—- Reims, France —-

The was the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet as they walked down the path from the main road to the house. They had beamed to Paris the night before and enjoyed a dinner before leaving for the South of what was once France. A short shuttle ride had taken them to the edge of the property and they had chosen to walk the rest of the way. Never having been to Europe previously Commander Olivia Carrillo felt as if she were making contact with a species for the first time, though she knew that most likely behind the door they were going to knock on was just some confused European and not a new form of life they’d never seen.

”The castle was built in the Middle Ages,” Pierre Lambert explained, “sometime in the twenty-second century an architect lived in it and made it into an house, since then it’s been a family home but it’s also considered a land mark.”

Carrillo nodded, “And you grew up in it?”

”I did, the house part inside is updated, or was when I lived there. The castle exterior is only attended to when it’s in need of upkeep,” he explained, stopping at the door and pausing before pressing the button. There was the sound of the chime, and a pause. They had debated whether or not to visit his old home, whether it was too awkward and too much time had passed.

The door opened and a late middle aged man looked at them both, “Hello?”

Lambert nodded, “Umm, I used to live here, I was wondering if I could take a look around.”

The man wrinkled his brow, “No you didn’t.”

”I did,” Lambert said.

”Lad, I’ve lived here for my whole life, I should know,” he said, rightly judging that he was older physically than Lambert.

Carrillo tried to help, “He was lost in time, on a starship. He’s from the past.”

The man looked suspiciously at them, “A starship? Nobody here has been to space. Not since before I was born, my great-great uncle died on a starship.”

“Right, the USS Boston,” Lambert said.

“Eh, some American name like that,” the man said.

”I’m that person, Pierre Lambert,” Lambert said pointing at himself.

”No, he’d be older than me by now, probably dead,” the man said.

”That’s me, time travel explains it,” Lambert insisted.

”That’s stupid Picard stuff,” the man said testily, “always mucking with time.”

Again Lieutenant Lambert pointed at himself, “I was sent forward through time, so while it was assumed I’d died I actually am the only survivor of the USS Boston.”

”Starfleet will confirm that,” Carrillo added.

The man peered at Lambert and shrugged, “Okay, but this is my house. No using time travel tricks to kick me out.”

”I just wanted to look around,” Lambert said, “I was born and raised here. I haven’t been back for ten years, or rather hundreds of years. It’s confusing.”

Grumbling about Picard and his liberal use of the time stream the man allowed the pair into the home. Carrillo followed Lambert in, the house remained largely the same as it had since the mid-twentieth century. A crumbling castle exterior with a modern apartment built inside of it, glass doors and now aging hardwood floors were the modern (as in the sense of modern architecture) that had been added to  created a living space at some point in the late 1900s. 

Lambert stopped and examined a room, “This was my room growing up.”

”Don’t touch anything,” the old man called, not wanting this time lost ancestor to get too comfortable in his home. 

Lambert nodded, holding his hands up as he withdrew from the room, and nodding to the Commander, ”We should go.”

The pair exited and made their way down the drive and towards the nearest town, Lambert lost in thought. He’d been as far out as anyone his age had been, as far out as Starfleet officers of his era had gone, and now coming home he had nothing. Everything that he had left behind was gone, all the people had passed and he was not much more than a memory to his own family, a story they told of an uncle who had vanished long ago in the early days of Starfleet.

Carrillo was quiet beside him, leaving him to his thoughts. But as the two walked up the pebbled drive she slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

—- Paris —-

Commander Olivia Carrillo looked out the window onto the Eiffel Tower. It had taken all her influence to get the room with a view of the historic landmark and even then it was the size of a postage stamp. She was in her uniform, the black of the duty uniform blending in with the night.

Lambert lay on the bed, reading a technical manual, also in his uniform. 

“I can’t believe you’d not checking out this view,” Carrillo said.

Lambert made a disinterested noise, “Paris is dirty, the Tour is just for tourists.”

She’d seen pictures of the Twin Towers. Nothing in New York, save maybe the Statue of Liberty, was as beautiful as this Parisian monument. Nothing as instantly iconic, all just large buildings that represented a fidelity to an economic system of capital that had long since passed. 

“I could pull rank,” she teased, “Take me out or else.”

Lambert set down his PADD that he was reading on and studied her. The truth was had he not found her, or she him rather, he’d have gone crazy. This world was not his, this Paris was more than a century older than his and had he not had Carrillo to hold onto his first few weeks aboard the USS Luna would have been harder. Even now, thinking about all that he had lost, and weighing that against what he had found, she was the only thing to balance the scales.

”Okay we can go to the park by the Tour,” he said swinging his legs off the bed and getting up.

As they neared the Tower she set her head on his shoulder, and he smelled the clean crisp air, an improvement since his time. He slowed and then stopped stooping to adjust a pant leg. Carrillo let go of him to let him straighten himself and glanced at the Eiffel Tower. When she turned back to him Lambert was holding a small box with a ring.

”What are you?” she began then took a sharp intake of breath as her brain caught up to what was happening.

”Olivia, since… Well I lost everything but found you. I always planned my life believing there would be another chapter, after I got home from Starfleet. After my tour with the USS Boston, it was always about after,” Lambert said, “Now where ever I go, whatever I do I need you in my life. I don‘t know how you do this nowadays, but will you marry me?”

Carrillo nodded, “We still do that. This. We still do this, and yes. Get up, kiss me.”

Lieutenant Pierre Lambert stood up and kissed her, dipping her back in a way that he’d seen in holovids but never done in real life. He’d been nervous, nervous because while visiting his former home he’d realized that he needed her more than she could ever know, and that without her he’d be just some lost space debris that had been found on an away mission.

“We’ll figure this out,” Carrillo said, “all of it.”