Title: Always a First Time II

Author: Mindy

-x-

Solace

The first time Jack noticed that he didn't miss his cookie jar collection was the day that Liz Lemon delivered him an ultimatum and stormed out of his office. Not that he was particularly surprised or concerned by her behaviour. The combination of her erratic will and his innate stubbornness would have to have come to a head some day.

Either he was going to fire her or she was going to quit at some point. Frankly, he was amazed that it had taken as long as it did. He'd been waiting, perhaps even dreading, her inevitable resignation since the day they'd first met. He'd thought she was going to up and leave then. He'd thought she was going to fold and walk a million times since. But each time, Jack was blind-sighted by how relieved he felt when she never did.

The simple truth was, he liked having Liz Lemon around. He couldn't imagine not having her around. 30 Rock would seem empty without her. And his work life would return to being as banal as he'd never thought it was until she stumbled into it. But he still fired her. She didn't leave him much of choice really. He had his reasons. And, if it was as inevitable as he believed, they might as well get it out of the way so the both of them could move past it. At least he would beat her to the punch.

So Jack fired Lemon, knowing that she'd be angry, knowing that she'd be shocked, and hoping like hell that any second he would witness her storm back into his office, eyes blazing as she demanded to be reinstated. He was prepared to fight her on it. Actually, he was rather looking forward to a protracted tug-of-war with Liz Lemon and was more than slightly disappointed when it didn't eventuate.

He'd been positive she wouldn't outlast the day without her precious show. She was like a junkie and he had her fix. He'd thought all he had to do was be patient and wait. After all, Liz Lemon was as predictable a creature as he'd ever met. Well, predictable to him at least. From the very beginning, he'd had the knack of being able to read her, right to the core. And after a year or so of hesitant friendship, he could practically complete her sentences. Even the ones that started with 'dude', which was ever so slightly disheartening.

But by evening, as Jack looked out over the darkened city, still expecting her return, he had to wonder just how long she would make him wait. He was fairly certain that her little tantrum would be short-lived. They generally were. Her temper might be hot when pricked but it fizzled almost comically fast, like she didn't even have faith in her own rage. Still, for a woman of such intelligence, she could also be confoundedly slow on the uptake.

He hoped she didn't drag it out. Then he would have to deal with Pete instead of her and, perhaps it was shallow, but he simply preferred talking to someone with a good head of hair. Otherwise, he got distracted. Lemon also possessed other…qualities…that Hornberger, however talented a producer, clearly did not. Maybe Jack liked being in proximity to those qualities. Maybe they distracted him too sometimes (in a way that was hugely preferable). Maybe, Liz wasn't the only one with an addiction.

In any case, Jack began to ponder why it was that he understood Lemon the way he did but that she did not have the same insight when it came to him. Surely, she knew that he could never truly get rid of her. Surely, she understood that it was simply part of the battle-of-wills they'd always fought, always relished, always excelled at. Surely, she knew that her job was hers for the asking and he couldn't conceive of replacing her.

The very idea was preposterous. He'd have to do a nationwide search to find another Lemon and even then, he's not sure how successful he'd be. He'd always considered her one of a kind, despite some of her more conventional tendencies. And even that afternoon had seemed lonelier and emptier with each passing minute that she failed to appear.

He was just starting to consider going over to her apartment to settle the issue when he heard Lemon's voice behind him. Not angry. Not resentful. Not even entitled. In typical Lemon style, she opened with a joke. And in atypical Donaghy style, he did not gloat or negotiate or argue. He gave her exactly what she wanted, because apparently that was his modus operandi when it came to this particular woman.

As Jack stood beside Lemon on the terrace that had been starting to feel so solitary and puny, he felt a sense of well-being wash over him. A feeling that all was right with the world and that anything that wasn't could easily be fixed. It was not a sentiment he indulged in frequently and the only thing he could acquaint it with was the secret satisfaction he used to feel when looking over his massive, beloved cookie jar collection.

The rows and rows of simple, humble ceramic shapes, with all their little imperfections and idiosyncrasies used to be his one solace and one indulgence. Nobody knew what joy he gleaned from them, from their smallest curl to their roundest curve. But since gifting the collection to Kenneth, he realized he hadn't thought about them once. He hadn't missed them once. He hadn't pined or mourned for them any longer than he mourned the ending of the various insignificant love affairs that filled out his lonely nights.

And the reason was clear to him. As clear as the night sky the two of them stood under, sipping their non-alcoholic wine. It was obvious really, and simple. He'd replaced them with something far more meaningful. He no longer craved the hollow abyss of a musty jar to pour his many troubles into. Because he had one thing now that he'd never had before.

Jack had someone who knew him and liked him and accepted him for exactly who he was. He had someone to hear his problems, who was warmer and funnier than ceramic, even if the ensuing feedback was equally as helpful. He had someone to keep his secrets and hold his hand (in the metaphorical sense). Someone to whom forgiveness came easy and communication was an oblique but acquired art form. Someone who relied on him and had faith in him and came to him with everything from her pettiest concerns to her deepest fears. Someone who could complete his sentences – as long as they had nothing whatever to do with high finance.

Jack had always believed he'd had it all. For years, he'd laboured under the delusion that what he'd achieved was the extent of what mankind was capable of. He'd never even considered that there might be an essential piece of the puzzle missing. He'd never thought that all those fools out there looking for that special someone might actually be right. He'd always thought they were the deluded ones. It was only now that he understood how wrong he'd been.

Surely, there was a first time for everything.

TBC...