A/N: Now that I'm approximately halfway done my thesis (YAY) I figured it wouldn't be too harmful to post this, haha. I've had this idea in my head for quite some time, but it's taken me a while to actually execute it (so it might not flow as smoothly as I wanted it to). This is something random that popped into my head during my commute to work one morning, and ever since then I've wanted to explore this. My updating will probably be sporadic because I still have a bunch of school obligations, but writing these stories definitely keeps me from feeling burnout from school by focusing on something else, so I decided to just go for it and post it. This'll be a short little number, and the rest of the chapters will have regular dialogue (I just formatted this first chapter the way it is because these are kind of like flashbacks). I hope this isn't too bizarre!

-o-o-o-

June 1914. The month Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, and the month he first met her.

He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that attracted his gaze. Perhaps it was her long mane of strawberry-blonde curls, framing her head like some frizzy halo. Or, maybe it was the fact that her dress was short, short enough to make his sister Alexandra nearly fall over of a heart attack. However, it also could've been the fact that she was smoking cigarettes and drinking bourbon like she was one of the men in the room, rather than simply sitting meekly on the other couch with the other ladies who were invited.

It also could have quite well been that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Compared to the other girls in the room, she wasn't quite the prettiest. Maybe she would have been if she had cleaned up the old makeup that rested under her eyes, brushed her hair and didn't wear such bright lipstick. Immediately, she reminded him of Caroline and how she'd make her makeup extra dramatic and wear the most provocative clothing just to get on Alexandra's nerves. It had been nearly a year since he'd seen Caroline, his favorite sister, and so this woman reminded him of home.

It was his fifth summer in Boston, his fifth summer away from the sweltering heat of the south and his fifth summer away from Alexandra's domineering watch. He was nearly done medical school now, he just needed to complete a residency and some other mundane requirements and then he'd officially be Doctor John Hale Finch.

He reckoned he would have been done earlier, if he hadn't taken so much time before enrolling in school to actually decide what he wanted to do. All along, his father had wanted him to be a doctor, or a lawyer like his older brother, but Jack just couldn't commit. He couldn't commit to anything, really. Part of him felt guilty for taking so long, as his older brother took full responsibility for paying his rather pricey tuition in Boston. Yet, another part of him just wanted to stop and pack everything up and leave.

That's what she reminded him of. For some reason when he looked at her, he saw a wanderer just like himself. Someone who'd be willing to pack up everything and leave, going wherever she wanted whenever she wanted.

She had noticed him staring at him, and rolled her eyes. Quickly, he poured himself a glass of scotch and made his way to her. She was alone, so he reckoned it wouldn't be difficult to catch a conversation with her.

I'm Jack Finch. He had said on that first encounter. She looked at him as if there was something strange growing from his forehead.

That's nice. She had responded, taking a drag from her cigarette. He noticed the top of it was dyed a strange shade of red from her lipstick.

Maybe this was why she was alone, he realized. But, after what seemed to be hours of her teasing him and him not relenting, he finally got her name. Jean. Jean Graham from Montgomery, Alabama. He told her he was from Maycomb, a small town not too far from where she was from, but she made it clear she didn't seem to care.

Who's your boyfriend? He had asked, giving her a curious look. For what seemed to be the thirtieth time during their short conversation, she rolled her eyes again.

Why do you care? She asked mockingly, taking a swig of bourbon as if it were water.

He cared because he wanted her. She was different than all of the southern belles that Alexandra attempted to set him up with year after year in Alabama, and she was far different than the straight-laced ladies that occupied his usual hangouts in Boston. Unlike all of those girls, she didn't seem to care what anyone thought of her and that seemed to free her. It was that first time he met her that he realized a liberated woman was the best type of woman to be around.

I'm here with my brother, she admitted after fifteen minutes of Jack prodding her. Instantaneously, he felt relief—he didn't need to take her away from anyone.

He mustn't like seein' you this way, Jack remarked, giving her a look that reminded him of something Alexandra would do (which gave him instant embarrassment).

He doesn't tell daddy how I act, and I don't tell daddy he's not interested in ladies, she whispered, giving him a cheeky wink. Bizarrely, Jack observed how strangely refreshing it was to see a woman so outwardly be herself.

And that only made him want her more.

Drunkenly, he had kissed her that night. She smelled spicy and tasted of bourbon and her red lipstick smeared itself onto his own lips. He found himself wanting more, just wanting to take her and have her in his life forever.

But, shortly after he kissed her, she left. He felt his heart beating so fast he could hardly keep calm—he most certainly couldn't be in love with her, not after knowing her for such a short time, but damn did he want her.

When will I see you again? He had asked, hoping that she was feeling just as he was.

But instead, she had shrugged. Beats me, she said, rolling her eyes, those brisk two words being her form of goodbye.

-o-o-o-

The second time he saw her was the following year—July of 1915. He was now Dr. John Hale Finch. He remained in Boston, still working at the hospital he had done his coursework at, but he desperately wanted to leave. If Europe hadn't been at war, perhaps he would've gone there. He would've shaped a new persona for himself and could've convinced everyone he met that he was someone entirely different than who he really was.

Yet, she would still be burned in his mind.

When a year passed and he still hadn't seen her, he couldn't help but to feel discouraged. He had probably meant nothing to her, he thought to himself, and she was probably in Montgomery courting someone or getting ready to be married. Every time he thought this, however, he remembered how she was like and how she probably wasn't committed to anyone or anything.

And then, he saw her.

He had been dragged out by a friend to go to a party being held by some person Jack swore he had never met before. Initially, he didn't want to go. He found these things too crowded and too boring, full of small talk and names he'd surely forget by the next morning. But, once he saw that glimmer of strawberry-blonde hair, he immediately was thankful for his buddy's insistence.

Her hair was longer this time, and more contained (though it still resembled some sort of mane). Her dress was still short and her makeup just as dark as it was the night her first met her. His face lit up when he saw her, but she seemed indifferent.

That was, until she approached him.

It ain't polite to stare, she said cheekily, her scowl growing deeper with each word she said.

Maybe if you weren't such a mess I wouldn't be forced to look at you. He had replied sarcastically, silently quite proud of himself for thinking of such a remark so quickly.

She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. I recognize that look, she told him. You're smitten.

You're quite full of yourself, ma'am.

You're quite bad at hidin' your feelin's.

And that was the night he took her to bed.

He could still remember vividly just how soft she was, both literally and figuratively. It was as though her harsh demeanor melted away and she transformed into something gentler than she actually was. He knew that there was a strong possibility that she was doing this for fun, using him as another plaything of hers while the entire time he was certain that he was steadily falling in love with her.

Afterwards, they smoked a cigarette together before she disappeared once again.

-o-o-o-

He had to wait over eight months to see her again. In the time that had passed since that previous July until that March, she had settled into a permanent home in the back of his mind. He constantly wondered what she was doing, who she was with, and if she ever thought of him like he thought of her. She drove him crazy, making him antsy with paranoia and even full of humiliation. If she had any of the same feelings he had, she sure was good at hiding them. One side of her was cold and sarcastic, but now that he had gotten to know the softer, nicer version of her, he found that he was in love with every aspect of her—she kept him on his toes.

The third time he saw her was March of 1916. He had been residing in Finch's Landing with Alexandra since that previous December, and when an old friend of his invited him to Montgomery for a party, he couldn't help but to jump at the opportunity to leave Alexandra's condescending gaze. It had been almost four months since he returned home, deciding that the north was no longer suited to his needs and he still didn't have a job, causing his life with his sister to be tense and downright miserable.

She had cut her hair short, causing her curls to bounce above her shoulders, making her look older. She was smoking a cigarette and chatting with a young man. Her presence had taken him off guard. Of course he knew that this is where she lived, but he wasn't expecting to see her there. Almost instantly, his body surged with jealousy as he watched her toss her head back with laughter, her curls bobbing around her head. She seemed less hard here, more animated than he had ever seen her. This was her element, he realized. In Montgomery she probably ruled these parties, able to let her guard down and not be the ice queen she usually had been around him.

When their eyes first met, she didn't acknowledge him. In the back of his mind he thought that maybe she wouldn't talk to him all night, would pretend as if she didn't know him and go about her usual business. Yet, he found himself staying in the same spot for hours, making his presence known to her.

The south don't suit you well. She finally said as she approached him. This was the first time he hadn't seen her in the summer, and it wasn't until that moment had he realized how much time she must've spent in the sun during the summer. Her skin was paler, her hair a shade darker—she almost looked like a different person. She looked older. You look miserable, she added, a smirk growing on her face.

You look quite happy. He remarked, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt.

She scowled. You look a fool. She said curtly, crossing her arms and confirming the fact that Jack had been another thing to keep her occupied for a temporary amount of time.

Maybe it was because he could never be mad at her, or maybe it was the fact that she was so irritated at him it was actually attractive, but the two of them found themselves in bed with each other again that night. It was different this time, though. Since she was at home, in a party full of people she had grown up with, she was cautious and quick—terrified at the prospect of being caught. He didn't care, though, at least he had her, and at least he could pretend that she was his.

I love you, he had told her when they finished. Jean—

I know. She replied lazily, sighing.

Is that all— he began before she interrupted him.

Yes.

He couldn't help but to feel crushed.

-o-o-o-

It had been two years since he had seen her. The year was 1918, and America was now entangled in the war that had been ravaging Europe. While he had been able to avoid it, he slowly stood witness as old friends and men he worked with were shipped off, some likely to meet their fates within the trenches. Instead, he had moved to Nashville and started a medical practice and grew comfortable in the mundane routine that became his life.

In December he found himself home for Christmas, and despite the fact that Alexandra was not as condescending as she usually was about the way Jack lived his life, he still found himself miserable.

Deep down, he knew it was because she wasn't in his life anymore.

When he moved to Nashville, he no longer had close connections to those he went to school with in Boston or his pals back in Alabama, virtually cutting off all contact to her. The less time he spent at home, however, the more he wanted her (perhaps because he knew that he'd never have her at this point). He attempted to fill the void she left through women he met in Nashville, but he found himself longing for her strawberry blonde hair and curt personality.

That's why he should have been relieved when he saw her again, nearly two years after that party in Montgomery, but instead he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

She had arrived to the Landing on the arm of his brother.