Author's note: OK, I'm back again. To those who follow it, I'm working on GoL, I swear. This is just something I was inspired to write as I listened to Vera Lynn today, and I couldn't help myself. Thank you for the support for this little series. Here's some more. Happy reading. Star honey, I still love you. If you're still out there, drop me a line.

Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'We'll meet again'© and claim no right to it.

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We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when…

Milo stopped in the middle of the busy Athens market, unaware of his shopping bag dropping onto the ground with a crack and a smash. His eyes widened, before his heart clenched in on itself and paused altogether for a painful beat.

A young man with blazing red hair and matching eyes was staring back at him.

A tear rolled down too-pale cheek and the moment was broken.

But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…

Milo lunged forward and drew the young man into a bone-crushing embrace, tears flowing freely from his eyes.

'Camus, Camus, Camus,…' He repeated in a mantra, as if praying that this moment not be another dream his mind had conjured up to spite him.

The young man shuddered, before pushing Milo away.

'Who are you? How do you know my name? Why are you crying?'

The tears kept falling, and the young man with Camus' face and Camus' eyes and Camus' name raised a hand to wipe at them, never succeeding in stemming the flow. 'Why am I crying?' He muttered to himself, surprised, yet not entirely upset.

Milo took a deep breath, before taking another good look at the young man. No change, perhaps he looked just a tad younger than Camus had looked, without the premature lines around his eyes and the down turn of his lips.

'How old are you?' He asked.

'I beg your pardon?'

'How old are you?' Milo asked again, a hand on his heart in a futile attempt to cease its mad fluttering.

'Eighteen.' The young man, Camus, replied. Two years younger than when he had died, and some hundred years younger than Milo.

'Why are you crying?' Milo asked, and before he could stop himself, raised a hand to thumb away another tear rolling down that familiar too-pale cheek.

'I don't know.' The young man replied with wide eyes, unconsciously leaning into the hand. 'Somehow I can't stop crying when I look at you.'

'Your name is Camus.' Milo said, and his heart flipped again in his chest cavity.

'Yes.' The admission was quiet, and the market vanished from around them, leaving only the clear blue sky above.

Keep smiling through, just like you always do,

Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away…

'Then nice to meet you. My name is Milo. Would you like a tour of Athena's temple?' He smiled his brightest smile and extended a hand to the very alive Camus standing before him.

… But I know we'll meet again some sunny day…

The tears morphed into a smile as a too-pale hand grasped his to never let go again.