Paris, 1969

Memories was one of the worst weapons devised by God for humans to hurt other humans with. Only liquor and cigarettes can dull the pain, but they are still there.

I checked into my hotel at 6 PM sharp, intending to waste the evening away drinking martinis at the local bar, maybe later having a woman into my bed, sleeping till morning with a curt smile on her face, knowing that she will never have more of a relationship with me.

Only one woman had that pleasure, Tracy di Vicenzo. She always had that fire about her that complimented my vagabond spirit, and knew when to shut up and stay out of the way.

I looked around my room, taking note of the clock on the wall, witch read 6:15, the bathroom, and the bedroom.

I knew how she died. We were on our way to our honeymoon when a car chased us. Shots were fired, and I thought the worst when a shot busted through the back windshield of the car that we were driving. It happened and then some. Tracy was dead as I finally lost my pursuers and stopped the car. I didn't stop crying as I pulled down the mountain.

Finally deciding that I was too sober for my own good, I called room service and ordered a bottle of their finest bourbon. Looking over the clock it was five minutes till seven, as the bottle arrived. I downed my first glass quickly, and poured my second.

I was taken off the case shortly after Tracy's death. Everyone at MI6 had attended the funeral, and I was told by M himself. I had fought tooth and nail with M to put me back on it, but M had said that my mental instability will put the operation in grave danger.

I stopped and looked at my glass for a while. I never noticed that the brown liquid was a life saver at this particular instant.

I wished I had it when I made an attack on Blofeld's base. The location was cluttered with snow, but it was high up a mountain, so I had a helicopter fly me up there.

He knew that I would come for him eventually, but I caught him off guard under the ploy that the copter was for a aid mission, and didn't give it a second thought.

I downed half of the glass, and became glad that the base blew up, taking Blofeld with it. I knew the consequences of my actions, so I went to M and faced them. Instead of court-martial, I got three weeks R&R so that I could mourn properly.

Taking one last glance at the clock, witch read 9: 30, I finished the last of the drink, and stared through the bottom of the glass. I saw things in a new light as I was drinking tonight. I knew that I wasn't going to get over Tracy, but I knew that I wasn't going to join her yet.

Setting the glass down, I struggled my way into bed. Turning out the light, I resolved my self to never forget the name Tracy Bond as I whispered, "I love you Tracy" before I fell asleep.