A/N: Well, this is it! I decided to do this in a rather short and (maybe) sweet way rather than to drag it out. This was a rather interesting thing for me to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Since I'm beginning law school in the fall, I'm currently fairly certain that this summer might be the last time that I'm active (as a writer) on this site. So, I decided to put myself out there and say if any of you have any requests or prompts you'd like to see me write, I'll gladly do it! I want to write as much as possible this summer before my life becomes even more bogged down by school and *shudders* the "real world."

-o-o-o-

Weeks had passed, and at first Jack was still unsure of how he was supposed to live with himself.

On that dreary day in December, Jack had declined Jean's offer of a drink and instead made his way back to the train station where he would ultimately head off to Nashville. It wasn't the prospect of spending his first Christmas alone that depressed him, but rather the images of Atticus and Jean permanently burned into his head. Their reactions alone indicated to Jack that they still loved each other, yet because of Jack's foolish actions, nothing would ever come of it.

For the millionth time, Jack wished he had the possibility of turning back time. He'd turn the clocks back to June 1914, the month Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassination—and the month he first saw her. He would make it so he had never set eyes on her, never fell in love with her, and never broken her heart.

The Jean he encountered in her father's living room had been a completely different person than the Jean he had met that June. The wild girl of eighteen-years-old had transformed into a woman who was trying her best to be a lady for a family who simply didn't appreciate her. And now, after trying her best, she had transformed into a sad old maid.

But she was only twenty-two.

The train ride to Nashville was long and tedious and gave Jack enough time to drown in his guilt and think of all of the ways that this could have been prevented. He could've been nicer, first of all. He didn't have to allow himself to be overcome by anger and his own desires and could have instead accepted his fate and treated Jean with the upmost kindness and hospitality. That would've been a great start. He didn't need to wallow in self-pity and drink all of that scotch. He didn't need to come onto her when she told him time and time again that this was not what she wanted.

But he had never listened to rational thought at all. Not until it was too late, at least.

Christmas had been spent once again drowning himself in scotch and regret (though this time he made sure to do this alone). Caroline and Alexandra called him, but he didn't hear from Atticus, which he guessed what was to be expected.

Would Atticus ever talk to him again?

Even as the weeks passed, Jack couldn't find it in himself to feel better about the entire situation. He had tried his hardest to talk to both Atticus and Jean, to get them to see how he had faulted and how it shouldn't have affected their relationship but to no avail. It made him think he should do more, work harder, somehow manage to get it in their heads that this entire thing was a huge mistake.

It didn't help that he still loved her.

He thought that seeing what his actions did to Atticus and Jean would stop him from feeling any sort of love and affection towards her—but he was surprised (and disappointed) to discover that his heart still fluttered when he thought about her, that she frequently crossed his mind at any time during the day and that the mere thought of her sent him through a tailspin of emotions. Seeing her at her home in Montgomery only led him to admire her more—the fact that she was not ashamed to allow herself to be vulnerable, to allow herself to be so open in front of him when before she had often been cool and distant.

He forced himself to stop these thoughts.

Not only would it never happen, but he would never let it happen. She was meant to marry Atticus, and although he knew this, it didn't stop him from being enamored by her captivating and complex personality. This was something he had to live with, he figured, and he was determined to move past this entire ordeal.

In the time that passed since the incident in Maycomb, Jack decided to focus his attention on other things. For starters, he stopped drinking the copious amounts of scotch he had become so friendly with that past. He started to study to become a surgeon – only to quickly realize that it was far more than he bargained for and quickly stopped. He made friends with the other doctors he worked with. He even went on a few dates.

He began moving on.

However, it was easy for him to do that when he was in Nashville and he wasn't quite sure that he'd be able to say the same the next time he returned to Maycomb. However, he wasn't even sure when he'd be coming home next—the moment he arrived in Nashville he had made the decision that he wouldn't go back to Maycomb unless someone in his immediate family died. After everything that had happened, he wasn't quite sure that it would be appropriate for him to come back home for a while.

"Everything's fine, sweet." Alexandra had said one evening in mid-January when she was performing her weekly call. "You don't need to worry about…anything else happening."

He had merely shrugged her off, not knowing what to think.

He was beginning to think that maybe he was the black sheep among his siblings. He was far different than his other siblings, far more destructive. He was like some ticking time-bomb that threatened to damage the impeccable image of the Finch family. Sometimes, he couldn't help but to wonder where he had gone wrong.

As January turned to February, Jack began to finally accept everything that had happened. With the passage of time he realized that he needed to move on from everything in the past and to accept that there were simply things that were beyond his control. You've tried your best, he tried to convince himself time and time again.

Soon enough, he began to believe himself.

He was even able to push the past out of his mind for the time being, until late one Wednesday night at the end of February, his phone began to ring. Groggily, he pulled himself from his bed and walked to his phone-box. "Hullo," he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Sir, you've got a call coming in from Montgomery, Alabama." The operator said (he always wondered how they stayed so perky so late at night). "Would you like to accept it?"

He nearly jolted awake. "Um, yes I do." He said, a hint of confusion in his voice. He waited a few minutes for the lines to connect. "Hello?"

"You've talked to her," the voice on the other line said. It was Atticus.

"Atticus?"

He cleared his throat on the other line. "Jean told me you talked to her, back in December."

Jack felt as though his heart stopped. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath while trying to figure out what to say. "Atticus, listen," he began before stopping in his track. "Wait, what are you doin' in Montgomery so late?"

He swore he heard his brother chuckle on the other line. "Well," he began. "I came down here for the legislature—"

"I see," Jack interrupted. "And you ran into her and—"

"She actually…well, she hunted me down." His voice sounded lighter, Jack realized it was as though nothing had even happened between any of them.

"Oh," Jack said, still sounding confused. "And she told you I saw her."

"And she told me she saw you."

"I'm assuming by the tone of your voice that everything went well," Jack stated. "Or that things went horribly and you're so past the point of desperation you can't help but to laugh." Jack didn't know what possessed him to say that, and he prayed for the life of him that Atticus wouldn't find it in any way offensive.

He laughed.

"It went well, Jack."

Jack smiled to himself. "Well, is the wedding back on?"

Atticus coughed. "Actually," he sounded nervous. "We've eloped." Jack couldn't help but to burst into laughter.