Rating: This chapter K.
Disclaimer: Character's are property of Tina Fey, NBC etc. Lyrics by Newton Faulkner.
Spoilers: not really
Pairing(s): Jack/Liz, Jack/Other.
Summary: She's his one regret.
I.
"We have been friends for so long now, it's not that I've been lying, just time I told the truth.
Strangers constantly between us, wish that they would leave us, only you and I. Just you and I.
Come in, can you hear me? Am I even talking? There is so much that I want you to know.
I'm counting on someday, you'll wake up and see me, but you don't want to know…"
Rebecca adores Colleen. And Colleen adores Rebecca.
Liz isn't accustomed to the matriarch of the Donaghy brood having such a reaction to one of Jack's girlfriends. Correction: fiancee. Jack's fiancee. She keeps forgetting that Jack proposed. She keeps forgetting that Jack is engaged to be married, that Jack is going to be married. That very soon, he will be a happily married man, a newlywed. She really thinks it's going to happen this time. This time, she's pretty sure Jack is going to make it all the way to the altar with his intended.
In the past, it has not been uncommon for Liz to find herself stuck in the middle of her best friend's love life, forced to give an opinion. Most of the time, she just found it a little annoying. And a lot uncomfortable. More recently, she started to secretly resent it. She particularly didn't enjoy being present for when Colleen and Jack would bicker over his latest choice of lady. Because - whatever they did or did not say - they all knew who Colleen thought was his perfect match. And the truth is, she got a little used to being the one woman Colleen approved of. The one Jack's mom favored above all the others. She got even more used to being the one Jack needed above all others.
No one is asking her opinion now though. No one cares for it. Not Colleen. Not Jack. Certainly not Rebecca. From what Liz knows, she is not a woman who is prone to doubt or insecurity. She rarely requires advice. Like Jack, she is generally the one doling out the ideal counsel, though perhaps with a little more tact than her fiance. She doesn't seem to feel in any way uncertain in her relationship with Jack, as C.C. did when seeking her advice. She has not ambushed Liz with a terrible secret she's been withholding from him as Elisa did. And frankly, Liz is hoping she never does.
She doesn't want to be the one holding such power over Jack's fate and happiness. She never liked that. She's very happy to let that responsibility fall to someone else. Someone more steadfast, someone more confident, and more capable than many of Jack's former loves. Or herself, for that matter.
For the record, not that anyone has asked, but if they did ask for her opinion on Jack's future wife, it would not to be difficult to find nice things to say about her. Unlike Pheobe who only had to appear to annoy her. Rebecca is lovely. And lovable. Dazzlingly gorgeous with blonde, bobbed hair, generous, smiling lips and always alive brown eyes. She has an Amazonian figure, tall but nicely rounded, and relaxed in its movement. She is younger than Jack, but not obscenely so, and shares his zest for business and travel and most especially, food. She is a chef, quite a celebrated one, who proves the old adage that the best and fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. She won Jack over with her homemade chocolate pudding and he's been smitten ever since.
Liz has never seen him so happy in love. And she's seen him happy in love plenty of times. Jack has always been very good at that first blush of romance. He's very apt at indulging that initial attraction. What he is not so great at is what follows. All the real stuff, all the hard stuff, all the lasting stuff. All the romances Liz has been witness to have faded alarmingly fast - leaving Jack lonely, morose and momentarily bitter. Not that he allows himself to wallow for very long. He always seems to find some way to rationalize himself out of his heartache and get back in the proverbial game.
This romance, however, does not seem to be fading. Jack and Rebecca have known each other six months, been dating for four. And are getting married in three days. Colleen is thrilled. Jack is ecstatic. Rebecca is radiant. And Liz is the best man.
Jack asked her and she accepted - of course. Caught up in his enthusiasm, she'd had little choice. It was only afterwards that she wondered whether she really did want the gig. She'd never been a best man before. She'd never even been a bridesmaid before. And she was not that comfortable with weddings in general, let alone the fancy sort that Jack and Rebecca were planning. As this was Jack though, Liz stuck to her word, promising to do whatever she could to make her best friend's special day exactly what he hoped.
She asked him what she needed to do. And she had only three duties. Stand beside him at the ceremony. Make a speech at the reception. And not dress like a small town lesbian. Or a big city lesbian. Or really, a lesbian of any kind.
In fact, being Jack's best man apparently gave him veto power over her outfit for the event. And when he rejected every single one of her suggestions, he took it upon himself to arrange for the appropriate apparel for a woman performing the role of best man at a high society wedding. This is how she ended up in an elegant dressing room being prodded and poked by a sadistic seamstress as Jack, his mother and his future wife look on. If she had realized this was going to be a group excursion, she would never have agreed to it. But according to Jack, it was Colleen's idea to turn her fitting into a chance for them all to have lunch.
Currently, Liz's only concern is desperately trying to invent a work-related excuse that Jack won't see through so that she can return to her office and skip the planned lunch. She's never been a fan of being the third wheel. So she certainly doesn't relish the idea of being the fourth. No matter how good the scallops are meant to be. The only thing she can find to be in any way grateful about in this situation is that Rebecca and her Amazonian body are way over in the other corner of the plush, spacious dressing room, chatting to Colleen about the culinary delights of Monte Carlo or something. As long as she stays over there and no where near Liz's own reflection in the floor-length, three-sided, unforgivingly-lit mirror, she's sure she can make it through this.
She's sure, that is, until Jack comes up behind her, eying her reflection with his usual precision.
"It's too tight across her bust," he tells the seamstress. "She's usually much smaller." He glances up at her, "Or is it that time of the month, Lemon?"
Liz turns to him, mouth dropping open. "All right, that's it!" She stumbles down off the raised platform, brushing Jack's shoulder as she passes. "We're done here…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rebecca says, shooting Jack a disapproving look as she approaches. She turns Liz around with cool, competent hands then leads her back to the mirror. "Let me take a look."
Liz tries to squirm away. "I think it's okay…actually."
Colleen approaches too, the two women drag her right up to the mirror, standing either side of her, inspecting her plain, tailored dress, the pins still sticking into her flesh. And for a brief moment, under their scrutiny and with the proximity of the mirror, Liz feels trapped. She feels like she can't breathe. She can't catch any air.
"Well, I think she looks great," Rebecca announces, rounding on her almost-husband with a gleeful grin. "What's the matter with you? She's gorgeous!"
"It's perfect," Colleen agrees, grasping Liz's shoulders and giving her a shake, making the pins prick her harder. "Best looking best man I've seen in years." She turns abruptly and grabs her bag. "Now let's eat."
"Very well..." Jack shrugs, taking his fiancee's hand and looping it over his arm. "As long as you're happy, my sweet."
He leans in to kiss her. Rebecca avoids his mouth though, kissing him instead on the nose. Probably, Liz assumes, watching in the mirror, not wanting to make out with him in front of his mom. And the elderly seamstress. And the irate nerd with the small boobs.
"Liz. Hurry up and change," Colleen orders as she follows the happy couple out. "We have reservations."
"Oh, but, Colleen-"
"No buts," Colleen turns at the door of the dressing room, giving her one last inspection. "We have to discuss your speech." The door shuts behind her before Liz can even muster an excuse.
As soon as it does, Liz slumps in her pinned dress, letting out a big breath. Silently, the seamstress comes up behind her, unzips the dress.
"You happy?" she asks in a thick accent.
Liz looks up. "I'm sorry?"
"With dress," the lady prompts, grey eyes blinking behind wire frames, "with fit. Are you happy with it? For big day?"
"Oh…" Liz smiles and nods. "Yes. Thank you. Yes, I'm happy."
The seamstress nods at her, then exits.
Liz draws in another breath.
TBC...