Liz was depressed.
For the first time in a long time, being alone was eating away at her.
She always thought she'd be one of those women who were totally ok with being alone. She had friends, family, a great job that she loved (even though it drove her crazy most of the time). She had a happy, comfortable life and she knew it.
But despite all the wonderful things in her life, she still didn't have that elusive happiness she'd been searching for. Every Oprah episode she'd ever watched rebelled against the thoughts about why.
She wanted a man.
Oprah would not approve.
It wasn't that Liz thought having a man in her life would instantly solve all her problems (even a fully licensed therapist hadn't been able to do that). But Liz did think that having a man in her life would make her happy.
At the end of every day, she came home to a dark and empty apartment. She cooked for one (ok, two, and then ate it all herself, but who was counting?). She drank alone. She entertained herself with TV (or a book every now and then) until going to sleep. Then she got up in the morning, went to work, and repeated the process.
She thought a man would, at the very least, break up the monotony. Beyond that, she thought a man, the right man, would be able to give her the support she'd been looking for. If she could find a man who picked up the slack in her emotional as well as her physical life, she might even let him see her feet.
For a while, she thought that man might be Floyd. Then, and it still surprises her to admit it, she thought it might be Jack.
In ways she didn't realize and couldn't verbalize at the time, Jack did exactly what Liz now knew she was looking for. He was with Avery now, which only added to how impossible the whole situation was, but Liz knew nothing would have come of it even if he were single.
Jack had made his feelings about her very well known: friendly, almost fatherly, but in no way romantic or remotely sexual. He could have been the right man for her though, she sees that so clearly now.
It was the mirror she held every other man up to.
Not in the obvious ways though, which is why she didn't see it at first.
She didn't search for men who look like Jack . She didn't look for Republicans, or rich dudes, or dudes who fall in love after going on like two dates. She didn't look for men who love cookie jars or microwaves, or who think exotic birds are their reincarnated mentor. She didn't look for men who always wear a tux after six or who call her away from important business to help her write witty opening punch lines for fundraisers that are months away.
She didn't look for men to solve all her problems. She didn't look for caustic, self-involved men with bitchy male secretaries. She didn't look for men who actually think "it's the thought that counts" when it comes to gifts.
She did look for men who she found attractive, men with broad shoulders and beefy forearms and nice eyes. She looked for men who are interested in politics and who fall in love. She searched for men who have hobbies and hope of an afterlife. She wanted a man who dresses well and wasn't afraid to need her.
She did want a man that could help her with her problems, who she could go to for advice. She wanted a man who could stand up to her big mouth and sharp wit, who wouldn't be too easy on her. She did want a man who thought about what she liked when giving her gifts.
She wanted a man who was, essentially, Jack.
But, not Jack.
And not just because she can't have Jack. She wanted exactly the same thing as him except the opposite of the exact same thing. An attractive, liberal, grassroots organization CEO, with good hair, a snappy dresser, time to help her with her issues, but still a life of his own…
Again, exactly the same but kinda exactly the opposite of Jack.
So, back to the problem at hand.
She was lonely.
For the reasons listed above.
She was tired of being almost. Almost in a serious relationship, almost a talk show host, almost successful, almost happy.
She wanted to be definitely. Completely. Totally. She wanted to be more.
She wanted to talk to Jack about it but he just settled on Avery instead of Nancy (sorry, chose Avery, it's not settling to get what you want) and so he was more than a little preoccupied. There was really no one else for her to talk to though. Pete wasn't great with romantic advice, and Jenna wasn't an option because she'd just go on and on about how Liz and Jack should love each other. Kenneth was useless and she'd never spill her guts to Tracy (well, not without some of those yellow pills Dr. Spaceman gave her but she'd sworn to never take those again).
So she kept it all bottled up inside her where it festered and fermented into an ache that settled around her heart. It took up permanence there, this weight, and it tugged at her regularly, pulling her down.
Eventually it felt like a permanent weight on her chest, like an additional organ all its own. Her anguish muscle, located adjacent to the heart and in such good shape it regularly flexed to remind her of its power.
The summer hiatus was rapidly approaching and she had no plans. Her theoretical plans involved staying in her apartment for the entire three months, air conditioner blasting, without having to leave (you could, after all, get anything delivered to you in New York City).
Jack was talking about going to some rich person country with Avery and if she had to hear one more time about how great Avery looked in a bikini, Liz thought she might bite Jack.
It was agonizing, the way he didn't seem to see her anymore.
At one time, it frightened her, startled her, how clearly he saw her.
More clearly than her family, than people she'd known for years.
He seemed to just see her instinctively, on some primal, basic level. He had this uncanny ability to perceive her, to understand the nuances of her very being.
When she stopped being afraid of it, she really grew to enjoy it.
No one had ever done that before, and she found herself lulled into submission.
Now, he didn't see her at all.
And she'd never felt so invisible.
So small.
A plan began forming in her mind.
An escape.
It seemed to be the only option. And as the summer hiatus grew closer and closer, and Liz began so suspect that someday soon she'd been asked to be Jack's best man, the theoretical plan turned into a realistic necessity.
So she called Wesley.
He was surprised, and unsurprisingly single.
Her settling soul mate.
They met that Friday at a small café not far from 30 Rock.
She told him she'd changed her mind. That she wanted to get married, to quit her job and focus on writing a book.
He was amenable to the plan. Excited about looking less gay at work functions.
He promised to always tell her if she was about to step in something.
Liz didn't lie, and he didn't expect her to.
She mentioned Jack, casually, and Wesley hit her with a piercing look that startled Liz.
"I'm sorry he doesn't love you back," he said sincerely.
Liz was shocked by the wave of despair, of anguish, that threatened to swallow her at that moment.
"I figured that was the reason you called," Wesley admitted. "I'm fine with it. I think I can make you happy."
There was an earnestness in his voice that a year ago, Liz had found obnoxious. Now, it seemed comforting.
She reached for his hand, squeezing lightly.
He flashed her a soft smile.
He'd changed since she'd seen him last. He was milder now, grounded. Maybe life had dealt him a poor hand as well.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked.
"Yes," he nodded. "Quite sure. But are you?"
Liz thought about Avery, about a little Donaghy running around the office, about her bisexual shoes and her long, lonely nights and how she wanted, finally, to be happy. And she thought about Jack, about missed opportunities and opportunities that never even existed to be missed.
She looked at Wesley, a soft, eager look on his face.
"I'm sure," she replied, forcing a smile.
And the thing was, when he smiled, her own smile didn't feel so forced.
Liz called her parents that night, told them she was getting married. Told them it was just going to be a City Hall affair, with Jenna as her maid of honor and Wesley's friend Doug as the best man.
They tried to press her for information, to encourage her to postpone, to allow them to visit, but she resisted. She didn't want this to be a thing.
As soon as the marriage license was approved they performed a small ceremony at City Hall. Liz took the day off under the generic guise of "an appointment."
She wore an ivory sheath dress and pumps. It wasn't her ham napkin, but she felt surprisingly beautiful nonetheless. Wesley looked surprisingly handsome in his pinstripe suit, an iris in his lapel.
The florist told them that the iris typically denoted courage and admiration. It wasn't love by a long shot, but it suited them much better.
After the ceremony, the four of them went to grab a drink and Liz tried desperately to shake the melancholy blanketing her.
When Jack called, told her he needed to speak with her immediately (yes he was quite aware she was at an appointment but this couldn't wait), she looked across the table at Wesley. She smiled apologetically and told him there was a work emergency.
He graciously encouraged her to attend to it promptly, and when he kissed her it was warm and comforting, like an old sweater on a cool evening.
Less than an hour later she found herself outside Jack's office, Jonathon rolling his eyes at her delay.
"Hey," she greeted, entering the familiar space. "What's the emergency?"
"Have you seen what Tracy did this morning?" Jack was watching the news and he pointed at the television accusingly.
Liz turned her attention to the screen. The volume was muted but the text scrolling beneath the anchors caught her eye.
Tracy Jordan attempts to shoot midget-Jedi porn on 52nd street, causes hours long traffic delay.
"That's the big emergency?" she asked, annoyance clear in her voice.
Jack didn't respond and she turned to look at him.
He was staring at her, his mouth slightly open, his brow furrowed.
"What kind of appointment did you have this morning?" he asked.
Liz flushed, suddenly uncomfortable. She'd practically forgotten she was wearing the dress, and she certainly hadn't intended to reveal her marriage to Jack today, nor in quite this fashion.
"A private one," Liz sighed.
Jack's surprise showed clearly on his face.
As far as he knew, they were friends, and there weren't many secrets between them. Liz had secrets though, thousands of them, and she wondered when she'd stopped revealing things to Jack. When he had stopped asking, she supposed.
Sometime after Condi maybe.
His scrutiny made her uncomfortable, and Liz resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to fidget.
"Lemon," he inhaled sharply, and she realized his gaze had stalled on her left hand. On her wedding ring. "Elizabeth."
Liz's eyes widened like a cartoon character and she stepped back, as if an extra few inches of space between them could shelter her from the explosion about to happen.
"You got married?" he sputtered. "How could you… who did you… why?"
"Why did I get married?" Liz scoffed, insulted at the way he seemed so shocked someone would want to marry her.
"That's not what I meant," he shook his head as if to clear it. "I meant, uh, I didn't realize you were seeing someone, I suppose."
"Wesley," Liz replied. "He's a good man, Jack."
Jack nodded, his eyes tracking from her ivory pumps to her upswept hair.
"He must be," Jack responded. "You look… And you were married this morning then?"
"Yeah," Liz nodded. "I'm a newlywed I guess."
"Hmm," Jack rumbled, stepping towards her.
His physical presence threw Liz off-guard. She was acutely aware of the way he overwhelmed her, the way his smell evoked something primal in her, the way he radiated warmth.
She stepped back in point-counterpoint to his advances.
Finally, he stopped advancing and his lips turned up ever so slightly.
"There's nowhere to run," he warned.
Liz felt the couch behind her, halting her further retreat.
Jack took a deep, shaky breath and let it out on a harsh exhale. His breath fanned her face. Their eyes met, his searching for something Liz tried desperately to bury.
"I supposed congratulations are in order," Jack rasped, his voice thick like amber honey. He reached out, grabbing Liz gently but firmly by the shoulders.
Liz licked her lips nervously. None of this was going how she imagined it would.
"May I," Jack's eyes flipped to her lips and then back again. "May I kiss the bride?"
Swallowing harshly, Liz knew she should say no. She knew she should pull back, should resist, should yell at him for being a big stupid jerkface who only wanted her now because he couldn't have her.
Instead, she nodded.
Slowly, allowing their lips to linger perilously closely for agonizing seconds, Jack lowered his face towards hers.
And then he was kissing her, his rough lips pressing to hers with a fierce desperation that mirrored her own, threatening to choke them both. He was clutching her tightly, as if he released her she might float away out of his reach and never return.
The fear was well-founded.
His tongue pressed urgently but hesitantly against her lips and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss.
It should have felt wrong, she should have felt guilty. She'd been married for a matter of hours and she was kissing another man.
But it felt good.
Right.
Like all the stories she'd scoffed at as a little girl had gotten it right after all.
Jack's hand slid up her neck, his thumb rasping against her jawline. Liz clung to him like a lifeline, her arms grasping frantically to his torso. Their was passion in the kiss, arousal and desire, but the current of desperation running through it revealed the truth they were both trying so hard to deny.
They both knew that when Liz let go, when she stepped back, she would be closing the door on the first half of her life.
This was a goodbye kiss.
This was a farewell.
Parting is such sweet sorrow…
Liz pulled back, leaning her forehead against Jack's. She couldn't release him. Her body refused to obey her mind.
A desperate sob wrenched from her throat and she buried her face in Jack's neck. He pulled her body into a crushing embrace, his arms wrapping all the way around her and surrounding her in comforting warmth, familiar scent, safety and strength. Her feet were barely touching the ground.
This was where she belonged. This was where she wanted to be.
It took her a moment to remember that Jack had Avery. That he had made choices. That they were not simply the unfortunate victims of circumstances or fate.
They had built this bridge, and now they were going to have to burn it. It was the only way Liz knew how to keep herself from trying to cross it in the years to come.
She was strong, honest, moral, but she had her limits.
"I have to go," she whispered tearfully, but her grip around Jack's neck tightened. He squeezed tighter in response, so much that Liz could barely breathe.
"Don't," Jack pleaded into her hair.
"My husband is waiting," Liz replied. It felt foreign on her tongue. My husband.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jack asked, a sharp curiosity in his voice.
Tell him what?
That she loved him? That she couldn't be around him because of it? That she valued their friendship but her self-preservation instincts were years in the making and almost impossible to ignore? That the way he looked at Avery had actually, on more than one occasion, made her sick? That she could have loved him better than anyone else in the world?
"Tell you what?" she replied.
Jack hesitated, his grip on her loosening. She allowed him to pull back enough that she could see his face.
"That I was losing you," he whispered.
"I thought you knew," Liz admitted. "That you were choosing."
"Choosing?" Jack retorted, confused.
"You have Avery," Liz shrugged, releasing Jack's body. His hold on her lingered for a moment more before falling away.
"I didn't realize that I had to make a choice between the two of you," he furrowed his brow.
"Come on," Liz scoffed. "You're gonna marry her and we'll be pals, sure, but things are different for married people. They don't have best friends who are other people. Your wife is supposed to be your best friend."
"If I'd known I was choosing," Jack began, and Liz stepped close to him, putting a hand over his mouth. She was shaking her head adamantly, pursing her lips to keep from crying.
"Please don't," she begged. "It's much too late for that now."
Jack kissed her palm and Liz's knees weakened, her pulse jumped, her body tilted imperceptibly towards his.
"Alright," he pulled her hand away gently, his long fingers easily encircling her entire wrist. "If you insist."
Liz stepped away from the couch, putting a few feet of space between them. The actual space she put between them was only a matter of inches, but the metaphorical space between them grew exponentially.
Liz thought back to the first time they met. To how he literally kicked his way into her life, telling her Gary was dead and insulting her from the get go. How he instantly knew all sorts of strange things about her (she can still hear him smugly saying, "market research, my friend.").
She thought about how she had an immediate distaste for him, with his slicked back hair and his suits and his criticism.
But he was hard to hate, and her grudging dislike of him grew into a genuine affection over the years.
And then into something more, blooming slowly and gradually in a way that was so sneaky she almost didn't notice.
Except of course you notice that you're in love with someone. It's pretty damn hard not to notice.
She's not naïve enough to think they would have worked. She's seen him operate romantically for years, watched the way he approaches relationships.
They're completely incompatible.
Being desperately in love with someone doesn't necessarily mean you should be with them.
She'd be happy with Wesley. If she was lucky, she might someday grow to love him. If not, or until then, she'd have a standing date on Friday nights and someone to go to movies with and make dinner when she's too tired and zip up her dresses when she can't reach.
"What am I supposed to do now?" Jack asked, and the anger in his voice caught Liz by surprised.
"Wish me good luck," she shrugged. "And give me a good recommendation when my publisher calls to ask if he should have faith in my next book."
The anger on Jack's face spreads, and Liz can feel the way he's pulling it around himself like a shield. Like it will protect him from the hurt he's nearly drowning in.
"That's it?" he challenged. "Just like that you're leaving the show?"
"Not just like that," Liz replied, trying to be patient. It's not like this was any easier for her. "I'll help Frank get ready to take my place. I think he's the best suited for the job, and he's filled in for me before. Then he'll have the summer to prepare and when you guys come back in the fall it'll be smooth sailing."
"Fine," Jack nodded curtly. "I'll put your termination papers through immediately."
Jack's posture conveyed a business attitude but his eyes betrayed the hurt he was feeling. Liz wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but she resisted.
He ambled back towards his desk, took a seat behind it, putting yet another barrier between them.
"Anything else?" he asked. His business mask was firmly in place now.
Liz's entire being rebelled. Her soul ached.
She wanted to toss aside her ring and throw herself into Jack's arms. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and promise never to let go.
She wanted to lose herself in him. To climb inside him and hide from the world. She wanted to feel his large, rough palms slide against her skin like the strike of a match, igniting what she knows would be a raging inferno.
She wanted to whisper heated, desperate confessions into his ear under the cover of darkness. She wanted to make him laugh, to tease him and ruffle him in the way only she seemed to be able to do.
She wanted to tell him that it was all a lie, a joke, a cosmic misunderstanding. She wanted it to not be too late. She wanted a do-over.
She had seen him in that very position hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. She'd encountered him in every mood possible, from complete elation to total devastation. They had shared laughter and grief in this room, welcomed in new phases of life and sorrowfully ushered out old ones.
When they met, the office had been a mess of construction.
And now it was a mess of destruction.
A fitting end.
"That's it?" Liz cursed the tremble in her voice. "You're not going to… say goodbye?"
"I don't wish to say goodbye, no," Jack swallowed harshly.
Liz should be stronger. She should know better.
But she'd never really known when to quit.
"Could you just," she gathered all her courage. "Could I just ask one question before I go?
Jack looked at her warily, looked like he was going to say no.
"Fine," he nodded curtly. "One question. What is it?"
Liz braced herself, as if preparing for a blow. Her voice was tremulous but firm when she spoke.
"Do you think you ever could have loved me back?"
Jack's eyes closed and his bowed.
Long seconds passed.
Liz realized she was holding her breath. It left her in a whoosh when Jack's eyes opened and met hers across the room.
"I'll never stop," he rumbled.
Unable to bear the crushing ache in her chest, Liz fled the room.
Wesley seemed to know that something massive had transpired, and he didn't press her for information. He sat with her for hours as she stared mindlessly at the TV, unable to eat or drink or speak without bursting into tears.
That night, she cried herself to sleep, Wesley's presence doing nothing to calm her.
News of Liz's wedding was taken graciously, albeit with some amount of hurt- they were her friends after all, and she hadn't even told them. Frank stepped up to the challenge of filling her shoes, with much less hysterics than previous occasions.
Wesley was a calming, comfortable constant in her life. Adapting to life with him was much more difficult than she'd imagined, no doubt exacerbated by her encounter with Jack the day of her wedding, but she was doing her best.
By the time summer hiatus rolled around, Liz had managed to completely avoid being alone with Jack. Just the idea of him made her heart ache, and she wondered what it would take to get over him.
Time seemed like the obvious answer.
Less wine and depressing French music on Youtube.
More writing, more exercise, more Wesley.
But it frustrated her, because the whole point of this was that it was supposed to make her life easier. Happiness was supposed to be easier now.
And she thought that maybe definitely, completely, totally, weren't in the cards for her. Maybe she was just supposed to be… average. Make the best of things.
She would try.
She would try to stop expecting so much from life and just learn to accept what life handed her. She would try to love Wesley and write a book and be happy.
She would try to stop loving Jack, stop thinking about him every other second, stop dreaming about him at night, stop accidentally heading to 30 Rock in the morning, stop accidentally dialing his number whenever she smelled maple syrup, stop wondering if he was wearing a tux whenever the clock struck six.
She would try.
And maybe someday she would succeed.
Not yesterday. Not today.
Maybe tomorrow.
Someday.