A/N: The Song doesn't belong to me yadda yadda and the version I'm thinking of for the purpose of this fic is the one by Tony Bennett.

The Way You Look Tonight

Some day, when I'm awfully low,

When the world is cold,

It was 3:13am and the house was as quiet as death. Shuffling along, her only companion was the sound of rhythmically clinking ice cubes. She had taken to these wee hour rambles for the past few years as a way of passing the nights. Increasingly, they had become too long and too lonely. It was ironic old age had taken everything from her except her mind she mused, not without a generous dose of bitterness. Life, it seemed, did not intend to be kind to her.

Which room would she visit today she wondered. The dining room where she and Philip had announced their surprise engagement? Perhaps the master bedroom where for a year or so they had mutually tried their best to ignite passion or, if she was feeling particularly nostalgic, the room they had decorated in short-lived giddy anticipation for the perceived solution to their problems that never was to come. Thankfully perhaps.

"Such a multitude of choices! Such variety," she gaily mentioned to the never-ending corridors, her voice sounding cracked and hollow to her own ears. Whilst Philip had found solace in the multitudes of willing girls, she in turn had found observing chain after chain of cigarette smoke strangely calming. That, and bourbon on the rocks. It was the burn it sent down her throat destroying all other sensations that got her hooked for life. What could she say; she'd always been a sucker for punishment. Sometimes, if she were particularly lucky, it would take her away for an hour, maybe two. Angles always looked softer in the warm afterglow of intoxication.

On this night however, out of the corner of her eye, something out of place beckoned her. It had caught a sliver of moonlight and it glittered in the darkness. Curiosity fought hard within her alcohol-riddled brain and eventually won but satisfying it hadn't been a good choice on hindsight.

She could have sworn she had destroyed it, in fact she remembered the precise moment she had torn the photo into a million tiny pieces and burned them ruthlessly, but there it was hanging on the wall.

In all its breathtaking, heartbreaking entirety.

She stood transfixed in front of it as the memory of that night came trickling back unbidden.

ooo

"Come on Susie, just one more dance! You've always loved dancing!" And he held his hand out with that lopsided smile on his face that always reached his eyes.

It was mid June of 1941 and the whole world was at war but in the relative shelter of the deep South, the reality of all that was still far away. Fairy lights lined the outskirts of her back garden, the punch most definitely had been spiked with some good ol' bourbon and everywhere she looked, young couples were caught in the whirlwind of youth and romance.

"Arthur, you know I can't stand in these shoes for long and I don't see why we're having a party anyway seeing as you and them boys are all leavin' tomorrow for god knows where in the Pacific! So if you wanna dance you can just go find yourself some other hussy Arthur Paddington Jr!" Her breath coming in little explosive puffs as she launched into her tirade trying to ignore the way he made her feel. The way he made her toes curl with just a look and the deep, bottomless hole she felt herself perch against precariously whenever he was near.

But he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Sometime during that outburst he had gotten her to her feet and wrapped his arm gently around her waist whilst gingerly pulling her closer. By the time she realised where she was, Susie wasn't sure if it was him or the smothering Southern summer heat that had made her palms sweaty. Suddenly, she was self-conscious of how close they were and fought hard to hide her trademark blush. He always smelt of mint and soap. Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she saw the omnipresent signs of amusement reflected back at her whenever they were together. She had just been about to oblige his earlier request when he had to chip in, "quite the little firecracker aren't you?"

Somewhere in the periphery of her vision, a camera bulb went off.

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight.

He had been in his uniform, looking like the quintessential Southern prince with his dark hair and dark features gazing down on her whilst she almost didn't recognize herself. She was young and pretty, with her flaxen hair and slender build but it was the fire in those eyes that the photographer had captured glaring defiantly back at her dancing companion that brought the picture to life.

Thankfully for him, the flash of the bulb had made her anger dissipate somewhat and as she gazed back at him she felt herself unravel into a million different pieces. As they stood together swaying ever so slightly to the crooners in the background she felt a tear slide down one side of her cheek and her breath hitched as he tenderly chased it away.

"What's wrong Susie sweet? Miss me already?" he teased her gently with that lazy half-smile she'd grown up with. She didn't know whether to hit him or kiss him. In a moment of spontaneity she'd later try to explain, she chose the latter tasting his surprise and smile as he deepened the kiss under the star-filled sky.

Yes you're lovely,

with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me but to love you,

And the way you look tonight.

It was an innocent kiss and a first kiss; oh so sweet in its gentleness and hesitancy. It spoke of a future together and of a happily ever after promising forever.

"Promise me Arthur, promise me you'll come back, promise me you'll always ask for one more dance." She felt silly and childish as she fixed him desperately with her eyes; as if by sheer strength of her own will it would be enough for him to make it back. Suddenly, the war felt so much more menacing as a fragile dream hung in the heavy air.

With each word your tenderness grows,

Tearing my fear apart...

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,

It touches my foolish heart.

And as always he laughed at her as if she was making a mountain out of a molehill but this time she wasn't deterred. "Promise me Arthur, please."

Maybe it was her tone that was softer than normal or something in the mood that was different but with a sudden shift the boy was gone and with uncharacteristic seriousness he looked her in the eyes and replied, " I promise you Susan Featherstone, I'll come back for you."

And yet in three months, the promise was broken.