No Such Thing as a Mistake

by Mindy35

Jack/Liz. Post-ep for "Mrs Donaghy". Five years later, they are still married.

Title: No Such Thing as a Mistake

Author: Mindy35

Rating: T, some adult concepts

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made

Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/Avery

Spoilers: "Reaganing", "Mrs Donaghy", "It's Never Too Late for Now"

Summary: Post-ep for "Mrs Donaghy". Future fic. Five years later, Jack and Liz are still married.

-x-x-x-x-

Five years later, they were still married. Just like Jeffery Weinerslav predicted. Just like Subhas and Ann Curry. Not that they regularly snuck off into closets to make out. They didn't. Not that they were the resident joke of 30 Rock that everyone knew and gossiped about. They weren't. And not that they didn't fully intend on divorcing after their mistake marriage. Because they did. But something always seemed to prevent them.

The first time, there was a glaring typo in the paperwork. Liz refused to sign her name as Lez. And Jack wanted there to be no more official gaffs that could come back to haunt them. So they tried a second time. The second time they sat down to sign the divorce papers they were at dinner and Jack accidentally spilled wine on them. The third time, they were at lunch and Liz inadvertently slopped spaghetti all over them. The fourth time, they were grabbing a quick coffee in mid-town and the waiter somehow picked the papers up with some napkins and threw them away. The fifth and sixth time, they just got talking about other things and forgot to do the deed.

Which turned out to be just as well as shortly thereafter, Jack and Avery split. The writing of their tempestuous relationship had been on the wall for quite some time and when the storm finally hit it was terrifyingly heated. Jack still hadn't told his supposed wife about the mix-up which had left them unexpectedly unmarried. He'd always told Liz he was waiting for the right moment, waiting for her to be approachable enough, negotiable enough. Pregnancy had made Avery more unreasonable than usual. And after the birth, her usually cool head was affected by baby brain. Not that she was dealing with breast-feeding or sleepless nights because obviously they employed a woman to look after all those needs. Avery's mind was occupied by other stresses. Like getting her killer figure back, propelling her blossoming career onwards and upwards and giving illuminating interviews on balancing work, marriage and motherhood. Eventually, Jack just decided that he'd waited too long to tell her the truth. So he didn't. Until they split up. And while it added extra animosity to their already highly strained separation, it also made it much less messy.

Avery moved out, taking Liddy with her. Jack agreed to pay an exorbitant rate of child support and share custody of his young daughter whose parents preferred to speak or see each other as little as possible. After such drama, Jack and Liz shelved their divorce. Neither was dating anyone seriously. And Jack didn't want to think of anything at all related to marriage or marriage dissolutions or most especially, Avery Jessup. For a short time, he returned to his former lifestyle of heavy drinking and meaningless sex. But that all stopped when Liz moved in.

-x-

TGS had finally out-lived its always uncertain welcome on American TV screens. In fact, it had over-stayed its welcome by two years, mostly due to Jack's clandestine backing of the program and Liz's willingness to compromise to fit Kabletown's more family-friendly standards. She'd been writing side projects in the meantime, more self-help books, all of which made a solid profit but were not enough to totally sustain her after the not unexpected canning of her show. Jack attempted to guide her financially but Liz didn't posses the same genius with money that he did and after a long struggle, she was forced to give up her twin apartments. She didn't get a very good price for them though, which put her further in debt at a time when her work was intermittent and her income unpredictable. So Jack offered her temporary lodging on a floor in his building at what was well below a reasonable price. He owned several, after all. In fact, he had so much space to himself that he insisted he would barely even know she was there. And she would only be there for a short time, she insisted before accepting his offer. It was meant to be a short-term solution only, to give her a little time to establish herself elsewhere. And it wouldn't be like they were living together, not as such. For they would be on completely different floors, they would keep completely different residences, lead completely different, separate lives.

At least, that was the plan. But after a while, it seemed silly to phone when she could just take the elevator down one floor to bug him in person. It seemed pointless for them both to be eating dinner at the same time, so close and yet both alone. It seemed ludicrous to both be watching television on separate sets in separate rooms, one floor apart. Even if they did prefer watching different programs. It was just so odd to ignore that the other existed within the same building. So they stopped trying. Gradually, they began spending more time together at home. Liz was teaching herself to cook whilst semi-employed and all the recipes were for two, not one. Also, Jack was working long hours, so it was nice for him to come home to stew or spaghetti or risotto or cake. Even if they weren't always great successes. Also, his kitchen was bigger than the one on her floor. Which wasn't really her floor anymore. Liz spent most of her time on the same floor Jack did. She wrote by one sunny window, hung out with him on the couch most nights and slept in the bedroom down the hall. This arrangement, however odd and incremental, seemed to suit Jack just as much as it suited her.

-x-

The only person not happy with the arrangement they'd settled into was Liddy. She spent two weeknights per week at her father's place and every third weekend. And she did not like another woman being around. She did not like sharing her father's attention with anyone, especially since she'd been so starved for parental affection since birth. More than anything though, she did not like someone else living where she wished her mother had remained. Liddy possessed her mother's sharp features and acid tongue and had no trouble imparting her disapproval of Liz's presence in several unspoken and spoken ways. So Liz decided to take herself away, to steer clear of the little girl when she was around. On Liddy days, she tended go out or go back to her floor in an effort to give Jack and his daughter their space and not intrude on their time together.

This all changed one day though when Liddy was dropped off by the chauffeur on her usual Wednesday after a long day at her very prestigious pre-school. The little girl was barely four but very bright and she'd been pushed to achieve from the moment she exited the womb. Liz had often wondered whether sending a child to school from such a young age was wise, especially since the school Jack and Avery chose seemed so stringent, so joyless. But Liddy said she liked school, she liked to learn. On this particular Wednesday though, when Liz peered through the door of Liddy's room, she saw the small girl sitting cross-legged on her bed, leafing through a large book and trying to stifle her sniffs.

Liz tapped on the door and told her that her dad wasn't home yet but soon would be. When Liddy didn't say anything back, her pale blue eyes instead welling up with more tears, Liz pushed though the door and approached the bed, carefully taking a seat. Without much prompting at all, Liddy told her that one of the older girls at school had been making fun of her. She'd been teasing her about her name and her handwriting and her hair and her shoes. Liddy looked down at her pink, unscuffed Mary-Janes, wiping away tears from her plump little cheeks. Liz said she liked the shoes her mom had picked for her, she thought them pretty. Liddy just pouted before pointing to Liz's sneakers and saying she liked them more. Liz smiled then suggested some ice cream to make her feel better. To her surprise, the usually adverse Liddy nodded and slid off the bed, following her to the kitchen.

As Liz had just restocked the refrigerator, there was plenty for them to choose from. Jack's little girl sat on the high stool by the counter as she pulled pint after pint from the fridge. Her pink-encased feet kicked back and forth as they stuffed their mouths with spoonfuls of the various flavors. And her lips began to smile as she accumulated a halo of colored cream around them, relishing being allowed to eat the sweet treat straight from the tub. Liddy's tears had long dried up when Liz told her that it was perfectly okay for her to cry sometimes. It was good to cry, she said, it was strong. Everybody needed a good cry now and then. Liddy had blinked at her, her young face bewildered. And Liz realized that she'd never been told that before, never been allowed to show such natural emotion.

The next day, Liz picked Liddy up from school herself. She met Liddy's nemesis and her mother, made friends with both, telling them that Liddy's dad worked at 30 Rock and could get them a studio tour anytime they wanted. This was enough to discourage the teasing and a year later the two strong-willed girls would become inseparable buddies. In the meantime, that afternoon, Liz took Liddy shopping. At K-mart, a store she'd never before set foot in. They bought her sneakers. Two pairs, one blue and one yellow. And her first pair of jeans. Then they ambushed Jack at his office and made him quit working and have some dinner with them. From then on, on the days that she was with them, Liz was always there to meet Liddy after school. Every single time. On time and expected. And Liddy seemed her happiest when spending time with both her increasingly doting father and his live-in friend.

A few years later, Liz would write a humorous book about growing up a girl and how tricky it could be. It would include both practical tips and excruciating anecdotes. And the dedication at the beginning would read: For Liddy Colleen Elizabeth Jessup-Donaghy, the bravest little girl I know.

-x-

Liz had decided to take her own advice. She told Liddy just the other day, after her slightly less than perfect violin recital, that there was no such thing as a mistake. There was what someone did do or didn't do. But the most important part was what they did next. It was not advice that Liddy understood at her age but, perhaps later, she might. Being a chronically frequent mistake-maker herself, it was one of the few life lessons Liz had learnt. And she'd learnt it from her Improv days, from chain-smoking directors barking at her that there was no right and no wrong, there was only what was. There was only choice. There was only opportunity. There was only possibility.

She hoped they were right. She hoped that advice could be applied to other areas of her life. She hoped her scene partner would go along with what she was about to try.

Jack didn't look up when she said his name. He was sitting at the table with his coffee and breakfast, head bowed over the paper. It was not one of Liddy's days with him so they were alone. But he was leaving at the end of the week for a business trip. And she needed to say what she needed to say, preferably before he went away. She always did better when working under a deadline. It brought out her manic side. Liz repeated his name, prompting Jack to give a little hum then mumble something about stock prices.

She took a sip of her coffee and sat down at the table. "So I've been thinking," she said.

"That sounds encouraging," he murmured, forking some bacon and chomping it down.

Liz rolled her eyes and continued. "I've been thinking about…things. You know? Just…in general. About random stuff, unspecific stuff. Life stuff, I guess. And things are good. With life. Life's…pretty alright. Not bad, definitely. And well, I just thought-"

Jack dropped his paper and looked at her, brows furrowed. "What's your point, Lemon, if you have one?"

"My point is-" she stalled, glancing over at him. "That I've been thinking."

His expression remained expectant. "Yes, I got that part. About what, exactly?"

"Um…" She rolled her lips inwards, pressed them together. She hesitated a long moment before leaning across the table to press her lips against his. Once, quickly, and a little too hard. "That's what I've been thinking," she said when she dropped back into her chair. "I mean…I haven't been thinking just about that. Obviously. There's lots of other stuff around and about that that I've been thinking about as well. But that's like the, you know…the crux of what I've been thinking. It's the essence of it. It should give you some idea. Of what's been happening. You know…in my head. So-"

Jack nodded, his Adam's apple slowly sinking then rising again in his throat. "Well. I see."

"Yeah…so…I dunno. Think about it, I guess." Liz rose, began to walk away then ducked back to retrieve her coffee mug. "If you want. Or don't. But…you know. Think about…what I said. Or, whatever, did. I have. Thought about it. A lot. Like I already said, and…- yeah. Okay then…" Then she walked away, whacking her own forehead in silent mortification.

Jack watched her go, dumbfounded.

But he did think about it. All day, in fact. He thought about nothing else. He thought about all the years and all the hints and all the events and all the various, muddled feelings. And there was really only one inescapable conclusion. When he got home that night though, he couldn't find her. She wasn't writing at her work table, she wasn't cooking in the kitchen, she wasn't happily ensconced in his couch cushions, waiting to show him what she'd TiVoed for him. She wasn't even one floor up. He called her phone but got no answer. Eventually, he located her at her favorite Chinese restaurant. She was bent over a bowl of steaming soup and an article she'd been working on for a women's magazine. She looked up as he ordered a Chicken Chow Mein and took off his coat, shaking the snow off its collar. Before he took the seat opposite her, he placed his hands on the table, leant down and kissed her. This kiss was soft, not hard. Lingering, not quick or awkward or unsure. He opened his mouth to her and felt hers open in response. When he pulled back, her eyes were still open. He smiled down at her. Liz smiled back. Then Jack sat and they chatted over their cheap dinner as if nothing at all had changed.

For the next five nights, after Jack came home from work, they ate and watched TV on the couch. Just like they normally did. Only afterwards, instead of arguing over which reality program to commit to or which contestant to back or whether or not they deserved government sanctioned meth, they made out. With their bellies full of stew or pasta or take-out, the TV would fade into the background as they stretched out on the couch, Jack on top more often, their mouths fused in an endless, insatiable kiss. Night after night, Jack's wandering hands grew bolder and Liz grew more accustomed to his touch on her breasts or thighs or butt. But night after night, they each retired to their own room alone and more than a little flushed. The last night before Jack would be gone for the week, Liz was the one on top, straddling him, hands in his hair, tilting her head this way and that as they kissed. Her crotch started to grind against his, tentatively at first then with increasing impatience. Jack pulled back, breath panting softly from his lips. He ran his hands up her body and down again, slow and steady, up and down, over and over, his thumbs tracing from below her breasts down to her hipbones.

"When I get back, okay?" he murmured, eyes on her face and voice barely above a whisper.

Liz nodded. "Okay." And resumed their kiss.

-x-

Jack's business trip lasted a little longer than he anticipated. And during his absence, Liz managed to work herself into an emotional lather regarding the new course of their relationship. No one was there to talk her down. Or remind her how she hated the word "relationship". And left all alone with her own thoughts, she panicked. For a full week and a half, she panicked internally, the reaction growing worse by the day. It was not helped in the least by Avery hearing about Jack's absence through business contacts and turning up unexpectedly to retrieve Liddy from her care. By the time Jack finally walked through the door into his apartment and faced her, Liz's doubts had taken such hold that her first words to him were:

"I can't do this. I just can't."

Jack almost smiled. "Lemon, may I take off my coat before dealing with your neuroses?"

"Sure…" she mumbled, watching him take off his coat and scarf and put down his bag. Her eyes trailed him anxiously as he poured himself a drink and sat down on the couch with a deeply contented sigh.

He took a sip, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. "You know what this is, right?"

Liz hovered over the far side of the room, hands knit. "Uh. No. But I'm guessing you're going to have the answer to it."

"Don't I always?" he asked, shooting her a little grin.

Liz huffed and gave a halfhearted roll of her eyes. "I'm not answering that on the grounds that I may live to regret it."

"Hm…" Jack rose, set his drink aside, then started moving towards her, loosening his tie with one hand. "This is merely the specter of your lost girlhood posters rearing its ugly head again, Lemon. But you really needn't worry. Because I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not in the morning, not in the future." He took her shoulders in his hands, stroked them once. "I will be there. No matter what happens between us. Sex is not going to scare me off or make me disappear. Got it?"

Liz drew in half a breath, looking like she was about to argue. Then she released it, letting her forehead drop to his chest. "Okay. Yeah. Got it." After a moment, she lifted her head again, gave a small nod. "Sorry, I'm sane now. And, I say…we do this. Right? I mean, yes?"

Jack's mouth curved up into a smile. "Your room or mine?"

Liz tugged on his arm, leading the way. "Mine. Which is still yours but…mine."

Jack grabbed his unfinished drink from beside the couch as he was dragged away, downing the last of it in one fiery gulp.

For the next five days after that, the television was barely turned on. They even missed the finale of the last season of Queen of Jordan because they were more concerned with being in bed together. And staying in bed together. But Jack later obtained a copy for them and one night, over cheesy gluggy risotto, they watched it, resuming their argument on whether D'Fwan's new boyfriend should be supplied with meth to cure/prolong his drug habit. They did not agree. But it didn't make any difference when they retired to Liz's bed, stripped each other down and engaged in what Liz still insisted on calling funny business. Jack told her that there was nothing funny about it.

But truthfully, he'd never laughed so much during sex. Never smiled as readily or felt so relaxed in any relationship. He'd never been so surprised by a woman as he still was by Liz. He was surprised by his surprise. Surprised by her desire, her openness, her complete oppositeness. He was surprised by how much he felt when he was with her, how different it felt and how the littlest things could make him feel so much. He was surprised at how amazing she was with Liddy and how incredible his little girl was growing up to be. He'd missed that, a lot of it, throughout the early years. But he wasn't missing out now. There was nothing at all missing from his life now. It was full. And it was settled. And it was happy.

-x-

And so, five years later, they were still married. Much had happened and changed but that fact hadn't altered. In fact, five years to the day after they were unknowingly joined in holy matrimony they were sitting on what was now their couch in their apartment watching a reality show about newlywed couples on their television when Liz turned to Jack, noting rather casually:

"So, we're sort of married, really. Aren't we?"

Jack turned to look at her as well. "I suppose we are." He nodded to himself. "Huh…"

"Because we never…"

"We didn't, no," he finished for her, then asked: "You okay with that?"

"I think I am," she mused. "Yeah…You?"

"I believe I am." For a few minutes, they turned their attention back to the glowing couple on screen, dancing their first dance together to a sloppy love song. Then Jack went on: "Do you want to make it official? We could have a proper wedding if you wanted. Seal the deal in front of God and everyone."

Liz tipped her head to one side. "Um…not really, actually. Unless you want to."

"No, not really," he murmured, lifting an arm around her and tugging her into his side. "But perhaps we should go on a honeymoon, take a trip somewhere romantic."

Liz cast him a leery look. "And leave New York? What're you nuts?" She gave a yawn, head dropping back against his shoulder. "Couldn't be bothered..."

"Fair enough," Jack answered, pressing a button to turn the TV off. "Is there anything you do want?"

"Yeah," she replied after a moment's thought. "I want a ring. Nothing fancy. Just something I can flash to show I'm off-limits. Especially to that fat dude who yells obscenities outside the subway. He always looks at me weird."

Jack hoisted himself up from the couch and held a hand out. "Then my wife shall have a ring. To deter the advances of all weird homeless men."

"Fantastic," she nodded sleepily and placed her hand in his, allowing herself to be hauled to her feet then steered towards their bedroom.

A half an hour later, after she was showered and pajamaed and about to climb into bed, Jack, also in pajamas and smelling fresh and manly, placed a small box on the bed between them. Then he flung his big body onto it, reclining on his side with a smug smile on his face.

"Well, that was fast," she muttered, climbing into bed with him. "What, did you run out to Tiffany's while I was in the shower?"

"These were Colleen's," Jack told her, pointing to the small case. "Before she died, she gave me a few pieces to pass onto Liddy. But I know she'd approve of me giving you these."

Liz looked at him a moment, remembering the night his mother had said her final goodbyes to them before succumbing to a long illness. Then carefully, she picked up and opened the case, tipping out onto her palm a simple gold band and elegant engagement ring with a row of small diamonds interspersed with green emeralds. Jack sat up, silently taking them from her hand one at a time and slipping them onto her left ring finger. They both watched them slide into place, fitting perfectly and securely. Jack kissed her fingers, then kissed her lips then smiled at her:

"And now it's official. Mrs Donaghy."

"I prefer Lemon-Donaghy," Liz said but placed her officially off-limits hand onto his cheek and drew him in for kiss, before drawing him down on top of her.

That night, they made love, not knowing that when they did, they also made a baby. Their son would be named Bobby. After Bob Ballard, without whose indisposition they wouldn't have been married in the first place. It turned out to be the most fortuitous mistake of their lives, if it even was one. If so, then it was a mistake well worth making. After Bobby was born, they spent many nights waking up to his insistent cries. On one such night, when they were both barely awake, propped up in their bed, in their darkened room, a half-asleep Bobby sucking at his mother's breast, Liz mumbled to her husband:

"Hey. Donaghy…"

"Yes, Donaghy?" came the drowsy reply.

"Lemon-Donaghy," she reminded him for the umpteenth time in their marriage.

Jack gave a half-snore, half-snort. "Then yes, Lemon-Donaghy?"

"I'm glad we're finally here," his wife told him through her sleep-starved haze.

Jack rolled towards her, kissed her naked shoulder and let his eyes crack open to see his son's peaceful, handsome face. "Me too."

END.