Alfred F. Jones stood under the glittering lights of the Chase county fair with his best friend, James Smith. The heat of the day was slowly ebbing away with each passing minute, and it was looking to be a cool evening. Perfect for their last night in the States together.

"So what do you think it'll be like?" James asked absentmindedly. "Europe… The war… Killing Nazis…" He kicked up a plume of dust with the toe of his dress shoes. "I mean, they don't tell us what to expect, just what we're supposed to do, you know?"

Alfred took a long drag on the cigarette he'd been smoking for the last few minutes and didn't say anything for a moment. "I don't know," he sighed as he flicked the ash away with a tap of his finger. "I guess it's just gonna be what we make of it. I mean, I don't want to kill anyone any more than the next guy. But that's just war I guess. There's good guys and bad guys." He eyed what's left of his cigarette before tossing it away. "What about you?"

"Same." James suddenly became quiet, deep in thought.

"I know what you're thinking," Alfred muttered.

"No, you don't." James spat. He hastily pulled out a cigarette from his pack and stuck it between his teeth. "You got a light?" Alfred fished into his pocket and tossed him his matchbook. He caught it without glancing up. "The thing is," he said as he struck the match, the orange flame illuminating his face in the dark, "you're never really sure who the good guys are, and who the bad guys are." He lit his cigarette and shook the match until the flame died. Smoke clouded his face, and in that moment Alfred could have sworn that James looked a hundred years old. "Here." James held out the matchbook for Alfred to take. Alfred didn't say anything for a second, then replied with a curt, "Keep it. I have another." James stood there with his arm extended and refused to move. The two locked eyes, and the air was suddenly cold between them. Alfred had never seen James like this, and he had never been more scared for him in his whole life.

The two nineteen-year-olds remained silent until James pocketed the matchbook and spoke up cheerily, "Okay, this is no way to be spending our last night home. Let's have some fun!" "What exactly do you have in mind?" Alfred asked, a hint of playful suspicion in his voice. Now, it was as if nothing strange had happened at all. The real James was back.

"Well… We didn't wear these uniforms for nothing, now did we?" James gestured to his uniform, all the way from his cover to his shoes. Alfred raised his eyebrows playfully. "So you're suggesting that we find a girl?" "Why not? We need someone to write home to, might as well be a pretty someone at that!" James punched Alfred in the arm and started toward the ferris wheel, where a group of squealing girls were waiting to get on. After a few steps, James looked back to see Alfred still standing where he was. "Come on, Marine! Let's go!"

Alfred barely heard him. He was too distracted by what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had happened to glance to his left when he saw her. She was standing in the cotton candy line in a cherry red dress, her brunette hair cascading down her back in a waterfall of curls, and he was surprised that she stood alone. "I'll catch up with you later," Alfred yelled in James' direction. James looked toward where Alfred was looking, smiled, and gave a big thumbs up before turning back to the group of girls he was heading toward. "Meet you later!" James yelled behind him.

Alfred started toward the cotton candy stand and the girl, but stopped and fixed his hair, cover, blouse, glasses, even dusted off his shoes before resuming his walk, all with his heart pounding fast in his chest. As he pulled up alongside her, he didn't say anything for a moment. His mouth was dry from nerves, and he just knew that if he opened up his mouth, he'd make a fool of himself. As he thought of what to say, the girl turned to face him. She looked him over from head to toe and asked brightly,

"Soldier, huh?"

She took Alfred completely off guard, and it took a few seconds for him to respond.

"No, no ma'am."

"No?"

"Marine, ma'am."

She smiled and replied, "I know, I was just playing. My brother is a Marine."

"Semper fi, ma'am."

"And my name's not 'ma'am' Marine, it's Sara Jane. Sarah Jane Elliot."

"Private Alfred F. Jones, ma-sorry, Sarah." "I always did like Sarah Jane better."

"Then Sarah Jane it is. Pleased to meet you."

"And you."

Sarah Jane smiled, then pointed at the line of people in front of them. "This is one heck of a line," she said, "and I've never really been a cotton candy kind of girl. Wanna go walk somewhere?"

Alfred almost asked her why she was in the line in the first place, but he just nodded his head. "Sure. Any ideas where?" "Not really," Sarah Jane replied, "just around. You still in?" "Yeah, if you are." "Then come on!" Sarah Jane grabbed onto Alfred's arm and started to pull him down the rows of food carts and game booths, weaving in between bodies as gracefully as a dancer. Alfred laughed behind her, and he could feel deep down inside that this was going to be a night to remember.

He made up his mind that if he had to write to someone, or hopefully come home to someone, he hoped that it would be her. With that thought, he gripped Sarah Jane's hand just a little bit tighter, and she did the same.

The night passed all too quickly, and Alfred couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much. Whether he was laughing at himself, at Sarah Jane's crazy exploits, or just for the sake of laughing, he didn't care. He was just happy to be spending this last night with this beautiful, funny, smart, amazing girl called Sarah Jane Elliot. He learned that she was deathly afraid of heights when they made it to the top of the ferris wheel after she had both of her arms around him in a death grip until they stepped off, both doubled over laughing. He also found out she had a killer throwing arm when she tried to knock down a pyramid of milk bottles with a baseball and ended up breaking three of them. Once she heard the glass break, she yanked Alfred away by the hand and they ran off to behind a row of tents, dodging people with every step, where they ducked in one particularly colorful tent under a flap to find themselves in a room full of mirrors, where Sarah Jane collapsed into Alfred's arms in a heap of giggles. He was laughing too, and he didn't realize he was holding Sarah Jane until they had both stopped giggling and the air was already still and thick with their breathing. The sounds all around seemed to slowly die until it was just the pounding of their two hearts in the dark. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. Sarah Jane searched Alfred's eyes, then whispered something that he could barely hear.

"Do you want to dance?"

Alfred frowned. "I'm pretty bad at it. I'd hate to step on your toes."

"I'm sure you're fine." Sarah Jane raised an eyebrow, and she looked almost concerned. "I almost forgot. There's no music."

Alfred smiled and whispered in Sarah Jane's ear, "I can fix that."

Sarah Jane let out a breathy, almost half laugh before letting Alfred take her hand and her waist, and she lightly touched her cheek to his. Alfred closed his eyes and began to hum the first song that came into his mind.

After a moment, Sarah Jane whispered, "I know this song… It's Vera Lynn, right? 'I'll Be Seeing You Again'?"

Alfred smiled, and started to sing softly into her ear. Her hair tickled his lips with each word, and as he swayed slowly in the dark, he realized that he had discovered something beautiful.

"I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places… that my heart and mind embraces all day through…"

"Alfred," Sarah Jane whispered, "Do you have someone to write home to?"

Alfred stopped singing and stood still. "I'll be honest with you." Sarah Jane faced him so that she could look at him in the eyes. "No, I don't have anyone to write home to." Sarah Jane frowned. "Not… Not another… You know…" "No, not another girl," Alfred said quietly. Sarah Jane just looked at him, and he continued with a laugh. "I've never really had too much luck with girls."

She smiled. "I have a hard time believing that." Alfred laughed again. "You'd better start believing, it's true."

Sarah Jane stood up on her tip toes and draped her arms around Alfred's shoulders. "Write me." "Alright, I will…" "No. Write me. Write me every day, every time you stop marching, every time you're lonely, every time you just want to connect with something familiar, write me. Promise?" She pulled a handkerchief and a pen from the bag that she was carrying. Using his chest to write on, she wrote her home address on the handkerchief, folded it up, and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers. "Do you promise?"

Alfred gently took Sarah Jane's face in his hands and drew it close to his. He bent down so that his lips were a fraction of an inch from hers before he whispered, "I promise."

At first, the kiss was gentle, tentative, slow, until it built in passion and desire. Each was feeding from the other, running fingers through hair and over skin.

Sarah Jane pulled away an inch. "Alfred, promise me that you'll come home. I know it hasn't been long but-"

Alfred put a finger over her lips and brushed some stray hair away from her face before answering.

"I promise you that I will come home to you."

"You'd better."

The air was still for a moment. Neither one of them moved. Alfred was the one to break the silence.

"Are you sure about this?"

She paused and looked away, biting her lip. After a couple of seconds, she looked back into Alfred's eyes. She was smiling.

"My car."

Alfred stood on the train platform the next morning at five minutes until eight, his seabags at his feet and his cover in his hand. He expected to see James, since he wasn't supposed to ship out until next week, but he had yet to meet him.

Alfred checked the clock on the wall behind him. Still a few minutes until he had to leave. He sighed, and stuck his free hand into his pocket, and grinned when his fingers brushed up against Sarah Jane's handkerchief. He pulled it out and smiled at the flowing strokes, the little heart drawn at the bottom, her name. Proof that last night happened. He already had the address memorized, along with the note on the bottom. 'You promised' was all that it said.

A sharp whistle drew Alfred out of his daze, and he glanced at the clock again. Three minutes early, he thought. He carefully folded the handkerchief and slipped it back into his pocket. Placing his cover on his head, he grabbed his seabags and, instead of heading for the train car, he headed for the nearest mailbox. Alfred dropped a letter inside before turning back toward the train.

Sarah Jane checked her mail two days later to find a letter from Alfred. The address and letter inside was written in pencil, the letter itself on notebook paper.

Dear Sarah Jane,

I have to write this quickly, since I have to be at the train station in about half an hour. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be heading to Europe now. They haven't really told me where I'll be, and you'll understand that I can't tell you in case a letter gets intercepted. I'll write you once I get a bit of a permanent station.

But enough of that. I'll try to write as much as I can, when I can.

Thank you for last night. I've never had so much fun in my life. You've given me something to think about when I'll be alone, so then I won't really be alone at all.

I remember my promise.

Always yours,

Corporal Alfred F. Jones