[b]Chamery, France
July 14th, 1936[/b]

The lone figure trudged across the open field, his hands in his pockets. He kept his head down as he climbed up the small, muddy slope. Distant thunder rumbled across the overcast sky from far away. At the center of the hill was a tiny shrine, a cross made from airplane propellers. A plaque attached to the cross explained who was buried there in French.

Lieutenant
Quentin Roosevelt
Escadrille 95
Tombé glorieusement
En combat aerien
Le 14 Juillet 1918
Pour le droit
Et la liberté 

The figure gripped the cross hard and fought back the urge to cry as he remembered a previous lifetime.

"Quentin," Theodore Roosevelt said softly. "My little boy... Nearly twenty years... Not a day goes by that I do not miss you, or your brothers and sisters. I would give anything in the world to see them or you at least one more time, this immortality be damned." 

"Monsieur!" A voice shouted from behind Roosevelt. A young French boy ran towards him, waving a piece of paper. "Un télégramme est arrivé pour vous."

"Merci," Roosevelt said as he took the message.

DEAR TR
COME HOME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. NEW EMERGENCY HAS CROPPED UP. WILL EXPLAIN AT RUSHMORE.

Q.

Roosevelt stuffed the telegram in his pocket and bent down at the grave. He kissed his hand before placing it on the cross, touching the plaque with his son's name engraved on it..

"I'm afraid I have to go, but I will see you soon."

He stood and ruffled the French boy's head before smiling.

"Thank you very much, lad. Now, would you be so kind as to show me where the nearest train station is?"