, clean his room, make his bed or said no to him he couldn't get mad at her. Maybe because she was gone so long and so often that he turned off the idea of having a mom around for that period of time, so it just all came to him when she was in Canada, in British Columbia, in Vancouver, at home.

A medal? No way that could even live up to it. He should give the officer a medal for trying.

But he shook hands and said thank you and accepted all the things they said about Mom.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw

Frank knocked on the Principia's door and Jason didn't even look up from his work before waving him in.

"Hey Frank, what can we do for you?" He said.

"Is this about Octavian again?" Reyna didn't look up from her paperwork either. They had so much to do after the War with Gaia- compensation files, building permits for the parts of New Rome that had gotten destroyed, requests to be discharged, new letters of recommendation to classify, and the same old paperwork as usual. Frank was pretty sure Reyna would shoot Jason the first time he complained that there was a lot to do though.

"I need special permission to add something to my armour," he said.

"There's a form near the door. But honestly I think half of the amazon rainforest is in here and I don't care; what is it?"

Frank took a red poppy out of his jean's pocket and raised it up.

"They're poppies," Frank said. "They're worn in respect of veterans and soldiers for remembrance day." Jason's face said nothing. "It's a Canadian thing? UK does it too, ditto Australia I think… maybe…"

"I know what they are," Reyna said to forgive Jason's little knowledge of things outside the legion. "Of course, wear one. Wear two, wear three. If you find me one I'd like to wear one too."

"She's right; they sound like a great idea," Jason said. "If you can find a third, I'll take one as well."

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

Frank leaned over the safety bar and shook the little girl curled up in her bed.

"Alice," he whispered. "Allie."

"Don't wanna wake up Mommy," she muttered. She looked a lot like Hazel; curly hair the colour of cinnamon, darker skin, soft face, super adorable.

"Will you do it for Daddy, then?" Frank asked.

Alice's eyes shot open and she got up on her knees, looking him over.

"Daddy!" She said excitedly, jumping at him. He hugged her at the same time she looked at him.

"Hey Allie, look at you," Frank said smiling against her hair. "How are you sweetheart?"

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" She said excitedly, bouncing up and down on her mattress and hugging him. He lifted her right up and kissed the top of her head.

"Oh, I know Allie," he said holding her tightly. Someone else grabbed onto his legs. He'd woken up Christine first, and had told her to get dressed while he woke up her sister but apparently she was a quick dresser when she wanted to be.

He heard chuckling and turned to the door and saw Hazel there, wearing a black dress for work, leaning against the doorframe.

"When you come home?" Alice asked looking up at him and squinting as she smiled.

"Last night, it was very late." Frank said. "Why do you think Uncle Nico babysat? Mommy had to come pick me up."

Allie dug her head back into Frank's shoulder after accepting that completely. Frank leaned down and picked up Christie too.

Hazel wandered over and kissed him on the cheek. He wished he had a third arm to hold her too. He wished he had a second body so he could do his job and be with his family, another job, at the same time.

"I say we bail the kids out of school and spend the day downtown," Hazel whispered in Latin so the kids wouldn't understand.

Frank smiled. "I say you're right," he said kissing her. Christine whined about cooties because that was what six year olds did.

But part of him couldn't regret those months he spent away, if it weren't for the sake of Hazel, Christine and Alice. But then again, it made little moments that the history books wouldn't even think about and that only happened inside the four walls of a house greater.

And it made big moments in history –the War of 1812, WWI, WWII, Iraq, Afghanistan- stay alive and remembered and protected.

If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.