Title: Always a First Time

Author: Mindy

A/N:Thanks to all those who have reviewed. This one took a lot of time and energy and it's great to get responses back, especially ones that say I've got it right and that these musings of mine/Jack's have been enjoyed. Enjoy this last one and thanks again. M.

-x-

Home

It was when he was on the plane home to New York that it occurred to Jack what all the first times added up to. Perhaps he'd never sat down and looked at them in context, without distraction or interruption. Perhaps his short time in D.C. had allowed him to view them with a newer perspective. Perhaps he'd been blind for two years, or in denial, or both.

But suddenly, Jack couldn't wait to get home.

He'd never really had a home to speak of. The house he lived in growing up was more like a battleground in which he was generally not the strongest competitor. The house he'd shared with Bianca was also a place of intermittent animosity followed by extreme loneliness whenever she inevitably stormed out. His current apartment in New York was spacious and comfortable and impressive. It was his place of relaxation and relief but not what he would call a home.

A home was somewhere that laughter resided and love was comfortable. A home was where one was never alone and never afraid. A home was somewhere that was simple and warm and real. At times it might be messy, but it was where a person was always welcome to come in and stay for as long as they wanted. A place someone could truly and lastingly belong. A home was not a physical place but a feeling. Something that couldn't be bought or sold, but only created with the right combination of people.

His right combination was in New York, and he wasn't just thinking of the group of misfits he'd come to love at TGS. To be more specific, his right combination was probably alone in her apartment, mourning the loss of a child who never was, with no idea that he was on his way. It wouldn't occur to Lemon that a man might get on a plane and cross states just to see her, just to make sure she was alright. Just because he missed her face. Most of the men she'd been involved with probably wouldn't even bother to get in a cab and tackle the New York City traffic for her.

Jack was rather pleased to be the man who'd give her that particular first. A man who would go anywhere for her, do anything for her, be there through thick and thin. He knew Lemon wouldn't reproach him for not being there in her time of need. He knew she would simply pick up their rapport as though it had never been interrupted. It eased his guilt somewhat to know that, but did not dissipate it altogether. Because really, he felt he should've been there for her. That was their way – a way he didn't wish to relinquish.

There were so many things he'd been deprived of for the sake of his career, so many things he'd given up for a job he mightn't ever secure. He didn't intend to let his relationship with Lemon fall by the wayside of some dream that didn't exist. She was the one thing he'd held onto in the past few years and the one thing he adamantly refused to give up.

Actually, Jack had wished on more than one occasion that Liz would make a few more demands on him than she did. There was not much that she really expected of him – perhaps that was more a reflection of her own past relationships. He himself was practiced at dealing with fairly high-maintenance women. But Lemon's pathetically low expectations only made him want to give more than he'd ever demanded of himself in a relationship before.

Typically, Jack was a man who avoided real commitment. Women had always been a necessary diversion. After Bianca and before Liz, the incessant parade of women was an enjoyable side project for him. Something that came easy to him, but did not touch his heart deeply. There had never been just one who became a true priority. Only one had come close.

A few months prior, Jack would've been thrilled with the idea of being able to join C.C. in D.C. He'd genuinely thought that he'd found the one person he actually wanted to be a lasting past of his life. And in a way, he'd been right – he had found that person. But seeing C.C. again in Washington only cemented his determination to return as swiftly as possible to his true home, and to the one person with whom he already shared most aspects his life, whether he or she realized it or not.

Until recently, the love of Jack's life had been his job. And in its absence, he had begun questioning what else he possessed of true value. And when he considered Liz Lemon and all the various firsts she'd inflicted on him, he found himself poised in every moment to make the biggest commitment of all.

When he'd told her that morning that nothing was left for him at GE, it couldn't have been further from the truth. After what happened with his long-anticipated promotion, there were only two people in the world who could've gotten him on the first plane back to New York and Don Geiss was not the person on whose door he eventually knocked. Jack hoped that Liz would instinctively understand that he needed to see her as much as she needed to see him.

When Lemon opened the door, her apartment was warm and soft with candlelight, her clothes were comfy and familiar and her face showed mild but pleased surprise. She did not invite him in, she just wordlessly allowed him entry, immediately relaying the details of her pregnancy scare that would've made her seem so far away if he'd heard them over the phone. It was such an enormous relief to be back in her presence that Jack found himself appreciating all the everyday little things about her that before he'd always taken for granted. Like the sound of her voice, the habitual mess of her hair, the way her 'L' pendant hung a perfect distance above her cleavage. Like how cheerfully she accepted his help now and how casually she asked him about his day. He almost expected her to finish the sentence with 'honey'. Either way, it was that that really did it.

He'd been a fool to think he could leave. He'd been a fool to ever think he could get on without her or she could get on without him. He knew where he belonged, he knew where his home was. There was no way he could waive being witness to the various ups and downs of Liz Lemon's life, all the many firsts that were yet to come. She had become the undisputed centre of his world. She was his happy place, his safe place and he was pretty sure that he was the same for her. At least, he knew he wanted to be.

So the first time Jack told Liz Lemon how he felt, the moment he felt it, without withholding or requiring anything in return, was later that night when they were sitting on her couch, an empty bag of Sabor de Soledad between them and the candles burnt practically to stubs. His arm had been resting on the back of the couch and her hair brushed his hand when she tipped her head back, her eyes heavy with cheese-curl-induced lethargy.

Lemon responded to his words by blinking at him skeptically. "Is that the cheese-curls talking? Are they messing with your man-mones?"

Jack smiled at her. "I don't think so."

"Well, yeah…" she nodded: "I missed you too, Jack. I mean, you weren't gone that long but--"

"Perhaps it wasn't so much the time, as it was the distance," he replied. He shifted slightly closer on the couch then went on: "Lemon, have you ever done something thinking it was the right thing at the time only to discover that the right thing was what you already had but then you weren't sure you could find your way back there?"

She shrugged. "Sure. I guess."

Jack let out a breath. "I suppose even the most successful of men is not immune to mistakes."

"Well…" she yawned loudly: "there's a first time for everything, so they say."

"Exactly," he murmured, aware that his eyes glowed as he looked at her: "I knew you'd understand."

Liz lifted her head from the couch and pulled a cushion into her lap: "Does that mean you're coming back? 'Cause I realized when you were just…gone all of a sudden that…there were things…you know, things…unfinished. Lots of stuff we never said, or, or did."

Jack was silent for a moment. "For instance?"

"Well," she replied with a goofy smile: "I never showed you my roof for one."

"Your roof?" he repeated then paused before adding: "That's not a euphemism for something is it, Lemon?"

She sighed, apparently too tired to look revolted by his innuendo: "It really isn't. When I say roof, I do mean…roof."

"I see," he nodded, trying not to betray any sort of disappointment.

Liz shook her head, told him preemptively: "You shouldn't knock it til you try it, Jack. It's…pretty awesome up there."

"You…wish to show me your roof?" he murmured lowly, tipping his head at her: "now?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, cut her eyes to one side: "Why, is that weird?"

Jack got to his feet. Held out a hand. "Lemon. I thought you'd never ask."

The first time Jack found the courage to kiss Liz Lemon was as they stood on her roof, gazing out over the well-known, lit-up skyline. Liz's cheeks were pink, her eyes shinning. Jack had to admit the view was lovely. The city looked quite nice too.

He reached out to wind her scarf more fully around her neck and then leant in to kiss her forehead, right above the tip of one eyebrow. He didn't say anything for a moment. She didn't say anything for a moment. She smiled and he reached out to tuck away a strand of hair that blew across her face.

"Welcome home," she murmured then added: "…the Jacker." She paused to pull a face. "Wow, that really does not work."

"It certainly doesn't," he smiled: "and I am not back yet--"

She poked his chest encouragingly: "But you will be."

"Sooner than you think, Lemon," he nodded, breathing in the New York air: "Thankyou for bringing me up here."

Liz turned to look out at the view: "Anytime, Jack."

Jack smiled and felt something in him relax. Give way, give in, release and relieve.

It certainly wasn't all he wanted to express to Liz Lemon. But it was a start. A kiss on the forehead was still a kiss. It was still a first. And some other firsts were worth waiting for. After all, there was no strict timeframe for what they were to one another. They'd gotten this far -- further than he ever thought they'd be – without ever intending to. And Jack didn't believe in rushing a good thing. For once, he felt no urge to strive or claim or press on. There was nothing to fight for or against, nothing to do but let things take their natural course.

For the first time in his life, Jack Donaghy didn't want to be anywhere other than exactly where he was. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was truly where he'd always belonged.

END.