Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or plots - just borrowing them to add a scene to the end of the book :)
Atticus fell into the seat next to Jem's bed. His entire frame, usually proper and upright, sagged under an invisible weight. He pulled off his glasses and wiped a weary hand over his eyes. His hand came away damp with tears. "Oh, son," he said hoarsely, his voice barely a whisper, "I am so sorry." Guilt twisted his stomach as he stared through tear soaked eyes at the tent that carefully covered Jem's mangled arm. He could not even begin to imagine the pain and fear Jem and Scout must have endured during those terrifying moments, so close to home, so close to safety. He should have gone with them, he should have driven there instead of letting them walk across the pitch dark field alone and unprotected.
Logic tried to whisper to him. How could he have known Bob Ewell would be wicked enough to attack innocent children? How could a man have fathered children and be so evil toward them? Logic nudged the corner of Atticus' mind, but he shoved it aside bitterly. He did not deserve consolation of any sort. What sort of father was he if he could not protect his own children from such a vicious attack? If it had not been for a recluse, his children would be murdered.
A sob escaped his throat, and he leaned forward, tears coming freely now. Atticus Finch was not an emotional man, he kept his feelings at bay on most occasions. However, this fear and guilt he felt now drove him to a rawness he had not felt since his beloved wife had passed away. All that was left of her was in these beautiful children she had blessed him with. In his arrogance, believing Ewell to be a cowardly man who did no action to back his talk, he had very nearly lost his only treasures.
He did not know how long he cried, but his shuddering breath caught when a voice murmured weakly, "Atticus?"
Lifting his head, Atticus' eyes locked with his son's. "Jem," Atticus said, "it's alright, son, you're safe now."
"Scout…" Jem said, his eyes shifting away to look around drowsily. Had he not been sedated, Atticus could tell the poor child would have been frantic.
"She's alright," Atticus assured him plainly. "She's asleep."
Jem's eyes found their way back to Atticus. "It was Mr. Ewell," he said.
Atticus nodded. "I know, son. I am sorry for what happened, I should have gone with you and Scout to the school. None of this would have happened if," Atticus stopped abruptly at the lump forming in his throat.
Jem blinked. "Don't cry, Atticus," he said, his voice muttering with drowsiness. "You didn't know…" Jem attempted a reassuring smile, but his eyes slipped shut and he was asleep again, his chest rising and falling deeply as he slept.
Atticus reached out and rested his hand on Jem's head, gently stroking the boy's hair from his forehead. "You have a mighty amount of courage for someone so young," Atticus said. "I'm mighty proud of the man you've become."
