The sun still came up the following morning, though Jack felt as though someone had flipped a switch and left his whole world in darkness. The world still continued to turn, but Jack believed that it should stop. He believed that the whole world should come to a complete standstill and acknowledge that Jean Finch was dead.

Jean Finch was dead. The entire sentence sounded wrong. How could Jean Finch be dead? The woman with the twinkling eyes and the dirtiest sense of humour he had ever encountered. She had been the type of woman who deserved to live forever.

Jean Finch had brought light to his world when he was sure that the darkness would consume him. He'd just sat and failed his first set of medical exams, and the girl he loved – or at the time thought he was in love with – had ended things between them and moved out west. He'd been in a bad place, a horribly dark place, and turned to alcohol to try and numb the pain. He'd never experienced pain like that before, and he believed he never would again, and everything felt like it was falling to pieces around him.

Then he had met her.

On his way home to Maycomb he'd made a brief stop in Montgomery where he met her for the first time, and he was exactly what he needed to see a little bit of sun in the clouds. Despite only having met her he spent an entire afternoon with her, not caring that he was missing a prearranged get together with some friends, and later that evening he took her for a drink.

"My mama would skin my hide if she could see where I was!" She had drawled out at seeing where he was taking her.

"Which would be a real shame because I'm sure it's a beautiful hide," he had replied somewhat daringly.

She had gazed at him with those brown eyes of hers, finally throwing her head back and laughing. "Mama would say that you're definitely not a gentleman!" She paused, her painted red lips curling into a smile. "But it doesn't matter because I'm no lady." She winked at him.

He'd had the best evening of his life sitting with her. She was intelligent and warm. She was impish. She made him forget both what he was running from back in Boston and what would be waiting for him in Maycomb. She was so refreshingly unlike the girls Alexandra had tried pairing him off with; boring, stereotypical Southern Belles who did nothing but giggle at everything he said, or occasionally interrupt him with an "oh, you're so smart!"

She was different. She had an opinion; or rather she had lots of opinions. On everything. Opinions she wasn't afraid to share with him despite barely knowing him.

"For Christ's sake, Jack! So you failed some exams, what's the problem?" She had said with a roll of her eyes.

"The problem? The problem, my dear, is that I can't hope to become a doctor without passing them," he replied, with a little more venom that intended.

She wasn't deterred. "So take them again." She said with a shrug. "You can take them again, can't you?" She raised her eyes to his, as if daring him to tell her no.

He couldn't help himself from scoffing at her. "And have the embarrassment of having had to take them twice? Do you think they'd let me live that down?"

She rolled her eyes again and slammed her glass on the table. "Do you want to be a doctor or not? So it might take you a little longer than the rest. What does that matter in the grand scheme of things? You have this opportunity, some might even say a God given right, to make somethin' of yourself and do some good in the world. Some people, like me, don't have those same opportunities. If I told my daddy and my mama that I wanted to go up north and be a doctor, they'd tell me to remember my place. You're really gonna throw away that opportunity, that chance that others would kill to have, just because you "failed some exams"? Pull yourself together!"

He'd been taken aback by her response, half of him expecting to hear the "oh, poor you" that he knew would have come from the girls Alexandra wanted him to associate with. He hadn't been able to do anything but stare dumbly at her until she lost her serious manner and dissolved into laughter, laughter so loud that half the bar turned to look at her. While she may have found her outburst to be funny, to him it was exactly what he needed to hear. He returned to Boston later that month, retook his exams, passed and continued on towards his career. She had helped him see things clearly. She had helped him to not give up on himself.

After their initial meeting that day in Montgomery they began to see each other more. She would travel up to Boston whenever she could and they would walk around the Boston Common together. Likewise, he would travel down to Montgomery whenever he was free and they would walk around the city. He looked forward to her visits and visiting her like a child looks forward to Christmas, and whenever he found himself again in hard times he would get through each day remembering that she was coming soon.

However, he soon became engulfed in his studies and the determination to make something of himself. It became impossible for him to focus on anything other than being successful. His medical books quickly became his only friends, and he stopped travelling to Montgomery completely. He was ruthless in his ambition to become a doctor and he couldn't afford to let anything get in the way. Not even her.

She continued to come to Boston, constantly trying to get him to leave his apartment or the library or wherever else he was holed up and spend time with her, but stopped the day he had turned on her in a state of stress.

"Jack, baby, this isn't healthy! You need to get outside, breathe in some fresh air! You need to take a break. You're working so hard, just take a break for half an hour." She had pleaded with him, gently tugging on his arm to try and get him to leave.

"Can you stop doing that, please? This is important." He had half shouted at her, refusing to move away from his books.

"Jack, c'mon! Half an hour away from it all will do you the world of good. It'll only be for half an hour, I promise!" She was tugging harder on his arm now.

"For God's sake, Jean! Can't you see this is important! Then again, why would you? You'll never have to worry about anything important in your life! Should the house be white or yellow will be your biggest dilemma!" He had snapped, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

She had stood completely still, her eyes narrowing and her lip curling, and she slapped him. "You're a selfish bastard, do you know that?" She spat at him, turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her.

It had taken a month for her to finally forgive him, and when she did he'd taken the next step and asked her to take the train to Maycomb. He was coming home the following week so he'd meet her there and introduce her to his family. He was looking forward to seeing her interact with Alexandra, and she had sounded excited too.

Only he didn't meet her there.

Like before he let himself get overwhelmed with work and everything else left his mind. He didn't spare her a though until he'd received her incensed phone call from Maycomb Junction. She'd accused him of treating her like a toy, like stress relief, and she'd be damned if she was going to let it continue. He had begun to apologise, but by then she'd already slammed the phone down. Beginning to panic he had called Atticus, asking him to pick her up and take her to the Landing. He'd be in Maycomb as soon as he could.

Looking back he could see that was the exact moment he really did lose her.

When he finally did make it to Maycomb she had been civil, but a great deal colder than he remembered. Her interactions with him were now short and clipped, and he noticed how she would stay close to Atticus if he were around, almost looking as though she was hanging off his every word.

After he returned to Boston and she to Montgomery, he stopped seeing her completely. She no longer took the train up to visit him, and always presented some excuse as to why he couldn't come down to Montgomery. Eventually the phone calls stopped, too. It was as though she just vanished off the face of the earth.

In response to the hurt and anger he was feeling he threw himself into his career, using his books and his time at the hospital to distract him from any and all thoughts of her. It paid off, seemingly, because he eventually did become a certified doctor, choosing to specialise in orthopedics. He had done what he had set out to do and he was proud.

It was around that time he heard from her again.

"I'm gettin' married," she said over the phone, not wasting time on greetings or catching up.

Those three words had caused his heart to give a strange sort of jolt. He shouldn't be surprised that she had moved on, but he was. He had soothed his ego by imagining that she would always pine for him like he did for her. Evidently he had been mistaken.

"Well…congratulations," he replied, his voice sounding a little stiff. "Who's the lucky man?" On the other end of the phone there was silence, silence so long he thought the connection had dropped out, but then he heard her sigh.

"Atticus."

"I'm sorry?" He asked, finding he wasn't able to properly process what she was saying.

"Atticus. I'm gettin' married to Atticus. He proposed last night."

He felt his heart begin to speed up in his chest. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be getting married to his brother! The whole idea was just ridiculous.

"Jean." He cleared his throat. "Jean, honey, you don't even know him. You can't be serious about marrying him." He forced himself to stay calm. There was more silence on the other end, and he braced himself for what she was going to say.

"I do know him, Jack. We've been courting for nearly a year. I'm sorry, I...I wanted to tell you..." She trailed off, and he noticed for the first time how she didn't sound as fierce and strong as he remembered. "I love him, Jack."

"Jean...Jean, please." He couldn't believe he was begging, couldn't believe he was pleading with her to love him instead. "Don't marry him, honey. Please."

"I'm sorry, Jack." Her last words before she had hung up the phone. He felt his world go black again.

After that conversation he saw her again on three separate occasions: on the day of her wedding, after the birth of his nephew, and once again after the birth of his niece. After that, he stayed away. He refused to even come home for Christmas if she and Atticus would be at the Landing. It hurt too much to see her, to see how much she loved his brother, and to see how much he loved her in return. He couldn't stop himself from feeling angry with his brother for living out what should be his life. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her, which is exactly what he had been doing when he got the phone call from Maycomb.

"Jean died."

His brother had said more, but those two words played on repeat in his head. Jean died. Jean died. Jean died.

Jean was dead.

He had grabbed the first thing within a reach, a half empty bottle of whiskey, and hurled it at the wall. He had swept everything off his desk, watching his numerous papers swirl around the room and listening to pots of ink shatter. Jean was dead. He had avoided her for years because he couldn't stand how it hurt him, and now she was dead. He was never going to see her again. He'd had every opportunity to love her quietly from the sidelines, and now she was dead.

He hadn't slept that night, choosing instead to stay up the entire night and drink until he couldn't feel anything anymore, the photo she had sent of her wedding clutched in his hand. He wanted to make himself numb. He wanted to anaesthetise himself and not have to feel like he was being ripped in two. Jean was dead.

The morning after he was still sitting in the same spot on his armchair, staring blankly straight ahead. Until then he hadn't noticed just how present she was in his tiny apartment. She was dead, but she'd always be there.

He looked at Rose Aylmer, named for her favourite poem by her favourite poet. "A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee" she had quoted for him at one point. She'd agreed with him that Rose had had those wakeful eyes.

He looked to his bookcase laden down with volumes, her favourite copy of Jane Eyre standing out from the rest where she'd left it, the cover barely holding on to the spine. On a particularly bad day for him, she had sat by his knees in front of the fire and read aloud to him, her voice having the power to soothe each of his wounds.

He looked back to the photo in his hand, something she had sent along with a thank you note for attending at all. He was drawn to it. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Even through the stillness of a photograph her personality shone through. Her smile in the photo was huge as she clutched his brother's arm with one hand and her bouquet with the other. Despite the shortness of her life, she had been happy. His fingers moved on instinct to the latch at the back, pulling them aside and letting the slip of folded paper fall into his hand. He knew what it said by heart, but he needed its comfort now more than ever.

Jack,

You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. I love your brother with everything I have, but always remember that I loved you first. Thank you for it all.

- Jean

Once upon a time, she had loved him too.