Eventually Sam left home for college, and Jess went with him. She'd always been as smart as he was, smarter, from his point of view. They rented a house together, and Harry came up to visit every few months. On Sam's 21st birthday, his adopted father hustled up a contingent of his college friends, including the whole basketball team.
Laughing at Sam's utter shock, and mild disapproval, Jess explained that she'd wanted him to have a sense of real college life. Sticking her tongue out, she'd teased, "what, you think we're here to learn?" Sam had laughed in spite of himself, and she had kissed him and told him gently that if it were too much she'd aid and abet him in escaping.
At that point, the basketball team had burst out of the living room and into the kitchen. Respectfully giving Jess her space (the woman was infamous for her deadly skill with a spatula), they grabbed Sam to drag him into the room with his guests. Flushing deeply, Sam allowed himself to be grabbed, laughing and trying very hard to contain his instinct to escape. These were his friends, this was safe.
Harry was standing in the middle of the room, and smiling. Once Sam was there, he unveiled a frame that reached the height of his hip. Sam, who was trying to subtly take deep breaths and count to ten in the suddenly very crowded room, looked up and caught his breath.
The frame was a montage. There were pictures of he and Jess, the basketball team, some friends from Jujitsu, pictures of his students, he and Harry….There were snaps of him in matches, as a Mathlete, at his prom, high school graduation…Everything good about his life, all the luck and love that had fallen into his lap at last, and more importantly: everything good about himself, was rolled into this picture. Messages in different colours, some childish scrawls from the kids, and other messier ones and doodles from his friends, covered the entire piece. In the center, big letters read in a space all of their own:
"Sam Kyu – Bit of a legend, really."
It was one hell of a party.
One year later, Sam told Harry that he was going to propose. Harry was delighted. Sure, Sam was a little young, but he'd known Jess for years, and anyone who'd spent any time around the couple simply knew no one would ever be better for them than each other. It was corny, and it was difficult to believe, but it was true. Sam and Jess glowed in one another's company, and together they moved from strength to strength.
At 22 years of age, it looked like Sam had finally healed from his past.
He still had nightmares, but then he'd never expected them to leave. They were no longer about Gene and Maria, instead transferring to horrific visions of Jess burning up on the ceiling, but Sam figured it was just some freaky psychological illustration of his fear of losing her. Still. He didn't tell her, or Harry. The long lingering shame of his experiences meant sometimes it took him weeks to confide in anyone. He would, because both Harry and Jess had been there more times than he could count. He just wasn't quite ready yet.
Harry drove up to Stanford, on the pretext of a few days away from college for the kid to clear his head in time for his big interview. In actuality, Sam intended to propose to Jess the following Saturday, and they were looking for rings. Harry, whose martial arts school had really taken off, absorbing Sam's Karate and Taekwondo instructors, along with several of his own students, had even offered a loan, so Sam could get her something really special.
Jess, ever supportive, and understanding only that Sam needed to spend time with the man both of them firmly considered to be his father, kissed Sam and slapped him on the rear. "I was getting tired of you anyway." Then, at the very subtle expression of disappointment on his face, she got up on tiptoes and kissed his nose. "Having said that, hurry back anyway, ok? The dark side has cookies…"
Sam hugged her, burying his face in her hair and kissing her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips.
Then he walked out the door.
On Sunday evening, Sam got home. The cookies she'd promised sat sweetly on their kitchen table, and in Sam's pocket, carefully wrapped in newspaper in case she saw it, was the box containing what would have been Jess' engagement ring.
But Jess was dead. And on fire. And on the ceiling.