A/N: I should warn that the end of this chapter might be a bit upsetting, but I tried to handle it tastefully (so sorry if I didn't!). Also, I've had this chapter planned out for months now and I must say I'm a little disappointed with how I wrote it… I think since I started it so long ago it just didn't turn out to be the way I wanted it to be. Also the first half was written back in February and the second half written tonight, so if it flows oddly, that's why! There's going to be two or three more chapters of this, but they probably won't be posted until after I graduate on May 14 (unless these last month kills me).

-o-o-o-

It was almost as if Jack had forgotten that Atticus was his brother, the man who did more for him than any normal brother did. The man in which Jack had idolized and loved unwaveringly his entire life.

But, when Atticus announced that he and Jean were to be married within the next year, it was like Jack had forgotten his own blood. He and Alexandra sat to the side as Caroline gushed over Jean and Atticus, apparently the only one excited that Atticus had finally found himself a companion. Meanwhile, Jack couldn't help but to notice the sheer look of disapproval on Alexandra's face.

Naturally, Jack and Alexandra were furious for completely different reasons—she was not one to hide her dislike of the girl since their initial meeting, while Jack was being driven mad with his love for her. It was a constant theme of Jack's life to feel like an outsider, especially now. No one in his family could possibly understand what was going on inside his head.

It had only been a week since Jean first came to the Landing with Atticus, and since then Jack couldn't get her out of his mind. He was filled with the conflicting emotions of extreme love and extreme hatred, yet found himself wanting to do nothing more than shake sense into her. All at once he found her stupid yet clever, heinous yet irresistible and had the conflicting desires to both hold her in his arms and kill her all at once.

Jack knew that Jean could tell that both he and Alexandra were highly displeased, and while she maintained her composure, Jack could sense the panic settling into her eyes. On numerous occasions the two of them would make eye contact, only for her to quickly look away and chat with Caroline about silly things that were obviously used as a ploy to distract her from the looming eyes that were set her way. If Atticus was aware of the disdainful looks of his siblings, he certainly didn't acknowledge it. He looked happily at his youngest sister and his bride-to-be, occasionally interjecting himself in their conversations. For Jack, this amplified the distance between him and his family.

He wondered if Atticus knew. If he knew about the fact that Jean took advantage of the fact that Jack was hopelessly in love with her, that she used him for her own amusement and quickly discarded him once she realized she no longer wanted to toy around with him. Jack wondered how many others there were, how many other men fell under her charm only to be cast aside like a day-old newspaper.

He could do it, ruin everything once and for all. He felt his blood boiling as he imagined himself standing up in anger, revealing Jean for who she really was—letting Atticus and Caroline know that this "perfect" little specimen was everything but the girl they thought she was. Alexandra's hatred would be solidified. The engagement would surely be over.

That would be the easiest thing to do, to rip Jean from Atticus like she had been ripped from him. But in the back of his mind he was still concentrated on having her, and by ruining this, he was ruining any wild chances he had.

But, how realistic were those chances? It was already quite evident that she was more interested in pretending like Jack had never once been a part of her life. Therefore, the easiest thing for him to do would be to destroy any chances of this marriage actually happening, to destroy Jean like she had destroyed him.

What would that mean for Atticus? In all his rage and anger, Jack seemingly forgot that Atticus was his own blood, but that would mean that Atticus would surely choose his brother over the woman he would soon be calling his wife?

She had caught him staring at her and immediately turned pink. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed he was staring at her with such a look of discontent that it would give Alexandra a run for her money. He couldn't help but to notice that Jean looked so terribly uneasy, and had a sick sense of satisfaction that it was he who was making her feel that way.

-o-o-o-

Dinner that night had been even more excruciating than it had been the week before. It drove him crazy the way she looked at Atticus, the way she effortlessly placed her hand on top of his while she animatedly talked to Caroline—every little thing the two of them did made him want to either scream or crawl out of his skin. Through his anger he couldn't help but to think that it should be him who was next to her. That she should rest her hand upon his, that she should be looking at him with love in her eyes, not Atticus.

He found that the only way to keep him from going insane was to drink excessively, having lost count of how much scotch he drank after his third glass. He didn't care how it made him look—if he was expected to maintain a pleasant attitude during this damn dinner, he was going to need all of the help he could get.

"Jack?" Caroline asked abruptly, making him jump. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked perplexed.

"Huh?" He nearly grunted.

"I asked how you were doin'," she said slowly, her confusion turning to worry. "You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine," he remarked. "Don't know why you would think otherwise."

"You haven't said a word all evening, dear." Caroline said smoothly, her eyebrows still raised—almost as if she was telling him to behave himself.

He shrugged. "Not much to say, I guess." His eyes caught sight of Jean, who had begun fidgeting uncomfortably next to Atticus.

-o-o-o-

After supper had ended and the family retired into the living room to continue their conversations, Jack excused himself by feigning a stomach ache. Instead of retiring to his childhood bedroom like he said he was going to, he once again sought refuge in his father's study. There he could sit in the silence of the cool, dark room and attempt to forget everything that had been going through his mind in the past week.

Despite the fact that the scotch he had consumed at dinner made him feel fuzzy, he continued to drink in an attempt to numb himself from everything going on. He couldn't stop his brother from marrying Jean, but what would Atticus think if he ever found out what had happened between him and Jean? It wouldn't only be shameful, but the possibility of Atticus even finding out could open floodgates that could change the dynamic of the Finch family for a long time.

After what seemed to be hours, the door creaked open, allowing in a flood of light that made Jack squint. At first he thought it was Alexandra or Caroline, coming to tell him to stop hiding and either go up to his room like he said or join the family. But it wasn't.

It was Jean.

From what he could tell at the distance he was at, she was crying. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glazed with tears, and the moment she saw him she rolled her eyes. "I thought you went upstairs," she said, her voice hoarse.

He didn't answer. She turned to leave, but stopped when Jack cleared his throat. Sharply, she turned around. She reentered the room and closed the door behind her. "So, this is how it's going to be?" She asked, trying to keep her wavering voice firm. "Not only do I have to be berated by your sister every time I see her, but I have to expect this from you?"

He furrowed his brow as he drew closer to her. "You really think I'd be all sunshine and rainbows after what you did?"

"You smell drunk,"

"You look like a flustered child."

"You fight like a child."

"Are you really going to pretend like nothing's happened?"

"I am moving past this," she replied harshly. "I suggest you do the same."

"The only place you'll be moving is back to Montgomery when I tell Atticus—"

"Go ahead, he already knows."

It was almost as if Jack had been punched in the stomach. With those five words the breath was completely knocked out of Jack's lungs and he tried to struggle with the fact that Atticus knew, and he didn't mention anything to his own brother. His blood. For all Jack knew, Jean could have lied about everything to make herself look better to Atticus. She couldn't possibly be able to explain to him how much Jack had loved her…how she had led him on only to crush every fiber of his being. Angrier than ever, he slammed his glass down on his father's old desk, making Jean jump.

"I've told him everything," she said, sounding as though her throat was tight. "I told him about every time we've met and what we did and—I had to! How could he trust me if he didn't know about every mistake I—"

"Obviously you didn't tell him everything or else he'd know how cruel—"

"I didn't mean to!" She hissed, her face growing redder. "Jack, I was a child, I was so incredibly stupid—I told him everything, even what you said last time. Jack I told him how I hurt you and how it was a mistake and—"

"He's a much more forgivin' man than I am," was all he could say.

"Please Jack," she pleaded, giving him a sick sense of vindication. "Please just stop it already with the looks and the glares and actin' so unlike yourself whenever I'm around—I love Atticus just like you loved me and it would kill me if something would happen and now I understand how you—"

She didn't understand. She could never understand how he felt because she didn't have the person she loved ripped away from her by the one person she trusted the most. She was secure and content in her engagement to Atticus all while Jack was forced to watch on the sidelines like some cruel joke. No, as long as Atticus understood and forgave her, she'd never understand the pain that she put Jack through.

He wasn't sure if it was all of the scotch in his system, or his sheer anger that possessed him to do what he did next. Suddenly he found himself grabbing her arm, causing her to tense up, growing more flustered by the second. "I don't feel bad for you," he whispered, sounding like a complete stranger to even himself.

"You're hurtin' my arm." She whispered, fear growing in her eyes. "Jack please, just let go."

Slowly, he released his grip on her arm. Just as the look of fear faded from her eyes, he grabbed her by her shoulders, planting his lips on top of hers. Despite the fact that her muffled screams could surely be heard from outside study, he didn't move.

She bit down on his lower lip as hard as she could, and as his warm blood filled his mouth he found himself yelping in pain and pushing her away as she continued screaming. "Why would you do that?" She shouted over and over again. Her eyes were wild with fear, his blood on her cheeks as she scrambled to make her way to the door. Before she could even get out the door flung open and Jack could see the figures of his sisters and brother in the doorway.

Stumbling and sobbing, Jean rushed to Atticus, hiding her face in his chest. Without thinking, Jack spat a pool of warm blood onto the hardwood floor, but he knew that wasn't the reason why his siblings looked so horrified.

"Jack," Alexandra said softly with a shaking voice. "What did you do?"