A/N: Woohoo! Final chapter!

Now, before we freak out, I've officially decided to turn this into a series. I've set it up perfectly for our intrepid couple to spend some in Colorado- which we know is a state of significance. Hopefully, you'll understand how I'm intending to eventually bring everything full circle.

At this point, I can't say with any sort of certainty when the next installment of the series will be up and running. I've got story 1 complete, and story 3 percolating, but the bridge (story 2) is confounding me. But we shall prevail, never fear. You'll just have to be patient with me.

In the meantime, enjoy this last chapter, and maybe I'll be able to throw up an S/J one shot or two in the meantime to keep my muse active. :D

Thank you so much for the feedback! It's been a pleasure to work with all of you on this!

Three weeks later, Sam was well enough to go back on campus. It was long enough for the damage to be patched, the grounds cleared of debris. But come graduation day, Jack was acutely aware of the gaping hole where the science building used to sit, for all it had received a hasty layering of sod to try and keep up appearances. He knew Sam felt the same way.

It was in the way she avoided the area, going the long away around to reach the large quad the ceremony was being held in. It was there in her eyes as she listened to the professors speak, emphasizing the value of progress and innovation, of creation in the face of destruction. With the sun hot against Jack's neck as he stood in the back of the audience, he wasn't sure how the rest of the class received the speeches—but he could see the rigid posture of Sam's shoulders beneath the dark swathes of robe.

She was the most colorful grad in the ceremony. Not a huge feat, considering how small the class was compared to Jack's own graduation, but he was still more than impressed. She bore the thin, twisted blue and gold cord, for excellence in community service. A green braided cord denoted her prodigious scientific contributions, and the merging red and gold cords singled her out from the entire class. She was valedictorian.

The crowd clapped as she was welcomed to the podium, though her peers seemed largely unenthused. From their expressions, they clearly had other places they'd rather be.

"There are forty-seven of us graduating," Sam stated boldly, her voice echoing across the quad. Her eyes raked the crowd, and the strength of her delivery brought straying gazes back to the stage.

"We are the best Washington has to offer," she continued, "but the truth is, that doesn't mean much. We will still be going off to college this fall, which means that we are big fish from a small pond who are about to become goldfish in a very big ocean."

She paused, and no one said anything. But they were listening. She'd woken up her classmates, who'd been ready to hear the requisite "Let's Party!" anthem of previous grads. This was different, and they were listening.

"As we go our separate ways, my message to each of you is this: You are not unique, in and of yourselves. Remember that your future is up to you—it will not be handed to you, and you will not receive it. You have to make it happen, using the skills and lessons you learned here."

Overhead a bird sang, its voice a melodious counterpoint to the somber speech below. Jack shifted his stance, his eyes half-closed against the bright sun.

"No man is an island. In the recent weeks, I have come to realize how true this is. There is no President without a nation. There is no child without a parent, no student without a teacher—no future without a past. We are the sum of our experiences, and how we use those experiences relies entirely on how we've been shaped by others in our lives. Even as we move on to the next stage in our lives, with some of us going very far from home to do it, we carry our people with us, in our hearts and in our memories."

Sam swallowed, her gaze falling to the microphone. Jack's eyes burned, his back suddenly ramrod straight. Were her thoughts caught on that expanse of fresh turf, as his were? That deceptively bright green grass that tried to hide the life that had been lost there?

"So while we are here to today to celebrate our own achievements," Sam continued, her gaze spanning the family and friends lingering beyond the seated students, "we are not alone. We must also thank them, our friends and our families, for helping us become who we are, and who we may yet be."

A long moment of silence passed, and then, somewhere, someone started clapping. It spread slowly, but grew thunderous as the students rose to their feet, turning to applaud the people who had gotten them this far. Sam joined in, stepping back from the microphone in an effective conclusion to her speech.

Jack spotted several watery smiles in the audience, the tiny little waves as suddenly sheepish parents acknowledged their respective children. He knew the President was somewhere in the front—it would hardly be PR-friendly for him to have missed his youngest child's graduation. But Jack couldn't help but notice that Sam's gaze hadn't been anywhere near that front row as she spoke.

The master of ceremonies took over as Sam returned to her seat. She was moving fairly well now, despite the cast that still braced her arm, but Jack could see the slight hesitancy in her step that spoke to the lingering soreness. After that, the ceremony moved quickly, as one by one the students were called up to the stage. There were a few extra camera flashes when Sam shook hands with the headmaster, and Jack gave a low, piercing whistle as she crossed, and was rewarded with a blushing smile.

Then caps were flying, and the students were officially released to their families and guests. Jack moved without hesitation, weaving his way through the crowd to find Sam. She was already moving towards him as well, her features beaming with the first real smile she'd had in weeks. In a few swift steps he closed the distance between them, sweeping her up into a hug that lifted her from the ground. A rush of warmth flowed through him when he felt her laugh against him.

"Congratulations," he murmured. "You were great up there."

Her arms tightened around his shoulders. "Thanks. But Christmas still remains my favorite speech. Hard to top an audience like that."

Jack nodded. "You still rocked it, though." He paused, hesitating. "You're Dad's here," he said carefully.

"I know," she said, shrugging. "There's going to be a photo op and press release later."

"Oh, yeah," he said, his tone light. "You still need to announce your college choice, right?" Yeah… like he'd actually forgotten. He'd just been too chicken to ask her, afraid of what the answer would be. The number of foreign schools who'd invited her to study with them had cast a dour gloom over the whole thing. "Don't you wanna go ahead and get it over with?"

The smirk on her lips told him exactly how much he was fooling her—which was not at all. "No," she chirped happily. "I want to tell you first."

Jack paused, then pulled in a deep breath. Then, with an intense solemnity that was only half-theatric, he stepped back, putting enough distance between them for him to look her in the eye. And for her to not be able to feel his disappointment at her answer.

"All right," he delivered. "Lay it on me."

She giggled.

"Oxford? Or Princeton. Wait—let me guess… Georgetown, right? I bet—"

"Denver."

Jack nodded. "Ah, see, just like I—wait, what?"

Her eyes twinkled. "University of Denver. Full ride."

"Buh…But—" His mouth worked, gaping in surprise as he did the math in his head. "Denver is…"

"Only an hour and a half from the Academy. Yeah, I know." The woman looked down right smug. "I have to say, that was almost as much of a draw as their Physics and Astronomy department."

"Almost?"

"They have really big telescopes…"She broke off into a laugh when he caught her up again, this time spinning her as grin split is face near in two. He kissed her, squeezing her tight enough for her to smack his arm in warning.

Then, finally, he set her down again, his better sense catching up with him. "Are you sure about this, Sam? You could have the whole world…"

"Haven't you heard, Jack? My world's moving to Colorado in the fall."

Jack blinked, astounded. "But, your duties…"

"There'll be a lot of travel, yes," she told him. "But I'm ready to step down if necessary." She grinned, her cheeks flushing. "Someone's been teaching me how to make decisions that are right for me, even if it seems like an inconvenience."

His heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest. "This is a big decision…"

"Maybe. But not a hard one. Besides, I'm already half way done. Two more years and then I'll be looking at grad schools." Her hand found his, taking it gently. Tenderly. Tingles shot up and down his arm at the touch. "I can see the stars anywhere on Earth, Jack. But I want to see them with you."

Doubt flooded his mind. Long-distance relationships could be rough, he knew, even if the distance was only an hour and a half, not three or four thousand miles. But he also knew that her decision could sour. She could come to resent him, for being the reason she missed out on some amazing opportunity elsewhere. That she hadn't gone to study with the greatest minds academia had to offer.

And he would never forgive himself if he was the reason she tempered her dreams, just to stay local while he earned his commission.

Before he could open his mouth to protest, small hands settled against his face, framing his jaw in a grip that was both gentle and firm. "Jack. Look at me."

He obeyed, and was nearly swept away.

"Can you look into my eyes, and tell you don't see a future with me?"

Blue eyes gripped him, even as his throat locked, suddenly packed with cotton. He only just became old enough to drink last week—she, for all her maturity, wasn't even eighteen yet. How could he possibly think about forever? And yet, in looking into her eyes, he could tell that she felt the same thing he did… that looking ahead was to look at her. Them.

"Geez, Sam…"

"Answer me." Her tone was soft, but unyielding.

He smiled. "No."

"Me neither." She kissed him lightly, the contact brief on his lips. "And I know we're not really supposed to think about forever when we're this young…"

No, they weren't. It was a misgiven hesitation that lingered in the back of Jack's thoughts. What happened when she came into her own as a woman? When she realized she could have anything, or anyone, in the world?

"Which is why we aren't," she continued decisively. Jack blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"We aren't thinking about forever. We're only thinking about the next two years. Well, I am, at least for now. You're thinking about the next four years, until you graduate with your commission. I'm only thinking to the end of my degree… and maybe my doctoral work, though that's not set in stone yet."

Jack swallowed thickly. Two years, huh? He could do that. That, and a dozen decades more. That'd give him more time to pretend he hadn't already been thinking about buying a ring. He could at least wait until he was an officer, right? Right.

She'd still be there.

"I love you." His arms laced themselves around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Her eyes sparkled, her excitement evident as he simply and smoothly accepted her decision. Welcomed it, even. "I love you, too."

Warmth spread through him, an unspoken uneasiness falling away from him. Her decision had said more than she'd intended. Or at least, more than she realized. He was not the only one who felt like an old soul, it seemed. There was a measure of peace in knowing she was daring to think of their future as well.

Suddenly, Jack froze.

"What is it?" she asked.

He swallowed. "I don't suppose you've already told your dad?"

Her grin turned devilish. "Nope. He finds out with the rest of the world in about ten minutes."

Jack nodded. "Right. That should give me just enough time for me to reach an appropriate safe distance." He certainly didn't want to be there when the President found out his genius daughter turned down offers from world-class institutions just to follow his sorry ass to Colorado.

She hummed a laugh, nudging him playfully. "Go on. I won't make you stick around."

"We still on for pizza tonight?"

A nod answered him. "Tony's?"

"Sure." Her lips spread into a sly grin. "What?" he asked, curious.

She smiled. "It's Thursday."

Jack blinked, memories of a certain Live Music Thursday spinning across his thoughts. Flashes of Sam in a burgundy dress and silvery earrings flashed in front of his eyes, but was eclipsed by the image still smiling up at him. Somehow, she was even more beautiful now than she was that night.

He smirked back. "I happen to like Thursdays."

"Me too."

A voice shouted her name, calling her over for pictures. Sam hesitated, then released his hand. "I have to go. I'll meet you there. Usual time."

He nodded, and she turned to leave. But before she had gotten two steps, he called out to her, closing the distance between them once more as she turned in question. He kissed her again, pulling her as close as he dared with so many eyes on them.

"I am so lucky to have you," he whispered against her lips, which smiled under the soft words.

"We could spend all night arguing over who's luckier," she returned. "But I'll settle for blessed."

"I'm proud of you." He had no idea if she would hear those words from anyone else tonight, but even if he was the only one they came from, her smile told him that would be enough.

Her forehead rested against his, her chin tilting up to kiss him again. "Today is the first day of the rest of our life, Jack."

His eyebrows lifted. Our life. He liked the sound of that. And he knew, somehow, that it hadn't been a slip of the tongue. Sam pulled back, giving him a little squeeze she did so. Her eyes were bright, and then came that megawatt smile that always made his heart skip a beat.

"I can't wait."