The cigarette smoke had turned the bar blue by the time I'd gotten there. I didn't go in, but stood just outside the door, feeling a little bit alone and unloved. My date had been spectacularly bad and we'd ended up parting ways.

A song floated out- a popular Mary Hopkins song.

Those were the days, my friend,

We thought they'd never end.

We'd sing and dance forever and a day.

We'd live the life we choose; we'd fight and never lose,

For we were young and sure to have our way.

In a flash, I was young and the whole bright beautiful world beckoned to me. I was sitting there, holding her smooth hand, looking into her hazel eyes, and suddenly the words just started pouring out. I couldn't stop myself. In a moment of weakness, and to this day, I don't know what possessed me to do it, I told her really and truly how I felt. She wasn't interested and told me so. Hell, if I knew then what I know now, I would have given up. But I refused. I wouldn't take no for an answer and pursued her until we stood in front of the minister and I heard her murmur her promise back to me.

Sadly, I wasn't cut out to be married. Still, I took our vows seriously and stayed faithful. When she was killed by a drunk driver, I mourned for I did love her, you see. I wasn't the marrying type.

I swore to never wed again until I fell head over heels for Clara. That one ended as badly as the first, but at least I didn't have to watch someone I love die, just our relationship. I had to choose between my work and my love. It wasn't an easy choice, but I made the right one and walked away.

The singer finished and there was a smattering of applause. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked around to the warmth of a familiar smile and even warmer blue eyes. Illya stood in the doorway of the bar, he'd been the singer. "Bad date?" I nodded wearily. "Want a nightcap to commiserate?" I nodded again.

Shouts of greetings and laughter met us as we stood there and Illya waved back to someone, holding up two fingers. Fellow agents greeted us as we entered. The song came back to me as we pushed through the welcoming mass of humanity:

Oh, my friend, we're older, but no wiser,

for in our hearts the dreams are still the same.

I looked at Illya and grinned, the longing forgotten in the wealth of camaraderie that awaited us inside. Sometimes it's not the memories that keep us going, it's the dreams. As long as I have friends like Illya and work that I love, that's enough… for today, for I am young and sure to have my way.